Ode to 2020

Ode to 2020

What words could pen and art combined inscribe

That would this past year perfectly describe?

How can I write in fourteen simple lines

The tragedy and lessons of these times?

 

The year began with innocence and ease

But ignorance betrayed us to disease.

With growing dread we watched the numbers rise

Of illness, unemployment, and demise.

 

Yet no pandemic has the final say

Nor evil fool’s tyranny hold sway.

The votes were cast; the final tally’s clear:

So let this be the lesson of this year:

 

There’s only one way we can rise above:

The antidote is gratitude and love.

 

 Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!!

Much love,

Nori

What Would Love Do?

We are living in unprecedented times. Not only has the COVID-19 pandemic refused to go silently into that good night, but we are now living in some liminal time in which an election has decided who the next President of the United States will be, while the current president refuses to concede the election, continues to hamper—if not downright halt—efforts for a peaceful transition of power.

We are on the razor’s edge, poised between anarchy and the beginning of the healing of our nation. Muddying the waters further is the fact that the election wasn’t a Blue Wave tsunami signaling the end not only of this current regime but of the systemic issues that landed him in the White Office to begin with.

It was a victory, to be sure, of a socio-political ideal of greater equity, inclusion, protection for our lands and water and air, but it wasn’t a mandate. And even as we celebrate a record number of voter turnout with President-elect Joe Biden winning more votes than any other candidate in history, we also have to contend with the fact that Trump won the most votes for a defeated candidate. As I drove across the nation following the election, it was striking how many homes and businesses are still proudly flying flags supporting Trump.

While I am celebrating the change in administration and looking forward to the future with hope I have been missing for the past four years, I am also left with the question of how we can use this singular moment in time to bring about the beginning of true healing in our nation. The healing of our nation begins not with ousting Trump from office; it begins not with jeering “Hah! Crawl back beneath the rock whence you came,” to his ardent base. 

It begins with telling the truth about ourselves; about how we’ve used the narrative of progressive values to turn away from our own complicity in not denying privilege and power. The healing of the nation begins with recognizing that the wound is vast and deep; it was thrust into the heart of this nation at its birth and has been festering ever since.

In her book, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontent, Isabel Wilkerson says we can say we didn’t do it. We didn’t own slaves; we didn’t fight for the confederacy; it’s not our fault. But, she says, being citizens of the United States is like being the heirs of an ancient, crumbling house. The foundation wasn’t laid properly; the plaster and lathe is not adequate to keep the house warm; there are cracks in the walls and bulges in the ceilings.

It’s not enough to say, It’s not my fault; I didn’t build it. If we want to continue to claim this house, we have to be responsible for the repairs and the upkeep of it. If we want to create a home where we can live safely and comfortably, we have to make it safe and comfortable for all. Until we do this, all we’ve done this election is to cover up the gaping wound with a “flesh colored” band aid.

One question I’ve been pondering over the past several days since the election was decided for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris is how can we not only reclaim a political landscape that sees the moral arc of the universe bending toward justice but also how can we reach out to the 70+ million people who voted to maintain instead the downward spiral of our nation into moral and ethical decay? We ignore those voters at our peril, paving the way for an ongoing pendulum of values being favored every four years.

The people still waving Trump flags and crying voter fraud are not just an anonymous part of the census of our nation; they are our families and friends, our neighbors and the person who bags our groceries. Just as it was immoral and inaccurate for the current regime to paint entire communities in colors of intolerance, bigotry and otherness, it is wrong for us to do the same to those who may have voted differently from us.

As I wonder what path leads to peace and wholeness for our nation, I am drawn to a question I’ve been pondering for my personal life. 

What would love do?

During my recent travels, I’ve had plenty of road time to think about the paths I’ve taken in my own life that have led to where I am now, physically, emotionally, relationally. I’ve been thinking of times I’ve had knee-jerk reactions to the choices or limitations life has placed before me. I have been remembering times when I acted out of fear, of not wanting to seem vulnerable, of defensiveness. I imagine that many of the people waving Trump flags alongside signs that read “pray for our nation” are also responding from those same places: fear of their world changing in ways that seem threatening to them; watching others from marginalized groups suddenly being afforded the rights they’ve had all along, making them feel vulnerable. Privilege and power are powerful aphrodisiacs; it's hard to imagine life without them. 

How do we respond to our families and friends, neighbors and co-workers now?

What would love do? 

How would love listen?

Not that we need to mollycoddle racists; it is to wonder aloud how can love open their eyes to a wider vista than the narrow one they’ve been myopically clinging to, the one that makes them feel important? How can love show them that the more diverse we are, the stronger we are; the more people invited to the table of justice, the more food there is for all?

This much I know is true: ignoring their fears and vulnerabilities amid our euphoria will not bring healing; calling them the new snowflakes and jeering at them is not the way forward. They will still be there at the mid-term elections, and in four years, with more anger and angst and fear than ever.

The coming months will be challenging for us all. One thing this election has taught us is that a vote is a voice singing a single note in the anthem of this nation, but unless that note is sustained, supported by others who join in so we can all take a breath when needed, the song soon dies.  The past four years we have been subject to discordant voices that have been blaring over the loudspeaker of our nation, creating a cacophony of distorted notes and chords. It’s our turn to conduct the choir now. We must keep singing songs of joy, inclusion, diversity, hope. We must keep singing in such a compelling way that others will change their tune, join in. We must use love as the tuning fork to make sure our notes are clear and strong, that we are singing in the key of Life. 

 

 

 

 

Hang in There, World

 This past weekend, I returned to Lawrence, KS. It was my Sunday off, and I was glad to be able to celebrate the 60^th birthday of my sister, Lori. I pulled up stakes from outside of Lexington, KY where Rubi, Wham! and I had camped the past couple of nights and drove back to Kansas, where this trip began.

I had preached on November 1 from the Eldridge Hotel in Lawrence. It had been a stronghold of the Free State movement when Lawrence had been settled in 1854 by a band of anti-slavery folks determined to halt the evil stain of slavery from spreading to their territory from their neighbor to the east, Missouri, which was a pro-slavery state.

It had not been easy; that period in the history of Kansas was known as bloody Kansas, a min Civil War fought long before the one that would shake our nation to its core. On that Sunday, November 1, I preached from the lobby of the Eldridge Hotel, which had been burned down by pro-slavery forces less than a year after it was built. The owner, Colonel Eldridge, vowed to rebuild it and add a story to it every time it was burned down.

I spoke then of how our nation was in a similar battle as the settlers of Lawrence, and indeed of the whole state of Kansas had been then: a battle for the soul of our nation. I spoke not knowing what the election would determine that Tuesday.

Of course, it turned out to be a much longer wait than Tuesday for the results to be known. Yet, it seems as if reason, inclusion, unity has prevailed, though not with a mandate. A record number of citizens voted in this past election, meaning a record number of people cast their vote for the Biden-Harris ticket, and a record number of people cast their vote for the Trump-Pence regime.

It was with great joy I preached the following Sunday, November 8, from the Black Lives Matter Plaza, just outside the White House. Before the election, unscalable walls had been erected around the White House but as I mentioned in my sermon on that Sunday, you cannot put unscalable walls around justice; justice belongs to the people.

What a jubilant day that was!
Still, along with the heartening news that a majority of the voters of this nation had voted for inclusion, diversity, our planet, came more unsettling news about the pandemic this current regime has done nothing to halt.

When the COVID-19 pandemic reached these shores, the Trump administration did nothing to halt it, offered no scientific or medical intervention, left the states to muddle through on their own. It took 100 days for the number of cases in the United States to reach one million. In just the past week, we went from 10 million to 11 million. Cases are surging around the nation, as medical experts feared, and this regime ignored.

In our own state, cases are have risen in alarming numbers and Governor Polis, while stopping short of issuing another mandatory shelter in place, is urging Coloradans to stay put in November, to not travel for the holidays. California and Texas, both places next on my itinerary, have reached their own deadly hallmark of having more than a million cases in their states. California has issued travel quarantines; Texas has not.

In this midst of this, and in midst of my ambitious itinerary for my Car Camino, I made the difficult decision to cut my travel short. It seems irresponsible for me to continue my travels amid such growing numbers and against the directions of my own governor.

So, I arrived home yesterday and plan to stay put through at least the middle of December, if not the first of the year. I can do all the rationalizing I want about how I’m traveling alone and am being careful, but the reality is that I also do interact with people on my trips: family, friends, colleagues, strangers. I cannot in good conscience continue my Car Camino while the COVID numbers surge.

I do plan to hit the open road again, hopefully after the first of the year, hopefully as cases decline. I will need to carefully strategize how I interact with others and what risk reduction measures I am taking to be safe, myself, and to keep others safe.

I am saddened by this decision but feel it is in the best interests of public health and safety, as well as my own. We share a common world; the desires of an individual should never take priority over the safety of us all.

Again, as soon as its safer for me to take All Souls on the road, I will, even as I fervently hope and look to the day when we can all gather safely, joyously together in our own dear corner of the world at 730 N Tejon St.

 

Happy Campers

 Camping in a minivan is so much nicer than camping in my Jeep Cherokee. The only change I needed to make was to update the tech so I could use my van not only as a camper but as my office; I would need to make hands-free calls, check and reply to text messages, and, well, listen to Audible books while I was wending my way across the country.

B

efore I left, I had the van all rigged out: my camping cot, under which I had two large sterilite storage containers—one filled with non-perishable food and the other filled with camping gear such as my teapot, pans, plates, etc.--two smaller containers for Rubi and Wham!'s food; a storage net which held my hammock, hats and gloves and other miscellany; Rubi’s princess bed and a smaller cozy bed for Wham!. Wham!’s crate, as I said earlier, was wedged firmly b

etween the end of the cot and the driver’s seat, though that would soon change. At the back was my cooler, Wham!’s travel litter box, and a rain jacket, down vest, and fleece.

I reserved the front passenger seat for Rubi; it had a pet cover over it, protecting it from any debris Rubi might bring in after a walk, and on the floor was three small tubs; one was filled with snacks (smoked almonds in a Tupperware container, a couple of apples, a few KIND bars and parmesan cheese Whisp crackers. On top of that was my laptop and my the flat tray that could attach to my steering wheel for a desk or eating surface. I had purchased an open tool chest with lots of little pouches and pockets that I placed between the seats; this held everything from bottles of hand sanitizer, face masks, my voice recorder, pens, paper, my water bottle and my coffee thermos.

Earlier I had bought a roll of insulation that was essentially bubble wrap covered in reflective material.

The day before I left, with the help of my friend, Wenda, I had cut out pieces to fit into each of the back windows for both privacy and insulation. This proved to be much harder than it looked, but finally, with the help of strategically placed Velcro squares, we made it work. I stored these along the side of the van, next to my cot, when not in use.

I had also bought black kitchen curtains and strung them on a tension pole across the back of the front seats; when closed it gave an added measure of privacy, particularly with the sun shade covering the front window and the two mesh screens previously used on the back windows of the Jeep, now used to cover the door windows up front.

I was set!

Of course, having said that, the first three nights were spent at my sister’s apartment in Lawrence, KS. And I would spend three more nights in hotels (election night and the day after, plus Saturday, to make sure my tech was ready for Sunday service). Still I was most excited to see how van life would be while camping.

The first opportunity for that came in Dayton, OH. This was not a glamorous location; I made use of the Cracker Barrel restaurant parking lot to simply spend the night. I had found this location at freecampsites.net, a great website that has locations of places to boondock ranging from the parking lots of Cracker Barrel restuarants, Walmart’s, or Lowes, to dispersed camping sites on lands run by the Bureau of Land Management or in National Forests. This website also shows low cost camping in state parks, as well as more expensive RV and campsites.

Even if I hadn’t had the opportunity to switch up my ride, I had learned a few things my first time out in my Jeep Cherokee, so this was sure to be a smoother experience.

For instance, my first time out, I camped at a site that had an electric hookup. I had huddled next to it with my laptop plugged directly into it. This time out, I had a 25-foot outdoor extension cord and a power cord that had six outlets for electrical items along with four USB charging ports. This time I sat comfortably at my camp table, not having to be hunched next to the outlet; when I retired to the van for the night, I simply snaked the cord in with me and continued working away. When I didn't have the luxury of electricity at a campsite, my power inverter charged my laptop and other tech while I drove.

The first time out, to save space in the smaller Cherokee, I didn’t have my camping gear or dry goods as efficiently arranged as I did this time. I spent a lot of time shuffling things around, trying to find what I needed, but no more!

Already, things were looking up! 

What I really wanted to see, of course, was how Wham! would react when we were camped out. When we stayed at hotels, I carried him (completely ignoring the large, useless crate I had brought) into the room. When we were camping out (not just sleeping in a parking lot) he and Rubi were leashed to a six foot tie down. At our first campsite, I had them both attached to the cooler, inside my net tent. I had the back hatch of the van open, however, and Wham! at first wanted to stay in there. Gradually he became secure enough to walk around outside but I kept his tie down tethered to the cot inside the van.

The first few nights
, in a state park in northern VA, the nights got down to the mid to high 30s. I was glad for the insulation on the windows, and equally glad for the extra body heat of Wham! and Rubi. Of course, it was a bit snug on the camping cot, but we adjusted and at some point in the night, Rubi gave up and slept on her princess bed next to the cot.

I confess, I was stressed and unsure of my decision to bring Wham! along, particularly in those early days when he seemed so uncomfortable, but his look of sheer joy and contentment when he was snugged up next to me while I
was working in the van, or while we were sleeping made it worthwhile.

It was so much easier in the van than it had been in the Jeep. Already I have new ideas for making it even more efficient. For starters: the large cat crate will not be coming along on future adventures. And because it won’t be taking up so much space, I’m going to trade in the sterilite containers that fit under the cot for three drawer sterilite containers; one will sit at the end of the cot facing out, with my cooking gear in the bottom drawer, my non perishable foods in the middle and my toiletry bag and dish towels, soap, etc. in top drawer. The other three drawer unit will be right next to it, but facing in the van and will hold my clothes, pet toys, etc.

Each trip out I’m learning something. I talked with a friend about maybe going out completely pet less for a shorter trip. I imagine it would be much more freeing to not have to take into consideration finding a dog park, or soothing my cat. Plus I would REALLY have a lot of room then.

Tonight, I am camping at a state park just outside of Lexington, KY. I chose this route because when I came through this area the first trip I discovered the BEST DOG PARK IN THE UNIVERSE. It is literally acres and acres of rolling green hills with a few copses of trees for Rubi to play hide and seek in, either with other dogs, or with her own playful spirit. We spent over an hour there today, before coming here to set up camp.

This afternoon, I took part in two Zoom meetings, answered emails, and made a few phone calls from outside the van, while Rubi slept nearby and Wham! tried on his Adventure Cat hat.

These nights, when I finally close my computer, but before I “snuff out” the LED lanterns that are hanging from the clothes hooks, I look around and feel content; I am connected with all things: these snoring animals, the crickets whose songs I still hear, the birds who will wake me in the morning, this beautiful world. Life is good.

PHOTOS FROM VAN LIFE

Today We Celebate; Tomorrow We Work

 The nation has spoken; the people have voted, and we have elected Joe Biden and Kamala Harris to be our next President and Vice President of the United States. I do not think I realized how much I had been holding my breath until I heard the news that Pennsylvania had been called for the Biden-Harris ticket and, with that, the election. As my niece Rachaelp ut it, it was like I had been holding my breath for the past four years and I could finally exhale in relief.

I arrived in the Washington DC area on Tuesday, election night, wanting to be in the room where it happened, as the song goes. Like many of you, I spent Tuesday evening on tenterhooks; when I went to bed, it was with a sense of dismay and concern that our country--or at least half of it--hadn’t learned the lessons the past four years have cruelly taught: that hate is wrong, that denial is only a river in Egypt, that fear and divisiveness are the antitheses of democracy.

I went to bed not knowing the outcome of the presidential election and when I awoke on Wednesday, I laid there in bed, eyes still closed, thinking, He could have won; he could have been re-elected. What will it mean for me, for All Souls, if that is true?
I thought back to this time in 2016; the shock and fear and sense of grief that was so palpable.

And yet we have survived, barely, it may seem, the past four years. We have had a taste of the helplessness and alienation marginalized communities have always felt; we have had a taste of what it feels like to be shut out of the democratic process that is the hallmark of American life.

Rubi and me after our interview by Swedish station

Of course, when I opened my eyes and turned on my laptop I discovered there was not yet a clear winner in the presidential election, although the odds had shifted overnight and I was able to allow a tiny sense of hope that all might yet be well in the world.

Thursday, I headed over to Washington, DC, wanting to get a sense of what was happening in our nation’s capital. As I wandered the National Mall, I was stopped by a film crew from the Canadian Broadcasting Company. They interviewed me about my hopes for this election. Later, I went to Black Lives Matter Plaza outside the White House where I was also interviewed by a Swedish and Italian station. Someone sent me the link to the Swedish interview.  The video at the top has several quotes from me, and later, under my picture, the interviewer made a few more comments.

Still not knowing the outcomes of the election, I set up camp in a beautiful state park outside of Alexandria, VA. There, Wham! began to adapt to his New Life as an Adventure Cat! (more on this in a later post!)

This morning I broke camp and was just pulling out of the campground to head back to DC so that I could scout potential places for preaching when I got the news: Pennsylvania had been called for Biden; Joe Biden was the president-elect!

As in 2016, tears came to my eyes when I heard the news, but this time they were tears of joy!

I arrived in Washington, DC less than 30 minutes after the announcement; it was an amazing sight: even as I was looking for parking, people were running towards the White House, holding homemade signs

declaring TRUMP: YOU’RE FIRED! as well as official placards for Biden-Harris. The closer I got to the White House, the more people filled the streets, streaming in a spontaneous movement that was a parade, rally, and dance the party rolled into one. I found a spot and joined the throng. The excitement and joy in the air were palpable.

I let out my breath. I was alternately laughing and crying, and sometimes doing both at the same time. I made my way to Black Lives Matter Plaza, joining thousands of people crowding on all sides of the White House to celebrate. I began to Livestream the festivities on Facebook, my running commentary interspersed with whoops of joy and celebration. WE DID IT! WE DID IT! I kept
shouting.

Soon, though there were too many people in the area and my internet connection became unstable. Still I hung out, celebrating with thousands of others, watching with delight as people shook champagne bottles and then uncorked them, sending a festive spray of bubbly over the cheering crowds.

Once I finally left Black Lives Matter Plaza, I was able to live stream again, this time, the scene was of the streets near the White House packed with people in cars, honking and celebrating and cheering with us.

I walked toward the Washington Monument, where still more people gathered. Here I was interviewed by a Chinese station. The interviewer asked if I had been thinking of any family members when I cast my vote. You can hear what I told her in this finallive stream.

Finally, I made my way back to my car; my cell phone had died, due to all the live streaming and I wasn’t quite sure where I parked my car, but I remembered I was by the Human Rights Campaign office and asked a friendly transit worker to look up the address for me.

I got in my car just in time for our weekly Sunday service run through; I was so hoarse; I could barely speak.

Later this evening, in my modest hotel room, I popped open a tiny bottle of bubbly that I had spontaneously bought on my way back to my car. There, in the quiet of the room, far removed from the crowds still celebrating in DC, I shared a simple toast with my reflection in the mirror.

We are not out of the woods, yet; there is still much work to be done in the healing of our nation, but this is a start. Today we celebrate, tomorrow we get to work.

The Road Goes Ever, Ever On

On a sunny Friday in late October, I set out on part two of my Grand Experiment. The first time I embarked on this journey, was a month earlier, I had made the brash, bold (some might say “idiotic”) decision to try SUV RVing. I figured why not? Everything is on Zoom; I can Zoom from anywhere. So off I went in my 2017 Jeep Cherokee, just Rubi and me and the open road before us.

It was definitely a learning experience, but Rubi and I had a blast. There was only one concern: Where on earth would Wham! fit? I knew I’d be taking my 9-year-old cat on phase 2 of the journey, but the Jeep was cramped, to say the least.

Serendipitously, Mark Arnest was needing to find a new home for his mother’s 2000 Toyota Sienna minivan. I guess you could say it was a match made in heaven—well, maybe more like a match made in Colorado Springs, but you get the point!

After I returned home from the inaugural Car Camino, I got the van and promptly began researching how best to convert it into a RV, of sorts. As before, people pitched in and helped with the efforts and soon my house looked like an Amazon distribution center with boxes containing everything from a cot to a traveling kitty litter box.

It is so much roomier than the Cherokee!

Of course, there was that little issue of Wham! who maybe hadn’t gotten the memo that Adventures,

and Buffoonery soon awaited him on the open road. I helpfully bought him the book, Adventure Cats! Living Nine Lives to the Fullest! But, although he appeared interested, I don’t think he did more than leaf through the pages.

At any rate, I had Big Plans to get Wham! gradually accustomed to Van Life. I imagined I would first get him stoned on grade A cat nip, then take him for slow drives around the neighborhood, while I spoke reassuringly to him. In reality, his first trip was to the mobile Human Society clinic where he got his annual vaccines and had a microchip shot into his neck.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to get him acclimated. We did go for a few short drives around the neighborhood, but- and again let me point out, he didn’t read the book—he clearly wasn’t ready for the Grand Adventure to begin. He had adjusted well to wearing his harness, however, so I took that for a good sign.

Not sure if Wham! made it to this chapter

On the morning we set out, I lodged his soft-side pet crate right behind the driver’s seat where I could reach back and pet him through the mesh zippered door. It’s a great crate, and actually was the one Rubi travelled from Manor, TX to her new home in Colorado Springs, just 18 months earlier. Rubi had used it as a lounging pad until she outgrew it, whereupon Wham! took it over for himself. So, he was familiar with the crate and comfortable in it. On dry land, that is.

On the sea of four-lane freeways, Wham! was not as pleased. This despite the fact that I put in three brand new catnip toys and sprinkled some of the wacky weed liberally on the floor of the crate.

For the first three hours, he meowed constantly and piteously. Rubi, in her designated shotgun seat next to me, would occasionally glance balefully at me as if to say, “Did we really have to bring him along?”

Yes, we did. Wham!’s favorite place is on my lap or by my side and I decided he needed to be a part of the family fun. I was sure he would get used to the swaying of the car which did not, unfortunately, work the same magic it did on my son, Sam, when he was a colicky baby.

Shortly before our first scheduled stop in Colby, KS (the Oasis of the Plains, its sign proudly declares) I heard a whirring sound and glanced in my rear-view mirror to see that Wham! had pulled apart the zipper on the top of the crate and was emerging looking not unlike the first alien birth in that movie. Driving as I was, down I-70, I was a bit concerned, but Wham! busied himself exploring the back of the van, all the while meowing his protests loudly.

In just a few minutes I had pulled into the Travel Center in Colby, which featured a small, fenced-in dog park. Before exiting the van, I clambered into the back, fetched Wham! and put him back in his crate, pulling the top zippers together at the edge of the line, rather than in the center. In the 30 minutes or so it took Rubi to do her business, me to fuel up and use the people restroom, and get back on the road, Wham! seemed to have settled down. After a few initials meows as we pulled back onto the freeway, he was quiet the rest of the trip.

Finally, we arrived in Lawrence, KS where we would spend our first few nights with my sister, Lori, in her apartment. I dropped Rubi off at my niece’s home, where there was a large back yard and several other animals to play with.

Wham! stayed in the guest bedroom and was extremely happy to cuddle with me every night. But all good things must end, and soon, on Monday morning, we picked up Rubi and hit the open road again.

Clearly Wham! had forgotten this nightmare and the meowing began again. This time, however, I had the crate in the very back of the van (due to the fact that I had wedged it so securely behind my driver’s seat that poor Wham! was tilted and tugged out when I arrived at my sister’s; I don’t think that helped matters any.)

Wham! on pit stop.

Within an hour after we departed Lawrence, I once again heard the ripping of the top zipper and Wham! proved true to the sequel, Aliens. This time he made his way up front and I pulled off the freeway in an effort to get him settled in again. I noticed that he didn’t actually pull apart the seam where the two zipper ends met; he made his own opening.

After trying to get him back in the crate and driving slowly around, only for him to escape once more, I resorted to a MacGyver solution: I attached his bungee-like leash onto his harness and hooked it in the back of the cot. There. Now he could just reach in between the two front seats but couldn’t come up front where he might be a dangerous distraction. 

And so, thus outfitted, we sailed away.

He really seemed to become acclimated to the driving, and would sometimes lie on the cot, or on top of his (useless) crate, but most of the time, he would sit between the seats, where I could reach down and
pet him every once in a while.

Thus, began Travels with Rubi and Wham! The road goes ever, ever on, as Bilbo said.

 

Rubi and Wham! keeping an eye on me
during fueling break. Can you see Wham!?