A couple of nights ago we had a midnight visitor.  We woke up in the morning to find that the Creepy Crawley pool cleaner had been lifted out of the pool, and that the hose had been shredded into small pieces.  Neither Miki nor I heard anything, though that is not unusual as we are both sound sleepers.  Miki thought it was the work of vandals, while I suspected an animal such as the raccoon as nothing else had been disturbed.

Due to an accumulation of circumstances, our home has become a wildlife refuge.  We have fruit trees to provide food, a pool to provide water, and an undeveloped tract of land owned by the city adjacent to our property.  This land contains tall pine trees in which we have seen owls roost, and a savannah of tall grass where coyotes and hawks love to hunt.  We have a bird population nesting in our bushes of quail, sparrows, turtledoves, hummingbirds, robins, blue birds, and an occasional oriole.  For a long time we had a road runner performing his usual antics, though sadly I haven't seen him lately. The rabbits can be very destructive to Miki's flowers when the predators are on holiday and the ecosystem shifts in their favor.  We also have our share of possums, skunks, raccoons, and have even noted visits from a white egret and a deer.

Last night we were sitting on our patio with another couple enjoying a glass of wine, celebrating the end of the workweek.  The hose from the pool sweep was still lying on the deck, awaiting its replacement.  We heard a sound, and looked up to see our vandal returning to the scene of his crime.  There was a big, healthy looking raccoon playing with the broken hose.  Instead of being afraid, the animal started to slowly walk toward us.  Our friend stood up, clapped her hands, and yelled.  The raccoon, completely ignoring her bluff, kept slowly coming toward us.  Being fully aware of the damage those sharp claws and teeth can produce, we beat a hasty retreat behind the sliding glass door of the kitchen when the animal was 5 feet away.  Satisfied with his victory, the raccoon calmly inspected his conquered territory for any spoils of war.  Seeing none, he unhurriedly ambled off into the night.

Sadly, I can't afford to keep replacing the pool equipment, and we'll have to request animal control from the city to provide a trap for the raccoon in order to have him vacate the premises.  This is unfair, as this was his land long before we came along.  But then, there's nothing fair about the food chain.

I will be taking a short sabbatical from this blog, as my favorite poet and his bride have arrived from the City of Lights to spend their summer vacation with us.  Naturally, they have first claim on my free time; I trust you will understand.  Hope you are all enjoying your weekend.  Be well.

Another weekend is starting, tarnished somewhat by the relentless specter of disease that never takes a holiday, and demands that those of us who have chosen this battle be also willing to carry on the fight 24/7.  I’m fortunate in having two other doctors in my specialty sharing weekend work duties. We each take our own calls during the week, but this arrangement gives us the luxury of having to work only every third weekend. It could be a lot worse. It’s always better to be the doctor than to be the patient.

Southern California has a large Hispanic population, the bulk of who have come here from Mexico. Los Angeles is the second largest Spanish speaking city in North America, after Mexico City. Having lived and worked here as long as I have, I’ve grown to learn and appreciate the culture of our southern neighbor. Perhaps that’s the reason the following poem carries special meaning. Be well.

ASH  WEDNESDAY

In the villages of central Mexico the poor

make belts of braided soft-drink tabs;

zucchini soup contains the stems

of flowers as well fruit.

In Mexico nothing is wasted, so

the darkest of their recipes for mole

calls for stale tortillas and the seeds

of ancho chilis burned to ash

and folded in. As if to guarantee

the taste of dust and ashes always

in one’s mouth. As if one needed

in Mexico, yet another reminder

of the presence of los muertos.

Ted McMahon

FREEDOM

            When you look in Webster’s Dictionary for the definition of “free” and “freedom” you will find the meanings as a series of negatives: “not under the control of some other person or arbitrary power; able to think and act without compulsion or arbitrary restriction; not under the control of a foreign government; not held, as in chains; not kept from motion; not confined to the usual rules or patterns; not restricted by anything except its own limitations and nature…” This reminds me of the tag line in a Wall Street Journal article talking about the collapse of Communism and the Soviet Union, in which a Moscow resident remarks, “We are free – now what?”

            I was born in a time when freedom was elusive to absent in a large part of our globe, in a country where a knock on the door or the unexpected ringing of the phone brought terror based on very justified fears, and the only freedom one dared dream about was being allowed to exist in obscurity by staying under the radar of the ever watchful secret police and their countless informants, some of whom could have been, or in fact were, people you knew well. To those who grew up in the luxury of free society, these feelings are beyond the boundaries of experience, and cannot be truly imagined, much less viscerally acknowledged. To those who lived through them, they can never be forgotten.

            Perhaps the most frightening aspect to those of us who were not always blessed with the freedoms the rest of us take as our birthright is the knowledge of how easily and rapidly freedom can be lost. My birthplace had the traditional freedoms of a Western society throughout all my parents’ lives until shortly before the time of my birth. Throughout history, the loss of freedom has occurred as often from within as without. The desire to have power over others is a primal drive, and well recognized by the men who framed our Constitution. The system of checks and balances they designed, brilliant in its conception, can only endure as long as there exists a populace dedicated to the principles the document embodies.

            We are about to celebrate our Independence Day with a cacophonous collision of fireworks scattering falling liquid gold, emerald, and scarlet streamers across skies hazy from countless barbecues, as speeches are made and parades march under unfurled banners. For those who have served, as well as those whose family members sacrificed limb and lives, the price of our freedoms are forever etched in hearts and minds. For those brought up in a tradition of service, the memory remains that the price of freedom is dear. The paradox of freedom is that those who desire it the most must also be willing to subjugate some of their personal desires to see it achieved. 

            The world is a complex, complicated, and often frightening place. I can understand the desire to hide in the cocoon of daily life, of carpools and groceries, of work and play, and ignore the whole messy, confusing affair. Let the professionals, the politicians, the generals worry about what’s happening, and concentrate on our own turf. Unfortunately, this road, by which we abdicate responsibility to others, leads to the other end of George Bernard Shaw’s cynical observation, “the replacement of the incompetent many by the corrupt few.” The man was right – the price of freedom is eternal vigilance. So we must remain vigilant, not only of our enemies, but of those to whom we entrust our daily freedoms. We must not, can not allow our fears of the known or unknown to seduce us into turning those freedoms over to a perceived strong select few who claim to know what is good for us, and promise us security in exchange for giving up power over our own lives. Too many through history have done this. Too many suffered and died as a result of their mistake. Freedom cannot be defined by the absence of bad things – slavery, fear, subjugation. It needs to be defined by positives, by action. But what can we do, you plaintively ask? We can educate ourselves to the issue affecting our lives. We can educate our children so they understand the history of this great nation, both the good and the bad. We can be willing to serve to sustain the causes in which we believe, and at the same time allow for, and demand intelligent discourse from those whose belief is different than our own, as well as from those we have chosen to lead us. We can attempt to instill in our children the values and ideals on which all free societies are founded, and which our Constitution helped codify. We can teach them that there is a difference between patriotism and nationalism, that loving your country is not the same as blind acceptance or support of any governmental policy. We can resist the temptation to demonize those who oppose us while we are struggling to hold true to the core principles of our beliefs. We can and should encourage, demand that everyone give of themselves in the form of some national service for a period of their life. It’s the only way we can be exposed in a one on one setting to those whose ideas, opinions and backgrounds are different than our own. We must demand accountability not only from our leadership, but also from the press and the media, not to sink to the lowest denominator, but to help raise the level of discourse in all walks of life from mud slinging to enlightening. And finally, we must teach and practice respect for the persons and property of our citizens, along with this planet, and those with whom we share it.