Sally, me and two neighbours did a few hours of wood-getting today.  It’s been a year.  Old muscles.  I can feel it as I write this.  Still, a lot got accomplished and we are all feeling good.  Well, my back isn’t that good (but I will be fine by tomorrow).  And Sal is still bouncing back from a total knee replacement done only 12 weeks ago.  All’s well that ends well and ending well for us does not mean doing a good job – it just means no blood-letting.  Today was a blood-free workday.

When we start, we have to first wait until the tide goes out.  Hard to cut floating logs into rounds, ya know?  And the tides seem to be a bit ‘off’ the printed schedule these days.  Not by much but at least half an hour.  Our work window (given where the logs were) was three hours with the water at our ankles after that.

Then, when the tide is out, and we can actually access the logs, they are all higgeldy-piggeldy on the rocky shoreline.  I climb down the cliff, go out on the boulder field, roll a  log up on a rock or use a peavey to get it up so that my chainsaw does not cut into the mud or a rock.  Sometimes you have no choice…the log is jammed and you have to cut it as it lies and risk your chain….but basically, you cut what you can hoping the smaller portion can then be un-jammed.

The biggest challenge for me is in keeping my balance.  And mine is NOT so good anymore.  I am a bit tippy.  I kinda lurch sometimes.  But, so far, no falls.  The second challenge is that the rounds cut on the beach have to then be hauled up above the high tide line otherwise they will all float away in the night.  Each round weighs at least 25 pounds and some weigh upwards of 75.  I carry them off the beach and toss ’em in a pile at the base.  Sal and the other woman pick one up each and take it up the next ten or so feet to a ‘dry’ spot.  The young fellow we had as our fourth was better at just about everything but together we made a good impression on the task.

Sal had a relatively even slope to climb but she had to lift and carry rounds averaging 40-50 pounds (over 50 and I came over to do it).  Ninety minutes in, she was looking like she was getting close to done.  “Hey, Sal, why not give your knee a rest and go get that floater I saw earlier?”  And so she went log salvaging for awhile.  Came back with two!

As the water began to encroach on our work, we all decided that nature was telling us to quit.  And so we did.  Huge sighs of relief all around.  Over the course of the next month or so, we will do that exercise maybe five more times.  Then there is the splitting.  The carrying.  And then the stacking.

Just a chore.  Just a few hours.  Just ordinary.  But it is real, it is productive and the setting is gorgeous.  This is definitely the way to live!

Mike Pence is now promoting the idea that China so badly mishandled their ‘Wuhan’ virus, the rest of the world is suffering on purpose…kinda.  Ooooh, bad, bad, bad Chinese.

The WHO and the CDC have declared the virus was naturally occurring and Pence and Trump reluctantly seem to have conceded that point.  NOT accepted it, but NOT arguing.  Instead, they can still shift the blame to the Chinese anyway by criticizing the PRC/CCP for ‘doing such a bad job and then covering it all up and likely stockpiling supplies to screw us all over.’

So, the Trump administration is looking for someone to blame for the mess they are in.  Scapegoating.   Does anyone find that surprising?

Despite the science saying it was a natural virus and despite Japan, Korea, Iran and Italy being decimated right in front of his eyes while he denied the severity of it, Trump wants to blame the Chinese for the predicament he and his woefully inadequate White House are now facing.

The USA was not even in the vanguard of the virus.  The virus visited itself on Asia and Europe and the Middle East before it made significant inroads into the US.  But while Rome was burning up with fever, Trump fiddled.   Trump denied.  Trump wished it away.  What a catastrophic ass!

Harry S. Truman once famously said, “The buck stops here!”  It was also the motto on his desk.  It meant, Everyone else may have passed on taking responsibility but that is not going to happen here.  If the problem gets here, the responsibility is mine.

Trump has reversed that ethic.  “It is not my responsibility.”  “I do not take any responsibility.” “It is not our fault!”  “Those health supplies are for us, not ordinary people!” 

And now: “Blame the Chinese.  It is all their fault!” 

If you are a MAGA Bubba, are you proud?  I mean is this ‘da man’ you want to follow?  Is this the POTUS you would ‘take a bullet for’?  Really? 

This may offend some readers but here goes: It is bred into the male of the species to provide and protect.  Or, rather, it has seemed to be that way over the ages.  Men are supposed to face the physical dangers to protect the rest of the family.  Then, if the family is safe, we are obliged to go get them some food.  Maybe a roof.  A fire would be a nice touch.  In other words, to be a real man is to TAKE RESPONSIBILITY for provisions and protections.

Fortunately, we are not expected to do much more.   

Presumably, the president would be a real man.  HE would provide and protect.  HE would take the responsibility.  Or at least the president would be a really, really smart and responsible human being (female).  But this president is a shame to his gender.  Well, a shame to the species, actually.  I admit that most of us males are pigs in some all-too obvious ways (especially him).  But most men would still step up to provide and protect.  It is one of our basic, primal traits.  That feeling comes with muscles, size, savagery and ambition.  Indeed, we are pigs.  But we are pigs in a blanket..we want the family to be happy, warm and sleeping close to us.

This dickhead is just a pig.

I guess the Circle of Love all started a long time ago…..maybe 35-40 years.  It was nothing, really.  I had a lot of friends from all over, from refugee and immigrant communities to folks who lived on boats, skid-row types, petty criminals, doctors, lawyers, roller-hockey players….you know, the mish-mash of people one gets to know as you get on with getting on?

Side note: You should have seen our wedding…it was a masquerade ball because everyone invited was so different and from such weird walks-of-life we thought we could break the social barriers by having them in costume.  It worked remarkably well.  

Then, as I worked as a mediator and arbitrator, I added to the list along with neighbours and friends and kind encounters with strangers.  It was not a real list.  It was just a running mental list of people who were ‘good people’ and who could be counted on to be ethical and fair and kind to someone in need.  I would guess that, at any given time, there were only about 15 to 20 ‘active members’ who, in fact, did not even KNOW they were members.  It was really just me keeping a list of who was naughty and who was nice and I would check that list more than twice.  Ho Ho Ho.

Anyway, one of them was a young man at the time.  He was going through some kind of hell and I helped him out.  After a year or so, he was into clean air and tacking well to windward.  He was free.  We stayed friends.  And there was another and I helped him and then he and I were friends.  One day the first guy needed some kind of special skill and the second guy had that skill and I introduced them.

“B, this is S.  He needs 123-doing and you are the best I know at that.  He’s in the Circle.  Go help him”.

‘B’ said, “What’s the circle?”  I explained that good guys get help from other good guys and we do it freely because we know they will do the same for others.  They may even do the same for us someday but that would just be a coincidence.  You are in the Circle because the love goes out to the good who need it.”

“Wow!  I am part of that?”

“Yeah.  Think of it as being part of a type of Rotary or Lions service club or something without the breakfast meetings.  And the demands on your time might happen only once in lifetime.”

“I’m in!”

“Dude!  You’ve been in for the last three years.  Now go call S and help him out.”

” I don’t know this ‘S’ guy.”

“Just say, ‘Dave sent me’.  That should do it.  If you don’t like him or don’t want to do it, do not do it.  You are totally free but you are obligated to meet him, look at the issue and, if you can, do your best.  That’s it.”

And S and B became friends.  And so did maybe twenty guys get called and every time, the term Circle of Love was invoked and strangers helped out strangers.  It is a great system and there are no dues.

S called me the other day.  “Dave, shouldn’t we all know who is in the Circle of Love?  I mean, I am now doing pretty good and I am more well positioned than so many people during this virus, shouldn’t we all meet one another and see what we can do to help one another?”

“Well, the CoL was never intended  to be obligatory.  Someone would call and someone would be called and that was basically it.  But I see your point – they all went through me.  And that should be remedied, I suppose.  My problem today is that some of the members are older than me.  W is now 90.  H is 90.  I have more than a few J’s in their late 80’s.  I would venture to say that some in the circle are of little use now.”

“All the more reason to organize a meeting and draft some youth.  We can’t let this slip away.”

So, I am thinking of doing that.  But I coined the phrase, Circle of Love, as a word-joke. I rarely use the term.  The only members were hairy guys who didn’t even really know there was a CoL unless they called for help or got called to get help.  Only S liked the name so much, it endured.

My friend D in Hong Kong has been a HUGE help to so many, only a few of which were CoL members.  That is just who he is.  Same for D and most of the J’s.  Many members would be surprised to get a call for any other reason than to ‘just go help somebody’.  If there is anything special about it, it is that they do it for a stranger who then, inevitably becomes a friend.

The reality is that the CoL is not a circle at all.  It is more like the Olympic Rings, interlocking.  S has his own circle of which I am a member.  BK, D and D and D and the J’s all have their own circles.  It is NOT an organization, it is an affiliation of good eggs.  And the influence is way wider than just the members who do not even know they are members.

Craig at Comox Fountain Tire acted in exactly that CoL manner the night we had the flat tire on our way to the hospital.  He was not (then) in the CoL.  And I do not know him well enough to call it official but, if there was anyone in that area that needed that kind of help, I’d call Craig and say, “Circle of Love, man.  Go help this woman.  Her name is S and she is near you.  If you charge, I’ll pay.  She’s poor.  If you don’t charge and do a good job, you are in the CoL officially.”

He’d say, “Who is this?  Is this a phone scam-thing?”

So, I would re-introduce myself and provide an explanation and I have never been disappointed yet.  He’d go.  She’d get help.  They’d be friends.  That’s how it works.

Now, dear reader,  don’t be silly as you envision all this….if Craig had to replace a tire or fix something, he might charge.  He may have costs.  CoL does not mean free.  It means ‘YOUR TIME AND YOUR CARING IS FREE.  Any real outlay of expenses and parts are the recipients cost. You can waive them or collect them, your call.  The only real requirement is that you help NOW and you are the best you can be.’

God, the world is weird, eh?

….and we were in town returning a borrowed cane to The Red Cross.  I parked in front of the red brick building located at the end of a small side street.  There was an alley around the side.  Sal went in to the office, I got out and looked around.  Pretty private.  Private enough for me…..I am not ‘picky’ that way….and, anyway….who’s gonna look down an alley…..? More to the point: do I care?

I walked around the corner of the building and there, sitting on the ground under a blanket, was a young woman.  She had a bright red top-knot of hair sitting on a black, blunt-cut base.  She looked up.  “Do I have to leave?”

“Not on my account.  I was gonna pee there but I am happy to move on down behind the dumpster.”  But I didn’t move right away.  I stopped and looked.  Her hair was clean.  The blanket was clean.  It was raining slightly.  She had a small pack sack acting as a cushion for her back against the wall.

“Homeless?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Four months.”

She looked pretty good for being homeless that long.  “Addicted?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Off and on since I was 13.”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty three.”

“Drug of choice?”

“Chrystal Meth”.

“Ten years is a long time on meth.  You could be too far gone.”

“Can’t.  Gotta get off it.  I have a son.”

“Where’s he?”

“With my parents.  He’s good.  But I am gonna get him back.”

“How?”

“I’m workin’ on it.”

“Oh…..that’s good.  What are you doing when you are workin’ on it?”

“You know, just workin’ on it…you know…thinkin’….gettin’ by til I am ready to….”

“Well, I hope that works for you but it hasn’t worked that way for anyone else.  Gettin’ by means going deeper. You need to get away from whatever you are doing and try doin’ good work with good people. Change your friends, change your life or something like that…you know…..?”

“Yeah.  I need a place to go to. I am gonna apply for a residence in a treatment centre or something.  I have my name with some social workers…and….like, maybe she’ll get me in somewhere.”

She was intelligent in a way.  Well spoken, at least.  Sentences made sense.  She was almost charming. Definitely pleasant. I had interrupted her as she was writing in a small notebook. It was some kind of journal.

“What’s your name?”

“Ashley.”

“What’s your kid’s name.  How old is he?”

“Alex is four.”

“Go to the forest.  It’s healing.  Find some cabin or something.  Just get out.  Get out to some place like where we live, a remote island up the coast.  No meth.  Nothing.  Just go to the forest, work at a resort somewhere or take care of an old couple or something.  Work for food. Or just get some food and camp.  If it doesn’t work out, go to another place.  Get out of the city.  There’s no real help here.”

Sally had joined me by then.  She and Ashley started talking about island life.  I went to the dumpster.  When I came back, she asked “How do I get in touch?”

I gave her my name and phone number.  But I told her that coming to our island is hard.  She’d work like a dog.  “Wood, gardening, no TV, no young people. I’m grouchy. We just do chores out there but it’s easier doing that in a paradise like ours.  Easier for us, anyway.”

We got back in the car.  We had those just-mentioned chores to do.  We drove in silence for a few minutes.  Sal said, “Breaks your heart.  She seemed alright, you know, deep down.  Not a good idea leaving your kid with the parents, tho.  She gonna make it?”

“No idea.  But do not be fooled by her charming manner.  All addicts tell the truth to the ‘mark’.  Telling their story is easy after awhile.  It works for them.  Then, when the mark believes them because of their sincerity, they set up the mark for some kind of exploitation – usually theft.  Addicts tell the truth to manipulate.  It’s how everyone is fooled.  Addicts know what to say.”

“Yeah.  I know.  What are we gonna do if she phones?”

“Answer the phone.  How do you not?  She’s a kid in trouble.  You have to.”

“What can we do?”

And so we drove and thought about Ashley.  We did not talk about her much but we were both thinking.  I had spent years working with wayward youth and drug addicts.  I even knew someone from my past life in this town. Then I remembered the burn out and depression not to mention constant stress. “We can’t help her. Especially if she wants to bring her son. If she calls, I’ll refer her to an ex-addict I know. We’re a bit too old for that stuff now. It’s an ugly truth but I think she is already way beyond us.”

“I agree. But, it is sad.”

Trusting the mainstream media fully is silly.  MSM is a for-profit business/industry that is owned by billionaires and much concentrated in a few companies.  Probably Rupert Murdoch, Ted Turner and Silvio Berlusconi are the most powerful voices but Oprah Winfrey is close.  Disney owns FOX News!  It is a small but powerful group and, of course, efficiency and profits are more important than truth and honesty.

“Hey, it’s not personal (or true), it’s just business.” 

While the motives and practices are less than noble, the process of ‘delivering the news’ is downright ridiculous.  Because making money is so important, news gathering has also been consolidated and turned into ‘feeds’.  Wire services.  That basically means the ‘news’ gets picked up locally, summarized by a freelance reporter and sent to a local news gatherer who, in turn attempts to pay for their reporter by selling the story up the ladder.  And so it goes until Reuters or Associated Press picks it up (the story has been bought, sold, rewritten, edited and ‘slanted’ to get that far).  Then Reuters and AP put it on their ‘wire feed’ to all ‘client’ MSMs and they, in turn, rewrite, summarize and ‘slant’ the story to the media outlets that run the story for ‘their’ audience.  Like the old party game where the players relay gossip around a circle, the last story teller bears little resemblance to the original story.  It is a flawed system but it has been honed over the years so that a car accident in Nairobi becomes a terrorist attack in Tel Aviv within hours.

It isn’t always that bad because stories are compared and competed for.  Some reporters are well-intentioned (but all carry a bias) and good business practices make for some fact checking before the story goes too far up the ladder and then down the chain.  But one thing is for sure; whatever is being reported is not 100% accurate or true.  That’s just the way it is.

I have no idea but I am guessing that news gathering gets naturally corrupted simply by the process.  But, when the news gathering became consolidated in the hands of the BIG corporations, it became more corrupted by the profit motive.  If you read ‘fringe feeds’ from different countries, you get the impression that the ‘FAKE NEWS’ companies get maybe 75% of the story basically right and maybe 40% of the facts and details right.  But I do not KNOW because I am NOT on the scene for every story and, even if I was, the story always happens BEFORE the reporter gets there.  The reporter is relying on witnesses, too.

Like I said, it is a very flawed process.

In my lifetime, I have been close to, part of and even the subject of maybe half a dozen stories that got reported and maybe only one that got half way up the wire feed scale.  In every single one of the stories, the reporter either got the gist of it wrong, the details and facts wrong or they, themselves, added a slant.  Sometimes it was not the reporter but their editor.  Because all of my stories were ‘social causes’ type stories (Skid Row, Refugees, living aboard boats, delinquent youth and the like), I was usually the beneficiary of the reporters bias and the facts and the details were edited to make my/our efforts sympathetic to the reader.  They lied and I looked good.  But it was NOT accurate or true.

Like agents tell their clients, “Do not believe your own publicity!” 

Eventually, of course, the unscrupulous began to use that system for their own ends.  “Any publicity is good publicity.”  And the rich began to ‘buy’ their news stories by heavy advertising and direct payments.  Then they paid BIG bucks to ‘bury’ bad stories and a whole generation of ‘tabloid’ papers came out selling blatant lies or burying obvious truths.  Think: National Inquirer and their ilk.  They took the flaws of the MSM and exploited the stories even further eventually getting to the point where they just made up crap.

The problem with the National Inquirer media model and similar is that they were so bloody ‘hokey’ any thinking individual with a 3-digit IQ knew it was crap and stayed away in droves.  Those 3-digiters relied on the MSM knowing that their stories were adulterated by profit motive, efficiency-reporting, summarizing, editing, time-slots and the like but probably at least half-true.

It must have dawned on everyone reading this that the real events of the world are so varied and different every day that they could not possibly always ‘fit’ into a neat News Hour so precisely timed that commercials were inserted and still be fully accurate.  In fact, even newspapers always managed to ‘fit’ all their stories in a daily issuance almost exactly the same size as the day before.  We all know LIFE is simply not like that but, to be fair, we the reader only have so much time in our day for the news, lies and propaganda.  It really all HAS to fit for us to ‘buy the paper’.

There is much more, of course, to the decadence and corruption of the news industry and the information we are all given but I am already closing in on my maximum word allowance, too.  So, I have to get to the point…..

Just because the news is so flawed, that in itself DOES NOT MEAN the rise of the alt-right, amateur news desk hucksters on You Tube are better.  In fact, they are actually using the waning credibility of the MSM to propagate lies and spin THEIR propaganda that is 100% biased and lacking in truth or fact.  The MSM dropped the ball and the amateurs DID NOT PICK IT UP.  They simply threw a lot more balls on the field and made up a new game confusing everyone.  No one knows the truth anymore but on this you can be sure: the alt-right and the amateur talking heads are 100% lying.

And someone is paying them to do it.

It always surprises me what appeals to ‘my’readership. You guys are nothing if not diverse and eclectic in your interests. The post in which ‘We Have to Talk About Kevin’ (a reference to a popular book title)was the most popular post this past year for two straight days. 200 readers each time! By comparison, the ‘I Hate Trump and Trudeau’ post received 150 for one day and is not likely to repeat that number on this, the second day.

Maybe I should write pieces on other ‘personally known’ readers…?

OH, do not worry, Scott, Sid, Derek. You guys certainly qualify (we’re friends) but I am mostly only teasing. Kev is further ‘out there’ anyway. NOT more entertaining in his eccentricity than you guys but different. AND it turns out that Kev is a hick magnet! Who knew?