Crossing the Great Divide

Arnold Auerbach

I'm not certain if the usual readers of my blog know this name. One I know would know is preoccupied with family and studies, and refuses to go near a blog. Yes, that would be the redhead.

Arnold has been known to all of New England as 'Red,' and today, he left us.

Arguably the greatest coach in the history of basketball, gruff at times, Red knew and exercised long before it was fashionable, an approach to sports - make that people management - that was rooted in knowing the strengths and weaknesses of each person and personality. He knew some had to be pushed, some had to be stroked, and he cared about everyone that past through his employ.

The result was a team, the only pro sports team, to win 8 consecutive championships. It would have been more but for an injury to his star center, Bill Russell in 1958, prior to the 8 year run... else it would have been 10.

Red knew that human beings were human beings, and that they were not cattle, to be herded and forced to your will. Instead, he communicated on the level of each player with each player. He would go to Russell, whom he knew to be emotionally tough, arrange with him to use him as a target to his locker room rants, and then stage a chewing out in front of the team. Team would see this, see the best player getting his arse chewed, and that was their cue to know they all would be treated fairly.

As players retired, it was quite common for them to be seen around Boston Garden, calling on Red, someone they loved. In turn, Red loved them.

Whilst his players loved him, opponents were made crazy by him. Known for his cigar as sign of victory, opposing teams would see his stogie fire up, all the while knowing there was nothing they could do, his team was the best in the history of the sport. 

Growing up a basketball fan, albeit my Celtic interest coming at the tail end of their 11 in 13 run, it was fun to watch the master work his trade, even after retiring as a coach, taking to running the team from the office.

Russell and Sam Jones retired in 1969 after the 11th, and the team subsequently suffered through a losing season in 1970. It did not last long. By 1973, the Celtics were back, and but for a shoulder separation to John Havlicek, would have won another. No matter, this they did in 1974 and 1976, as well as 1981, 1984, and 1986.

The man is a hero of epic proportions in the city of Boston, and in fact in all of New England. This story will be prominent in our news over the next few days.

Goodbye, Red... and thank you.

Note... photo from boston.com

Senseless and tragic

Today is the funeral of Michael Briggs.

Don't know this name? Neither did I, though Michael already was known to our community for saving people in a rapidly burning building.

In another instance, Michael treated a person who had been shot, one Michael Addison, caring for him until EMT's arrived.

On early Monday, Michael Addison, this person Michael Briggs cared for the day he was shot, shot and killed him.

Somewhere overnight on the 16th, there was a report to Manchester police of a domestic violence incident. Michael Briggs, Manchester police officer who patroled on bicycle, responsed. Two people were fleeing the scene, and one, Michael Addison, turned and fired at Officer Briggs.

The next morning, our news was full of the critically injured officer. When I left work, the first story I heard on the news was of his 'killer.' Nothing further to hear here, they had just told me with that one reference how Officer Briggs fared.

So this morning I bring lunch to my mom. She is watching the news coverage of Officer Briggs funeral at the Fisher Cats ballpark. Not two miles from here, the park is filled to capacity with dignitaries, local citizenry, and officers from all over the country. The size of the Boston contingent astounds. I've included a picture of the funeral procession through Manchester, courtesy of the Manchester Union Leader.

Hundreds of police officers pay tribute to Briggs

This was the first officer lost in our community in 30 years. The irony, the tragedy, the senselessness overwhelms. There is a partner, there are two children, who have had to confront unspeakable pain. I set and I watched with mom, my mind simply unable to overcome the need of my tears to flow.

Mom update...

Following up on my previous posting, my mom has suffered a fractured pelvis. This was detected in a CAT scan today. From what I understand, the plan now will be to eventually move her to a rehabilitation facility, where she will have resources available for recovery. 

That she accepts this plan is startling; my mom is all about home. So I'm thinking she finally is understanding she has to take greater care and not be quite the daredevil she has been.

It surely is not the same without her here, but it is wonderful she can have full fledged therapy, as well as study the underlying balance problem. Mom will be stronger, more confident - and perhaps less reckless. She has pledged to use her wheeled walker out of doors, and one of her old ones around the house. The third... she is donating to those who do physical therapy at the hospital.

Squishing the tomato

No, this is not a "is that what they call it now?" story. I did squish a tomato. And admit it.

My mom decided it was a good day to visit a local meat store, why... I've no idea. Perhaps she wished to buy some meats. Usually she buys what she desires in the supermarket, but today,she had to go to the specialty shop. OK, sure... we can do this.

This was a very quick trip, somewhat complicated because her new walker is a bit bulkier than her previous one, this one has big wheels on it, as well as a seat and hand brakes, maybe I should drive this thing to work. However, it does not fold as flat as more basic models. So I wiggled, writhed, and got it into a position in the back seat where it would not smack her in the back of the head with a quick stop.

Another complication was the outside appearance of my car. Simply... disgusting. There are these trees at work along the periphery of the parking lot, and well.. this time of year they do their dirty bird imitation, dropping these well, droppings, that look like reddish brown bird poop, and indeed, my mom thought it was well, reddish brown bird poop. I just cleaned the car off Wednesday, and Friday it was seriously bombed again. It really did look pretty gross - white car, treebombed ersatz poop, that did look in some places like bloody bird poop. Mom refused to touch the door handle thinking she would be putting her hand on bloody bird poop, leaving this to me. Moms always see to the well being of their children.

Upon leaving the meat store, she then wished to venture to the supermarket to fetch other supplies, so I interceded and made an executive decision to first return home and get the bloody tree poop off my dirty white car, less mom faint having to suddenly reach out for balance against the car,placing her hand in the bloody tree poop.

After saying we'd head back out post scrubbing, I filled a bucket with water and soap, grabbed a regular sponge, a plastic scour pad, and set upon my auto. That scour pad would normally not touch my car, but this bloody tree poop is stronger than gorilla glue, and the pad easily removed it, whereas a sponge is no match for the splattered droppings from those unknown types of trees. I'm guessing they are alien to this planet.

Car once again clean, passing the mom touch test, we set out first for the farmstands south of the city, stopping at two for various veggies. Nothing like fresh veggies, mmmmmmmm. At the second stand, the building is set on top of a slight incline. A worker was adding new veggies to a cart, and a wayward tomato rolled down about ten feet to the side of my car. When we got out, I once again wrestled and writhed the walker out of the back seat, and looked around, no tomato. Funny, no one chased it down.. and it occurred to me that tomato somehow found it's way under my newly cleaned car.

We buy whatever it is we bought, um red lettuce, sweet potatoes, beet greens, and maybe one other item, head back to the car. No tomato in sight. We back out. And there it is. Squished tomato, Dammit.

We head back homeward, making a slight diversion through the airport so my mom could reminisce about the army air force planes there during WWII, the days of bringing us to watch planes take off, as well as utter a few ohmahgawds, what is that's, and I cannot believe how much this has changed, then we capped it off with the supermarket hoedown.

This part is always fun, mom is slow as a turtle when I am with her, but just let me wander off to grab something, and good luck finding her, she is liable to be 5 rows over and at the far end of the aisle. I would love to see a videotape of her *after* I walk away. Marion Jones, no doubt.

The journeys we take

I'm going to apologise up front for delving, at least in part, into trannie stuff two days running. It's not usually my style to ramble on such things.

In this case, I'm partially revisiting the subject of Christine Jorgensen, basically because I'm reading her autobiography. Now 130 or so pages inward, it is an interesting story. Given she was one of the first, and the first American, it is interesting to read how people react to her transition. In Denmark, people were pretty much fine with the idea. As she came out to friends and family, the reaction was much the same as I encountered, 51 years later.

The courage it took to find her path, when there was no guiding light to show the way. Christine in fact lit my pathway, and that makes a huge difference, because we aren't puzzling it all out. Um, yeah, we are, inside, on who we are, etc... but she not only had to do this, but also had no clue how to deal with it all after this stuff was sorted. Playing with testosterone, estradiol, etc were new to the 1950's world. Knowledge of how they work within us was pretty limited. And she had the courage to be a test subject.

There are other little interesting elements, one that struck me was the American ambassador to Denmark at that time signing off on and obtaining a revised passport for Christine. Geesh, can you imagine if our current ding dong of a president were president then? And the ambassador, Helen Eugenie Moore Anderson, has her own kewl story...

In addition, Christine's surgery was held for a while by some low level bureaucrat. Interceding and getting it authorised was Helga Pedersen, Minister of Justice, and who, according to Christine, was an avowed feminist. She later served on the Court of Human Rights for the Counsel of Europe.

I'm just reaching the point of her third and final surgical procedure, quite crude in comparison to now, and the US press has just been informed by some mystery person.

There are many things in her story that are oh so familiar, the disconnect, the soul searching, the aforementioned coming out, the reactions of family and friends, and differences as well... but it is a compelling story of someone who courageously paved the way not just for us trannies, but for the entire lgbt community.

Turning life around...

Nursepam posted a quote by Pema Chödrön which has been rattling around inside since I read it. It sums up so well what I've come to believe in life, and in fact applied to my own life. The quote:

"Everybody has the potential, without exception - every living being has the potential to awaken."

How I love it's truthful simplicity!

I've talked many times of the trevails of my life over the last several years, notably the horror story that was mid-2001 through the end of 2003. Lost in the transforming struggles of gender dysphoria and all the tangental consequences, I was adrift and focused almost exclusively inward in one way, yet in another way focused outward in a way that created this giant circulation of tragedy and support. It brought with it some fool notion of being able to personally overcome everyone's issues. Right. May I have my mind back?

It took some time to shake it away. After my business rightfully went down, there was a period of depression, but necessary depression, because the inner me that traditionally had that optimistic outlook was now being channeled to rebuild my life, to rejoin humanity as a once again responsible being, to know my limitations and to work within them, even as I also knew what boxes to I could and should blow through.

And through this, what has really provided the bedrock handhold, is the spiritual so well stated by Pema. Without having heard the quotation, I simply found it out for myself - with guidance from what I'd taken in during the time of tumult. It is interesting that the seeds of my personal reshaping and gaining of strength were actually planted as everything else fell apart. The circle of life, eh?

I believe heart and soul in such simple transformation, in finding oneself, of facing the past where needed, of putting things in context, of pulling out what is positive and shaping one's future pathway in these more positive ways. I'm fully and completely dedicated to this endeavour.

Thank you to nursepam for sharing, and to Pema for saying. I'm going to be taking an extended look at what's on her website, and at what she has written.

Sammiches and music and photos, oh my!

Tonight finds me splicing together and taping a tapestry of divergent topics into one semi-coherent blog post.

Rather than explain the why for's, I'll simply commence into the subjects and let them speak for themselves.

First order of business in this trilogy:

The turkey sammich.

I am one who struggles not with my existence, but with what fuels my existence. I've wrestled with what is in my diet for years, and really there is no excuse but laziness and lack of sufficient motivation to learn the skills necessary to take me from meat eater to not. This *is* complicated by living with my mom, who would never even consider such a change, nor would it be wise for me to experiment both on her digestive tract and her overall health. Let's just say this change does loom in my future.

That said, I harbour the guilt of fondness for turkey sammiches. If that day of change comes around, it is this which will be my lone regret at what is left behind. Today was therapy day (more on this in a moment) and therapy day finds me in the pub below, anticipating and enjoying a wonderful turkey on rye with swiss, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise. Damn, but it was good...

Second item of blog merit:

This is your brain on music.

A guest host was setting in for Diane Rehm as I made my way northward, dodging road construction in various locales, on my way to therapy. Did I mention more on therapy later?

Susan Page filled in for Diane, and interviewed Daniel Levitin, author of This Is Your Brain On Music This topic is of great interest to me, for as many of you know, I play nor understand not a note of music, yet it grabs me by the throat and holds tight, with this sort of unknown yet understood language.

Shannon felt it was spooky I called a song with lyrics that appear very depressing, "strangely uplifting." I'd not seen the video, yet when I did, not suprisingly, the song was... of positive message. Nothing knew, music just has a direct line to my soul.

And given this, Daniel's work might well help explain the science behind this connection of music to my mind, though it was clear he knows not why some seemingly have this connection and others do not. Stay tuned. Tune in, listen to your tunes!

OK, you've made it this far, so it is self indulgence time. As the final segment, here is

Therapy day

Yes, it was therapy day, an hour of chatting it up with my therapist, whom I really have a whole lot of respect for, and confidence in. This time... I brought my camera. And so rather than my rambling on therapy recounting and discussion, I bring you... Nelle, Nancy, and Sydney. Sydney gets an extra mention as the cutie pie in the pic! She is a Burmese Mountain Dog, so very friendly and welcoming, and the very sight of her brightens my day.

I do not photograph well, and of course that is my line and I'm sticking to it! No way it could be reality, right?

Right?

More mutterings from my mind...

Supposedly Tony Blair has pleaded with the president to send Condee on a new round of shuttle diplomacy. Condee says maybe, we'll see. Ah, ya gotta love passion and a will for peace.

I've two songs going through my head... thanks to Kitty Litter, Eve of Destruction is one, and thanks to iTunes, Dear Mr. President is right behind.

But I still prefer to listen to the Dar Williams cd given me Friday. Dar is next on my list of must sees.

I've a shower area to rebuild beginning tomorrow... though my mom is now wavering, contemplating a one piece bath unit. Not something I'm tackling in one week of vacation. The panel tub surrounds, ok. As it is, I have to remove five feet of tile around the tub, then take the wallboard off. Ah, but the reward is finally having a hand held shower head. ;-)

Gotta love Boston's Big Dig. 15 billion for falling ceiling panels and a tunnel under the harbour that might be struck by a low in the water ship.

Good thoughts are still going out to Nony. You will, you will, you will!

It's that time of year. Hot. Corona with lime hot.

My car a/c isn't working.See comment above. Remind me to call the dealership tomorrow.

When nursepammie buys her new 115 foot yacht to live on in San Diego harbour, she had best invite the rest... of us to visit.

I love to debate. I hate fighting and arguing.

I'm on vacation. Some of you know this is actually a struggle for me. Why? I was dysfunctional from 2001-2003. Lost everything because of it. Was without any work for almost a year thereafter. It wasn't looking promising. Now I've been working for 20 months, busting my arse to rebuild this life, to refocus, to do lots of things of a positive nature... and I'm deathly afraid of not working... because of fear of what was. Never ever wish to be like that again. It scares me silly. I'm now than I was on Friday night.

Forest green is my favourite colour. Depending on where it is used, with natural wood trim in a home, with black as clothing, since I'm not about to wear a natural stained barrel for aesthetics purposes.

I miss having a pool. NIght. Floodlights. Child in bed. Hot. Pretend to sneak child out of bed. Child thinks mom doesn't know. Child splashes in pool. Child giggles. Mom appears in window. Mom asks loudly what is going on. Child giggles louder. Child is excited. Child wishes to jump off deck. Child discovers jumping off deck requires swatting mosquitoes. Child wishes to make a whirlpool. I oblige. Then child returns to bed, cooler, happier, and sleeps soundly. Child in this case is interchangeable with two daughters who lived that experience.

I should get out and take some pics this week, but I am no photographer... at least not in the same way as I was with that clunky, old 35 mm. I miss those cameras, but digitals have their advantages.

A Klondike bar would set well about now.

I usually walk on lunch hour at work. Not like 20 years ago when we did 3 miles in a bit over an hour, but... it's still nice to do.

Google earth is probably the best free programme I've ever downloaded and used. Simply astounding. And you have to wonder about security... I'd bet those that buy the pro version get vetted by the government in some way.

Elle Voyage, we are still waiting for trip stories...

Those of you going to Blogher Conference '06, know that I am envious.

Finally, I've added a new element to the blog. Just above the blogher badge on the right, you will see a flickr photo badge. This contains the pictures I've either used in my postings, or created and used in my postings. Under each photo (after you go to the flickr page) you will find links to the post in which the pictures are embedded... just one more way to find stuff of interest.

Conundrum

I admit to frustration watching the events of the middle east unfold. In this particular posting, middle east is in fact that section of the eastern Mediterranean coast comprising Israel, Palestine, and Lebanon.

The current players are the Lebanese government, Israel, Hezbollah, Hamas, and the Palestinian government.

What to make of this mess? I've long faulted the lot of them, and conversely long supported the Israeli and Palestinian people's right to have a homeland, to live in peace. I'm an idealist, and an optimist... can see what is possible so very clearly, and it frustrates me to see posturing going on, to see peace talks derailed by the actions of a few, to see new escalation.

What to do? Blow a whistle and tell everyone to chill is a good starting point. Threaten to put 10,000 NATO or UN troops on the borders if all sides don't back off, shuddup, sit down, and start yakking. 

Soldiers are held prisoner... but let's face it... releasing prisoners encourages more such nonsense, and not releasing them just continues the intransigence. The only sensible way is to start chatting, and to not be sidetracked by some suicide bomber. Israel demands something Palestinian leaders cannot give... no suicide bombers. Conversely, Palestinians, at least Hamas, refuse to acknowledge Israel as a legitimate entity.

To make this work, both sides have to acknowledge: the other is not going anywhere. The other has a right to be there, unless you think slaughtering millions is on the agenda. The other has a right to prosperity, to access beyond it's borders (as in international flights, visas, etc to the rest of the world, unhindered.) The other has the right to territory. After all, you can't have a country with no land, unless this is The Simms.

That is a basic starting point. Israel concedes to 1967 borders, excepting Jeruselem. Jeruselem, for the time being, becomes an international protectorate, not governed alone, but rather by a combined Israeli and Palestinian appointment, with impartial foreign appointees added. And they agree not to shut citizens out of their borders. Individuals suspect are reported to their own government.

Freedom of religion would be guaranteed. Respect for ethnicity. Exchange programmes for their children would get underway, allowing them to get to know each other, to develop friendships.

Israel, Lebanon, Palestine to start, form a common economic market. The three pledge to work together for economic development in all three countries. There are water resources to develop. Natural resources. Travel and tourism. This is an area that could be a haven for the frozen folk to the north in winter. 

Yes, my idealism is at work. Look at it this way: you can try these things, or you can say "it is as it is," and watch another generation be condemned to live this sorry life of constant warfare. Or... you can strain your eyes a bit more, and see through the haze.

When the moon is in the Seventh House

Let's be clear on this... I'm no devotée of astrology, nor am I particularly enamoured with Hair, though it was certainly kewl in it's time - when I was graduating from eighth grade.

I've always liked the Fifth Dimension's medley of Aquarius and Let the Sun Shine In, there was just something about that combination which drew me in and sent my spirit soaring. Now I've downloaded it just moments ago in anticipation of this post, for blogging inspiration. Problem is... it's hard to type when you are hopelessly gyrating and contorting into all sorts of unfathomable and awkward body positions... or playing air who knows what... but I'm not going to succumb to this childish nonsense. Nope, I'm not... going to, no wa... aw bloody hell...

well, that certainly got me moving, whatever it is that circulates through my brain circulating, but it's not the subject of this posting, sorry. That would be the moon, actually. Or rather, how we love to blame weird doings on phases of the moon. We do this all the time at work, jokingly associating an increase in weird claims doings on celestial positioning. As with sunspot activity, which increases and decreases according to a general cycle, weird moon behaviour ascends as we approach it's full presentation to earth early next week.

No need to recant the weird activity today, suffice is to say the weirdness knew no bounds - it was in the claims, in the system - and in me. Things I thought were done were not, versions of events initially told me morphed into new stories with a bit more bite to them. 

And I've downloaded the theme from Flashdance. ;-)