The strawberries are out of control, although that's hardly a problem. The school board meets tonight at 6:00 to hold a retention hearing, and that is always hard. Also, the borough assembly meets tonight at 6:30. If, like me, there is a lot going on in your summer life and long, lovely summer evenings especially, and can choose just one meeting, I'd pick the Harbor Town Hall meeting tomorrow night (June 29) at 6:30 in the library.
I'm afraid I lost my temper in a meeting I thought was about food carts and trucks, and how to make them work for Haines while still supporting local eateries-- but it turned into a discussion about vendors selling-- or renting-- stuff out of trailers parked downtown, or in the Fort, or anywhere-- you know, artwork, or lumber, or groceries, or books or scooters, that the representatives from the Borough Assembly argued they supported as free enterprise. Anyway, I got mad, and that is not ever helpful or even neighborly.
“Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.”
― Mark Twain
(Happy anniversary to the guy I have been lucky enough to share my life with for 34 years.)
I don't have a picture of the fire that almost took off and burned the beach and our houses down this morning-- because I was a little involved in putting it out instead. A campfire up by the trail to the road by the old Baha'i Center was left smoldering last night, with a red plastic half-full gas can a few feet away, right up in the edge of the spruce trees maybe 500 feet from the homes here.
Do you ever wake up feeling so grateful that everything actually turned out as planned, and that for a little while, all is right with the world? I have been a tad PTSD-ish for the last ten days or so in anticipation of the bike race- the Kluane to Chilkat International Bike Relay- that Chip and I have been training for since March or so-- riding 30 miles just about every morning and longer on the weekends.
"None of us is being treated fairly if we're not all being treated equally."-- Gloria Steinem
But how do you make that happen, in both large and small ways? A good, doable place to begin is, as Gloria Steinem also told student's at my husband's and daughter's old school: "If you're in a group that has power, remember to listen as much as you talk. And if you are part of a group with less power, talk as much as you listen."-- From the NMH Magazine, Spring '16
When the email didn't work this week, I figured the internet was down all over town, and to tell you the truth, was kind of relieved. My house is full-- with Eliza and baby James and JJ and for a bit her husband, and then their Haines sisters and children are here, and well, let's just say we are now in full Camp Mimi mode. (There are three Golden Retrievers too, and three chickens, and four baby Stellar Jays in a nest on top of the light on the corner of the garage that we are very protective of.)
When my children were small, they used to ask "who is the boss of this place?" and I'd answer "I am" or "your father is" if I needed back-up. It's a good thing to know. Tom Morphet asked a similar question in an editorial in the Chilkat Valley News two weeks ago, after a really busy weekend. "Who is in charge of scheduling in this town?" and he answered, "No one. Should there be?" And made a good case for it, as on Saturday May 14 there were five big events all happening in our small town.
"There is a faith in morningtime,
there is belief in noon.
Evening will come whispering
and shine a bright round moon."
-- From the children's book All in a Day by Cynthia Rylant and illustrated by Nikki McClure.
(I read it to the girls in a quieter moment from Friday at Mimi's. And don't you just know it is true -- there is a faith in morningtime.)
Brian Doyle says that religion, and religious practice-- like attending a specific church say-- is the boat believers and seekers choose to carry us over the sea of faith. It's harder to swim that alone, and even more challenging to do it without any kind of map or compass.