Technical Writer

They Deserve Better

I have BostonPete.com in my ear at the moment, tuned to songs for children, or at least the child in me.  It is not having the desired effect, which is to calm me after reviewing today's news on the oil leak in the Gulf.  I can't help but feel a little sickened by the image I'm trying to distract myself from--a shore bird covered with a glop of oil, and the bird is still alive, and the camera has focused on the bird's eye.    

I am more affected by an injured animal than I am by suffering humanity, but even writing this, I know it to be not wholly true.  Last summer on the coast of Maine, I stopped on my early morning walk to take a picture of a humble fisherman in Waldoboro.  In grime and stench and obvious poverty, he was sorting his rotting bait mackerel in the barrels by his beat-up Ford 250. When I called out hello, the fellow turned and smiled. I was stopped in my tracks because I was looking suddenly at a decent fellow trying to make a living in the muck. We spoke a awhile, and he let me take his picture, which I could never post.   

He reminded me of a stranger I saw when I was a kid shopping for my mother at the Safeway on 7th St.  I had just wrestled a shopping cart loose from the rack when a large man in a bill cap and red and black checked shirt that was too small across his belly rushed into the store and I could tell that he was simple.  He held in his hand a fan of dollar bills and he had such a sweet and hopeful expression on his face that I have never forgotten him, and I have always wished him well.

Paul wrote, "For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now," but I know the "until now" part will go on and on unto the last syllable of recorded time, when fools are no longer foolish, and there is some mercy in life, which I do not understand.

Its need shows in the long stares of the fishermen on the Gulf coast today, and in the gaze of a shore bird.

1840 Dear & Much Beloved Sister

Here is the letter I wrote about a few days ago.

Canton, January 25, 1840

Dear & Much Beloved Sister

Saturday afternoon as the week is drawing to a close and as I had determined that another week should not pafs without attempting to write a few lines to the best of sisters I received your kind letter the Friday after you sent it    Darius called and left it as he was going to a sing at Brother Jeds it was quite late past nine I was all alone my Husband and Children in bed   No one knows the lonesome hours I have

I sat down before I could open the letter and examine the _______ best of sisters have I one friend left on earth that can sympathize and feel for me    Unfolding the letter I found I had a Dear and Beloved Sister one who if she was near me would sooth some of my lonely hours   

O Elizabeth!   I never shall forget your kindness to me  I am very much pleased with my present it is very pretty and propper for me  I can never repay your kindness to me  My pen is but a poor instrument to express my gratitude  I have often thought of writing to you but when I thought of the subject I should dwell upon the tears would flow so freely I could not    O my Dear Maria that lovely child is gone where I never more can see her in this world again how can I endure the thought never more to see that lovely face and hear that sweet voice that has comforted and consoled me at all times  O Elizabeth how can I endure it

No one can confess my feeling but those that have felt it.  I know it is all right for the Lord has done it but I can not help grieving we are not forbidden to weep  I think it is my ernest desire and prayer to God that it may answer the end for which it is sent.   I feel that affliction does not come by chance, but that God sends them for our good.  I feel that I needed chastisement Dear Sister if you did but know the lonsesome hous I spend here all alone your heart would ache  I know I have a great many blessings left  I have a very kind Husband & affectionate Children, they do everything in their power to make my life pleasant.  But they dont know a Mothers feelings. 

You my Dear Sister have seen a dear child brought near the grave but she was spared and I cannot describe to you my feelings.  While ____ and then to see the bereaved Husband and that Dear little babe.  It is a lovely child it looks very much like her Mother, her Father almost worships her & you would not wonder at it if you could see her  Whats a solumn sight to see a little babe left without a Mothers watchful care  Who can do for her like a Mother no one possibly can  It has the best of fathers. He is one of the best of men he is a kind son to me.

Elizabeth has been there ever since Maria died. Her year will be out in four weeks. He would like to have her stay another year but I think I shall have her come home this spring for me to come to Warren I think if nothing happens.  I think I shall come in April.  Jesse thinks of coming with me. 

I went up to see Mother yesterday and carried her bundle  She was very pleased &  She looked first to one and then to the other. She says they have all thought of me, and Mr. Nichols has sent me a snuffbox , and she appeared very much pleased with them all. Jesse carried Mary's bundle to her this morning. She was very much pleased but he thought Granny Cafren was full as much.

I want to see you all very much.  Tell the girls I think much of them. 

Your affectionate Sister

Saturday Flowers May 2 and Avon Breast Cancer Awareness in DC

Driving into Washington DC Saturday morning with Joe for his German class at the Goethe Institute,   I saw that today was the Avon Breast Cancer Awareness walk in the city, and snapped this picture on the way out of town. I saw hundreds of women (and a few men) walkers, a sea of pink T-shirts on a gray and drizzely day. Their men were route marshals, standing at street intersections in bright vests, and everywhere at the ready with first-aid supplies and water and a handy cell phone for emergencies.  It was rather touching to see brothers, husbands, fathers and sons participating in this way to support their loved ones.  Each woman raised at least $1,800 to walk.

  I came home and arranged the morning flowers for the kitchen table.  Here they are, a bright antidote to the rainy weather. As were the walkers.

Sam, on the Future

Recently, Sam was pondering the following idea.  After the Virus Wars of the mid-century to come, only about 500,000 hardy human survivors will remain planet-wide.  He wrote, 

“Will artificial beings will care for the creatures of Earth any more than have homo sapiens sapiens?

I posit that their rate of increase in intelligence would be more than we can comprehend.  Further, they would inevitably lock in to a plan that humans have yet to have even considered as a whole, that is, assuring long term (>100,000 years) existence.

Scenario A

Priority one:  Root out that blemish known as humanity.  Who would come to our defense?  Cats?  Dogs?  The cockroaches could certainly put in a good word.  We keep them well fed and amused.

Priority two:  Punching through the star-system firewall that was surely put in place around the 1940's to cordon off such a volatile and youthful group of trouble-makers.  Then, all that remains is to connect this rock to the inter-star-system communications channels so that they may propagate into the depths of deep space, and beyond.

Scenario B
The evil pharmaceutical corporation, in cahoots with the U.S. government, releases the black.plague.64x virus, modified to jump the virtual-real barrier into the Web.  The evil pharmaceutical corporation has developed the cure and stands to take control of the world's wealth and power.  

It is up to <insert hero's name> to infiltrate evil corporation headquarters, take out hordes of henchmen in harrowing shootouts, and tape record the confession of the company chair and the head of the CIA, before escaping through the control room with the antidote.  Preferably, the evil corporation headquarters erupts in explosion as <insert hero's name> crawls out through underground tunnels."

Then he had to prepare for his next class. I call that hitting the books, and it is the title of my next post.

Miss Helen's Ruby Ring

Upon the death of elderly Miss Helen in Myersville, young Claire, to whom she had given a delicate ring set with a small ruby, had much to ponder.  Miss Helen, a widow for many years, had received the ring from her husband when they were young. The ring could have gone to children or grandchildren, but it is now Claire's ring instead.  The ring needed a small repair, so Claire's mother took it to the jeweler, who told Claire's mother that the stone was a synthetic ruby. The ring was repaired, and Claire wears Miss Helen's ring.

Miss Helen's husband gave his bride a ring that grew in meaning and value thereby over the years.  The ring had relatively little monetary value, but that kind of value is always the first to be lost when we count what really matters in life, doesn't it? Claire now wears a ring that is old, and was given twice in love.  It must be a very powerful token indeed.  I imagine Claire will always wear the little ring, but if by chance it should be lost, the power of it will remain due to how it was given, and received.  It is the strong power of the gift that is real, and the pretty ruby ring its mere token.