THE COSTS OF WAR.

We know that the costs of war are ugly, horrendous deaths, as in the recent American hit that caused “collateral damage”. We have witnessed too many soldiers coming home maimed, blind, without limbs. Thousands suffer Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Technology for artificial limbs has gone beyond anything we could have imagined just 15 years ago. Those things are all “costs of war”.

 A friend of mine sent me a video where Democrat, Adam West is urging us not to trust or deal peaceably with Iran, and urging no peace agreement or nuclear disarmament with similar countries in the East.  Some Republicans are intent on eliminating Social Security and Planned Parenthood. They’ve cut food stamps for the poor.

Let us consider another cost of war. The Annual military spending: $653,110,000,000. That equates to$1.2 million per minute.
We are cutting school budgets, facing joblessness, hunger and the numbers of homeless people have increased?
Just one minute for peace, 1.2 millions dollars, could do a lot of good for our country.

To quote President Eisenhower:
Every gun made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed.
It was also Eisenhower who warned us of the Military Complex, that strives to thrive on war. His dire warnings have come true.

Our taxes shell out like this:  (From Obama’s budget request for 2015 in rounded numbers.)
55% Military
6.2% for Education
5.6% for Veterans Benefits
5.5% for Government
5.3 % for housing
4.9% for health
4.8% for labor
3.3% for International Affairs
3% % for Energy and Environment
2.5% for Science
2.3% for Transportation
1% for Food and Agriculture

Please take the time to urge Obama to redirect a fraction of that military budget to programs that benefit children, the elderly and all Americans. I know I don’t want 55% of my tax dollars spent on the war machine.
In the time it took you to read this, we’ve spent 1.2million dollars.

ART LESSON.

I love art and have always been a wanna-be artist. Pam at one time taught art and offered to give me two lessons. She said, pick a picture you like and I'll teach you. I'm always attracted to paintings of people, so she suggested I choose from one of the homeless people pictures I took. I have a homeless brother and I tend to do that wherever I am.


I took two the day we were downtown Palms Springs, but, they make me sad. We considered could I turn my interest into a political statement by painting homeless people? No, the pictures make the statement. I want to paint something happy and beautiful.


I like my bird picture I took.


I thought the saxophonist made for a fairly simple people painting.


Among people photos, this is the one I liked best, the woman taking a picture of her friend modeling a hat.


Hedging the bet, I chose a simple desert scene as probably an easier place to start.


The night before my lesson she said think of the tree of life, your life. And see if you can look around and find 20 different shades of green.  I thought maybe I could do some palm trees and mountains. When in the desert paint desert pictures, that  kind of mentality that I've heard from various artists over the years.


She loaned me a book on color charts.


In my long ago past,  (early 60's) I tried painting with oils and it was enjoyable, but not very successful. Recently, I tried a papier mache' sculpture and couldn't understand how to use acrylic paints and gave up and put the thing in a box.


After talking it over, she decided I should paint on a student canvas a person, not a tree, not a desert scene. We chose a picture of her's of a little boy. He has a long way to go, but the palette board for acrylics is very different. The brushes, too. I learned gobs and came away energized. I'll try and finish this painting today, or at least get it in better proportion. Not only did I get a lesson, but lunch.


Pam made this killer soup with mushrooms, peppers, chicken breast and fennel sausage with a small amount of noodles. Delish.

On a different note: In the morning,  Jim and I walked the park, looking to find my bike, both of us knowing that this is a park full of mature people, unlikely that we would find our bike lurking under someone's canopy. It was our morning exercise anyway, and we learned from talking to people we met that bike theft is very common in this park, especially men's bikes, which mine was. It seems, the thieves jump the fence, choose an unguarded bike, and ride out through the gate. The next weekend it will be for sale at a flea market. We went to find a White Sheet, (sales paper) but it didn't list flea markets. We might try a regular newspaper today. But, I've mentally given up the idea that I might find that bike. There must be 300 in our park alone. And, another 70 parks like ours. It is probably a very lucrative business.

SIBLING CHRISTMAS

My sister Dawn spent Christmas with her immediate family in Chico and drove the three hours to my house on Dec. 28th. Brother Norman is my homeless brother and we all get together once a year at Christmas.  Norman is very political and shared all of the letters he has written to various newspapers and congress-people. We played Rummikub endlessly, it seemed with much fun and hilarity.


Yesterday, the rest of the family arrived, Clark, Bill, and Theresa, Clarks Finance. Bill lost his bid for congress. Without my glasses on, I didn’t realize I caught everyone with their mouths full.


We don’t exchange gifts, but Dawn bought me a shirt she couldn’t resist.

She knows I’m an avid fan of Downton Abbey. Mary from Downton Abbey is the figure on the right. If you don’t know the program, well, it may be hard to understand. We had a lot of fun, remembering the program which is set to begin a third series January 16th. I will miss it because I’ll be on the road with Jim.




We talked politics and solved the problems of the world in four hours. We reminisced about being raised with politics at dinner every night when we were growing up. We all have different solutions, it seems. We talked about our thinning ranks.


Dawn reminded me she will be 80 years old on her next birthday.


Norman is 66. Bill is 75. Clark is the youngest at 57. We’ve lost two brothers, Mark and Dan. So, we remember them and tell family stories. There is always a new one not everyone has heard before.  It is time well spent. Today, I un-decorate and say good-bye to another eventful year as I close the house, (mostly the refrigerator) and pack my bags and prepare to meet Jim. (Maybe I can hide the five pounds I put on over Thanksgiving and Christmas.)

SOLUTIONS?

I introduced you to my homeless brother yesterday. His problems were self-caused. For him to regain a respectable place in society requires that he have access to a toilet, a shower and an address.  He can sleep under the shelter of a freeway without too much hassle from the law.

Hassle from the law is part of what prevents MEN like Norman from getting out of their situation. I emphasize men because homeless women and families with children are treated differently.
When he still had a trailer, he was parked on private property with permission of the owner. The police department of that city, which I will not name, banged on his door one night. A familiar problem. They know who the homeless are. They had arrested him for drunk on more than one occasion.  Without opening the door, he asked what they wanted. They ordered him out of the trailer. He refused and with a copy of the bill of rights on his door he quoted:  “I have a right to be secure in my own house with my papers and effects against  unreasonable searches and seizures. So, tell me what you want?” They demanded twice more that he come out. When he refused they threatened to break the door down, and did.
They towed his trailer. He didn’t have money to get it out of the storage yard.  He had no income.  He did odd jobs, cutting weeds, mostly, on the property where he was parked. He fed himself and his dog from dumpsters.

Money is power, with no power to fight the illegal arrest, his chances of changing his situation diminishes.  District Attorneys  routinely  recommend  “human refuse” to plead guilty and promise them probation. He refuses. He always demands a trial. His latest arrest, for trespassing was dismissed by the courts. Yet, his belongings that he carefully accumulates between arrests, is often trashed and he ends up with only the clothes on his back.  In this case they gave him three days to remove his belongings. There was no citizen complaint against him living in a brushy property owned by Cal Trans.  He had been secure there and invisible for eleven months.

The Sheriff’s Department called Cal Trans officials to register a complaint against him when they discovered him. Then, they went in and cut all the brush so no one else could seek shelter there.
He has had his social security for three years now, an income of $837 a month.  Yet, when they arrest him, even though the case was dismissed, they cut off his medical, his social security and he has to re-apply for all of those benefits he is entitled too, which sometimes takes months. The Social Security office told him you have to go back to the Sheriff and pay for a piece of paper that declares you are no longer in jail. It cost him $25.  It seems like a good safeguard for we the people. But, he is on a bike, he is crippled from his stroke. He is not very clean, normal people shun him. He is accosted by business people if he sits anywhere. His stroke prevents him from standing very long.  When he tried to rent a place in a cheapie trailer park, they took one look at him with a flowing beard,  and turned him away. He is fortunate that he has a friend who will allow him to use an address, where he can pick up his check. Without his friend, he would be unable to collect his social security.

There are many solutions proposed for homeless, getting them jobs, advocates that work to  get them many benefits, but without an address, a contact place, decent clothes, and transportation, he will most likely be stuck in an unrelenting shuffle from one illegal spot to another.  There is no written law that says so, but  it is illegal in this country to be homeless  if you are a man.

A community that remains stable and self-sufficient is Slab City in Southern California. The residents maintain a community without facilities and services and manage quite well with solar and a hot springs. They have successfully governed themselves for many years. In fact, I’ve offered to take my brother to Slab City, but, he worked construction for years and has many skin cancers. The relentless sun there is his enemy and he declined.  Couldn’t  a solution be a fenced area where the homeless can congregate and form their own society?  How much would it cost to level a campground, and put up porta- potties for the homeless. A solar, out-door shower fenced off for privacy. At least, they could rest their heads without being hunted by the police.

A TABLE FULL OF POLITICS

Oh, if we could run the world!  Somehow, when we gather, and realize that we are just working cogs in a pyramid scheme that benefits others to live in luxury, we try and solve the problems of the world. My oldest brother is running for congress for that reason.

This is my oldest sister and my homeless brother. Much of our discussion surrounded homelessness.  All primitive cultures governed themselves . They chose leadership of some kind  meant to benefit the whole tribe, not just a few at the top. A tribe took care of  its members including the weak and sick. When they found a food supply, they shared it equally. They meted out suitable punishment to those who offended.

While many groups try to do something about the “homeless problem”, our laws and our police at every level treat the homeless as though it is against the law to be homeless. Norman worked all of his life as a carpenter; he contributed and paid taxes.  Somewhat late in life, he began drinking. He is an alcoholic and he smokes marijuana. He has never been arrested for any thing but  drunkenness, possession of marijuana,  and trespassing.  He doesn’t steal. He has never been violent. He carries a bible wherever he goes. He is what some of us like to term a “Jesus Freak”. When Norman first became homeless, seventeen years ago, he protested that a person like him, in our society, cannot legally occupy a place on the planet. He cannot sleep anywhere because he has no home. He cannot use public restrooms, they are for customers only. It is quite draconian that because he is so powerless, the police can  treat him any way they choose.
He has two suits against the Sheriffs Office for false arrest. He has been falsely hauled away from two properties where he had had permission to stay.  I’ll relate those stories to you another time.

He has (hopefully) a superficial skin cancer. He also had a stroke four years ago, for which he received no treatment. He suffers a lot of pain and cannot walk or stand on his feet for a lengthy period.  His latest arrest, was  for trespassing on “public” property.  He was sleeping in the bushes on property owned by Cal Trans.  When you go to jail, they suspend your medical, they take away your social security and when they dump you back out on the street, you have to re-apply for your benefits and wait for them all over again which can take months.   You cannot get your social security unless you have a physical address. You cannot pay for a post office box to receive your check.  Since he was kicked off the Ca-Trans property, the cancer tripled in size. The nurse in the jail looked at his head and wanted nothing to do with that problem.  A homeless advocate got him an appointment to have the cancer removed on the 14th of January.  When he tried to get an appointment at Highland Hospital on his own,  his wait time to be examined was six months.
I love my brother. I believe he made poor choices about his life to get into such a downward spiral. All of us at one time or another have tried to “help” him. He doesn’t want our handouts. He receives social security of about $800 a month.   (I’ll revisit this subject again.)

JUST FIVE MINUTES

My neighbor, Jan,  is known for popping in for five minutes, always with some  ulterior m0tive.  She decided I was lacking “bling”. You can see the  bling on  my shoulder.
I had hired a homeless guy, looking for work,  to do some chores around the place. He told me he had worked as a roofer, had some carpentry skills, knew how to use a chain saw, etc.  I have a storage shed with warped doors and I asked him if he could fix them. He did and I gave him some paint to paint the shed. Unfortunately, he painted the doors shut. So, I asked my friends to help me get the doors open.    Jan is one of those people who likes to have  fun with anything she does, and she likes ceremonies. She grabbed a pot to beat on, and Karen, my housemate,  is half Cherokee and did a ceremonial dance.

While they did their work,  I used a hacksaw blade to cut through the thin coating between the two doors.

It wasn’t budging. My crowbar and nail puller both disappeared but I had a long,  strong mechanic’s screwdriver. It took some doing to pry the doors open without wrecking them.

That’s when we discovered he had nailed the doors shut. I guess he figured he wasn’t coming back anyway. Gotta take laughter where you find it.  And, what the hey, the guy needed the money.

LIVING WITH DIGNITY

 I received two inspirational messages, one from a self described #1 fan of mine by the name of Jerry McClellan, and the other from an old friend, retired Alameda County Sheriff's Deputy, Ron Heinsma. And, I continually admire the wit and wisdom of my gypsy friend, Randy Vining.

Methinks people don't like to be reminded of the homeless among us or those imprisoned. It sets up a bit of guilt we'd just as soon avoid. I should know, I have a homeless brother who is 62 years old. He's been in and out of jail. He worked as a carpenter all of his life until he had a stroke.

At a doctor's appointment in Sacramento, Friday, I walked by three homeless guys with their baggage and a shopping cart. They didn't ask for money, but I avoided eye contact with them just in case they would.  I don't feel safe, stopping, opening my purse in front of three obviously needy men. But it struck me that among themselves, all caught in similar circumstances, was a small community. They clung together, eating their breakfast of sweet rolls and coffee on the steps of a closed building.
 
My friend, Randy Vining, engages homeless people on a regular basis in his full time gypsy lifestyle. He states, and I concur, "It is a self-righteous and hateful spitefulness that... denies... minimal comforts to our fellow human beings. Needless suffering is a scandal to all who allow it." 
He makes that claim after speaking to the manager of a Mission in Eugene, Oregon that provides a secure locker, a day room to lounge and watch TV, with free magazines, haircuts, showers, food and a bed. The manager claims it costs a pittance to serve the homeless.

In my view, even if just the locker, showers and haircuts were supplied, it would provide a bit of dignity and hope to those looking to better themselves, or get a job, or a chance to volunteer to help others, or just relief from the downturns of life, whatever the cause.
Our cities and counties have the capacity to organize this community into a contributing group.  Don't each one of us have an inalienable right to place our weary bones on a section of earth without being chased away, no matter our circumstances?
People given a chance to contribute, can and will.  Please take a couple of minutes to watch the video Ron Heinsma sent me:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xMOe_ZThDkc

Many years back,  someone suggested building rudimentary street shelters and French style street toilets in San Francisco to help out the homeless.The powers that be decided the shelters looked too much like dog houses, "embarrassing". The French style street toilets, a few anyway, did happen, if you have the change. Not free.

But, consider this bit of the milk of human kindness that operates under the radar, a heartwarming story sent to me by Jerry McClellan:   http://www.snopes.com/travel/airline/airport.asp
Certainly if we have the capacity to provide businesses the means to earn billions, we should have the wherewithal to provide dignity to those who can no longer contribute. It is truly a scandal for a country as wealthy as ours to have people, including children, go hungry. And, to disenfranchise so many locked in jail, a wasted potential.

Note:  (Jim and I visited Angola earlier this year.)

UTAH PHILLIPS AND COUSIN BOB MOORE

My cousin Bob Moore became a “Phillipshead” years ago when he got acquainted with an outlaw radio station in the San Francisco Bay Area, KFAT. They had a small but loyal audience and Bob first heard Bruce Phillips, or Utah Phillips as he is known, on KFAT and began attending his concerts. He became a devoted fan of Utah’s.
Bob retired from Pleasanton and relocated to Nevada City because it had good bookstores as a major plus. It was also, coincidentally, the home of Bruce Phillips. He appreciated Phillips wobbly background, friendliness and approachability. Phillips took up causes and it showed in his incredible music.
“He was always there to meet and greet people after his concerts. A big guy with a long flowing main of silver hair and a silver beard. I’d see him around town, most often dressed in bib overalls and a flannel shirt, just a common guy but an unbelievable philosopher. Unfortunately, his most requested song was Moose Turd Pie, but he really did some great music. The Long Memory is my all time favorite. He could really make you think. He had a great impact on me.
“About 4 years ago, Phillips got the Hospitality House started here in Nevada City. It was a moving shelter that moved from church to church and provided services to the homeless. He started this event where he encouraged the local potters to make soup bowls. The restaurants made the soup, the bakeries made the bread and people bought a bowl of soup and bread for $10, (now it costs $20), and they got to keep the bowl. The proceeds went to support the indigent.
"I can also recommend his protégé, John Mc Cutcheon who sings all the Woody Guthrie era music. He always involves the audience and if you go---you sing!”
Bob told me about Utah Phillips and I visited his website. www.utahphillips.org Great stuff.
Bob, is a philanthropic soul himself, having a huge part in the charitable Thanksgiving Day Dinner served free every year in Pleasanton. The feast is now a long term event and anybody is welcome to participate. Kudos!