For the past few months, some revelations about what is really important have been surfacing in numerous conversations, programs on TV, articles in the Newspaper, if you even do the exercise of reading anymore, since the internet, and the addiction to TV have become, along with handheld networking have surfaced in realms we all associate with our day to day living.
If I do say so myself, after being raised in a military family, and traversing over so many platitudes during the course of one duty station after another, years on the road, defining my space in time, and society by being a vagabond of sorts, and then coming crashing down to earth in a Fig Isaac Newton sort of way, marrying into a local and rural family, I have not been immune to the wonders of such fodder as family and community, including what support you engender by being a member of a local church.
My mother was one who took a train across country from Baltimore, Maryland to California, got on a freighter and headed onto Japan, where my father was stationed, and after short stints in China and Japan, they both came back to the states to start a family. My mother sewed her own clothes, reupholstered furniture, did plumbing and electrical work, beat men in tennis, bridge and golf, was a gourmet cook, raised five boys and then went back to school and became a C-27 Landscape Contractor.
My Dad was in the Navy for 37 years. His brother flew B-29's in WWII and later became a Veterinarian and when he retired to Cambria, after living in Southern California, took care of, for awhile, the dogs at Hearst Castle.
My brother Mike was in the Army JAG Corps for 25 years and now is the Chief of Staff for the Surgeon General of the Department of Defense.
My father-in-law built Submarines at Mare Island, and had many stories about his life, his times with hunting buddies, his experiences at Mare Island, and was in his own right a Master in the Culinary Arts.
On my Dad's side of the family I am related to Wilbur B. Hatch, who did the orchestration for the " I Love Lucy Show " and on my mother's side of the family, I am related to Samuel B. Morse, the guy who invented the Telegraph Machine. As for whether or not I am really related to Julia Child, thru my Dad being related to her husband Paul, is still in contention. Though when prompted on various levels, I easily find it within myself to say that is why I have all the Culinary Leanings that I do, along with the fact my mother was an artist in the kitchen, beyond the concepts of managing her own time, while investing in the flavor profiles of the Global Communities she dabbled in.
So when it comes to quaint little excerpts coming from various forms of media, that the realization of Family and Communities will get us over the hump when it comes to this fast pace society we keep engendering in so many Bloody Pulpits and political caustic rhetoric, my stand outside the line, during the games of Dodge Ball, I am already quite untouched by, or even involved in such discourse. This means, that my lifestyle of being a recorder, or a watcher, if you will, of cultural anthropology, historical nuance and architectural story telling in form, function, geometric pattern and textural tribalism, has already had it's wick lit or the switch " Turned On " so as not to have to wait, as others come to such conclusions, to begin to put their feet into the water. This is in no way saying anything that can be misconstrued, or typecast or profiled as either side of any spectral analysis, other than what your reading. I am not the only Dreamer in the crowd. As like many from the 60's, I have always stood in the doorway, or hid under the desk at school, in case of an Earthquake, or a chance the Bomb is just about ready to hit, and chanted out loud and in my head those famous words..."Give Peace / A Piece of the Pie a Chance ". Come to Papa someone once purported to have enthralled his family members with one day. Well, There You Go Again, Ronald Reagan, or Ronald McDonald once commented. The Golden Arches are still there, but the words of such poets are not necessarily still on the Subway Walls. Let my people go.....Me
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