When Is Enough Enough?

It's difficult to feel sorry for Bernie Madoff, the man who is serving 150 years for having swindled thousands of people of their life savings.  I cannot help, however, having compassion for what he must now be feeling.  The suicide of his son. Consequences can't hit much closer to home than that!

I am disturbed by the reasons why Mark Madoff chose to take his life.  I cannot imagine the pressures he must have felt, being judged guilty  of some unproven crime merely for being a son. The final straw for him seems to have come after learning the court appointed bankruptcy trustee had sued three of his children.

Mark Madoff had four children.  Two with a former wife, ages 16 an 18, and two with his current wife.  Two and four.  Just which three were sued?

I make no apologies for what the elder Madoff did, but it seems to me the bankruptcy trustee is a bit over zealous in his quixotic search for justice.  When people who have not officially been accused of anything are driven to suicide and children are sued, something is amiss.

Bernie Madoff  was caught and found guilty.  He is serving a horrendous price for a 72 year old man.  The monies lost will never be recovered.  Is this type of hounding not criminal in and of itself?  How many more must be ruined or driven beyond before "justice" is served?

Families ~ The End Of An Era?

Ekalaka, MT

We received a card from one of Hub's cousins yesterday. Her Mom was his Aunt.  One of 12 kids. Hub's Mom was the second youngest. With the card was the annual newsletter. I'm not big on newsletters; I've never, ever written one nor expect I ever will.  But when received I do read them.

This particular one struck me as particularly poignant.  How many of us hail from families consisting of 12 kids ~ unless competing for a reality show! There are so many relatives I've never been able to keep track.  We often test ourselves just trying to remember the original twelve!

This cousin and her husband have just left the ranch where they lived for 50 years. To move into town. Into the house that had been her grandmother's and her parent's among others.  Wow.  The house itself must be a treasure trove of history.

I've been reflecting on all the stories I've heard over the years about the ranch in Ekalaka.  I've never been there but have been promised the trip.  An outpost in south eastern Montana where paved roads are rare.

I've heard the stories about the family from Ottumwa, Iowa making the trek west.  Growing up in the sod hut on the prairie.  The stuff of western legend.  Lonesome Dove country.  In truth. The nearest town of any size being Miles City where in the movie Gus died.

The letter told news of family I didn't even know existed.  It told of the reunion held this past summer and gave dates for the 2011 event.  It told of those who have left us. Ah, yes, those who have left us.  Hub is one of the three youngest children of those original dozen and just left his 60s behind.

As I read about more and more people foregoing marriage, the number of children born out of wedlock and the distances now common among family members, I wonder what will become of family as a unit.  As a support mechanism.  It doesn't bode well for the future.

One day someone will find a letter such as the one I now have and wonder what it must have been like.  Having all those people about, helping one another with chores, the tough times, the sorrow, the triumphs, the good cheer - especially around the holidays when families used to gather.

What will be the reality of their times? It might be like my own reality when I set a Christmas table glistening with antique cut glass and sterling silver and wondering what it was like when such was used for more occasions than merely Christmas!  What must it have been like in the days of sleigh rides and snow men.  Harder to be sure but maybe, in it's way, far more rewarding.  It was the era of families.

Our Great Northwest Trek

At the far reaches of Vancouver Island sits the small community of Port McNeill, known mostly to fishermen and yachters who stop over to replenish and refuel on their way to or from Alaska. It is also home to Just Art, a gallery with some of the best Northwest Coast Indian Art to be found.

Over our years of collecting we've become friends with Ron Fraser, the owner. He has been a treasure trove of fine pieces. It helps that he is a hop, skip and jump away from the Fort Rupert Reserve, home to some of the best of the Kwaguilth artists. Having grown up and gone to school with many of them hasn't hurt! The idealness of his situation is that he is there and often gets first crack at the work before the artists have to head for Vancouver, Victoria and beyond.

One such piece is why we took this trip. For months Ron has been trying to sell us a spectacular sun. He couldn't say enough about it. Not having been to Canada for several years, we decided to go have a look just for the heck of it. Our hang up was where to place it without having to strip the house bare or add an addition. Neither is in the game plan.

Off we went early Monday. The weather was cooperative and we even made the 3:15 ferry to Nanaimo, a totally unexpected break. Then mother nature decided to let loose. We retired with it pouring. We awoke to it pouring. The further north we went the harder it rained. I must say I have never driven through anything like it. I should say Hub hadn't. It poured the whole time we were in Port McNeill. Poured!

Funny, we had gone the distance to look at a sun! Well, Ron was right. The piece is spectacular. We searched our souls and our heads as to where it might go. It is the type of piece, for a collector, you'll see but once. We went on our way promising to do some more measuring.

And still it was pouring. All the way back to Nanaimo! We were exhausted.

We no sooner walked into the house and dropped our bags when we looked at each other and agreed there was no way. We were crestfallen. The house, however, is what it is!

We laughed though. There may be a consolation piece waiting in the wings. While there, Mervyn Child brought in a newly completed totem. I think he knew we were coming. Ahem. Because Hub has wanted one for awhile now. This one. This one tells the story of a young boy who makes a deal with raven to gift him with the power to envision the weather! Maybe that's the piece we're meant to have and our next "parade" will not be rained upon!

When All Else Fails Call On The Gods!

As I sit here in the office shivering, the heat at a minimum to save money and the temperatures outside not to break freezing, I decided to see what they're doing in sunny Cancun at the Climate Change summit.

We know the true believers are having problems since science, real science, tends to debunk their theories. Knowing this I guess it shouldn't surprise me that the woman moderating the discussions called upon a deity to guide them. A female deity yet. Ix Chel. The Mayan jaguar goddess also know as the Mayan goddess of the moon.

When all else fails... I've got to tell you this gal wore many hats in her day. In addition to her cat and moon duties, she was also the goddess of reason, creativity and weaving. Ms. Figueres, said moderator, might just be the goddess of spin. As she herself said, "May she inspire you - because today, you are gathered in Cancun to weave together the elements of a solid response to climate change using both reason and creativity as your tools."

In other words, do what you must to make the argument believable!

Back to Ix Chel, or Lady Rainbow, the insurer of fertility, is also sometimes know as the goddess of catastrophe - the woman who stands by while the world floods. An interesting goddess to call upon for guidance regarding climate change! Her name, by the way is pronounced "ee chell". Put an 'sh' before that ee and you have shee chell or she shall. The question is she shall what? Only the gods know!

On that note I'm off for a few days. Enjoy the break and see you late next week!

Helping Those Who Would Help Themselves!

Sometimes, especially around the holidays, one can easily get tapped out trying to satisfy all the hands that are extended for help. We are inundated with stories about those down on their luck. The Salvation Army Kettle meets you at every store, turkey drives, coat drives, toy drives. I've often wondered why the numbers never seem to decrease over the years. Why an ever greater number of hands are extended.

Maybe we should consider what a few, mostly obscure, people are able to accomplish simply and inexpensively! Last night I was watching the Making a Difference segment on the NBC news. It was about a project called Little Dresses for Africa. Simple little pillow case dresses made by hundreds in this country and distributed to African orphans. Through this program the door has been opened to teach these youngsters about nutrition, hygiene and most of all give them a smidgen of hope for a better life. A future.

The program is now expanding to 'Britches for Boys'. To see those kids in their bright new garb and the joy on their faces is enormously heartwarming.

To take it a step further, a story appeared in this morning's paper about the Krochet Kids , a trio of college boys wanting their own distinct style of head gear for winter sports. They spent their summers in developing nations and an idea was born. Crochet hooks and yarn in hand off they went to Africa.

They found the women had a natural talent for crocheting. They are now paid a wage for a quality product that is being marketed in the United States. You want to talk about hope and change? Pillow cases and yarn. What goes around comes around. Simple. Inexpensive. The result? Priceless.