Waders (and muzzle) off

If anyone’s still out there reading this blog, THANKS! And a hearty howdy!

I won’t bore you with the details of my silence — suffice it to say that I muzzled myself for two long years for the sake of gaining and keeping employment in realms where my true thoughts were taboo. I scrubbed most of the “real” posts here into oblivion through the “make private” function in the WordPress software. And I quit writing, here or pretty much anywhere (except on the jobs).

Well, mostly, all I learned was that I don’t fit into what I’d call the standard, get-ahead sort of work situation, even when I do keep my mouth and mind sealed. I refuse to play the wasteful, deceitful, power-grabbing headgames others inflict on me and insist I ought to play too. (That’s what they really mean by the inane, manipulative, patronizing “team player” crap.) So for me, it comes to feel like I’m wading hip-deep in manure all day long — and I’m the only one sickened by the stench!

What’s intriguing is the feeling that, through this span of time, the mind I’ve kept quietly leashed has been busy thinking, growing, toughening itself. Busy seeking out new kindred spirits and spiritual homes.

I expect I’ll be saying more about these topics now that I’ve doffed my hip waders (and gotten the hell out of the manure pile!) and cast off my self-inflicted muzzle. But I would be wrong to promise that this time will be different — that I’ll really get to posting here regularly and frequently. I don’t know for sure that I will. I think I will, because I have so much to say, so much I’ve been saving up!

But I’ve never faithfully kept similar promises in the past. Too much seems to change too often (in myself and in the world). Here’s a post from Suelo at Zero Currency that brought me some new insights on promises as a form of burdensome debt:

It’s natural to plant ideas and plan with words and thoughts.  But beware of boasting for tomorrow, making vows, placing ourselves in debt!  When our minds are in debt or seeking credit (attached to the past or future), our hearts, our treasures, are not Here and Now.

I think now that, when I used to pep-talk on the blogs about posting more often, I was actually seeking credit in advance for having a little bit of the “chops” to become one of those bigtime, “thought-leader” bloggers. (Ugh again.) But I wasn’t able or willing then to make the regular payments in the form of time and energy spent on writing — so, in effect, I defaulted on the debt I’d entered into by making the promises in the first place. It was dishonest, and it could only create unpleasant experience on both sides. By repeatedly over-promising, I set myself up to under-deliver to you. I’m sorry.

As Suelo writes, “The doing is the vow, the doing is the commitment.” So — I’m not making any promises as to future posting. Talk IS cheap, and when it’s only talk, you can feel how cheap it is. Let’s see what kind of doing I manage to offer, here and elsewhere.

It occurs to me that I’m thankful to have this blog as a place for my thoughts to return to over the years, thankful for the connections it has provided with you. I am grateful to you for reading!

Extra! Extra! Read ALL about it!

The day-hikes guidebook I co-authored with Stephen Mauro, AMC’s Best Day Hikes Near Washington, DC (Appalachian Mountain Club Books, 2011) is now available! You can find it in stores, or order it online at the AMC’s website (link in title above), Amazon.com, or Barnes&Noble.com.

Update: E-book editions are ready to rock — and walk! I’m proud to say that AMC chose our book as one of the ten inaugural titles to launch their new e-book venture. Kindle version. Nook version.

Woman at work!

Hi everyone. In preparing for the publication of the guidebook I co-authored, I’m doing some reorganizing here on the blog. So, for the next little while, things might look a little odder than you’re used to (heh), and some links might not work properly, and all that. I’ve got some link trades to arrange, and new content to add, and those “support” links to set up.

Much more coming soon. This is an exciting time. Thanks to you all for being here.

Culture…and agriculture

I’ve just sent in a resume for a position with a national rural-life organization, and while I was writing the cover letter, I thought of Jefferson and Washington. How they loved their farming pursuits and their lands. (I’m leaving aside the slavery question at the moment, but it’s never far from my mind.)

Jefferson, for instance, with all his legendary bookishness, loved to experiment at Monticello with varieties of peas, his favorite vegetable, to see how well they’d grow in his soil, when they would ripen, how they tasted. He also introduced viticulture to the United States. He kept copious notes over years and must have learned a great deal.

And Washington, who vastly preferred the life of a gentleman farmer over that of a politician, enjoyed using his ingenuity to develop a plow that would cut effectively through his pebbly, tough soil. He also designed a 16-sided threshing barn with a grooved floor through which the grains of wheat would fall after horses’ hooves worked them out of their hulls. In the barn cellar, slaves would then gather and sack the grain.

These two men of the world, of accomplishment and experience, dearly loved the land. I think they had a bond with it that many of us today have never known:

Umbrella Ladies

This is the unedited, original version of my Washington Post Style section piece from March 2001. It was originally written as part of a tour guide’s memoir/guidebook I was working on at the time!

 

UMBRELLA LADIES

by Beth Homicz

Sometime in the early 1960s, when John F. Kennedy was president and his lovely wife set fashion standards with a wave of her hand, a company started up to provide tour guide services to groups visiting the nation’s capital. The guides were ladies, and showed it by wearing white gloves as Mrs. Kennedy was wont to do (the company advertised “white-glove service”), and by each carrying an open umbrella for use as a sort of standard ‘round which the group would rally.

“Follow the umbrella,” these ladies would chirp to their charges. Group leaders who returned annually would ask for their favorite “umbrella lady” and gush about how the group had enjoyed the tour the previous year.

Over time, the umbrella became a tradition among guides in the capital, even those who worked for other agencies, and in other cities as well – Montreal,

Rosa Parks Redux

Here’s an essay I wrote a few years ago. Thought you might like it.

Rosa Parks Redux

For much of the time I worked as a D.C. tour guide, I lived downtown, and — thanks to Washington’s clean, convenient Metrorail subway — didn’t actually need a car to get where I needed to go. On the other hand, one difficulty that we guides often faced (until recently) was early meeting times on the weekends, when the Metrorail didn’t open until 8:00 a.m.. (It was one of our pet peeves, and you bet we loved to gripe about it amongst ourselves!)

Thus it happened one Saturday morning, several years ago, that I needed to take a city bus to get to my meeting point by 8:00. I can’t recall now just where I was headed –- somewhere in Georgetown, I think — but I walked five blocks to Independence Avenue and caught the even 30’s bus line toward the northwestern end of town.

For 7:15 on a Saturday morning, it seemed to me that quite a lot of people were aboard, and there was no seat available anywhere in the bus. So I squeezed

Food sovereignty for a small Maine town

It’s messed up that a town meeting would even see the need to debate and legislate the right to choose one’s own nourishment…the very stuff that makes up our bodies.

But, welcome to fascist la-la land, aka modern-day America. Go Sedgwick!

My thanks to Kevin at Cryptogon for the link.

Ghost town

Petroglyphs near Chloride, AZ

Chloride, Arizona…population 352…about 30 miles and half a world away from us here in Kingman. Nary a stoplight, no gas station, and only a convenience-store market, mostly filled with cheap souvenirs made in China.

It bills itself as a ghost town, a former mining mecca (which it apparently is – its name comes from the silver chloride ore found locally by prospectors).  They’ve built a faux old-timey town square, and every Saturday at high noon there’s a “gunfight” in the street.  (This past week, it was the Wild Roses troupe of sassy gun molls in rags and Colt .45s.)