The Big Men In Trucks – Vince, Chad, Ray – did an amazing job yesterday re-building, re-storing and re-landscaping the barn. They straightened a bow wall, removed several inches of soil, replaced gates.
This involved five hours of tractor work, the digging of three different ditches, and some skillful tractor maneuvering.
I don’t have all the bills yet, but I think they will be quite reasonable, especially given the amount of hard work necessary.
You don’t need all the details, but our Pole Barn is restored, the animals have a dry and safe place for shelter in the winter.
I want to say I am thinking of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford this morning and the terror she feels. I can feel it right through all of the screens.
I do also feel some empathy for Judge Cavanaugh, mostly because he is a human being, like Ford, struggling with fear and great hurt. I cannot imagine what these days are like for him either.
Empathy is important to me, and the difficult thing about empathy is that it matters the most when you are trying to feel it for someone you don’t love or support. If you only feel empathy for people you like, then does empathy exist at all?
Our growing inability to feel sympathy for people who disagree with us is wrenching and low.
I am discouraged the way we have come to treat one another, our whole civic process seems to be so ugly and dispiriting. I am determined in my own life to work to treat people with respect and dignity and compassion. I am committed to doing good rather than arguing about what good is.
I am not writing this to take sides in this awful and wrenching process – it seems to me that it is savagely cruel to almost everyone caught up in it, including those of us who suffer from watching from afar. It is a stain on the country that calls itself the birthplace of democracy.
I can’t find any winners in this process.
I will not be watching television this morning, that probably means very few people will be reading this. I’ll hear about it soon enough.
I refuse to submit to the notion that this awful spectacle is my news.
Is is not my news, it will never be my news.
My news was on this morning when I went out to the pasture and saw Maria talking to her beloved donkeys. My news will come later today when I bring badly needed slippers to J at the Mansion.
My news will come on Monday when I meet with the headmaster of the Albany Academy in the hopes of persuading the school to accept another worthy refugee child in addition to Sakler Moo.
My news will come on Saturday when my new dog Bud comes up the East Coast to Brattleboro, Vt., where Maria and I will meet him and bring him home. Bud has been poorly treated at the hands of numerous human beings, and I am happy to be able to change the narrative of his hard life.
Today, I wish the few people who will be reading this post peace and compassion as you navigate the poison in our civic system today and this week. I will do whatever I can from my farm to offer some brights spots for your day.
Last Friday, Joan won the last Bingo game, and she chose as her prize a black boa that someone from the Army Of Good had sent as a Bingo Prize. Joan loved the Boat, and assumed several regular prizes.
She asked me after a few minutes what she had won the Boat for and I said “for winning Bingo and being wonderful!” and she beamed and smiled and accepted this honor. Joan loves attention and recognition, she doesn’t crave the details.
This Fall, I’m thinking about a change in my good works. I want to narrow my focus. I want to keep it on the Mansion residents of course, but narrow my interest in the refugees to the one or two (or three?) refugee children in the Albany Public Schools who are especially deserving of scholarships.
One, Sakler Moo, is already enrolled in the Albany Academy, we are helping support his school tuition. Next week I’m meeting with school officials to talk about how we might get one or two more gifted refugee children into the school.
This has opened my eyes to the impact of changing some lives in the most profound way. Helping Sakler pay his tuition was one of the more rewarding chapters in my life. I want to do it again.
I think I can do more for two or three than i can for 15 or 20.
Ali tells me that the soccer team is being sought by a number of sponsors with deep pockets who wish to support the team, and they deserve no less. I would not stand in their way.
I’ve been thinking these past few weeks that the best use of my time and somewhat limited resources might be better applied to located some especially worthy and promising children, and really changing one or two lives, with the help of the Army Of Good.
I’ve always been an impact person.
I’ve heard from a principal in the Albany School District who would like to work with me on this project. She could help me find the right candidates.
I think I can do good with this kind of focus, and the soccer team is much loved and popular, as is Ali. I think it would be helpful to the Army Of Good as well to focus it’s resources in this way now.
What can be more satisfying than to change the lives of these children?
I don’t want to burn out or wear out, nor do I wish to burn out or wear out the people supporting me.
The soccer team is really off and running, Ali has done a wonderful job, and I am proud of my sponsorship. They will have everything they need.
But I need to make good choices for me and this work. So this is what I’m thinking about when it comes to considering the best use of my time and somewhat limited resources.
I want this to remain a small, not a big operation. And to strike when it really counts and can make a difference.
Anyway, this is just a thought, I’ll share the process with you as it evolves.
In the meantime, if you’d like to help Joan and the Mansion residents, you can send a donation to Jon Katz. P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or via Paypal, [email protected]. Please mark your payment to “The Mansion.” Thanks.
Great news, Carol Johnson called me from the South Arkansas Veterinary Clinic a little before 5 p.m. to give me the good news: Bud’s Microfilaria test was negative, he is now cleared to come to Brattleboro, Vt. on the big truck on Saturday.
We will be there to pick him up. Dr. Bradshaw got on the phone to say Bud is “healthy in every way,” and was completely clear of heartworm.
“He is a very good dog,” he said, “you’re getting a really good dog.” I love Bud’s demeanor, he has the regal what-me-worry look of the Boston Terrier, and seems at peace with himself.
Bud’s face has real character, Maria and I were very happy to look at him. We have all of Gus’s things still around, and I ordered some special healthy treats for Bud, they arrived today.
I wish I had the original photograph of him, the difference is quite shocking.
I told Carol to tell Bud there will be no more bites of Cinnamon Roll, no more Cashew Brittle, no more Jalepeno Chips. Which isn’t to say he won’t be spoiled rotten as well.
We spoil dogs in different ways, and Fate will love having a little brother to mess with.
I am so grateful to Carol Johnson for the wonderful care she has given Gus, and for helping me navigate the sometimes complex world of animal rescue. She is loving and patient and she really, really cares.
We are friends now, and she is not done with me. Thanks to all of you for following this journey. I will surely share it, as you know I will.
I am happy to offer some good news today, there is so much bad news pouring in on us. Peace and compassion to all of you.
I have to admit I love to listen to the Big Men In Trucks and watch them work. They seem to hold the secrets of the universe in my mind, they can shift the landscape, they can start any old truck, they can wield a tractor like a conductor wields a baton, and they saved our barn today.
Ray (left) Vince (right) and son Chad peeking through met repeatedly to engage in Big Men In Truck talk, none of which I understand. They forever try valiantly to explain things to me, and politely ask my opinion.
But we all know they know what they are doing and I don’t. In five hours, they completely re-worked the Pole Barn, saving one bowing wall and changing the composition of the gravel. For good measure, they put most of our manure mound into Scott Carrino’s old army truck.
I love these guys, they know just how the world works, and I could not live here with out them.
