Who gets to choose?

I just saw an article about the oldest bald eagle, banded, during conservation efforts. almost forty years ago.  He lived for 38 years after being banded during a time when America was banning DDT in an effort to save them.  He became roadkill while eating roadkill.

Bald eagles have made an incredible resurgence and here in Washington, they are wiping out heron habitat and fighting with our hunched brothers for food.

We like to think that everything can be saved.  And yet when we save one species it can negatively effect others which in turn and so on and so on.

Somehow this got me thinking about an article I read about countries fighting for supremacy in the South Pole.  South Korea and China are fishing like gangbusters down there to feed their populations.

For China to flourish, someone else has to suffer.  For eagles to rebound, herons must suffer.

This does not sound like the Circle of Life.  This sounds like eat or be eaten.

Hate to be apocalyptic, but there it is.  Are some of us doomed, so that others may rise?  Do we (as a species) get to decide?  Will the best man win?  Stay tuned.

 

silliness preceding my 68th birthday

Sardines en croute

Laughing Seal

Deck the streams with piles of salmon

Fa La La La La

La La La La.

 

Dick the Halls

Robin is in the living room watching the most recent Miracle on 34th Street.  I, curmudgeon and asshole had to leave the room because the whole premise—little girl getting a fancy house in an upscale neighborhood—just pisses me off.  At a time in our country where none of the working poor or the middle class for that matter can do anything more than rent a house, or mortgage their asses for the rest of their lives, this movie just infuriates me.

And so rather than ruin Rob’s enjoyment, I am in the office typing this snarly missive.

I guess I am Dick the Halls.

 

Rob just asked me “Who was “Dick the Halls?

Squeak

Yesterday I was laying in bed not feeling well.  Not desperately ill just a bit off.  Kate came to take Izzie for a walk.  She said she had been in touch with Em about whether Murphy would like a squeaky toy or a plush toy (in her Bark box).

And then Kate said “Oh Mom, I don’t think I have ever thought about what someone else wanted.  It’s kind of scary.  What if they like it, what if they don’t?   How do I know?  I never thought about anyone else.”

She started crying and then stopped herself, not wanting to be a pain and I was crying because I feel like Kate is becoming and has become the human she was meant to be. Thinking about someone else is trying to be in someone else’s shoes.  Holy fuck, it is empathy.

Giving something to someone when you want it to be meaningful and communicate all that you feel for that person is a moment of nakedness.

Kate doesn’t know that yet.  Giving is showing who you are and Kate is approaching all of these new experiences with humility and fearfulness.

But she is moving forward, and Emily and Tessa are there.  Not totally, maybe never totally but they are softening.

I approach Christmas with a song in my heart, or maybe it’s just a squeak.