Dr. from S Uist

Runrig "Year of the Flood" with Scenes of Lewis, Harris, North and South Uist.

Mother broke her hip on Friday. She’s hard of hearing and was having difficulty understanding her doctor (her GP’s associate whom she had never met before). To make her feel better I mentioned his British accent as the culprit. I just wanted to die when he said he was from Scotland, not England. Yikes! It is one thing to confuse Scot with Irish, but it is quite another to confuse Scot with English. And I know better. (In my defense he went to school at Oxford and had picked up some of that accent.) He was a good sport about it so no harm was done, especially when I told him we were MacDonald descendents and I had been reading and learning about his lovely homeland.

He was very friendly and quite happy to talk. His wife is from California so they settled here. Originally from Glasgow, he served in the Army at the missile testing base on South Uist. His duties included acting as the doctor for the non-military islanders. Unbelievable! (It felt like an Elaine “get outta here” moment from Seinfeld, you know when she is so flabbergasted she pushes poor Jerry or George backwards.) Few have even heard of South Uist, let alone lived there and drove the road (well, they have more than one road, but the one that connects the Outer Hebrides is a single lane road with occasional passing lanes) on a regular basis. He quickly figured out I had knowledge of the area, and we had a grand chat – a real conversation. Fun for both. He of course said I must visit, and gave advice on where to stay and such.

I won’t go into it all, but while in the military he had gone out to St. Kida in a landing boat. Umonst other things, we discussed Glasgow and the high unemployment rate - 2/3 of all children living in homes with parents who are on government assistance. Some born into that culture/mind set and some simply unable to get out. Welfare with no end date. The gap between the haves and the have-nots growing. I do not pretend to understand their politics. However, like Bush, it seems Gordon Brown has messed things up pretty badly in the UK. A consensus I find time and time again.

They were preparing my Mother for surgery and the doc and I were visiting and Mother was smiling and enjoying it all.

Society - Eddie Vedder

George W flew into Redding yesterday to survey the damage from the recent and ongoing fires. The last sitting president to visit the far north state was President Kennedy in 1963. JFK stayed for two days; spent the night in Lassen Volcanic National Park before giving a speech before a throng of 10,000 at Wiskeytown Dam; and he mingled with the locals, chatting and shaking many a hand. Bush graced us for a short 2 hours. He did the obligatory photo shots with Eagle Scouts and Fire Jumpers, surveyed the damage from a helicopter, promised Federal aid and left. His arrival was greeted by only a sparse scattering of locals. Comments aired by the local TV channel were of the "I came to see him just because he is a president, not because I support his politics. I voted for him but now realize he has been so wrong about the war" variety. Before the fire, Bush was already scheduled to travel to Napa for a private fundraiser for McCain. Coming to Redding under the guise of surveying the fire damage made for a perfect opportunity to shift the cost of the cross-country flight to taxpayers. He only had to pay the cost of Air Force One from Redding to Napa. How convenient. How sad. I really hate being cynical, but it is what it is.

Our country is bleeding and he is off raising money for McCain.

Paradise's sad 15 minutes of fame

Paradise is now on the global map. Quite a shame its "15 minutes of fame" is on account of the Humboldt and Camp fires. Now that the Camp fire is 55% contained and the danger of it coming up the canyon is lessening, we all feel a collective sigh of relief, albeit guarded as this fire's movement has been unpredictable.

The smoke in the valley is really crappy and not predicted to leave anytime soon(the air quality folks use index terms like unhealthy and hazardous. Years ago I was very much in love with a high muckety-muck in that field. He was older and worldly and I was a pleasant source of surprise. A true "be here now" lovely time of my life. Sorta what I imagine visiting the Hebrides would be like - living each moment fully, no regrets, knowing that the moment will never be again. And the man, well he is a rolling stone and I am, happily, moss. But I digress...) Everyone is bucking up, but you can read the weariness in our faces as the fires are still ongoing and the season is young.

With the situation somewhat under control, some fire trucks are heading out of town, going home to their loved ones. Yesterday we saw a convoy of trucks from SF - how they must long to feel the coolness of their fair city by the bay. The last 4 or so trucks got separated from the leaders at a signal and almost turned the wrong way. The mistake was noticed, they turned on their lights, and through the red light they drove. It would have been a beautiful sight had they had left the lights on all the way to the highway. Without their help, so much would have been lost and we are eternally humbled and grateful.

Response to AllyMar July 6 blog

Ken and Harp,

The sounds of the AllyMar cutting through the water, the mist, the movement and the wonder all in perfect harmony with the haunting music of Lorenna McKennitt - I close my eyes I am right there with you.

With much love and affection,

Marty



Loreena McKennitt - Beneath A Phrygian Sky

(She was inspired to write this after visiting an archaeological site in Turkey near Gordion where Celtic stone ruins were uncovered.)

The moonlight it was dancing
On the waves, out on the sea
The stars of heaven hovered
In a shimmering galaxy
A voice from down the ages
So haunting in its song
These ancient stones will tell us
Our love must make us strong

The breeze it wrapped around me
As I stood there on the shore
And listened to this voice
Like I never heard before
Our battles they may find us
No choice may ours to be
But hold the banner proudly
The truth will set us free

My mind was called across the years
Of rages and of strife
And of all the human misery
And all the waste of life
We wondered where our God was
In the face of so much pain
And I looked up to the stars above
To find you once again

We travelled the wide oceans
Heard many call your name
With sword and gun and hatred
It all seemed much the same
Some used your name for glory
Some used it for their gain
Yet when liberty lay wanting
No lives were lost in vain

Is it not our place to wonder
As the sky does weep with tears
And all the living creatures
Look on with mortal fear
It is ours to hold the banner
It is ours to hold it long
It is ours to carry forward
Our love must make us strong

And as the warm wind carried
Its song into the night
I closed my eyes and tarried
Until the morning light
As the last star it shimmered
And the new sun's day gave birth
It was in this magic moment
Came this prayer for mother earth

Reprise:

The moonlight it was dancing
On the waves, out on the sea
The stars of heaven hovered
In a shimmering galaxy
And a voice from down the ages
So haunting in its song
These ancient stones will tell us
Our love will make us strong

The Antique Vase

Well, the blue skies favored us for only a day. It has been scorching (113 degrees tomorrow) and miserable. Air quality very unhealthy...headaches and irritated eyes again. Upon leaving the house for work this morning, I found ash all over the car. And later today, old Magalia, and the entire east side of Paradise was under immediate mandatory evacuation orders, and more of my little town was under precautionary evacuation. The hospital where my children were born has evacuated its patients. The fire situation grows more and more serious. My heart is worried. So stressful on so many people, many of whom are elderly. We will get very little sleep tonight. Tomorrow it will be one month since the start of the Humboldt fire and the steady stream of new fires and threat of fires and the unknown.

Although I have lived many more years in Chico, Paradise remains my nostalgic home town. I wonder what would I pack. A daunting task for sure. No doubt every nook and cranny of my car would be full. And if the cat has to be on my lap as I drove, that would be ok. I know a woman who is being evacuated for the second time and she brings just her animals. A few important papers and that's it. An empty car. She seems to become overwhelmed by it all and calmly just decides to do nothing as it can all be replaced. Part of me wants to tell her to snap out of it and pack some photos, instruments, pebbles from the beach, grandma's china, anything.....dammit, and part of me admires her non-attachment to the material things. She is clearly not owned by her belongings. It brought to mind a beautiful parable I stumbled upon years ago.

The Antique Vase by Derek Lin

There was a general in ancient China who retired after many years of military service. Not wishing to sit around doing nothing, he took up the hobby of collecting antiques.

One day, he sat in his study to admire his latest acquisition – a small antique vase. It was expensive but worth it. He turned it this way and that, examining the exquisite patterns that ancient craftsmen had worked into it.

Suddenly, a careless movement of his fingers caused the vase to slip from his hands. The general tried to catch it, but its slick surface was difficult to grasp. He dove forward to try again. It was a close call, but he finally managed to hold on to it, mere inches from the floor.

The general's heart was pounding rapidly. His breathing was frantic. He gripped the vase tightly and stood up slowly. After a while, he was able to regain some composure.

He was relieved to have avoided damage, but something was not right. Instead of elation, he felt only puzzlement. "In all my campaigns," he thought to himself, "charging against the enemy, leading men into battle, even facing much bigger armies than mine… I never felt as much fear as I did just now. Why?"

Throughout his military career, the general always recognized the possibility of losing his life, but it didn't frighten him at all. Somehow, on this particular day, the possibility of losing the vase frightened him a lot.

In an instant of clarity, he saw the problem. He had become too attached to the vase. That attachment was the cause of emotional turmoil. He looked at the vase again, seeing it in a completely different light. Then, with his mind perfectly at ease, he relaxed his hands. The vase dropped and shattered into pieces.

The Dying Redcoat

Today, Americans remember our Independence from the British crown in 1776. Young men and women are ordered to kill and sacrifice their own life, and not necessarily for causes they believe in. I found this old ballad written by a British soldier, titled The Dying Redcoat.

'Twas on December's fifteenth day,
When we set sail for America;
'Twas on that dark and dismal day,
When we set sail for America.
'Twas on that dark and dismal time,
When we set sail for the Northern clime,
Where drums to beat and trumpets sound,
And unto Boston we were bound.

And when to Boston we did come,
We thought by the aid of our British guns,
To drive the rebels from that place,
To fill their hearts with sore disgrace.
But to our sorrow and surprise,
We saw men like grasshoppers rise;
They fought like heroes much enraged,
Which did affright old General Gage.

Like lions roaring of their prey,
They feared no danger or dismay;
Bold British blood runs through their veins,
And sill with courage they sustain.
We saw those bold Columbia's sons
Spread death and slaughter from their guns:
Freedom or death! these heroes cry,
They did not seem afraid to die.

We said to York, as you've been told,
With the loss of many a Briton bold,
For to make those rebels own our King,
And daily tribute to him bring.
They said it was a garden place,
And that our armies could, with ease,
Pull down their town, lay waste their lands,
In spite of all their boasted bands.

A garden place it was indeed,
And in it grew many a bitter weed,
Which will pull down our highest hopes
And sorely wound our British troops.
'Tis now September the seventeenth day,
I wish I'd never come to America;
Full fifteen thousand has been slain,
Bold British heroes every one.

Now I've received my mortal wound,
I bid farewell to Old England's ground;
My wife and children will mourn for me,
Whilst I lie cold in America.
Fight on America's noble sons,
Fear not Britannia's thundering guns;
Maintain your cause from year to year,
God's on your side, you need not fear.

Blue Skies

At last.........we can breathe and be oh so grateful to once again have blue skies. It's got me singing one of Irving Berlin's best.

"Blue skies smilin' at me
Nothin' but blue skies do I see
Bluebirds singin' a song
Nothin' but bluebirds all day long

Blue days, all of them gone
Nothin' but blue skies from now on
Blue skies smilin' at me
Nothin' but blue skies do I see"