2012 was not a good year

The year of our Lord 2012 had moments of joy and moments of despair. Blogging was fun and often an intellectual challenge but the worst part of the year was having to talk about pets and family who have gone before us. The Bible tells us that they are preparing the way for us when our turn comes to join them and while I have no idea of the truth behind that statement but it does give solace to a grieving soul and eases the sorrow that comes when we lose a beloved family member.

Le Conteur lost her stepfather at age 102 this month and we had the misfortune to lose 2 cats and 2 dogs within a short period. What made it especially hard is that 4 of those 5 deaths occurred in a 6 week period and that's an emotional overload I wouldn't wish on any one.

2013 has got to be better.

New Year's will be bittersweet for us. Separated by disaster deployment Le Conteur and I will share the celebration over the phone, talk sadly about our losses, view the political future with alarm but cherish the memories of family that have gone before us. The new year always offers hope and we will accept that hope as an opportunity.

Christmas as a continuing philosophy

Being on deployment with FEMA brings with it long work days, no days off, motel rooms and on the fly dining. My secret for keeping my sanity while dealing with the stresses of being away from home for extended periods and not eating a good diet is to organize my life as much as possible and to keep to a schedule, bearing in mind that I’ll take advantage of any free time that presents.

Christmas day was one of our non-working days so I had free time, I decided to start the day by catching up with laundry chores and briefcase consolidation…just the thing to do on a holiday. So at 5 AM I took a load of laundry and went down to the hotel facility before there was a rush on the limited number of washers and driers. As I passed through the lobby I saw a young couple sleeping on one of the couches (and the floor). Apparently the innkeeper had allowed them to crash for the night and they both looked like they needed the comfort of a warm and protected place to lay their heads. In addition when they arose a short while later I saw that the young lady was pregnant and obviously due within a matter of days.

I’m not sure if the innkeeper was aware of the symbolism of giving cover to a weary family on a day we celebrate when another innkeeper two thousand years ago allowed a travel worn couple to occupy his available space. But she followed a long religious tradition and gave shelter to a couple in need.

Here was proof that kindness is eternal and an affirmation that the story of Christmas is one that can always be repeated.

The difficult question

Every time a deranged individual shoots up the enemies of his imagination there is great hue and cry that guns are the problem and that guns must be banned. Of course there is always the counter argument that guns are necessary for defense against those who would do an otherwise defenseless group great and grievous harm.

Both arguments miss the point that in all recent cases of mass murder that the actor was an asocial, reclusive individual who was considered by his peers to be “strange” and who culminated his moment of fame by killing himself. The media should be ashamed of itself for the depth and scope of attention it pays to evil entities. Their moment of glory style of reporting encourages other sad souls to emulate the event so that they too can be known and feared. The media feasts on such events and seems to knowingly encourage alienated individuals to do the same since the media lives and dies on such events.

                

Nobody seems to be willing to point out that the root cause of horrific crimes by troubled individuals is that we have too few treatment centers for those who should be in treatment. Forty years ago a loose consortium of mental health practitioners and lawyers persuaded state legislators that it is wrong to institutionalize those who have difficulties coping with society. They proposed that mental hospitals be closed so that the inmates could be placed back in society so they could learn how to cope. This argument neatly sidesteps the issue that it was the individual’s inability to cope that is the cause of their problem.

Politicians loved the argument for closing mental health facilities since it empowered them to close expensive programs and threw the cost back on local communities who, in turn, were unable or unwilling to fund local outpatient treatment centers that are necessary if we no longer have mental health hospitals available. The end result is that we as a society have alienated people wandering the streets, sleeping on grates and doing embarrassing things in public. The police have become the de facto care givers for the mentally handicapped and in the county I live in the Sheriff estimates that more than a third of his jail population should be in active and controlled treatment regimes that he is unable to provide.

                                

Let me be clear on one point. There is no way we can identify the small number of potential violent individuals from the mass of people who have friends and neighbors that call them “strange”. As a society we need to recognize that society is a collection of opinions and personalities that together make the whole and that as individuals we must honor the truth that other opinions are as valid as our own. The problem occurs when we fail to recognize that the other opinion might also be injurious to society as a whole. Identification and treatment of potential offenders is a slippery slope and the libertarian in me sees great danger in identifying “potential” asocial behavior. That is a giant first step to totalitarian authority and I want no part of that. I’m trying to decide in my own mind how we as a society can deal with this problem and the only thing I know is that any decision has got to be made by the social group and not by politicians and vested interested parties.

Life in the trenches

Many of you know that in addition to my regular job I’m a reservist with FEMA and can be deployed on short notice to disasters anywhere in the country.  It should not come as a surprise to learn that I’m assisting in the recovery effort after “Super Storm Sandy”. It was (and is) a natural disaster that effected many people and wiped out more than a few. Since I’m working in the heart of the damaged area of New York I’ve been able to observe how people react in the heart of democratic liberalism, it is a people watchers holy grail with lots of stories. As I drive down the road leading to my work I can easily identify flooded houses by the height of the mud line on the walls of the buildings and also identify the social philosophy of the residents by the status of the contents of the house that are thrown into a ragged pile in front of the house.

Without knowing the people who are living in the house I do know that if I don’t see anything in front of the house and the sidewalk is swept that the resident is probably physically fit and takes pride in the house. The drowned contents of the house have been disposed of and the family is busy rebuilding their lives. But if the contents of the damaged house are piled on the street without any attempt to remove them I know that the residents believe that the function of society is to clean up after them and to take care of their needs as soon as they are expressed. I see lots of those houses here in New York.

There is a subset of these houses where the ruined artifacts of personal life have been bagged and while the pile is untidy it is at least contained and not blowing across the roadway in the wind. In my experience the residents of this house are older and have enough life experience to try to present a clean face to the public while they wait for the community to pick up their trash. I know my observations are generalities, but they are often affirmed when I meet with clients on a face to face basis.

The tidy homeowners show me pictures of their house and the neatness of their sidewalk is repeated by the efficiency of interior demolition and repair. They are most often over age fifty but a percentage of them are in their early twenties. As they talk with me I hear terms such as “I can do it myself” and “I’m better off than so many others” and I know that these are self-reliant people who will endure what nature and government has done to them and that they will prevail. They represent the past and, hopefully, our future.

I find it sad however; those when they want to express an opinion that might be negative or political they generally look around, lean forward and softly express themselves as if afraid to be overheard by those who might not agree with them. They have learned by experience that those who disagree with them do not hesitate to express their disagreement ferociously.

In contrast to those who help themselves I talked recently with a person of the male gender who demanded that I tell him why the local government was not informing him personally of local air quality. After all, he is a tax payer and he has children and he needs to know because of the children. When I pointed him towards local health and environmental agencies he scoffed and told me that air quality should be a federal concern and why didn’t FEMA keep him informed! I have to admit that I was irritated by his obnoxious attitude, supercilious behavior and total unconcern with anything other than his issue. So when I asked him about the air quality in the house he wanted to store his kids I was heatedly informed that it was the government’s job to clean and repair his house and why weren’t we doing our job. I could only imagine the condition of his house is in when it is about six weeks after being flooded and without any effort being made to man up and do the job men are supposed to do without expecting others to do it for them.

This particular “gentleman” was not the least bit hesitant in expressing his thoughts and opinions about everything except his own responsibilities. A year from, when the reality of this administration’s economic, social and political decisions are apparent I wonder what he will have to say then. 

The work I'm doing

What you are looking at is an oil tanker, small and designed to move oil along the coast and up the canals and rivers that line the east coast. The oil that escaped when Sandy drove this ship onshore is minuscule compared to the thousands of residential oil tanks that were flooded, upset or floated away when Sandy came to visit.

When there is a flood a little bit of oil goes a very long way. Just a gallon can cover almost an acre and the the stain and odor are almost impossible to remove. There are areas in the county I'm working in where the odor of oil has forced people out of their homes. Since the average household oil tank holds about 300 gallons and if the statisticians are correct most of the tanks were within 50 gallons of being full, the amount of oil released is staggering.

In addition to helping people cope with the sheer destruction of their property I also have to talk to them on how to cope with a hazmat situation and sympathize with them while telling them that it's a very expensive process to contain and mitigate an oil spill and that their town (which is usually broke) has to initiate and coordinate the effort.

It is a simple matter to tie down a fuel tank and minimize the potential of any disaster creating a far worse situation. Go to www.fema.gov and read the literature that describes many ways you can protect you home from the ravages of violent nature. Who knows...you might not have to talk with me if disaster hits your area.

L'Envoi Again

Just last week I wrote about a beloved cat that had died and left us to join friends in the Elysian Fields. Over the years Le Contour and I have hosted many pets, primarily cats and at one time we had 7 cats that kept us honest and on our best behavior.

With the loss of Shiloh we were down to one cat…an opinionated termagant of a Maine Coon Cat that came to us some 18 years ago as a homeless and feral kitten living behind a Thai restaurant and living on scraps and crickets. We managed to capture her and after much discussion she agreed to allow us to fed, house and love her. In time she grew comfortable with the way her life had changed and even moved with us from Washington State to Kansas when the job called and we relocated to fly over country.

Tamarin was a unique lady; opinionated, stubborn and talkative; but when she accepted you, she was up in your face affectionate. All too soon her early life caught up with her and her kidneys started to fail. This morning Le Contour was told it was time to help Tamarin cross the Rainbow Bridge. She has to face this task alone since I’m a thousand miles away on a FEMA deployment and I’m not there to grieve with My Lady

A solitary Scotch will be consumed tonight to honor a special friend:

                   Tamarin    1996   2012

L'Envoi

On a warm spring day in 1990 a lady came into our lives. Born behind a bar in Louisiana and suffering from a septal heart defect a palm sized kitten allowed us to take her in care and because she was herself decided that she could easily bend us to her needs. Shiloh as never a big cat, the most she ever weighed was four pounds, and most of that was heart. If you were stressed she knew just how to apply purr therapy and if you were bad, discipline was sure to follow. Even the humans were subject to her decisions and she never played favorites.

If there is such a thing as continuity of life our tiny warrior queen has to have been an Irish cop patrolling the streets of Old New York. She knew what was right and didn't hesitate to tell you when you didn't abide by her code of conduct. She was an Iron Lady in a cat's coat.

When a new pet came into our house it was Shiloh who would take them in charge, show them where the litter box was located, decide where they would eat and remind them that even though she was the smallest of cats our house was her house and that her rules were to be followed. Period.

When we brought dogs into the family Shiloh would sigh, shrug and take on the task of training them and molding them into the Shiloh way of household management. Except for litter box training of the dogs she was always successful and was a Lilliputian queen in a Brodbignian house.

A few days ago she decided that 23 years was sufficient and it was time to cross the Rainbow Bridge. She was our companion and friend and we miss her terribly.