Saturday, July 20, 2019


 Earnestness alert....been on my mind for a while and I finally committed it to paper.  And made a donation to RAICES (link below).


Sidonie at the Border

 

Those who think it’s a good idea to remove children from their parents and put them in detainment camps might be well advised to read Erich Hackl’s 1989 book, Farewell Sidonie (in German: Abschied von Sidonie). It’s out of print, but it’s available in German and in English translation on Amazon.  

Farewell Sidonie recounts the short life of a Roma (“gypsy”) girl whose mother left her in front of a hospital as an infant in 1933, and who was taken in and raised by a working-class couple in the Austrian town of Sierning.  Sidonie’s foster parents love her dearly.  After the third Reich comes to power, authorities at several levels pressure Sidonie’s parents to give her up.  Ultimately Sidonie is taken from her family.  An officious social worker delivers her to the detainment camp outside of town where other Roma, including some of Sidonie’s biological relatives, are located.  A few days later, the camp is dissolved and the residents are taken by train to Auschwitz/Birkenau.  Sidonie dies in Auschwitz shortly thereafter, of disease or heartbreak.

Hackl fictionalizes scenes and dialog, but the facts of Sidonie’s life, transport, and death are drawn from archival research, and from interviews with relatives and others who recalled the little girl’s presence in their community. 

So yeah, it’s tempting to mail a copy of this paperback to every member of the current administration.  But that’s not the real point of the book. 

The real point of the story is how LITTLE effort it would have taken to keep Sidonie safe and with the family that knows and loves her.  No-one in this story needs to be a hero, although Sidonie’s foster parents emerge as quietly heroic.  No-one needs to violate a direct order, or hide someone in an attic or basement, or endure hunger in order to feed someone who is ineligible for a ration card.  Ultimately, it is suggested, Sidonie would have remained safe had local neighbors, teachers, clergy and social service workers not repeatedly pointed out Sidonie’s differentness. Ultimately, an overzealous social worker goes out of her way to determine that Sidonie should be removed from her family and placed in an internment camp. The bar for keeping Sidonie safe is a low one, and the adults in Sidonie’s community repeatedly fail to meet it.

Then, as now, the community has their reasons.  Sidonie is a gypsy, not an Austrian citizen.  She is not a good student.  She will, it is suggested, ultimately be a drain on social resources.  Repeatedly, adults who come into contact with Sidonie feel that her presence is an affront: she should not be burdening their school system, their health care system, the foster care system.  And of course, her dark skin is a continuing affront to neighbors and the wider community.

Today this book reads not just as an indictment of our government, but as a challenge to each of us.  If simple inaction would have gone a long way toward protecting Sidonie, it seems like we could each take a simple action now to help protect the children at the United States border.  A call or letter to our congressperson documenting outrage, a donation to RAICES or to the ACLU's initiative to protect immigrant's rights perhaps. 

Today there is a public kindergarten named after Sidonie Adlersburg in the Austrian town of Sierning.   Let’s take action now, and not wait two generations and then name a public school after Jakelin Caal Maquin (age 7) or FelipeGomez Alonzo (age 8).

Monday, September 4, 2017

Rainy Holiday

A little bit of rain on this Labor Day morning.....you have to be a true Californian to know how unusual this is.

SGH and I have started remaking the back bedrooms into our home offices/retreats.  Right now we are enjoying the minimalist vibe:

My new home office. Just like St. Jerome (*,**,***)
* If I were male and a Church Father
** If Kobe were a lion
*** If I were translating the Bible from Greek instead of updating Facebook.

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Lifestyle v. Real Life – Backcountry Edition


Lifestyle v. Real Life – Backcountry Edition




Updated to add.....the dog wound up with something in his eye which is requiring sedation and a c. $300 vet bill.  So there's that.
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I’m going to steal a page from the inimitable Ganching (guess she’s not inimitable, since I am imitating her), and do a lifestyle-v.-real-life piece on our most recent attempt to explore the Santa Barbara backcountry.  Read on….

 *  *  *

Did you know about the amazing backcountry hiking and camping in northern Santa Barbara County a mere 25 miles (as the crow flies) from our own back yard?  Sure, we all love the coast, but some times it’s worth it to get away to the solitude of the oak forest.   SGH, the Pupster, and I set off Friday evening for a quick getaway to Colson Campground east of Santa Maria.  We were well prepared in our high clearance vehicle and reached the secluded campground shortly before sunset.  We ate the sandwiches we had prepared in advance, and after shutting everything up tight in the back of the truck, were able to drift off to sleep enjoying the rustling trees and the gentle night noises of forest critters.

We were awakened the next morning by the sounds of mourning doves and woodpeckers.  My husband loves that I’m an early riser, so I can start the fire, heat the water and bring him his tea before he even needs to step outside the tent!  After a hearty breakfast it was time to explore the little-traveled Buckhorn Ridge Trail, which sets off a ¼ mile or so below the campground.  Experienced hikers that we are, we brought sunscreen, plenty of water, bug repellent and our first aid kit, so that we were able to thoroughly enjoy the backcountry landscape.  A little bit of cross country scrambling provided a delightful challenge and gave us the chance to hone our backcountry skills.  Sure we could have gone further, but after enjoying the delightful flowers in a remote valley, we decided to take it easy and make the return trip along a verdant creek bed.  Back at camp in the early afternoon, we rested and read books, far away from the noise of the crowds.

In real life it wasn’t so balmy.  

This campground is at the extreme western edge of the northern Santa Barbara county backcountry, but even so, it is about a 45-mile drive from our house.  The last 11 miles are on a very rough dirt road with numerous creek crossings.  Amazingly the dog and I both managed to do the whole stretch without puking, although the dog dug his claws into my thighs for dear life as he tried to keep his balance.  Once we got to camp we scarfed down our Subway sandwiches purchased for the occasion and went to bed early.  The dog spent the whole night pacing back and forth on top of us, but fortunately alerted us to the sound of what turned out to be a rat making the truck engine his own personal crossfit gym. 

Next morning both the dog and I needed to lift a leg, so we were the first out of the tent and eager to get breakfast started.  My first accomplishment was to break the key to the truck cover.  Our hike started promisingly enough, working our way up over a hilly meadow with the path marked by strategically placed Styrofoam cups.  Within 500 yards of the car, though, we had lost the trail, and we spent the next hour scrambling our way up and down hillsides.  Each stop gave the flies a chance to converge on my bleeding legs.  The choice was between hillsides of bramble, or creek gullies with verdant luscious poison oak.  I repeatedly grabbed onto both for dear life in order to avoid sliding back down the hilly slopes.

We finally (it seemed like ages but in fact we were less than a mile from the truck) reached a slightly more open valley and found some plastic strips tied to branches that apparently represented trail markers.  We took in the quiet scene for a few minutes while deciding what to do next.  I came to the sorry conclusion that I was at a high risk of extreme meltdown if we had to do much more bushwhacking, so we cut our losses and headed back, this time along the “trail”, loosely defined.  On the return trip we stayed low, in the creek beds, which meant fewer scratchy bushes but more thistles and nettles.  Back at camp, we spent a relaxing half hour removing a carpet of burrs and foxtails from the dog.  Then we all crashed for a well-deserved nap in the tent, our rest interrupted only by gunfire from the target practice going on a mile or two down the road.

Follow up: it really wasn’t a bad trip.  Later in the afternoon we walked up a fire road to the ridge behind our camp and had a beautiful view back down the canyon.  Very few people go deep into this backcountry, though, and we are beginning to learn why.   Not sure how we will approach it the next time ‘round. 

Monday, April 17, 2017

We went walking


SGH, the Doggins, and I went for an Easter Sunday hike in northern SB county.  The hike was the Willow Spring trail which leaves from rte 166 about 1/2 hour east of Santa Maria.

This is definitely a hike about the experience and not the destination.  The turning point, a spring that has been set up with a water pipe and a tub, is not that exciting.  But the climb takes you through some beautiful oak woodland to a high meadow. 

The hike up to the meadow is a steady climb first up a grassy slope to some power lines, and then through a mixed oak area.  The views are partially obscured but we could see vast stretches of Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo county: northeast toward Caliente ridge, southwest toward Figueroa mountain, and northwest toward Montana de Oro.  It was cool to look across the Cuyama river valley and down into the landscape on the north side of the river.

We saw some pink poppies (not California poppies), shooting stars, indian paintbrush and lots of other wildflowers towards the top.  Definitely needed lots of water and sunscreen, should have brought bug dope.  We flushed a rattlesnake near the start of the trail.  Only saw one other person, the whole afternoon, an intrepid mountain biker.

Blogger is not letting me post a picture for some reason, so you will have to imagine a scruffy terrier inspecting the water tank.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Placeholder...

Things I could write about, since I have yet to hit upon the winning formula that will combine my deep understanding of the human psyche (gained from my love of literature), with my keen insight into the financial undercurrents which inexorably force our decisions (derived from nigh on 15 years of peering into folks' financial records).  Ah yes, the Hans Fallada of the 20-teens, that's what I'll be.

So: instead:

-Things I refrained from buying at the Portland Saturday market?
-Eine Frau, Eine Wohnung, Ein Roman (W. Genazino) a sweet little coming of age novel set in 60s Germany.  Of course in the great German tradition a woman has to come to a bad end in order for our hero to fully realize himself.
-Deutschland 83 - LOVE this series.  Watching it I swear I can smell the coffee fumes wafting through the marble halls of the Bonn villas.  Heavy on the violence though.
-Riverdale.  Guilty pleasure. 
-?????

Monday, October 24, 2016

Wrote this last week....

Work today, since I am taking part of the coming week off.

Left mid-day to go to a memorial service for an elderly friend of mine.  I met her when I was newly married and we first moved to Whittier.  She had just retired from a career as a school teacher/librarian.  That was 25 years ago.

The speakers (her sons and grandkids) emphasized her patience, good humor, and enjoyment of life.  She was in hospice care, and had chosen a couple of pieces to be read at her funeral.  One was a lovely poem about a garden, which I am not locating on the interwebs.  It is not either of these:

My Mother kept a Garden...
God looked around his garden.....

Or anything similarly mawkish.  It was about roots, and branches, and bore passing resemblance to the poem I want read at my own funeral, which is Edwin Muir's One Foot in Eden.

Ah well, what matter that there is one fewer decent, kind, hard-working tolerant person in the world.  We have too many of those anyway. 

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Real life captcha

Found letters, for Carolbaby's edification.