On this eve of Christmas 2008, I am reflecting on two important things I learned from a conversation with a friend this week. At the time, her points hit me like 1,000 pounds of bricks. Since then, the other half of the ton has been hitting me in the head, one brick at a time. They will continue to get my attention as I reflect in the days ahead on these lessons she taught me:
1) Come down from the mountaintop where you've been communing with your god, stop thinking and writing about yourself and do something to improve the lives of others. God isn't just about your experience, it's about being part of a community of persons with a similar desire to create a better world for everyone.
2) As you continue your spiritual journey, consider this: If you were to create your own personal religion, what would it look like? Let's see: It would be centered on unconditional love for every living thing, a deep appreciation for the gift of life and the natural world that surrounds us, compassion and inclusion, and serving people who have the greatest need.
Sound familiar? It sounds a lot like the only part of the Bible that ever made sense to me: The sermon on the mount in Matthew. I dug out my well-worn childhood Bible (image above) and re-read chapter five, compete with my 40-plus-year-old notes in the margins and underlined text.
I've spent a lot of negative energy over the years debunking the myths of Christianity (the Bible is a history book full of parables, for god's sake!) and the guilt and the ridiculous rules that were drilled into me in Lutheran catechism class during my youth. It's time to move on and focus on the positive, without regard to what it's called, or who gets the credit -- God, Yahweh, Brahman, Nirvana; Abraham, Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, Muhammad, Gandhi, King, Obama, you or me. Blessed are all the peacemakers.
As I reflect on my many blessings on this day, I am thankful for my family, my health, the wondrous gift of life, and my many friends who share this appreciation. Most especially, I thank those who remind us to focus on doing something for others.
Winter solstice occurs tomorrow at 4:02 a.m. PST, making today the last day of autumn. Tonight will be the longest night of the year, and tomorrow the shortest day. After that, days will get longer, the sun will be higher in the sky, and my favorite constellation Orion will disappear from the night sky.
It's always a bittersweet time for me. I love the cool, brisk days and nights of this time of year. And the crystal-clear skies. I recall the days of my youth when my neighborhood friends and I slept in sleeping bags in the backyard in winter. I used a borrowed camera to create time exposures of the stars for a junior high school science class. It was then that I learned to love the stars of the winter sky.
Earlier this week, my friend Jean Grant wrote in her blog, "Now that the rain is gone... Where do we go from here? The rain has tucked itself away in the clouds again and the skies gave way today to some gorgeous sunshine." For me it was easy to decide where to go today: outside! I climbed on my mountain bike and headed for Crafton Hills. (Visit my Picasa web album for a few photos.)
As soon as I hit the trail, a rider passed me and said, "Lots of snow up there!" Huh? It's only about 3,500' at the top. There can't be that much snow! To my surprise, as I ascended, I hit more frequent patches of ice and as I heard it crack beneath my tires, I thought of Jean's reflections on the intensity of the seasons she experienced as a child in Illinois: "...that exquisite pain of joy when in spring, the icy puddle begins to crack and the sweet smell of the earth comes back to you after months of deep and bitter rejection of your longing soul."
My soul's longing was fulfilled today. It was a spectacular end-of-fall day. The air was crisp, the sky was deep blue (aided by the sun's lowest angle of the year) and there was nary a cloud in the sky. As I rode along the trail heading east, I saw San Bernardino and San Gorgonio mountains in the distance and recalled the hikes I made to their peaks this summer. The cycle of the seasons -- and of life -- takes its winter turn now and makes those peaks off-limit for people like me. Only the year-round inhabitants dwell there now.
Our seasons may be subtle by Illinois standards, but if you know what to look for, you can appreciate them. True, there will not be much ice skating on the frozen lakes of Pomona, but winter will bring change. I think I'll go outside, say hello to Orion, and languish in it.
I met an extraordinary person recently who keeps a list of things she loves, which seems like really good exercise to do every now and then. Actually, it's a good exercise to do every moment of your life. If you're not doing what you love, what is the point of life?
Earlier, I posted Myths of Our Time, which was about what I consider to be the misguided values of our Western culture. But what do I know, really? Do I have a right to judge others, who arrive at this moment as the sum of their experiences? I haven't lived their lives.
So, this is entirely personal. Things I like to do. Things I like to experience. Things that make me want to jump out of bed feeling relaxed and peaceful and looking forward to the day, instead of saying, "Oh, crap!" It's in no particular order and subject to change and updating. If this list lies fallow, put a mirror to my nose to see if I'm breathing.
I love:
That time in the evening when the sky is aglow at the horizon and fades to deep blue above, especially when there is a crescent moon and Venus in the western sky
Sunlight reflecting on water
Music of all kinds: loud, soft, fast, slow, with or without lyrics, it doesn't matter, so long as it moves me
People who understand we are all part of something bigger, more resilient than ourselves
Being a father
Having two amazing sons and watching them grow up (still, as men)
Thunder and lightning, especially when it's very close
Big, fat snowflakes drifting slowly to the ground
A full moon rising over the mountains you didn't expect
A full moon rising over the mountains you did expect
A sky so dark and full of stars the Milky Way gets lost in it
Homemade soup by the fire on a cold, rainy day
Touching the earth by pausing barefoot on a patch of dirt in the front yard when I pick up the newspaper in the morning
A cold, fresh navel orange off my tree after a long bike ride
A long bike ride or hike in the mountains
A long bike ride or walk on the beach
A long bike ride or hike anywhere, so long as there is no industrial noise or evidence of the machines that created it
Clean air to breathe
Clean water to drink
The sound of the wind as it rustles the needles of a thick stand of pine trees
Days when I don't start my car
The view from atop a tall mountain peak
The act of getting to and from the top of a tall mountain peak
The sound of a mountain stream
Listening to that sound with your eyes closed
The sound and rhythm of the ocean, especially at night, when you can't anticipate the waves
Fresh-baked bread right out of the oven
The scent of the hops when home-brewed beer is cooking on the stove
Licking the malt extract off the spoon before it goes into the home brew pot
Dark chocolate (the darker the better)
Café mocha
Reading David Sedaris
Listening to Davis Sedaris read David Sedaris
Watching people laugh and smile
Making people laugh and smile
People who take seriously the work we need to do to make the world a better place
People who can do that without taking themselves seriously
Being able to get the printed version of The Onion from a newsstand in San Francisco
San Francisco
Spending a day doing nothing but walking around and photographing San Francisco
The guy who plays makeshift drums on the sidewalk near the Ferry Building at the Embarcadero
The Embarcadero
The Ferry Building
Taking the steps to Coit Tower
Golden Gate Park
Café Zoetrope
North Beach Pizza and an Anchor Steam
New York City
The New York City subway
Rockefeller Center at Christmas time
Central Park
The Met
Seeing Van gogh and the Impressionists at the Met
Times Square
Washington Square
Broadway, or not: Pick a theater, let's go!
Music that makes me feel something
Words that make me feel something
Movies that make me feel something
Creating something that makes other people feel something
Playing the guitar until my fingers are so sore I can't
A fresh, crisp, slightly tart apple in Autumn
Memories of good times with my late sister Cheryl and my dad (rest in peace)
Still having my mom, the last person who will ever call me "Donny"
Being so far ahead you can raise your hands in the air when you win a bike race
Not setting an alarm
A full day of not having to be anywhere or do anything at any particular time
The kittens Gracie and Suzy falling asleep together on my lap
Staying in a cabin in Red's Meadow
Rainbow Falls in Red's Meadow when the sun hits just right
Riding my bike to Forest Falls around the time of my birthday when the lady bugs hatch en masse
Checking my bike and clothing for tiny red hitch-hikers when I get home, then setting them free
I haven't had much time to get to all the photos I've shot lately, much less add to this blog, but I've been especially remiss in not posting something about the Beach-to-Baldy bike and hike I did Sunday, Oct. 5, with Joel and Darren. The three of us did the bike portion (they've done it a many times and invited me along for the first time this year). The motley crew in the photo below did the hike with us (or, in some cases, far ahead of us). From left to right, here are Darren, Steve, Jacob, Daniel, Austin, Brenda and Joel:
Everyone made it to the top -- and they were awesome! Joel and I figured out that the order of reaching to the top (and returning to the bottom) was pretty much according to age. Darren's son Austin was first and the two 50-somethings (Joel and me) took turns bringing up the rear.
Joel and Darren left on their bikes from Huntington Beach about 7 a.m., the same time I left from Claremont heading in their direction. Unfortunately, I missed a turn and kept heading south right before they made that turn heading north. They had to backtrack to pick me up in Brea Canyon, which cost us about 20 minutes. (Sorry again, guys!) As it turns out, the extra distance I rode (turning around at elevation 198' - not quite "Beach" to Baldy) meant we rode the same distance from our respective starts to the ski lifs at 6,350'.
Here is a good shot of Brenda and Joel. Brenda is training for the Pasadena Marathon in November and ran 15 miles the day before this hike. She kept coming back to Joel and me to see if we were OK, then taking off like a mountain goat to catch up with the others. She was amazing!
The view was spectacular, as you'll see when l have time to edit and post the photos to my SmugMug gallery. [Update Oct. 13: The photos have been posted to SmugMug, so check them out -- and download any of them you want.] Here's one of my faves: A panorama looking west over the top of East Baldy Peak (click on it to see a larger version). What a day!
I learned at dinner in Baldy Village afterward that this trip is Darren's brainchild. Well, it's one arduous brainchild! I was toast afterward -- and for a few days after that. Here is a link to the GPS data for the bike ride (click on the images to see the MotionBased Dashboard and Player versions of the trips):
Joel Cinnamon's invitation to me to join his annual Beach-to-Baldy ride-and-hike Oct. 5 prompted me to post something about the Ride Around the Bear, which we rode together June 7.
The Ride Around the Bear leaves from Sylvan Park in Redlands and heads to Big Bear Lake via Hwy. 330 through Running Springs, then on to Big Bear Lake's north shore (Fawnskin), returning via Hwy. 38 over Onyx Summit, Barton Flats, Angeles Oaks and Mentone. The route covers more than 100 miles and 10,000' of climbing. Yeow!
The weather on June 7 was perfect, as was the ride -- and the company. (Well, except for the thousand-or-so very-loud Harley Davidsons that passed us on their way to a rally in Fawnskin). Below is a map and link to the GPS data for the day. Click on the image to go my MotionBased digest. (Mac users should click on the Player tab in the upper right to view the cool animation.)
Here is a photo of Joel from Onyx Summit, which was at the end of most (repeat, most -- not all) of the climbing for the day. At 8,443', it's the highest paved road in Southern California. We did it, Joel! Next year, I predict new P.R.s.
Meet the soon-to-be-additions to the Davidson household:
When the stray orange tabby cat our next-door neighbor Susie named Lemonade (below) began alternating between her back yard and ours, we asked, "Whose is it?" No one in the neighborhood claimed her and she was clearly expecting a litter, so we began to wonder which of our houses would become the maternity ward. Three weeks ago, the planter outside Susie's back door became home to momma and her five kits.
We've claimed the two pictured below. We haven't named them and don't know their gender yet, but if they're both male, I think we should call them Chris and Dean.
The others are going to homes of friends of Susie's. Her boyfriend Albert might be taking Lemonade to his home in Orange County, but we're hoping she'll continue to share quarters with our house and Susie's and remain close to her kits.
Because I won't be able to compete in next week's Mount Everest Challenge State Climbing Championships bike race, I decided to create my own personal version this past weekend. The Everest Challenge, which I completed in 2004 and 2005, is a two-day, 206-mile sufferfest that sends you up and down six mountains in the Sierras for a total of 29,035' of elevation gain.
While the 201 miles I rode over the weekend came up short by Everest Challenge standards, I outdid the elevation gain substantially -- 32,525'. Yesterday's ride was epic: 122 miles and 18,268' of climbing. What else are you going to do on a glorious near-end-of-summer weekend? Get outdoors and savor it!
Below are the MotionBased Player views of the rides (click on images to view full size). I can't wait to get away from this desk and get up there again!
Check this out: Some of Dean's most recent work for Dri-Eaz is on the web. While his work is primarily for print, he works in the same office with Dri-Eaz web dude (er...administrator) Marcus Purnell, who converted a recent piece Dean designed into a web page (click on images to view full size):
Note the source code (highlighted in yellow), where Marcus gave him credit. Very cool:
Dri-Eaz recently purchased two companies and has been marketing them together as Legend Brands. That's keeping Dean plenty busy these days. You could say he's living the CMC100 slogan: "High Performance, Low Profile."
I described this technique to my friend Joel Cinnamon and he said I should post it on my blog. So here is my first Photoshop tutorial, such as it is:
Here's the "sitch": You have a digital image that you photographed on a very hazy day and it's so washed out, you can barely see what it was that made you point your camera in that direction. It's amazing what the camera can capture, and Photoshop can recover, using its Image-Adjustments-Levels menu.
The photo below is of the Seven Oaks Dam in East Highland, Calif., taken from several miles away on the San Bernardino Peak Trail. It was so hazy, my lens couldn't find an edge sharp enough to auto-focus on. A throw-away image, right? Not quite. (Click on these images to view full size.)
Opening the Levels dialog box displays the image's histogram (photo below), which is a graphic representation of its tonal range. In this case, both the highlight and shadow regions of the image are "blown out" -- there is no detail in those areas. Notice the big gaps between the highlight and shadow end points and where there is density in the image (represented by the graph in the center):
Grabbing the end points for the highlight and shadow values and dragging them to the area where the curve shows some density will eliminate much of the "noise" and reveal the detail you need:
Of course, the resulting color is not true, so you will need to do additional manipulation. Because I have trouble seeing accurate color, I opted for Photoshop's Auto Color adjustment, which did the trick. While it's still not a great shot, it allows me to demonstrate to my friend Phil Richards that there is no lake behind the dam, as he contends. It looks more like a puddle.
Using Auto Color won't work in all cases, nor will the use of Levels in the manner described above. Moving the slider for the mid-tone value can help, too. If you want to explore more options, venture into manipulating Curves. The possibilities are nearly endless. There are a lot of in-depth tutorials on how to manage histograms, but this is a quick way to make a really bad shot look better.
Labor Day, Sept. 1, 2008: I rode my bike to Angeles Oaks and hiked to San Bernardino Peak. I really recommend this hike for anyone who wants to experience the San Bernardino mountains. The view is spectacular!
The valley was pretty hazy yesterday, so the photos are going to need some serious Photoshop work and will be posted later, along with video and the usual blah-blah-blah-me-me-me. Good news: My new Garmin Forerunner 305 GPS battery held out for the entire 12.5-hour trip. (Unlike my 301, which let me down on San G.) My MotionBased digest has all the data for the day, which amounted to almost 15,000' of elevation gain.
Below is a panorama I stitched together with Photoshop that merges five separate exposures. It was taken from mid-way up the mountain and includes Mount San Antonio (Old Baldy) in the distance and Big Bear (far right). Click on the image to view full size:
Update Sept. 3: Here are a few more photos from the hike. It's amazing what you can do by manipulating levels in Photoshop. Click on these images to see larger versions (which have been downsized for the web. I'll post the full-size originals in my SmugMug gallery later).
Looking west across San Bernardino valley toward Mount San Antonio (Old Baldy):
Well, I did it. I finally made it to the summit of San Gorgonio Mountain yesterday. I left Redlands at 5:11 a.m., rode my bike to South Fork, hiked to the summit and back, then rode home, arriving at 8:46 p.m. Total time for the 52 miles of cycling and 23.2 miles of hiking was 15 hours and 35 minutes.
This was probably the most physically demanding thing I have ever attempted, with the added challenge of a thunderstorm that drenched me most of the way down the mountain and made the bike ride home pretty treacherous (the last part of it in the dark). Several times on the way up the mountain, as the muscles in my legs and back cried out in pain, I kept thinking, "I'm going to turn around and head back," but I persisted. On the way down from the summit, I kept thinking, "I'm going to turn around and head back," and then I realized, I was heading back! There was no shortcut home. Today, I'm taking it easy and hanging out with my good friend, Mr. Motrin.
On the way down the mountain, after 10+ hours of hauling a 20-pound backpack more than 40 miles horizontally and 10,000 feet vertically from Redlands, I was very tired and sore. I tried not to focus on the pain I was suffering, but instead on the beautiful scene that surrounded me: The clouds ebbing and flowing through the trees; the different sounds of the raindrops on the leaves, tree stumps and puddles of water; the thunder clapping all around me (at least 100 times); and the intense saturation of the colors of the plants and flowers around me as they shimmered in the rain. Pain and beauty; yin and yang.
I was pretty disappointed this morning to find my Garmin GPS data from the hike was corrupt and MotionBased could not process it. I don't know if is because there were too many data points, or if it was because the battery died about a mile from the end of the hike, which also meant I couldn't record the ride home. I've asked MotionBased to see if the hike data is salvageable. It looks to me to be showing four data points: The start at South Fork, a point near Dollar Lake saddle where the route turns from south to south-east, the summit and the point where the battery died. Here is a screenshot of what MotionBased returned when I tried to upload the hike data (click on the image to see it full size):
I uploaded the hike data into Garmin's Training Center (GTC) software (screen shot below -- click on the image to see it full size) and got mostly the same result, which appears to be the data points of the three "laps" I recorded (South Fork to summit=lap 1; respite at the summit=lap 2; return to South Fork=lap 3). I don't understand why the start times vary from 9:13 a.m. in GTC (which I recall as more accurate) and 9:29 a.m. in MotionBased. At least GTC recorded the times of day, along with elevation (I guess the 11,500 feet I saw didn't get recorded). The mileage -- and the speed, as a result -- are inaccurate because the software drew a straight line between the data points. If I coulda flown like a crow, I woulda!
I shot a few still photos during the hike that are posted on my Picasa web album, but the weather didn't allow me to shoot the panoramas I was hoping to capture from the summit. I also shot some video, but my MacBook's disk drive is full and I can't edit it today (video files eat up the gigs like Pac-Man). I'll post it on YouTube later. Like the photo of me above, below is a frame grab from the video. There is rock to the right of the guy in the middle of the shot where I climbed and held my GPS above my head and recorded 11,500 feet.
I spoke with my good friend and cycling teammate Phil Richards today and he told me his wife Annette asked him, "Why would he do that?" As I told the Forest Service crew I chatted with on the way up, "It seems like a good way to take advantage of all this summer daylight." Annette's question reminds of British mountaineer George Leigh Mallory's famous quote in the New York Times in 1923, the year before he was lost while attempting to climb Mount Everest. When asked why he wanted to climb the world's tallest peak, he said, "Because it's there." It inspired this poem by Robert William Service:
Dauntless Quest
Why seek to scale Mount Everest, Queen of the air, Why strive to crown that cruel crest And deathward dare? Said Mallory of dauntless quest, "Because it's there."
Update July 14 (Bastille Day):
As promised, here is the video. The quality is terrible (I can't get Final Cut Express HD to render it in a better-quality version), but here is a record of the trip, such as it is. The last few frames are of a stream that runs near the trail that I captured on the trip down the mountain. It reminds me of a song I wrote many years ago.
Notes for next time:
Total miles: 75.2 Elevation gain: 10,000 feet Total time: 15:35 Departed 5:11 a.m.; returned 8:46 p.m. Ride time to South Fork: 3:14 (Water stops at Mill Creek and Angeles Oaks) Ride time home: Slow (roads were wet, I was top-heavy with the backpack and it was getting dark) Hike time: Departed 9:13 a.m.; returned 6:50 p.m. Total time 9:37 (2.41 m.p.h., including idle time at summit) Time to summit: 4:48 (2.42 m.p.h.) Time to return (less 26 min. at summit): 4:22 (2.66 m.p.h.) Water: 130 ounces on the hike; 60 ounces on the ride Full Camelback bladder plus one-liter bottle on hike (8.8 lbs.) Nutrition: 5-1/2 Cliff bars, two Odwalla bars (1760 calories total)
Dos and don'ts:
- No Odwalla bars: Almost cracked a tooth on nut shells in both of them - On the ride, haul the backpack in the Burley cargo trailer to take the weight off the back - Do not pack a tripod; it's too heavy and cumbersome - Take the Nikon for better still photos (need to get those panoramas next time) - Try the shorter (but steeper) Vivian Creek Trail route to shorten the time - Get some really good hiking boots ("Avoid Merrell brand," said the blister on his heel) - Do a lot more hiking and high-altitude preparation beforehand!
I used to think that after I died, I wanted my sons to scatter my cremated ashes on the peak of San Gorgonio Mountain (a.k.a. "Old Greyback") and have those little "bits of me" spend future eons being washed and blown into the San Bernardino valley below, where my ancestors were among the original settlers. Climbing to the peak of San G. (elevation 11,499') has been a goal of mine for many years, but I've never achieved it. After this weekend, I'll never ask my sons to make that trip. It is really hard! (Note to Chris and Dean: Take some of the life insurance proceeds and rent a helicopter.)
On Saturday, July 5, 2008, I left home in Redlands (elevation 1,500') and rode my road bike 26 miles east on Hwy. 38 to South Fork (elevation 6,800'), locked my bike to a sign post and hiked 5.2 miles into the wilderness (one way) toward the peak, stopping just short of Dollar Lake. The video I compiled and posted on YouTube (below) doesn't include a lot of the footage I shot, notably at the turnaround, where I described the shortness of breath I experienced at 9,250 feet. The remaining 6.4 miles and 2,250 feet to the peak will be a challenge, to be sure, but I have my wilderness permit for next Saturday, July 12, and plan to give it a go. Stay tuned.
Below are screen shots from MotionBased.com of the satellite views of the terrain, overlaid with my routes, from yesterday's ride to South Fork, hike to 9,250 feet and ride home. A YouTube video of the day is also included below. It was shot in HD video, so if you have the time and bandwidth, go to the YouTube web page and select "watch in high quality."
Next stop: San Gorgonio peak!
Here's a 10-minute video of some highlights of the day:
For the last decade, summer solstice (the longest day of the year) has always had a special meaning for me. This year, it happened on my birthday, June 20. The best part was it happened at precisely 4:59 p.m. PDT, meaning the end of the work week on Friday was also the beginning of summer. How cool was that? I headed to Hanger 24 Craft Brewery in Redlands, had my growler filled with orange wheat beer and took this photo from Pioneer Ave., looking west toward Mt. Baldy and the San Gabriel Mountains. Happy birthday to me, and best wishes to my pagan friends out there. Let's dance naked, do some cartwheels and celebrate the wonder -- and the gift -- of life!
Here is a satellite view of today's ride to Morton Peak. I took some photos with my Kodak camera from the Forest Service's fire lookout tower. The three miles from the highway to the lookout tower are about the hardest three miles I've ever climbed. Enjoy the view!
Oh, man, where did this clip come from? Here's a look back at the greatness of two late guitar heroes. Watch as Healey gets up from his chair and Stevie stands on his toes during their solos. The quality of the video is poor and it breaks up in the middle, but plug your computer into your stereo's speakers, crank it up and re-live a bit of history.
Here is the one-and-only doing one of the greatest songs for guitar ever written. Joe Satriani referred to this song as "the ultimate guitar statement." Stevie Ray Vaughan's version at El Mocambo is among the best guitar performances of all time, but this version is by the man who wrote it. Performing a great song really well is one thing -- having it flow from your head to your fingers for the first time is genius.
Here is the late blind guitar genius Jeff Healey playing his signature song, "See the Light." An added bonus is Dr. John (Malcolm John "Mac" Rebennack, Jr.) on piano. What an amazing talent -- and technique. Watch the way Healey bends the strings and walks up and down the fretboard with his fingers. We miss you, Jeff!
Here is an amazing video of Kal David playing alongside John Mayall and the Bluebreakers. I wrote about Kal in my earlier post The Soundtrack of My Life. Notice he's playing the same 1964 Gibson Firebird V he hangs around his neck on stage today. This is great stuff!
I sent a message in February about my son Christopher being named by the Air Force as Airman of the Quarter for the fourth quarter 2007 and was disappointed you didn't run it. I hope you'll consider sharing with the community his most recent award (below). I have attached a photo.
Christopher (Chris) Davidson was named Enlisted Airman Space Systems Operator of the Year for 2007 for the Air Force Space Command, it was announced Monday, May 5, by Colonel Clinton E. Crosier, commander, USAF 50th Operations Group.
Davidson is a senior airman working as a member of the 3rd Space Operations Group at Schriever AFB in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Previously, he was named Airman of the Quarter for the fourth quarter 2007 for the 3rd Space Operations Group, the 50th Operations Group, the 50th Space Wing and Team Schriever at Schriever Air Force Base. Davidson was also named to the High Frontier Honor Guard earlier this year, which represents the President of the U.S. at community events and Air Force ceremonies, including funeral services for women and men who served in the Air Force.
The son of Don and Deena Davidson of Redlands, he is a 1998 graduate of Redlands High School and studied astrophysics at U.C. Berkeley after graduation.
Regards, Don
Don Davidson Redlands
- - - - -
February 14, 2008
To: Editor, Redlands Daily Facts
I don't know if you intend to run this story, which I sent last week, but Christopher learned today he has been honored with yet another level of recognition: Airman of the Quarter for the fourth quarter 2007 for the 14th Air Force, which comprises the five bases that make up the Strategic Space Command.
Regards, Don Davidson
- - - - -
February 6, 2008
To: Editor, Redlands Daily Facts
Good morning,
I'm pleased to share with you that my son, Christopher Davidson, recently earned the following honors:
He was named Airman of the Quarter for the fourth quarter 2007 for the 3rd Space Operations Group, the 50th Operations Group, the 50th Space Wing and Team Schriever at Schriever Air Force Base in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
He was also named to the High Frontier Honor Guard, which represents the President of the U.S. at community events and Air Force ceremonies, including funeral services for women and men who served in the Air Force.
Christopher is a 1998 graduate of Redlands High School and is an Airman First Class working in space (satellite) operations at Schriever AFB. He is the son of Don and Deena Davidson of Redlands.
I said good-bye to our cat Smokey yesterday. About a week ago, we noticed he had gained a lot of weight and filled out around the middle. After a couple of days, he became lethargic and wasn't eating. X-rays showed his body was swollen with fluid and blood tests indicated he had feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV), which was fatal. We could tell he was feeling worse with each passing day and decided that euthanasia was the humane thing to do -- before he was in pain and suffering.
While I knew it was the best thing for my good feline friend, it was nonetheless very hard to accept. Two days before we took him in to be put down, I felt terrible all day, both physically and emotionally. I awoke in the middle of the night and thought about him, knowing he was feeling poorly as he perched on the cushion on the lounge chair on our back porch.
He didn't move from the spot very much the last few days of his life. When he was well, whenever I would open the sliding glass door, he would jump down and run to the door. During those last few days, it took a lot of coaxing. I felt so bad for him. Despite the obvious discomfort of all that fluid pushing against his organs, he still purred when I would pet him.
Smokey wasn't a very affectionate cat. His mother was a feral cat from whom he was rescued as a kitten. He loved being outdoors and ruled our yard like a lion. He came in the house only to eat and sleep and never sat on anyone's lap. Only in the past year would he let me pick him up. It took a while, but he came to enjoy it and would purr loudly when I held him and stroked his head and scratched his cheeks and behind his ears.
We had a routine that was very special to me -- and to him, too, I hope. Every morning, the first thing I would do would be to open the vertical blinds that covered the sliding glass door to the back porch. He would be sitting at the door, waiting to come in for his breakfast. I felt guilty about making any noise and having him know I was in the house and making him wait, so I made letting him in my first priority every morning. I may be delusional, but I think he sensed that -- how much I wanted to see him and make him feel welcomed.
His first stop was at the scratching post inside the door. I would patiently wait for him to do his thing, then pet him as he made his way to the tray with his food and water in the kitchen. As he munched on Cat Chow, which was always available, I would prepare a can of Fancy Feast. After a few nibbles of kibble, he would rub against my leg and make noise that he was ready for the good stuff. After his meal, as I ate my cereal and soy milk and perused the Los Angeles Times, he found his place on the La-Z-Boy chair he called his own in the dining area.
I sure miss my cat. There are those who will think me crazy to get so attached to a pet like I did, but he was a great friend. I strived to make sure he knew that whenever he saw me, he knew that he was loved and would be cared for. It was not always that way, however. When he was young, he got in a fight and got very sick from an abscess under his scalp. The vet shaved his head and opened up his scalp and flushed it out. He sent him home with a hole in his scalp that we were expected to flush with an antibiotic solution twice a day. Needless to say, it was a struggle and I have the scars to prove it. But he survived, and we made up.
This morning, when I got up, I was sick knowing he wouldn't be at the door. But I opened the blinds and the sliding glass door and welcomed him in anyway. I looked at the empty lounge chair and cried. I imagined him scratching on his post and meowing for his breakfast. When I got home tonight, it was dark. As I went to the kitchen, I caught myself squinting and looking at the glass door to see if he was perched there, wanting to come in. Being gray, he was hard to see in the dark, but if he was there, I always went straight to the door and welcomed him in. I really missed seeing him there.
We asked the vet to have Smokey cremated and to provide us with his remains. We'll blend them into the soil at the base of a tree in the backyard where our Golden Retriever Sandy's remains are. These were our pets through most of our years here on Anthony Street when Chris and Dean were growing up. When we brought Smokey home as a kitten, Sandy took to him immediately. Smokey developed a habit of licking Sandy around the eyes, cleaning off any matter that accumulated there. Sandy, who outweighed Smokey by 50-60 pounds, would lie on the floor quite placidly, letting her feline friend take care of her.
I think I'll open the sliding glass door every morning and every evening and say hello to my feline friend for quite a while. Farewell, Smokey. Thanks for everything you gave us -- for everything you gave me.
This photo was taken by Sensei Susan Perry of Musubi Dojo and the Aiko Institute. The original was part of a wonderful exhibit of her work in 2007 at Some Crust bakery in Claremont. She is also the director of Budo Zen Art, which has a fantastic collection of brush stroke artwork. I am privileged to own one of her calligraphy works.
This photo contains a message about our times that I reflect on often. She took the photo at a temple in Japan, where the person was dutifully clearing the walkway of the brilliantly colored leaves of fall. About the time of sensei's exhibit, I heard a story on National Public Radio about a town in New England that was considering a ban on leaf blowers.
Many of the residents of the town shared their loathing of the noise of the machines, which shattered the peace and quiet of each morning as crews of gardeners used them to remove the trees' abundant fall offerings from the well-manicured properties they maintained. Others complained of the way the leaf-blowing devices' two-stroke engines filled the air with a pungent odor of scorched motor oil and unburned gasoline.
The owners of one of the gardening companies railed against a suggestion that his crews be prohibited from using the machines. He spoke of the prohibitive costs of moving so many leaves in any other manner. He laughed and said, incredulously, "What am I supposed to do, have my crews rake the leaves? Are we supposed to go back in time?"
His response spoke volumes about what the industrial revolution has done to us, and to our world. We have replaced any possible appreciation for the natural world with a need to overcome it with machines in the most expeditious and "cost-effective" way possible.
The person in this photo is obviously not in a hurry. At first glance, the project they have undertaken appears impossible: With every stroke of the broom, there will be more leaves. So, why bother? Why not fire up a leaf blower?
Could it be that the act of sweeping the leaves is reason enough? Could this person actually take pleasure -- or gain insight into themselves and the world around them -- by understanding how the rhythm of life around them is exemplified by the motion of the broom? Could the sound of the broom's bristles moving the leaves be soothing and peaceful? Could this person see in each leaf the perfection of nature through its symmetry and color, and feel a connection to the tree from which it came? Could it be that the amount of time it takes is less important than the experience one has during that time?
I would trade the peacefulness of this approach to that of a machine any day.
When I opened my local newspaper the week of Thanksgiving, I couldn't believe what I saw. Attached to the front page was this colorful JCPenney post-it note describing how I could be among the first to shop for Christmas and get all the great deals by being at the local store -- at freaking 4 a.m.!
At first, I was offended that they would think I was so stupid and so gullible to want to march with the rest of the lemmings to their store to buy a boatload of stuff for Christmas. "Come early, or all the really good stuff will be gone!" Some marketing genius probably won an award for this promotion, but I think its creator should be pilloried. After a while, I realized we are a nation of lemmings and there was probably a line forming at JCPenney at that very moment. And some idiot journalist was covering it.
The post-it piece was so thoughtfully planned in red and green -- the Christmas colors of holly, pine trees, Santa's suit and candy canes. And the ultimate Christmas symbol -- money, which has become the real "reason for the season." Every year, we hear the same report in the news: "Retail store owners fear the sluggish sales that economists are projecting for this holiday season will spell doom for their businesses. If that happens, your life will be ruined, too. So, get out there and buy some stuff! Lots of stuff. Take a year (or five) to pay for it if you must; but, damn it, get out there and buy lots of stuff! Our way of life depends on it!"
Jesus is rolling in his grave and dreaming of the days when it was much more simple: He only had to overturn the tables of a few money changers in the temple to make his point. Today, it's tens of thousands of retail outlets and a culture built on the principle of consume, then discard, then consume some more. A lot more.
Dean and I have launched a new consulting enterprise Davidson Communications. We're currently working on a project for the Bicycle Commuter Coalition of the Inland Empire. Check out our website and if you need the help of a couple of communications pros, fill out the online request form.
Chris has been chosen to serve on the High Frontier Honor Guard, which serves portions of Colorado and Kansas. It's an amazing honor for him to be chosen and represent the president of the United States as a member of this elite team. He'll perform Honor Guard duty one week per month for a year. Way to go, Chris!
