Jack London and me, the 1897 gold rush and other random bits of flotsam and jetsam

I think of all the people and events I share a birthday with, Jack London is my favorite. I read The Call of the Wild and White Fang as a kid, but knew nothing about their author until a few years ago.
 London was the son of a "spiritualist" (his mother apparently channelled the spirit of an Indian chief) and an astrologer, who denied his paternity, causing Jack's mother to become temporarily deranged enough to shoot herself. She recovered and went on to marry a partially disable civil war veteran, but not before she turned the baby over to Virginia Prentiss, a former slave, for safekeeping. The family settled in Oakland, California where Jack went to elementary school, but by the age of 13 he was working 12 - 18 hours a day at a cannery. After borrowing money from his foster mother (Prentiss) he bought a boat and became an oyster pirate... at the age of 13.  
 Four years later, he worked on a sealing schooner bound for Japan, and returned to work various hard jobs before becoming a tramp. He served 30 days in jail in Buffalo, NY for vagrancy, where he was evidently treated like fresh meat by the inmates.
  After all that, at the ripe old age of 18, he returned to Oakland High School and then went on to UC Berkeley. At 21, he quit school and travelled to the Klondike where he gathered most of his material for White Fang and Call of the Wild.

Jack London's story is one of hardship, bad luck, bad choices, grit, determination and (ultimately or posthumously)  success. And even though he was dead by the age of 40, he lived more than many people do in twice that time. I don't know if that same urgency and drive to live a full life is a trait peculiar to Capricorns, or just those born on January 12th, but I'm glad to be counted in with that crowd.

So, here's to you, Jack...and all you other adventurers out there. Cheers!

time flies whether you're having fun or not

Five years ago today I wrote my first blog post ever. It was a toast to my dad, on what would have been his 92nd birthday. My father was an amazingly strong influence in my life, much more than I realized five years ago, and I'm discovering more and more each year how that influence has shaped my life. He was a gifted writer, raconteur, self-taught artist and builder of things, and a piano player extraordinaire, who taught me to follow my dreams and to believe that those dreams would eventually take me somewhere worthwhile. 

Three hundred and thirty-seven blog posts later, I'm still following my bliss, and that meandering trail has taken me places I'd never have imagined.  Happy birthday, Dad.

"For me there is only the traveling 

on paths that have heart, 

on any path that may have heart.

There I travel, and the only worthwhile challenge

is to traverse its full length.

And there I travel: looking, looking, breathlessly."

~ CARLOS CASTANEDA ~

flashbacks

Some incidents stick in your mind and heart, even when they don't directly affect you personally. For some, certain dates bring up anxieties and emotions buried just beneath the surface of daily life. For others, it could be a major earthquake or tsunami or hurricane or tornado. You never really know when or why or which events will stir up something deep within you, they just happen to strike a chord, and that chord resonates throughout your very being.

When a large truck rumbles by and rattles the windows, or I'm stuck in traffic under a freeway overpass, it sparks a flashback to October 1989 and a collapsed double-decker freeway in Oakland, while at home in San Francisco my husband and children and I huddled in a doorway riding out the 7.2 earthquake that caused it.

Watching coverage of Barack Obama wading into crowds of people during the last presidential campaign, my heart leapt into my throat more than once at the dangers he faced. It launched an emotional  return to 1968 and the tragedies of the deaths of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King. 

I can no longer hear a plane flying low overhead without it triggering a memory of that warm September morning ten years ago, of the sight of airplanes cutting through clear blue New York skies to shatter so many lives. How, for the next week, the skies all across the country were eerily quiet while all air traffic was suspended.

Flashbacks are painful, yes, but they serve as reminders to savor and appreciate the good in the world, and the importance of working to change the bad stuff, however we can in our daily lives.

We wish that we could go back and prevent those tragedies, but we can't. The only hope is to move forward with renewed purpose and optimism, and to never forget those who gave up everything for those principals.

dear samsung

Dear Samsung SGH-t609,
I want to thank your creators for building at least one product that never quits.

My trusty little white cellphone, you will not give up.  Not after being dropped a zillion times, or being left in a car to bake in 120º heat for hours, or having been chewed by a hungry labrador, or even that time you were run over by a pickup truck. No, not even after the final catastrophe: being dropped in a toilet. Needless to say, after that last incident, I'm afraid this time I will have to retire you, as no amount of disinfectant can get you clean enough. Please know I wish our relationship didn't have to end in such an undignified way. You see, I've been given a used Blackberry Curve as your replacement, and I will be missing you just as soon as I figure out how to use the #*&@!$% Blackberry.
Au revoir,
Petunia

w.w.l.d.?*

photo borrowed from this site

Did you know that Judgement Day is scheduled for May 21, 2011?   On that date, it is believed by many that those who are True Believers will be physically transported to Heaven in the Rapture to be judged by God for their Good Deeds. The rest of us have already been deemed incorrigible and will be left behind to experience The End Of The World As We Know It. 

photo borrowed from these folks

This all sounds fine to me. However, I do have a few questions, like:

• What time will the Rapture occur?   I'd really rather not be out on the road when all those True Believers are transported out of their cars to rise up to Heaven. 
• Will dead people really rise from their graves first?   This could make one heckuva mess. 
• When the Last Trumpet sounds to call all the faithful, what happens to the faithful who are deaf?   Maybe the Lord will have hand signals or flashing lights or something. 
• What will happen to all the pets?

The last question really is valid. What will happen to all the poor pets who have no souls? Is there a doggie heaven? Could the faithful really leave their pets to perish in all good conscience?

*What Would Lassie Do?

These questions have been nagging at me, so I've looked into this matter, and I've found that there is actually an organization devoted solely to the care of pets left behind in the Rapture. It seems a group of dedicated animal lovers, who also happen to be confirmed card-carrying atheists, are offering to adopt (for a small fee, of course) the pets of Christians expected to be transported to Heaven.

Eternal Earth Bound Pets are currently active in 26 states, now including even Illinois and Iowa. Unfortunately, they are not equipped to to accommodate all species and limit their services to dogs, cats, birds, rabbits and small caged mammals. (Sorry, no reptiles!) If you live in NH, VT, ID or MT, they can now also offer rescue services for horses, camels, llamas and donkeys.

They do have a few conditions, such as:

•  If  subscriber loses his/her faith and/or the Rapture occurs and subscriber is not Raptured (aka  is "left behind") EE-BP disclaims any liability; no refund will be tendered. 
• Should a relative residing within the rescue location not be Raptured and opts to retain the pet(s), EE-BP will not take possession of the pet(s).  No refund will be tendered. 

So, now our Christian friends can be swept up in the Rapture with a clear conscience, knowing their beloved pets will be cared for... 

And me? Well, all I can say is, it's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.


Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure Eternal Earthbound Pets has never heard of me, and this is not an endorsement of their services.

the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated

Look, I know I haven't been around here much lately,

 but I've been quite busy working in the barn

on a special project with my friend Marilyn.

We decided to try and put on a show for the neighborhood,

kind of a cross between a circus act and a rodeo,

 but we had a hard time finding quality performers.

Here I am interviewing actors 

auditioning to play the part of the Knuckleheads

 in a semi-autobiographical sketch called "Dietary Indiscretions".

I guess the rehearsals got too loud for the neighbors,

 who also seemed to be somewhat irritated

 that we built a barn on their land.

Maybe the beads we traded for it 

weren't worth quite as much as we thought.

Unfortunately, the show folded after only one night,

but we had one hell of a wrap party.

Well, perhaps I did have one too many margaritas...

The next day Marilyn had the brilliant idea

 to hire ourselves out to direct traffic on Hollywood Boulevard.

 For some reason, there were quite a few accidents that day. 

Marilyn left for Cleveland yesterday to visit her friend Elvis, 

so things are pretty quiet around here at the moment.

They invited me to hang out with them next week.

Anyway, that's what I've been doing lately.

 Just thought you might like to know...

The other Jane Russell

1921 - 2011

Happy trails, cowgirl.

tempus fugit

May 30th marks three years since I started this blog, and the time really has flown by. Counting today's entry, I will have written 242 posts, which averages out to about 80 posts per year, or somewhere in the neighborhood of 6.72 posts per month, way more than I ever would have thought possible when I started. Definitely not in the same league as this blogger, or her, or him, or even close to my favorite blogger, Bossy, but in the course of those three years and 242 posts, I've discovered that I truly enjoy writing, even though I find it to be an infinitely more painful process than drawing or painting or making teeny tiny little fairy shoes.

I'd never even read a blog until early 2007, when my nephew took a trip to Costa Rica and started a journal to document his adventures south of the border. (It's all your fault, Seamus!)

It was while reading Seamus' blog that I noticed the little "next blog>>" button at the top of his blog and clicked on it...which randomly brought me to her blog, and suddenly a whole new world opened up for me.

The other day, a friend of a friend, who I see maybe twice a year, told me she really enjoyed reading my blog, and I couldn't help but feel astonished. I mean, I know that there are people who read it...I have a site meter that tracks the numbers, but I'm always shocked when someone I know tells me they read it.

I can't guarantee how many more words I have left in me (I've been struggling lately) but I want to thank these bloggers who inspire, entertain, and make me wipe the coffee off my keyboard daily:

• Bossy
• Foolery
• Doves Today
• Mo "Mad Dog" Stoneskin
• Notes From Inside My Head
• San Diego Momma
• Tootsie Farklepants
• Talk About Change
• Artsyville
• Cupcake Murphy
• Written Inc.
• All Adither

And thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this blog every once in awhile...leave me a comment occasionally, would ya?

I don't bite. Usually.

Love,

Petunia

not exactly a milestone

Today's my birthday.

 How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?

a milestone of sorts...

I just realized that this is my 100th post. (Cue the balloons and confetti, please.) Seems like I should be doing or writing something special to commemorate it, but to tell you the truth, it kind of snuck up on me. So I thought maybe some interesting Halloween pictures would be good.

This house is on our regular dog-walking route, and gets into Halloween in a big way. Of course the spooky gothic architecture naturally lends itself to this holiday more than the average ranch style house does.

Last night, Dave and I went to a pottery sale at Lonesomeville, a creative and magical place that never ceases to inspire me. Their house, a hundred year old victorian farmhouse and studio is nestled on an acre of gardens smack dab in the middle of SE Portland. There were probably a hundred jack-o-lanterns lit up in the yard and on the porch.




And there were towering effigies made of sticks and twigs topped with pumpkin heads looming over the garden beds. It was all so cool, I wanted to run right home and build a few myself.

Since it's now the day before Halloween, I don't think I'll get to it this year. I haven't even carved my poor little pumpkin yet. Now that Caitie's moved 1,000 miles away, I don't have anyone to help me decorate. (Holiday decorating really isn't Dave's or Matt's thing)

At least I managed to get a few decorations up...like Lamont Cranston, (aka The Shadow) a silhouette I cut out for the living room window. I'm all stocked up on candy, and maybe I'll scatter a severed leg or two around the yard before tomorrow night. So if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go carve that pumpkin now. Bwahahahahah!