WASHINGTON, THE STATE

I know, as I said at the time, it was all done with the best of intentions, naming such a pristine state after our first president. And then they went and picked out all the Indian names that would resonate with it … like Seattle, Tacoma, Yakima, Wenatchee, Wapato, Spokane, and so on.

The problem is, outside of the Far West, everybody thinks of the smaller Washington, the nation’s capital, rather than that sprawling and varied land of whales and volcanoes. It makes for a real identity problem.

Of course, some of the natives (not to be confused with Natives) prefer it that way. After all, if nobody can remember it’s there, maybe they’ll all stay away and keep the place, well, just as natural as ever. I mean, the only reason for living so far away from the rest of the nation … living way up there in that isolated corner of the country  … is to live away from everybody else.

But there are some holes in that argument of a fortress empire. For one thing, the migrant workers have certainly discovered the orchards, and they’ve discovered the state is clean pickings when it comes to job opportunity. If those mighty native-born and all the newcomers who consider themselves native, which is almost the same thing, don’t wake up soon and let the rest of the United States know they exist, why they’ll soon be required to take Spanish lessons. Quien sabe?

Worse yet, Californians know about the Evergreen State and, realizing what they’ve already done to the Golden State, they’re now anxious to do the same to the north. Before folks say, why, yes, I know, but there’s a barrier between us and them … the whole state of Oregon … let me reply, Just wake up and smell the coffee, buster. Why, everybody says Seattle’s just like San Francisco was before it became too big. And we know southern California wants to get its tubes into the Columbia River to pump real water all the way down the continent. I mean, that’s like Boston having to go to Minneapolis for its water, just about the same distance. And the mountains between Minneapolis and Boston would be far less of an obstacle, believe me.

No, sir. That Columbia River water ought to be generating electricity for the Pacific Northwest and nurturing the endangered salmon stock and watering orchards in the deserts of Oregon and Washington State before it goes on some movie star’s lawn in Brentwood. Sooner or later, southern California is going to have to learn to do without water. I say, the sooner, the better. They can buy icebergs from Alaska, for all I care.

So, if Washington State is going to save itself and keep everyone but the California congressional delegation from thinking it was giving away Potomac River water to its water greedy constituents, it’s going to have to come up with a new name.

I know, I know it will be an inconvenience. But it’s that or something far more dire.

So what do we have? Ecotopia has been suggested. I see you feel about the same way on that one as I do. Although, to be candid, “Seattle, Ecotopia,” doesn’t sound all that bad. Except that it raises a specter of starving Africans.

We could try renaming the state for another United States president. But Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Jackson, Lincoln, Roosevelt, Wilson, and Eisenhower for starters fall flat on their face. I mean, Seattle Roosevelt sounds like a forward for the Lakers, now that the Sonics are gone. Let’s face the facts.

My favorite is Tahoma, which is the Indian name for the tallest mountain in the state. But Seattle, Tahoma; Tacoma, Tahoma; Yakima, Tahoma; Wapato, Tahoma; Walla Walla, Tahoma; Wenatchee, Tahoma; and even Spokane, Tahoma, will never fall easily on the American tongue.

So what’s to be done? Let us consider the obvious choice: Apple. I mean, two of every five apples sold in the United States come from this state. (Remember, we’re talking about fruit, rather than computers, Microsoft notwithstanding.) This would be advertising at its best. Not only that, but the apples come from a generally neglected part of the state, its central desert. Listen to this, now: Seattle, Apple; Tacoma, Apple; Yakima, Apple; Wapato, Apple; Wenatchee, Apple; Walla Walla, Apple; Spokane, Apple . . . and so on. Even Olympia, Apple, rings right.

What? You say it sounds too much like the nickname for a decrepit Eastern port?

Well, then. How about . . . Evergreen? As in Seattle, Evergreen; Tacoma, Evergreen; Yakima, Evergreen . . .

~*~

Now I’m wondering how long ago I wrote this bit found in my files. Many tell me Seattle long ago fell over that tipping point of small-town innocence. There are the tales of terror regarding immigration enforcement. I’m told even the orchards look different, thanks to trellis-based apple trees. Still, I’d opt for a new name, as long as it’s not based on the high-tech upsurge.

OVERLOAD AT THE TOP

Every election cycle gets me pondering the limitations of any individual’s ability to make well-informed, reasonable decisions. Even with a platonic ideal, in the absence of the give-and-take combat of partisan politics, an executive can handle only so much. Or as Henry Kissinger discovered as Secretary of State, after years in academia, it was much more like being an NFL quarterback on Sunday afternoon than a divine ruler on Olympus. Is this any way to get wise results? How many crises can the White House manage at any one time, even before considering the routine operations?

Here, I lean toward the genius of the Founding Fathers when they established our compound republic, and urge divesting many of the functions to more appropriately sized levels – giving all due respect to localities and states.

But it’s not just government. In any hierarchy, information is distorted as it moves upward through the ranks. You tell the boss what he or she wants to hear. Or it gets distorted as they hear only what they find fits their views best. Rare is the CEO who has learned to circumvent this.

Again, my preference is for flattening the hierarchy and spreading the work out through a multiplicity of smaller enterprises.

Call me old-fashioned if you will. Or just plain human. Or maybe just an idealistic visionary after all.

RIGHT-BRAIN ACTION FROM THE LEFT

Back during the presidential election cycle, I remarked on the failure of the left to apply right-brain thinking to the message. Fortunately, as the season unfolded, a few savvy managers got it right.

Now, as things calm down, I should note one fine practitioner of the weaving the emotional and reasoned lines together: Charles P. Pierce, with his daily blog for Esquire. Yes, he’s acerbic, caustic, witty, righteous, and very well informed, driving news home – major stories most newspapers are tiptoeing around, if they mention them at all. The Tea Party seems to think it has a lock on criticizing Washington, without realizing how much of the current mess comes from their side of the aisle. Now for the corrective blast. And how!

In a short space, Pierce delivers all the content of a good lecture with none of the preachy sermon. He’s delightfully entertaining and uplifting, for the good-hearted believers, or highly annoying, for the philistines and heathens.

Now, back to cranking out bumper stickers.

Amen and hallelujah.

OVERLAPPING OR UNCONNECTED CIRCLES

My daughters are quite fond of Venn diagrams as a way of analyzing situations, and lately it’s had me thinking about the Society of Friends, in an abstract sort of way. And from there, it’s had me thinking about a lot of other applications.

Let me explain.

To make a Venn diagram, you begin by drawing a circle to represent something. For example, if we’re looking at a group of people, we could draw a circle to represent families with children living at home. If a large proportion of the members fits this category, we’ll make a relatively large circle. Next we can draw another circle to represent households with children living elsewhere – say off at college or raising children of their own. There might be some overlap to show families who fit both categories, as well as no overlap for others. But a third circle of members who have no children at all would stand entirely apart. Adding another qualifier, such as “members living in Dover” or “households living under the poverty level,” would have us draw a circle that would spread over sections of the other three, and its size would reflect the amount of dual identity; often, we would shade that swath to help it stand out graphically. The emerging diagram begins to give us new perspectives on what had originally been defined by the single matter of membership, and we can begin to adjust our programs and mission to better match its needs.

*    *   *

Ideally, I’d say, Friends have assumed that the local Quaker meeting, as a community of faith, would emerge as a set of concentric rings, like the ripples radiating from a single pebble tossed in a still pond. At the heart of it would be our individual faith experience, surrounded by meeting for worship, meeting for the conduct of business, family, the body of Friends as Monthly, Quarterly, and Yearly Meeting, community, occupation, and larger society. In that, we would be in a state of essential unity or even Gospel Order.

In reality, of course, we’re much more like a handful of stones tossed out, and each of us creates a different set of ripples. They overlap for us, because we’re radiating on the same pond we call Dover Meeting, at least where I am. Conceptually, though, not all of our circles are radiating out across the water. Imagine instead that some are angled out into the air – our jobs or classrooms, for instance, or families where one spouse is active in Meeting and the other is not. This is certainly a much more complex model, leaving us many possibilities for being disconnected with the rest of the surface.

Looking at Meeting itself, and expecting the Meeting for Worship and/or the Meeting for Worship for the Conduct of Business to be our central focus, we might expect to see a host of other circles all converging on that point, to create something resembling a flower. Looking at attendance at Monthly Meeting, however, I would suggest some other model would be more accurate, and maybe some of the circles do not touch each other at all. Indeed, some people observing Friends Meetings have suggested there are circles with no overlap: Christocentric versus universalist, or social activists versus spiritual monastics – or whatever. What moves and motivates one Friend may leave another untouched. Still, where exclusivity is perceived, I would urge us to look closer, to find elements where overlap might actually exist and where the remainder of one circle might energize and support the remainder of another. I believe there we will find the key to a revitalized sense of urgency among Friends, and the ability to shake the earth for miles around.

*    *   *

The reality is that none of us identify ourselves by a single category. We apply many, and some are more important than others. For example, I’m a Quaker and also male, married, stepdad, retired from full-time employment, a published poet and novelist, a so-so baritone in a very fine chorus, a contradancer … well, it becomes a very long list and in my daily actions, some of my interests overlap with those of others I encounter.

My wife and I love those parties that mix three or four circles of very interesting people and then seeing the interaction that ensues. When it works, everyone seems to come away enlivened and enriched.

In a way, that’s part of what I’ve been trying to do with the Red Barn. Yes, I do try to rotate the entries among my 11 categories each month or so – American Affairs, Arts and Letters, Home and Garden, Newspaper Traditions, Personal Journey, Poems, Poetry Footnotes, Personal Journey, Postcards, Quaker Practice, and What’s New. But in reality, there’s a lot of overlap. The Home and Garden projects often stimulate the Poetry, while Newspaper Traditions often reflect American Affairs, yet Arts and Letters may emerge from my Personal Journey or Quaker Practice. And Postcards, meanwhile, reflects whatever shows up in the camera. Hopefully, each reader, initially attracted to one category, may soon be following the others.

See how our circles overlap? Or, for that matter, even enlarge.

OPA!

The Friday and Saturday of every Labor Day weekend here features Dover’s Greek Heritage Festival, which is much more than a fundraiser for the Assumption Orthodox church.

It’s more a community-wide FUN-raiser, with traditional food (the teenage workers in the kitchen, reflecting the instruction of patient grandmothers, is something I wish we had in our own congregation), conversation and mingling, cultural displays, crafts for sale, and best of all, live music and dancing.

But oh, my, am I really there dancing in that YouTube clip? All the dancers wearing white aprons, by the way, had dashed out from the kitchen, taking a break before returning to the cooking and cleaning. But, heavens, I still look like a New England contradancer. Lighten up! I really was having fun, but I’ll promise to stand straighter and smile more this time. OK?

STROKE OF GENIUS

“Do we have any cream rinse?” I asked, heading for the shower.

“The WHAT?” replied the chorus.

“You know, the stuff you put in your hair after you’ve used the shampoo.”

“Oh! You mean the CONDITIONER! They haven’t called it cream rinse for decades.”

Yeah, that stuff. There I go again, showing my age. Only to be corrected by my wife and kids.

Actually, I have to admire someone’s marketing savvy, however far back. Cream rinse, introduced to me by my first lover, always sounded like an indulgence – a luxury, superfluous but comforting. (She did have silky hair.) But conditioner? Now that sounds like something you might need to counter the, uh, harshness of shampoo. Not a luxury, but a necessity, making it all the better for marketing and sales.

Just goes to show the power of one word, doesn’t it.

WHERE, O WHERE

“Hey, you know your portrait’s hanging at Harvard?”

“Eh?” I replied, wondering what century the canvas would have evoked.

“No, it was the ‘60s. You were younger, of course.” And while a residence hall on the Yard was mentioned, I was too awash in wonder to catch the details. (Darn!)

Still, it stirs up the what-if musings.

At the time, Ivy League was completely outside my range of possibilities, beginning with finances.

Even so, here we were, one town over, a half-century later.

If only …

Or if they only knew …

VOCAL ROOTS

Everybody’s from somewhere. You know, the accents, etc.

Merlinders with their “youse” and so on. To say nothing of the Bronx or Queens. Or New England, now that I’ve moved.

I should talk. I have no accent. Pure American Broadcaster Country.

Except that one line of my ancestry started out Pennsylvania Dutch (talk about talking funny!) and came to Ohio by way of Maryland and Virginia.

And another line came up north more recently, meaning the 1880s, from the North Carolina Piedmont.

So, there. No, folks. This time, I’m keeping my mouth shut.

RESTAURANT CITY

A cluster of restaurants and their decks overlook Tugboat Alley in Portsmouth. It's an iconic site in the city.
A cluster of restaurants and their decks adjoins Tugboat Alley in Portsmouth. It’s an iconic sight in the city. A quartet of the tugs is also often seen in the ocean near the mouth of the harbor, waiting to escort a large ship to port. 

Portsmouth, a city of 24,000 just a dozen miles to our south, probably has as many restaurants per capita as Manhattan – by some counts, 160 within a close radius of the downtown.

Much of the demand relies on the tourist trade. Nearly everyone driving to Maine comes through the city, usually on Interstate 95. Half of those going to New Hampshire’s White Mountains turn north there as well. And many simply stop altogether to vacation. It is, after all, on the Atlantic.

Still, that’s a lot of dining.