Coming Around

                I got something today that every social worker needs: confirmation from a client that the work has generated some good – with evidence to back it up.

                It’s been a dull and down time here in street outreach. Not only is my personal energy low, and I’m lacking enthusiasm and even doubting my role. It’s also that my clients are going off the rails. It’s very distressing when one you take into your charge deteriorates, goes deeper into dysfunction, despite your efforts. Really makes you question if you’re doing what you ought to be doing.

                I know I have something to offer these young charges of mine. Only, I no longer believe it’s enough. I never have – in the sense that, I don’t know if anyone’s life is saved in being managed by another. It’s the learning and incorporation of self-management skills that ultimately seems to make the difference. But, a committed partner can be invaluable in mustering the energy, focus and persistence needed to develop these skills. And these days, sadly, I’m short of energy, on focus, and on persistence, even with regards to my personal issues. So how to shore up the reserves of spirit in another?

                The confirmation call I received today was from a young man I began working with about two and a half years ago. At that time, he was on the streets, drinking and smoking lots of pot (but doing no other drugs), panhandling, and being extremely bitter about every negative circumstance that came his way. He – I’ll call him Daniel – had the sort of entrenched mind set that peeled back the veneer of every good thing to focus on the encroaching rot that lie beneath.

                I won’t go into detail about Daniel’s ups and downs over the following months and years. But through a series of them, he somehow managed to recognize that much of what took place in his orbit was influenced by the decisions he made. He stopped seeing himself as the victim of malignant fate and began to make better choices, and to take responsibility for the poor ones he continued to make from time to time. He gradually got to the point of no longer needing the support of programs like mine. He found himself a compatible partner, moved into better housing, away from the downtown core, began to work.

                A few months ago, he contacted me to lend support. He was trying to get custody of children he’d never provided for, whom he’d hardly seen, but now felt ready to have in his life. He wanted a letter of support for the courts. This represented such a substantial change for Daniel. He’d grown out of his near total dependence and dysfunction, and then beyond mere survival. And he was now looking beyond his immediate needs, and wanting to provide something better for others he was ready to claim his rightful responsibility for.

               
                 The call from Daniel today was to announce he’d just come from court. He’s been granted shared custody of his children. He passed his last assessment by Children’s Aide, and will be able to have his kids in his home, without the supervision that had previously been required, every other weekend, every other Christmas. He was so happy and proud.

                And he said that he wanted me to know that the work I had done with him had made a difference. He said that he knows how much frustration there can be in my work – he’d caused enough of it himself. And now, he wanted to share his joy, his accomplishment, his success.

                What a gift. And for that, the job will weigh a little lighter tomorrow.

The ACLU and the KKK

The Georgia branch of the American Civil Liberties Union is backing the Ku Klux Klan. The issue at hand is participation in the State's Adopt-A-Highway program, in which community groups volunteer to clear litter and debris from sections of roadway. Groups that do so get to have a sign erected on that roadway, acknowledging the civic contribution of the group.

The KKK's application was denied on the grounds that  the posted sign will be offensive to many. In words that accompanied the decision: “the impact of erecting a sign naming an organization which has a long rooted history of civil disturbance would cause a significant public concern.”

Not merely a "history of civil disturbance." The KKK has a chilling legacy of hate, violence and oppression. I can imagine the effect of the apparent sanction of this group that their participation would represent. It will generate fear, confusion, anger and outrage among many, especially among Blacks, whose exclusion from citizenship in the south was enforced by the terrorism of the KKK. And, beyond being merely offended, I imagine there will be those who will experience a sense of terror, feeling themselves suddenly in Klan county, and vulnerable to all the horrors that the white sheets represent.

And yet, as pointed out by the head of the Georgia State ACLU that has decided to defend the KKK, it is a violation of their constitutional right for them to be denied participation because they hold unpopular ideas that others may find offensive. Freedom of expression is a constitutional right, and it cannot be denied because people hold ideas that are wrong, stupid or unpopular. By extension, no group should be prohibited from participating in a civic activity based on its beliefs alone, however offensive.

By and large, I support the ACLU. I admire that it's an organization that stands of principles, regardless of the political implications. As the ACLU head stated in the radio interview I heard, the staff of the ACLU is pretty leftist; they don't share the views of the KKK at all. But they understand the importance of the principle involved. I do too. And so, painful as it is, I side with them. Yes, let the Klan itself go about in public, putting forward "good works" as the face of its racist philosophies. As the ACLU rep said, it's really only unpopular speech that needs the protection of the 1st amendment.

I recall how transparant the politics was in 2000 when the US Supreme Court was deciding the outcome of the Presidential election. Then, you had the conservative Republican party, champion of States Rights, and historically against "activist courts", calling for the Supreme Court to stop the recount of ballots that the Florida courts had ordered. While on the other side, the Democrats, who are traditionally supportive of Federal intervention in state matters, and pro activism by the courts, were insisting that the Supreme Court stay out of the matter. It was such blatant hypocrisy, on all sides, that none of the parties earned respect by it.

Yes, the integrity of the ACLU, which supports the Bill of Rights, for anyone, anywhere and anytime, is impressive. And necessary. Ultimately, I don't think it's effective only to uphold principles when they play out in ones favor. It's hard though, this supporting of principles that, in turn, permit the sharing and spreading of false doctrines, racist philosophies, and hate. But is there really a better way?

Looking for that Rhythm

These days and these weeks have been rich and rewarding. Ponczka and I have been immersed in a flow of stimulating and broadening activity, enjoying new and old friends, taking on new challenges, feeling very alive. And yet...

I'm more aware than I've ever been that doing something right doesn't counterbalance the things I'm doing that are very wrong. And it so happens that in my life now, there is a lot of both. But I can't - as I have so often before - think that this living is about averages, and that the good I do somehow erases the lapses, the mis-judgements, the indulgences.

No, I won't take this space to enumerate my failures. But I will note the corollary to the above: it's equally true that my lapses are not capable of erasing the smart, the generous and the creative things that I do. That detail is a precious little aspect of the way things are.

I've been watching a lot of sport, lately. Yesterday, it was Serena Williams versus Agnieszka Radwanska for the Wimbledon crown. One of the things I most love and admire about athletic competition is that the failures of the contestants is at the heart of every contest. Tennis players are always sending shots into the net, misjudging the tactics of their opponents, creating faults and unforced errors. And the pathway to success is always substantially bound up in how they manage these mistakes. However many aces a player produces, it isn't enough if they can't keep any of their returned serves in play. And vice versa. I admire the resolve by which a player manages to accept and somehow compensate for their short-comings. And it seems that the very best athletes are always working at managing their mistakes even better.

On the other hand, in the place where I work, and in the culture of almost all places I've ever worked, there's a substantial effort that goes into over-looking mistakes and weaknesses, in forgiving them and even accepting them as a matter of course, and designing 'harm reduction' methods to contain their effects. I'm not making a critique of the program I work for. It's a wonderful and powerful program of intervention and support, and its ways of dealing with the imperfections of our team are pretty standard, even humane. I thankful that I do not work in an environment where all of my weaknesses are used against me by an opponent who wants to defeat me. If I did, I would't survive very long.

But at the same time, I so admire the process that forces careful scrutiny of failures, in the effort to excel, to improve, to grow, to persevere, to win!

And so... I'm taking inspiration from watching sports, in which contestants are picked apart by their adversaries, and have to dig deep to come up with solutions to help them move on. I'm motivating myself by the examples of Serena and Agnieszka yesterday, battling to the point of exhaustion and beyond, expending grueling effort on point after point, only to see half their efforts fail, and having to push on.

I'm trying to push on myself. I want to hone and develop the tools I already have working for me. And I really need to take charge of some of my shortcomings, find ways to keep them from holding me back. It's not about eliminating them. No, it's more about: how do I manage my schedule better despite the fact that I'm not very punctual? How do I stay on top of my creative projects despite the fact that inspiration and the flow of ideas can't be rationed out among my days and hours? How do I keep a high level of integrity in my relationships, despite the fact that I so like indulging my appetite for doing things my way and on my own?

One of the things I aim to do, beginning tomorrow, is to write here more frequently and regularly. That's another tip I take from those athletes I most admire: their willingness to declare expectations for themselves, to allow their hunger and drive to be visible.

This is shaping up to be such an eventful year. I want to go for it. This year, I intend to leave everything on the court!

Walking Cloud

It’s nine acres, in the western hills of the Finger Lakes, New York state.

Ponczka, the fiercely creative woman that I share this life adventure with, had one of her frequent brilliant inspirations. She got it in mind that we ought to buy one of the fantastically affordable getaways somewhere in those hills. We love the area already, from driving through on our trips to the City, and from our stay at the Millay Colony this winter. And I, also from further back, when my brother lived in Rochester for all those years, and I drove there along route 20 a few times.

Ponczka had attuned all her revived nesting energy into dreams for a schoolhouse, built in 1880, tucked just off a winding road on Canandaigua Lake. We saw that when driving through from my reunion a month ago. But she’d found other interesting properties, and so we looked at them too, almost as a formality. And the last of them captured us before we knew we’d been caught.

It’s inhabited by Shadow Hill, artist and therapist, who had the small cabin built by Amish neighbors, and who has tended the grounds, the small pond, the workshop and paddock, the beautiful outhouse (yes, it’s one of many special, inviting spots on the grounds) with an embracing care. Shadow is Cherokee and she says it’s been a spiritual home for her, and a healing place, and that the goodness of her neighbors is in the wood they built with. Shadow is a practitioner of “fallen art”. She merges found, fallen objects into sculptural and totemic tools of living: scepters and dream-catchers and smudging fans. And the imprint of her is on the place, giving it depth and story, and a welcoming energy.

Ponczka was instantly drawn to this vibrant place, but emotionally, she’d already moved into the schoolhouse. She’d planned the sleeping loft to be built off of the single, large schoolroom, had visualized a gazebo for the yard, and a small roadside gallery for displaying her paintings.

We slept and talked and emailed and dreamt and phoned about it for a couple of days. Then, on what happened to be solstice, the first day of summer, we drove down again in the late afternoon, and spent an hour and a half, strolling and lounging, looking and feeling the place.

And suddenly, possibilities begin to rain down. There’s an awareness of the space, room to stretch out into. I’m recognizing all sorts of choices, a sense of play welling up, and of freedom, qualities I’m reminded are always in reach, despite that I so rarely really embrace them. What I’ve been feeling was a narrowing that I’m groping my way into suddenly spouts corridors, and walls mist away. (Of course, it’s never so simple. But so much of life is in the eyes, after all. So, so much to see. And what do I choose to see?)

After awhile, Ponczka too begins to see us there and feel us there. She will have her painting gear in the workshop, and I’ll be on the shady side of the house, writing. She can feel the cold of winter pounding the walls and the metal roof, while the little wood-stove radiates its heat. And she sees herself plunging into the pond on a summer morning, just as it’s getting hot.

There will be lots to do, from mowing the grass, to chopping wood, to lugging water and fuel for the small generator – no water, no electricity. A different life and world to get to know. Shocks to absorb. Oh, man! What changes are ahead. Hopefully, we have only a few, minor illusions to be shown our way clear of. It will take time.

As we are leaving, I ask Shadow if the place has any kind of name. She says that someone once called it Cloud Nine. We will drop the nine.

Cloud.

Perfect.

ReUnion

It's been a few weeks now since I attended my 40th high school reunion.

It was a glorious form of time travel to see school friends I hadn't connected with since we were 38, or 23, even 18. To see they were the same as much as they were different. They were MORE the same. I didn't remember a lot about what we'd done or said together more than forty years ago. And most of my closest friends from back then weren't even there. But what drew me again and again, what touched me in a sweet place, what resonated so true and so clear, was the feel of these companion spirits of my youth. There was a comforting weight and warmth of having known them back when I was beginning to know me. Regardless of what miracles of exploration and discovery had shaped them in the years since we began exploring together, there was so much left of the eighteen year old, the child, the innocent, maybe simply the essential.

And there, with these friends, I began to voice my present transformation, for the first time. Because, with them I saw the broad outline of what all the small pieces of my life were indicating. A change is coming. Another in the long line of growth spurts, reorganizations, relearnings, recoveries, regroupings was coming. And I was afraid, and I was eager, optimistic and hopeless, determined and resolved, about what was coming. Mostly, just in the dark about it.

I use the word transformation hopefully. It's the optimism speaking. I have grand dreams for my remaining life - of writing, and travelling, about friendships, and further accomplishment in my work. I certainly have more dreams than years to make them real. But it's not getting through the list that I'm concerned about, it's being in the list.

So. I've played my sax more these last few years. And, miraculously, we have a sailboat.(Miraculous because I never, ever saw that one coming, and didn't know what enjoyment it would bring.) And Ponczka and I finally saw Paris, where we walked the days away. I even finished my novel finally. But, of course, there is more. So much more yet to try.

But, the best thing about visiting with my fellow time-travellers was getting fresh eyes. We spoke in decades, careers, births and deaths, Our words rubbed up against all those "what if'"s of forty years ago, all that speculation and eagerness that had been the nesting of our relationships. We'd been school kids, away from home, testing those early systems of self-defense and advancement, devising formulas for finding love, whatever that was or would prove to be.

And now, so many decades later, there was a sobriety and a clarity of eye in the place of that bold, speculative energy that only the inexperienced can have. And there's something so generous and acknowledging about catching up with so many others who've survived the same mistakes, the same loses, and who've come to the same simple appreciations, and ever simpler sources of joy.

It was so, so good seeing you all. The term "fellow travelers" has taken on richer meaning through the interactions and inspirations of that weekend. And thank you all for your help in teasing out insights into this transformation I'm slowly coming into. Much Love! And may you all Thrive! Until we meet again.

Jazz Gumbo - First Spin

On Monday night, I launched my new, weekly radio show, "Jazz Gumbo", on Radio Regent out of Regent Park in Toronto. It was a great kick-off. Lots of fun and lots of energy.

Below is the playlist for the show.
It's great music. Such a pleasure to spin the tunes, to share music I love so much, and to talk about it a little. A good chunk of it is off my vinyl, which I started accumulating while in junior high. My show will come substantially from the era of "original vinyl", which I date as up to '91, the latest year of issue of any of my twelve hundred or so albums. I haven't yet delved into the "new" vinyl that's emerged, except to replace a recording I've lost or worn out. I will play newer artists as well, and it won't all be jazz, but the heart of it will be the various strains of fusion, progressive and free jazz that emerged out of the 70's. But lots of room for the Sarah Vaughan, the Buckshot, the Sekoya.

One of the best parts about deejaying is being exposed to different stuff. When I did a weekly set at a local club, I was always being told about recordings and artists I didn't know well. I don't yet know how much different it will be spinning tunes from an audio booth, but I hope the recommendations will still flow. I won't always be fast about it, but I will check them out.

If/When I figure out how to "podcast" the show, I may do that. In the meantime, I hope you'll tune in - on your computers - to www.radioregent.com every Monday, from 6 to 8pm EDT. I'm gonna have so much fun!

Artist                                     Tune                                        Album

Buckshot LeFonque        “Music Evolution”       Music Evolution                     

JoAnne Brackeen            “Let Me Know”              Keyed In

Norman Connors             “Revelation”                   Love From the Sun

Sarah Vaughan              “Stardust”           The Complete Sarah Vaughan

Pharoah Sanders          “You Got to have Freedom”    Journey to the One

Anthony Braxton             “BOR...H”                         Five Pieces – Fall 1975

Keith Jarrett                     “Great Bird”                    Death and the Flower

Dianne Reeves                   “Chan’s Song”                 Dianne Reeves

Chuck Mangione        “Can’t We Do This All Night”   Chase the Clouds Away

John Coltrane                     “Welcome”                       Kulu se Mama

Hugh Masakela                 “Night in Tunisia”              I am Not Afraid

Lonnie Smith                    “Son of Ice Bag”               Think!

Metalwood                        “The Hipster”                    The Recline

Jack DeJohnette                 “John McKee”                  Parallel Realities

Soundtrack Cast                 “America”                        West Side Story

Bobby McFerrin                 “Blackbird”                      Simple Pleasures

Sekoya                              “Fugitive Pieces“             Sekoya

Miles Davis                        “Right Off”                       Jack Johnson

Steps Ahead                       “Safari”                             Modern Times

Launch

Our boat went in the water last weekend. The season has begun. Sailing has become a new way for us to mark the passage of time, to note the swings and cycles of nature, and our relation to it. In early October, the boats come out of water and onto the hard. The sails are packed away, masts come down, and these so graceful vessels become as clunky in their earth-boundness as seagulls on foot. 

But the reverse transformation is now taking place. From a tamed beast imprisoned in its cradle, like Brother Rabbit stuck in tar, our sailboat has reoriented itself, back in its element, Brother Rabbit back in the briar patch, the seagull on the wing. Well...almost. She’s only back in the water, so far. No mast yet, and no sails. She cannot yet fly, but she can swim, and flight will come, soon enough. Maybe the mast will go up today.

We slept aboard last night, and before that, shared the evening with good friends, between their boat and ours, here in our small marina. We brought food from home, barbecued ribs on the grill, shared homemade wine and store bought rum, remembering past journeys and storms endured, and looking ahead to voyages only imagined. So pleasant, bobbing on the waters of the bay, the night pressing down, the city close yet far, within sight and earshot of the Lakeshore’s traffic, but our tranquility untouched, undisturbed by it.

We have community here. Our disparate members, reassemble every May, launching our couple of dozen boats. We are both stink-potters (with motors) and rag-baggers (with sails). But there’s no real divide. We’re here from different places but for much the same reasons: serenity, the lure of the water, and the possibility of flight, which has less to do with going to any particular somewhere, as it has with movement and freedom and imagination.

There are 3 boat clubs here in Ashbridge’s Bay. The yacht club is huge, over 150 boats, a very impressive and proper club house with full restaurant and bar, and with a full schedule of social events throughout the season. Then there’s the Hydro-plane and Sailing club, with close to a hundred boats, and a more modest club house. We joke about our  even more humble outfit as the ghetto club. We have an unadorned but functional building that serves as workshop, washroom, kitchen and meeting room. We have a couple of barbecues out front, a small yard and two docks. Technically, this is the facility of the Vanguard Navy League, and there are weekly training sessions for kids who go out in small dinghies, learning the art of sailing. The fees we boaters pay go to support these programs and to maintain the facility.

When Ponczka and I first got our 20 foot Halman, going sailing was the beginning and end of it. But over time, as friendships develope, the socializing becomes a larger part of the experience. We once wondered at the boaters who rarely or never do any actual boating. But simply being here, hanging out, having dinners and parties, making music together – it’s all become a larger part of the experience of being a boater. These days, as launch approaches, re-connecting with others we’ve not seen since the Fall is as much of a draw as the water itself.

Last year, we succumbed to “foot-itis” – the dreaded affliction of boaters, always wanting that larger boat. We graduated to a 27’ Catalina. And what a difference. The boat is faster and more responsive than Bubbles, our unsinkable but plodding first boat. But more than that, the new boat is so much roomier. It’s big enough below for us to stand upright, to cook, to sleep comfortably and together. So now, even more than before, we understand the non-sailing appeal of the sailing life. Our new boat – 1978 new – is like our cottage in the city. It’s such a wonderful privilege and pleasure to enjoy. And we love sharing it with friends. So come join us if you can. Especially you, Eleanor! You’re way over due. There’s lots of summer to come, but it passes quickly. Before you know it, we’ll be coming round to Haul Out, and this wonderful community will dissolve again for a season.