Michael Smith Settlement

A case settled recently - Michael Smith v. Department of Social and Health Services. It was a case of a child in need of supervision, whose care was given to our state's government, and who ended up in the hands of a convicted pedophile. I wasn't Michael's lawyer - Bill Gilbert and Garth Dano are - but I helped on his case. Ultimately the case settled for $1.925 million (with a value of $2.25 million, since some costs to the state were waived).

It is a heartbreaking case, that the State fought vigorously. It was embarrassing for the State to be so litigious and aggressive in a case about a boy, now man, who was raped repeatedly by his foster dad (and gang raped by that man's friends). Here was a child most at risk, and the State chose - negligently or otherwise - to have him in harm's way. This is the kind of child that we ask our State to protect. And look what it did instead, in our names.

Michael is a brilliant writer - poetry, prose. I see him defining his life according to who he is, regardless of what the State did - or tried to do - to him. It has been a long road for Michael. No one would wish to go through what he went through. For all the tragedies related to child sexual abuse, having those tragedies imposed on a child by the State itself is just horrifying. Good for Michael, that he has survived. Not too many people would have.

Bill Gilbert, Michael's primary lawyer, did stunning work in the morass of this matter. This does not surprise me. Bill is just that way. And beyond money, beyond litigation - Bill got one more thing. An apology. The State will be issuing an apology to Michael Smith, for all that was done. I hope they say, "on behalf of the State and all its citizens..."

Restoring Sanity

This Saturday, from noon to 3 p.m. ET, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are hosting a rally on the Mall in Washington D.C. entitled "Restoring Sanity and/or Fear" (Colbert's preference is "fear").

What a great idea.

The rally is for all of us out here who have opinions but shy away from name-calling and stomping on opponents' heads. (Oh, I'm sorry. I mean "shoulder, which crunch into the head, and might as well have been stomping on the head itself.") Poster slogans will include "I disagree with you, but I'm pretty sure you're not Hitler."

I am one of the many who gets news from the Daily Show because it is about the only delivery style out there (television, anyway) that is tolerable. That doesn't mean I don't watch "Morning Joe," or sometimes flip on other news shows. And I do like Rachel Maddow - she's smart, and careful with her facts. But I just as often turn the channel than stay with a particular news show, even though I'm tuning in specifically to get headlines from a talking-head perspective. These days, it is just a lot more palatable to get my current events information from the Internet, where I can choose the source - where I can exchange vitriolic spew for even-handed delivery, where I can get the same story from three different viewpoints in an effort to get the full story and not just a part of it.

And then there's the Daily Show. They are - well, just funny. Pithy. And they get to the point of the craziness right away. It's hard not to watch the Daily Show.

So this idea that there are others like me out there - who just want the rhetoric toned down while hearing the news - well, it's so exciting!

And the other very-cool thing: Comedy Central is going to air a live version of the rally for those of us who can't actually make it to the Mall. In Spokane, there's a viewing party at Isabella's (near Main and Division), starting at 9 a.m. I might go.

The Daily Show has been airing in D.C. all week long. It's been really funny, especially for me since I lived in D.C. for years, before coming to Spokane. On Monday, they had their "on-the-street" reporters in various places in D.C. Jason Jones was supposed to be standing out in front of the Supreme Court, but when Jon Stewart caught up with him, he was still fake-driving his car. When Stewart asked him where he was, Jones said, "I'm in a six-lane traffic circle that leads to an underpass! And then that leads to another g-damned traffic circle! I mean this Frenchified city layout makes no f**king sense! How hard is it to lay down a grid!" When Stewart told him that all he needed to do was get to the Supreme Court on Second Street, Jason Jones said, "There are four Second streets! They don't even intersect! And the columns — everywhere! The indistinguishable columns. This town is simultaneously magnificent and useless. It's like they designed the whole thing as a metaphor."

This is very funny, especially if you have spent any time in D.C., because it all is true. Metaphor included. In fact, the D.C. audience roared. They knew exactly what he meant.

The next night was also very funny. Jason Jones went supposedly to the "legendary Avenue of Lobbyists - K Street" but when the camera panned on him, he was standing in front of what appeared to be a dump. Jon Stewart looked quizzical as he said, "Actually Jason, it looks a little more down-market than I imagined." Jason Jones said how the lobbyists "must be true believers - they're spending all their money on advocacy and not on aesthetics..." Stewart asked him, where are you, exactly? And Jones read the "gang-tagged" street sign as saying "K Street S.E." - which, of course, is gang-torn southeast, not lobby-town northwest. Stewart points this out to Jones, who says, "There's more than one K Street, too? Motherf**ker, I hate this town! It's so broken!"

Then last night - and on a more serious note - President Obama was on the show for the entirety of it. In my opinion, it is absolute-must viewing, regardless of party affiliation. For me, it helped put things in perspective. Take a look: http://www.thedailyshow.com/full-episodes/wed-october-27-2010-barack-obama

Getting Better ... ?

I woke up this a.m. thinking it would be impossible for me to still be sick. This will be the tenth day. Say it isn't so! But alas - sigh - here I sit, on the couch, preparing for yet another day of this dastardly cold. My energy level is fine, as long as I don't move. It's the moving that gets in the way. So I feel either really bad, or really bored. Sigh.

Yesterday, as I stretched out on the couch, resigned (by 11 a.m. or so) to another day of yuckiness, my two cats Annie and Alex stayed close and kept me company, in rare peace with each other (usually Alex is plotting Annie's demise). This is the view I had, of the two of them - those are my legs, under the comforter, with Alex stretched out with me and Annie curled up on the sofa pillow. They just hung out with me like that for most of yesterday afternoon. Aren't they sweet? to be my friends like that, when I feel so sick...

Baseball

Well, I've been sick this past week, with a cold that kept me down but not away from the television (well, maybe it kept me exactly in front of the television, now that I think about it, since I was not really feeling well enough for much else). Am still not 100 percent...

If ever there was a week to be sick, however, it was this past one - with a lot of excellent baseball to watch. In the end, it's the Texas Rangers and the San Francisco Giants that are going on to the World Series.

I was sort of rooting for Philadelphia... no matter. The Yankees lost. And to the Rangers, no less - a competitor with the Mariners, but the major league team with whom the Spokane Indians are affiliated, so - fun.

It's great to watch Ian Kinsler in particular on the Rangers team, as he played here in 2003, which is the year that I started writing the baseball novel that I have ("Until the End of the Ninth," based on the true story of the 1946 Spokane Indians team). I remember watching him play in Spokane that year, and remember that 2003 team fondly. They won the league title that year. It's pretty exciting to imagine that the kid playing Single A ball here in Spokane in 2003 has been able to go on and play in the ACLS, and is part of a team that is going on to play in the World Series. And he's been playing well, too - having clutch hits at just the right time.

Congratulations to both teams. It should be a fun World Series. I can hardly wait for Wednesday.

Hosting Angels

I know I haven't written in awhile, but I've been here! It's just been a busy time. I've had a lot of law to do. And then there are the angels, who have been here since Tuesday. I'm hosting them. It's a long story. Well, it's not all that long. A friend of a friend... okay, so already it's getting complicated. Suffice to say I agreed to have five archangels at my house for five days (before they head, in five days, to the houses of three friends of mine who have agreed to host them after me). In exchange, I - well, I get to have them here. And I get three wishes - one for the world, one for my family and one for me. It's been a miraculous time. And I don't use that word lightly. Plus, it's been fun. They're fun, these angels. And very - universal. Big-picture sorts. Well, they're archangels. That's what they do.

They leave tonight at 10:30 p.m. It's been like Alaska in the summer time, when the sun never really sets. You have so much energy that you think you don't really need to sleep. But you do. That's how humans work - we sleep! Perchance to dream. And it's the dreaming that's kept me up at night - and where the universality has really been the most noticeable. I did get three wishes - one for the world, one for my family and one for myself. Each night the dreams would really - educate me about those wishes, and life in general. And while I often dream, this time my dreams would continue throughout the night. If I woke up from a dream three times, I went back to the same dream three times. That part was amazing. The messages have been a bit cryptic - a little buried within the dream. But - well, here's an example. My wish for the world is "compassion." So on the second night, I had three different dreams symbolizing three different circumstances in my life. I came away from those dreams thinking that, if I want compassion for the world, I need to start out with having compassion and forgiveness for the people in my own life. Which I normally do. But I have a couple of places where I don't. And these dreams suggested that, for the world to have compassion, I needed to release all my own sticking points, not just some. The theme emerged: "Think globally, act locally." Or, "Compassion begins in your own back yard." Or, "Compassion begins at home." So I resolved to do that. After all, I want compassion for the world, don't I? So why hold on to grudges? Why not at least see the situation from the other person's point of view - while still maintaining my own? And then I wondered - what if we all did that? Imagine.

Someone asked me if I think the angels have actually been here this week, or if I'm more just using the idea of them symbolically to help get myself focused. It's a good question. And for me, well yes, I believe there are angels here. But I'm also the one who's written about baseball men's souls surviving the aftermath of a bus crash - having time to complete a final ninth inning. I love mysticism in any form. It draws me in. So I think that I would be the kind of person that would choose to imagine that they truly are here. But even if they are here only symbolically... well, that's an opportunity in itself, where my mind can fathom the possibility of miracles because it is in that frame of mind that I can believe in them. So, it's a good question. But it doesn't really matter which answer I choose. However they are here - truly or symbolically - it's been a good time.

The cats have been going crazy. All week long, Alex has wanted to sleep in the house, curled up next to me all night. And Annie keeps laying on the table, next to where I have the candle, white flower, apple and wishes (yes, there were things like that to do!). Just now, Annie jumped from my couch to the top of a built-in bookshelf in one corner, across to the mantle, and then off to the top of the other built-in bookshelf - my favorite corner in the entire house - because she just couldn't help herself. They're big jumps, and she's 15 years old. But she had to get to that beautiful corner of the house - the one with the shot glass that I got one night on our Alaskan cruise in 2007. (Ah - Alaska!) And once she was there, she stretched up and reached high into the corner, as all the talismans around her wobbled from her force. I rushed over and gently picked her up and helped her back down. And then I took a scarf with butterflies on it, that had dropped from the candle table just minutes before, and hung it on the tiny nail that was hidden in the woodwork right above where she had stretched. Apparently the corner needed one more talisman.

UPDATE: I decided to get them a second time. Here's the post on that experience...

"Deliver Us From Evil"

I just saw this documentary, "Deliver Us From Evil," directed by Amy Berg. My friend and neighbor Matt told me about it a couple days ago - I thought I had seen it, but the way he described it, I wasn't sure. Yesterday, he came by the house, library dvd in hand. That's how strongly he felt about me watching it. Here it is, Beth. A seven-day rental. Be sure to watch it this week.

It is about the Catholic church - sex abuse in the Church. It was out in 2006. I'd confused it with a book by a similar title.

I've seen a different documentary - a really good one - filmed in Boston. This one, though - based in Los Angeles, about Cardinal Mahoney and abuser Oliver O'Grady - pulls together all the pieces in such a masterful way. The children, their parents, an abuser willing to be interviewed, the hierarchical cover-ups... The lawyers, the expert... All the pieces. I listened to the interviews and could see the spontaneous comments as though part of a script. Sadly, it is a part of a script - a bigger story - the same story, over and over... of valuing appearances over the protection of children, of covering up the cover up... The details in this documentary only emphasize what I've said before - the surprise isn't that the abuse scandal includes behavior by the Pope. The surprise is that people are surprised by that.

It was interesting to see men that I know, in the film. There was John Manly, and the Manly Law Firm from the Los Angeles area, who have co-counseled cases with me. There was Patrick Wall - I love Patrick - who is a former Benedictine monk and an expert in canon law, and who is on staff at John's law firm. And there was Tom Doyle - Father Doyle, a Dominican priest, the whistleblower. A rock star, in this world of SNAP (survivors network of those abused by priests). It was Father Doyle who told the U.S. bishops back in the mid-1980s that they had a crisis on their hands - that they needed to address sexual abuse by priests before it got really out of control. They didn't listen to him. Indeed, they demoted him. And then - nothing, until Boston erupted in 2002...

Most powerful, for me, was Bob Jyono, whose daughter Ann, now an adult, was one of the 100s abused by Oliver O'Grady. Mr. Jyono speaks little through much of the documentary. His wife does much of the talking for them. But then is his description of how he called his daughter Ann to ask her - after O'Grady had been arrested for abusing other children - if O'Grady had ever touched her. She said yes. His face crumples in tears as he remembers, and then it sets deep in defiance as he describes the details of that conversation, and its aftermath. He is a man who converted to the Catholic faith, who was betrayed by his adult choices. At one point, he explains that he asks his daughter why she never told him about the abuse. She says it was because he had always said that he would kill anyone who harmed her - that she remembers asking a friend what would happen if her father killed someone, and the friend saying that he would go to jail forever, and how she resolved right then not to tell anyone about the priest's abuse, because she knew her father would kill the priest if she told. "I was wrong," her father says, to threaten life like that, even in hyperbole. "I feel guilty," he confesses, for having unknowingly erected that barrier to truth. But then he says what we all know - that it is not his fault to want to protect his daughter. It is the fault of the church, for ever exposing his daughter in the first place to this known pedophile.

The creepiest moment comes when Oliver O'Grady, the pedophile priest, speaks of wanting to bring the abused children - now adults - to his home in Ireland so that they all can sit down and talk. I know O'Grady is doing something that he thinks is the right thing to do. But it's just so creepy and controlling the way he goes about doing it, like he wants to hold court one last time. He writes letters to the victims, explaining what he wants from them - wants from them, as though he has any rights here. Had he put the letter in the context of an offer to do whatever the children-now-adults want, including meeting with him (rather than telling them that meeting with him is the solution)...

But the thing is - he's sick. He can't see it any other way. Or so I imagine. (It turns out that, as a child, he himself was abused by priest, as well as by his own brother.) This is why my anger for the abuse suffered by people at the hands of sick priests has almost uniformly been reserved for the hierarchy. The pedophile priests are sick, under a compulsion. It was the hierarchy that knew better, and had the faculties to do better. (This documentary helps demonstrate all that.)

The documentary ends on a discouraging, while simultaneously uplifting, note. (There are silver linings to dark clouds.) Watch it and see. And I love, love the music at the end - "Hallelujah," by Leonard Cohen. In fact, I have been playing Justin Timberlake's version of that song - that he played at the Hope for Haiti Telethon, back in January - as I type this summary. Here's a link to it. The song always makes me cry. This documentary - it has the same effect. Song or no song. The heartbreaking stories, the missteps that led to 100s, 1000s, to be abused.... and those same men, being still in power... with no real consequences to their actions.... as though they lack not just compassion, but the capacity for it...

It makes eminent sense when Mr. Jyono - the father I describe above - says near the end of the film that he does not believe in God. How can anyone go through all that, and not at least wonder? And yet - I wanted to cry with his daughter Ann, as he said it. I too wanted him to have at least some hope, still, that there's a God. To not let those men steal that too.

it's not a cry that you hear at night
it's not somebody who's seen the light
it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

hallelujah, hallelujah
hallelujah, hallelujah

Thomas - I promise!

Well, I'm back. From a week in Chicago, with my two nephews. Ages almost-3 and 3 months. I babysat. For the week. By myself. And the two of them. The little one is not yet, quite, sleeping through the night. And the two-soon-to-be-three-year-old is, as I have said before, in constant motion. The Whirling Dervish. So not only did I have my hands full, but I was functioning on limited sleep. Aunt Beth is very tired!

But it was a blast. The best week ever. (I did sleep the entire weekend though, after I got home on Saturday...)

The baby is such a sweetie pie! And smiling a lot. He is a little colicky, with the afternoons being hardest on his poor baby belly. I felt so bad for him, then. But he's sweet and interactive and very present. He watches his big brother a lot - watches him move around the house, eat meals - all of it. He loves the activity - luckily, since his big brother is always active! From interactive alphabet games on the computer to a posse of balls on the back porch, and everything in between, there is no slowing down the toddler.

We had our ups. We had our downs. Mostly ups - though there was the Penny Incident (as it always shall be known), when the older one wondered if the younger one would like to eat a penny.... Crisis averted (thanks to all humans and angels who might have had a hand in resolving that one...)

It was a little different than usual. Usually, when I babysit, it's been just my older nephew and me. We have bath time and play time - which is like study time, since he loves learning so much - nap time and meal time... Lots of things, all centered on his activities. With the addition of a cooing baby, though, my time was split. This was a new experience for the older one. He seems so aware - in a positive way - of the baby - once spontaneously saying, "He's so cute!" - but he is also, I think, noticing the changes in his life due to the increase in little ones around the house.

Luckily my sister and brother-in-law arranged for me to have help in the afternoons. I decided to use those daily three hours to go on short adventures with my toddler nephew. The first day though, we never could get far from the house because the baby needed extra help... so we played balls outside in the yard. One got lost. (I'm not pointing fingers or anything, but let's just say that I am not the one who kicked it into the wooded area behind the house.)

The next day, I had a plan. We would go to the Learning Experience store, and then the grocery store. The Learning Experience is a great children's store, with hands-on stations for the kids to play. My toddler nephew is in love with Thomas these days. You know - Thomas the Train. And his friends Percy, etc. In the past, we have played with a train track at the Learning Experience, with Thomas Trains everywhere. So as we drove to the store this time, I kept saying, "Let's go play with Thomas... Thomas is waiting for you!" Very exciting.

Until we got to the store. And saw that the Learning Experience had taken down its train track table. Uh oh. "But I promised Thomas," I told the store clerks. "I promised."

They suggested my nephew play with the doll house. Um - I don't know if I mentioned - but I had promised him Thomas. I didn't think he would be distracted from that.

And he wasn't. He just kept wandering around the store, looking hopefully in every corner for the train tracks, and the Thomases that must be sitting there. I couldn't stand it. So I bought him a Thomas. Oh, he was so excited! His very own Thomas! I was hoping that he would use the toy shelves as a train track - play with his new train for awhile, and then we'd go grocery shopping.

He was having none of it. He wanted a train track. He needed a train track!

So we built one. Right there, in the middle of the store. Using train track pieces that were sold there, piece by piece. We built a bridge, and we circled the track to come back under the bridge itself. This is how we started it (that's my hand, keeping the bridge up):


To the store's credit, they did not try to stop me. Under normal circumstances, they might have halted my initiative. But they knew - they knew - I had promised Thomas. And had expected a train track table. They couldn't really say "no," could they?

I told my sister of the event. She remembered that Toys 'R Us had a train track.

The next day, my nephew and I got back in the car during the babysitter hours and drove to Toys 'R Us. This time, he knew. As we drove into the parking lot, he knew. "Thomas!" he said, his face shining with excitement...

And this time, the train track table was still there. Whew! Only now, there were no Thomas Trains. There was one Percy (a green train, Thomas' friend). And a little girl was already using him.

So I bought my second Thomas, in two days.

But you know what? My sweet nephew was in heaven. It was worth the $12, to see him moving Thomas up one hill and down another, playing with that train. He would do this for hours, if he could. And now we had two Thomases, for his train track at home. Nothing like a little train activity to keep a child happy.

And now - if I could just figure out how to help that baby from getting a belly ache in the afternoons... Such a smiling baby, when his belly doesn't hurt. And a brave one, when it does. Beautiful boys, the two of them. Two peas in a pod. I can't wait to see what adventure is in store for us, the next time I'm in town.

photo credit: Ween Nee, found here

Clinton's Initiative

Bill Clinton's been on the news recently. Just this morning he was on "Morning Joe." (Yes, I'm back to watching Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski - especially when I wake up at 4 a.m.!). He is in the midst of the Clinton Global Initiative, an annual event that he created a few years ago in which he gathers people with money - buy-in - and gets them organized to not only talk about economic problems here and around the world but to propose and then implement plans to fix those problems - or at least improve upon them.

I've seen Clinton now on a couple of news programs - which is nearly a miracle, since I've hardly been able to tolerate the news at all, and so basically have not been watching it. And here's my conclusion: he's good. He's really good. He's clear, he's got practical ideas, and - beyond that - he's working towards implementing those ideas by bringing people together and moving them forward.

One thing this a.m. that was particularly interesting is how he described the "gap." There is what private business does, and there is what government does. Regardless of who you think should do more, there necessarily ends up being a gap between business and government, where things - people - can fall through the cracks. So his Global Initiative targets that gap, with an idea towards implementing experiments on fixing problems that, if successful, can then be adopted and implemented in the future by either government or private business with either government or business taking the risk of failure. As Clinton explained it - if you aren't risking the investment of taxpayers or shareholders, you have a lot more freedom to try innovative things.

What also was fascinating was the relief - felt by Joe (the former Republican congressman who used to fight with Clinton back in the 1990s), by Mika (Joe's co-host, who is always fighting with Joe), and by me - the viewer. Listening to Bill Clinton was like a breath of fresh air - a moment of no fighting, no malicious soundbites - just ideas that answer current-day problems.

Scarborough did say how much everyone listening in today would like Clinton to run for president in 2012 (an impossibility, given our constitutional limitations on presidential terms). And well, it is nice to have Clinton speak of solutions so elegantly. But there's a reason for that, in my opinion, beyond the fact that he is articulate - it is that he is playing the role of Elder Statesman. He is playing it effectively, and he is, as always, really smart. But it's a role. The tone and conversation, from Joe et al, would be completely different if Clinton were currently president. And the games people are playing today would be played on him, if he were president. And the games people did play, back in the 1990s, when he was newly president (in the middle of his first term, when the Dems lost midterm elections...) And it's funny that Joe said how the Obama administration should have been using Clinton before now - given how freaked out the pundits were, back when Hillary Clinton was appointed Secretary of State, by the idea that Bill Clinton might meddle (oh my!). So, you gotta love the pundits for their ADHD qualities, and inability to remember what they said a year ago - or yesterday, for that matter. (Though Joe and Mika are better than most.)

But my gosh, Joe's right. It's great to listen to Clinton now. The morass is less, when he speaks - and when his interviewers allow him to speak with concise solutions, and talking points, from which a true and rich debate is begun. I've seen Clinton on a few interviews these past couple of days, so I know.

But even as Joe laments with our former president the tone of politics today - and even as they discuss the impact the Internet has had, to change how messages get relayed - the ticker tape below the talking heads reads how Bob Woodward's new book "exposes" the White House's internal arguments over how to handle Afghanistan. "Exposes?" Not "discusses?" Doesn't the media yet understand that sensationalizing the headline - even by the use of one editorial word versus one more neutralized one - plays right into the hands of those who would prefer that political tones today be taken to extremes? Thanks Joe, for speaking about the need for moderate tones in politics. Now fix your ticker tape so it doesn't say "expose." It's not more descriptive. It's just more inflammatory.

I do think it says something that I'm turning off television news because of extreme tones. I'm not alone. There's a reason Jon Stewart is having the "Million Moderate March" (officially the "Rally to Restore Sanity") in Washington on October 30. There are a lot of us out here who just can't take the extreme rhetoric anymore. You exhaust us. And that goes for sing-songy tones too, by the way. I'm really tired of being treated like a child, whether it be through extreme rhetoric soundbites or reassuring political voices that take on sweet tones but tell me nothing.

This is why I appreciated President Obama's town hall meeting a couple days ago - he was real and spoke in paragraphs, with lots of information (though I wish he'd spoken more about the things that they are doing in the future). And this is why I appreciated Bill Clinton this a.m. - things are being said that I can chew on, digest, understand, use.

I will say this for Bill Clinton - he energized me. He made me imagine possibilities. He spoke of the trillions of dollars that banks and businesses have on reserve, that they could spend if they chose. He spoke of proposals that the president has on the table - small business incentive programs, technological research tax credits, education and training ideas that would allow us to fill the too-many job openings that require more skills than our workers currently have... He pointed out that all these issues have a liberal and conservative point of view - that both are worth hearing - and that it's time to address them, one by one.

I've been so worried about people in this economy. I've had a dream that, if I did have extra money (some day, I will!), I'd want to hire people to do community improvement jobs - a day's wage for a day's work. I've wondered why we haven't done that, as a nation - gone back to the CCC, the Civilian Conservation Corps, that gave jobs to unskilled labor to improve national parks, etc., back in the Great Depression. The CCC provided a public service in two ways - it gave people work that had concrete results. The stimulus - for road construction - does that a bit, I suppose. And the grander scale likely touched more people's lives than person-to-job, one person at a time. But there would be a bigger sense of movement, I think - and more people would be employed - if we went to a one-person-one-job model, even if we had to modernize it for today's times, and even if that work was not permanent. And yes, I understand that if you pay unemployment instead, that frees people up to go out and find a job that lasts. But what about self esteem? It's exhausting to worry about having no job. There's got to be a way that the CCC model can be helpful today, as the economy remains in the midst of its own recovery.

Protocall

Soccer season has begun for the Grand Masters League, of which I am a member. (Grand Masters = Old People...) Our first game was yesterday. We did well. We tied twice - right at the beginning of the game when it was 0-0 (;-)), and then sometime in the second half, when it was 3-3. And while we ultimately lost, we played with heart, and with - well, I can't actually call it "intensity," but with - well, a lot of effort for a bunch of - ahem - Grand Masters.

At one point, one of my players was fighting to get to the ball before it went out of bounds. He came so close... the other team's defender blocked the view of the referee - we only get one, no linesman, very rudimentary - and the ref let the play continue without a whistle for the ball going out of bounds. I had the angle that actually showed the ball go out of bounds - just barely, but it did.

Hence the title of this entry. What is the protocol - proto"call," - in recreational sports for such a situation? For as I watched the play continue and did nothing to interrupt it, I realized that such a protocol exists.

If it had been me chasing the ball, and I had realized the ball had gone out of bounds, I more likely than not would have presumed a whistle from the referee and given the ball over to the other team. This is because: (a) the ref was probably getting ready to blow the whistle anyway; (b) these games are really hard on the ref, because he (or she) can't see every play on the field with just one of their kind; and (c) why generate bad karma?

In this case, however, it was not me chasing the ball - it was my teammate. So I didn't say anything. This is because: (a) my teammate may not have realized the ball went out of bounds, so it wasn't a matter of principle and/or karma; (b) the other team failed to protest the play - other than make a few protest sounds, not enough to get the attention of either my teammate or the ref, so anything I said would just distract from the game, and not add to it; and (c) it simply wasn't my "call" to make.

As I watched the play, and realized what I was doing - and not doing - and the decades of sport experience that went behind my in-the-moment decisions, I realized that I love soccer. I love playing it, I love being with my team, I love hanging out with my team afterwards, at whatever bar we decide to fraternize. It's just a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Speaking of bars...

When I got to where we were going after the game - The "Rock," I think it's called - it used to be "Bottoms Up," but that ownership went out of business - I parked next to a car with a gekko on the side. Yes, it was a Geico business vehicle. I didn't realize people took their business cars to bars. It seemed like an odd sight, right there at The Rock, so I took a photo of it. And sat there, listening the final beats of "Desperately Wanting" blasting on the radio. "I remember running through the wet grass... And falling a step behind.. Both of us never tiring.. Desperately wanting..."

and the winner is...

The winner of the $150 CSN Stores giveaway contest is...

... drum roll ...

Nancy Miller! From somewhere in these United States!

Almost two weeks ago now, I was asked by CSN Stores, an internet shopping site, to host a $150 giveaway of credit for their store (their money, not mine!). So I did. That contest ended Sunday at midnight. I got entries from all over the United States, and just now had a blind drawing of all the entrants. And Nancy won! Very exciting.

I did ask people to give me feedback about the CSN website and/or to tell me what they might do with the proceeds if they won. It wasn't a requirement, but most people did do just that. I had fun reading all the entries, and learning a little about people's lives, hopes, dreams...

As for what she might buy, Nancy - the winner! - told me, "I would use the GC for the OIA 30" laundry sorter, and the Farberware Classic Stainless Steel 16 quart covered stockpot, two things that would make things a lot easier around here." As for feedback on the site, she said, " I love the variety of things they offer, although there are so many products it takes a while to search there. Thanks for having this generous contest."

It's true. They have a ton of products. And while I hosted the contest, it was CSN Stores that was responsible for the generosity.

I really enjoyed reading a little about how people would use the winnings if they won. There was the couple who recently bought an 80-year-old house, and could use extra cash for an exterior light to the main entrance, and another one for the hallway. There was the soon-to-be mom (is my assumption) who wanted to order an Atlantic Furniture crib. There was another young woman who will be married soon, and probably needs just about everything, but was hoping to buy some luggage for the honeymoon...

People talked about buying CDs, or new sandals, or a Le Crusseut Dutch Oven, or a comforter set (as a birthday present for Mom), or a kid's bookcase, a food mill, new pots from the Circulon line, Abilene cowboy boots, a new office chair, a wall clock...

I wish everyone could have won.

As for CSN Stores, people said things like:

"I love CSN, they ship fast! They always email me back when I have a question and they have been so awesome, with these giveaways they do!"

"This site is extensive. Looking forward to getting back to shopping."

"CSN Stores have so many great items and deals..."

"I like the website. I found something I have been looking for for six weeks, so thanks."

"I have bought quite a few things from CSN already - everything from toys to lights to kitchen items. I love their products and they have great customer service."

"I have lost track of time when I have gotten onto the CSN site before. There is so much to look at."

Some people provided links to their own blogs, which I read and enjoyed immensely. I particularly enjoyed Nicole-Lynn's site (the one who's getting married soon). It was just fun to see all she's doing to get ready for The Big Day.

Thank you, CSN Stores, for giving me the chance to host this giveaway and meet people around the country who I would never have met otherwise. And congratulations Nancy for your win!

Escaping Death

And you think I exaggerate...

The other day - a beautiful day - I was driving to my office from Coeur d'Alene. I pulled into the parking lot, thought about parking towards our building (an old mansion), then changed my mind and decided to park away from it, facing downhill. I swung the car around towards a number of empty spots, and went to park in one place that would have given me space between myself and the next car towards the building, but then - don't know why - I decided to park in the spot next to that car instead. This was just a little weird, since I usually like my space (so to speak). But there it was.

Now normally I'd open the car door and get out of the car with my hands full of whatever stuff I need to cart into my office. Isn't that what we all do? But this time, I decided to call a friend instead - a friend who works in this building too, though I didn't see her car in the lot...

My friend answered (what if she hadn't answered?), and we started talking.

Just then, a black truck barreled past me, backwards, on the driver's side, like someone was driving it in reverse. It rolled over the curb and down the grass, towards the (historic) building in front of me. It crashed into a tree that stood right before the building. It had missed my car by a couple inches.

Turns out, there was no driver - just a bad emergency brake that decided to take that day and give out.

It all happened fast, and slow, all at the same time. I didn't have to jump back into my car, because I hadn't gotten out of it yet. I didn't even have to watch the truck tear off my driver's side door because I had decided to sit in the car with the door closed while I had my phone conversation.

But what if I had parked one spot further away from our building? My car would have been rear ended, maybe even crushed. Or what if my friend hadn't answered her phone, which delayed my getting out of the car for just that extra few moments? Or what if it I had opened the car door and stepped out while I talked to her? As the truck came racing backwards, aimed right at me...

Or what if the tree that the truck hit - which was almost right in front of me - had just toppled forward, crushing my car, with me still in it?

I can't decide if God likes me enough to spare my life, or is yelling at me about something.

Already outside was Chris Wooley, from the upstairs photo studio (Beautiful Photo - it was his dad Larry Wooley who took the photos of my office a few months ago). Chris said it was like watching a movie in slow motion - nothing he could do to stop the impending crash... Right after, he came and took photos of the scene. Here's one that he took:


And, just to give some perspective, these are some photos I took the other day. My car was in the spot where the red car is - the tree that the truck hit is the first one off to the left of the car - as I recall, the truck leaned a little away from me as it went over the curb and into the grass, which is how it got to that tree:


And the truck came backwards towards me from the spot where the maroon vehicle is parked in this photo (that's my little white car next to it):


As you can see, the parking spots don't line up. The truck likely crossed over the white line - or was near it, at the very least. It really did miss me by just inches.

The young woman who owned the truck came out of the building from her appointment and saw the mess. I guess she was pretty upset. Our building's owner told me later that he went over with her how amazingly lucky she was - not too much damage to her truck; nobody hurt; no other car rear ended (this parking lot is usually full!); no damage to the historic building in the line of fire because a tree stood in the way; no tree crashing downward...

Yes, she was lucky. As. Was. I.

CSN Stores Giveaway - $150!

GIVEAWAY CONTEST THROUGH SEPTEMBER 12TH!

From kitchen tables, to the plates that go on top of them, from exercise bikes to a nice pair of shoes.... it seems they have everything.

Who? CSN Stores.

About a week ago, I heard from CSN Stores, an online shopping store based out of Boston, complimenting this blog and wondering if I would be interested in giving one of my readers $150 (of their money, not mine!) to spend at their Internet store. Well, yes - yes I would. What a great deal for someone! And from CSN stores too. I'm not a big online shopper, but I had heard their name before. After spending some time on their website this past week, I can say that I'm truly complimented by their choice to ask me to host this giveaway. CSN Stores is an interesting combination of offering a huge number of products while being easy to search. On the shoe front, for instance: I did a random search for white high heels, and pulled up such pretty shoes! And when I went through the kitchen tables, I found some very sweet ones. There are a total of 200 stores (meaning, links to online shopping categories). Very cool. Check them out by clicking on the logo.

If you win the $150 giveaway, it can be used for whatever. Shipping is on you (though most shipping seems to be free on the site). But what a great opportunity, right?

TO ENTER: This is what you do. Email me at bethatlaw@gmail.com, with your name and contact information (though I guess I'll already have your email), and say that you are entering the CSN contest. It would be nice if you gave me feedback on CSN Stores - the product you might buy, your thoughts about the site - though feedback is not required to enter the contest. Enter by midnight PT on the night of September 12th. Only one entry per person. I will announce the winner shortly thereafter. The winner will be picked randomly from the entries.

Good luck! And enter by September 12th, before midnight PT.

One American

There's that song: "I'm proud to be an American, because at least I know I'm free...."

I really like the music. I'm not so crazy about that line. "At least"? Doesn't he mean something a little more enthusiastic? And - I don't know - does that line mean that "being free" is the only good thing about being an American?

I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be an American recently, especially as I read hyperbole (and actual lies) about the Islamic Community Center being planned blocks away from the World Trade Center, and wonder how it is that the majority of people oppose it (rather than rush to embrace it, glad to show the world that America is about freedom of religion and expression, and inclusion). And maybe that's another reason that line in that song bothers me - it acknowledges the singer's freedom, but not the freedom of those around him. Well yes, freedom for everyone would be implied. Except - well, the line's egocentrism seems to be just a microcosm of a larger view in the United States these days - that it's all about protecting my freedom, and keeping you under control (rather than free as well). At least, that's how it's been feeling around here.

I think of us as a young country - like a country filled with juveniles - enthusiastic, energetic, sometimes idealistic, almost always impatient. I find it hard to imagine being from someplace else. And I'm proud to be from here. But these days, it feels like we are losing our idealism while hanging on to our impatience. It makes sense. It's a scary time. Our impulsivity, as a nation, and especially since the year 2000, has led us into some tough spots. I have compassion for people who react out of fear. But I wish we could regain our idealistic roots.

I think back to 2001 - September 11, and the mornings after - and remember how beloved we were, across the world. It was a crossroads. We could choose to be brought into the fold, or we could choose to circle the wagons. In the end, fear won out over goodwill, and we circled the wagons. Such an image. Can you see it? The majority of the world reaches out to us as we turn inward. I get it. I have compassion for the wagon work. It was a scary time. But it makes me sad, that our collective better halves did not win out that day, and in the days after.

There was a line in an op ed piece the other day: "More and more of the American people are choosing to live in closed circles of collective concurrence..." It's true, isn't it? I know I personally find comfort in the impulse to find like-minded people. It still matters, though, to imagine the other person's point of view. I guess I still believe that, one on one, I can find common ground with virtually anyone - and ultimately that person will be able to see at least a part of the world from my perspective too.

I'm the kind of person who will not say "under God" when saying the pledge of allegiance, out of respect for American atheists, or who will defend in court the person who burns the flag in protest. But I am also the kind of person who looks with pride at that same flag - my flag - as it waves in the wind over a baseball field, as the national anthem plays. I swell with pride, looking at that flag and knowing the ideals that it represents, knowing that I belong to a nation that represents those ideals. Maybe that's why I fit right in here, in America. I am, at heart, an impatient, idealistic, enthusiastic soul.

Sorry. This rambles. But here we are, on the first of September, getting deeper into a recession, with our neighbors losing jobs, and with our juvenile nature kicking into the dirt - in a moment less than optimistic - and I just thought I'd pause and reflect.

One American. A multitude of emotions.

photo credit: melifaire, found here

Radio Woman

So I'm going to be on the radio this Friday, from 7 a.m. to 8 a.m. on KVNI AM 1080. Kerri Thoreson set it up. Thanks, Kerri! And Joe Paisley will be interviewing me. Joe and I talked today. He sounded like he thought I was nice, what with my KNIFVES movie networking group, and my baseball novel and all. So I said, "By the way, I'm a lawyer." I figured full disclosure was important before we met in person.

You can listen to the program Friday morning at 7 a.m. on the radio at AM 1080 here in the Inland Northwest, or at the station's website at http://www.kvni.com/.

Baseball Days

So last Saturday, I spent selling baseball novels again - this time, it was at a Spokane Indians game. The Indians had a five-game series at home against the Eugene Emeralds. They split it, 3-2. They lost the last game of the series, and the second one. We were at the second one. I wondered (until the fifth game, when I saw the headline the next morning) whether they would end up losing only one game - the game when I was there. People become known as jinxes, in such scenarios! But no such (bad) luck. Instead, just good baseball.
We sold over 10 books - about 13 total. The book's been out long enough that a number of people came by to tell me they had the book, enjoyed it, and wanted to let me know. That was a particularly nice way of finding out.

The game was going well - or so it sounded (as I sat outside the first base entrance, relegated to my table) - until I came back in the crowd. That's when the Emeralds went on a scoring streak. (Oops. Maybe I should have stayed out by my table, even in the dark.)

There were fireworks again (as there were two weeks ago). This time, the Indians didn't sit and watch. Perhaps it mattered whether they won or lost. Maybe this past Saturday, after the loss, the team wasn't in the mood to watch celebratory fireworks.
But before I went into the stadium to watch the game - around the third inning or so - a bi-plane, like a World War I style plane, flew over. At the American Legion World Series, that happened on both nights that I was there (Sunday and Tuesday). So - three times in a week. Nice. Someone, it seems, is flying high.

In fact, it could have been this very biplane -

photo credit: Ryan Pemberton - posted (with detailed information) by Tom Harnish, found here

Memory Keepers

They're called keepsakes, or memorabilia. But for me, they're the things I have around the house to keep present with my memories...

The other day, I received a thank-you note from one of my nieces for a birthday gift I sent her. I felt a pang of guilt, because I'd never sent a thank-you note for the birthday gift I'd gotten a couple months ago from her (and my sis and her older sister). But it was a picture frame, and I had been waiting to get a photo to put in the frame so I could take a photo of it and send it along with my note. I wanted a photo from the last Christmas holiday - a photo of my two nieces and 2-year-old nephew. I knew a photo like that existed. I just didn't have a copy. So the note got delayed. (Please know this doesn't mean that I'm predictable about writing thank-you notes. I'm not - unlike my nieces, who are amazing.)

So then I thought - I may not have written the note, but I think about their gifts every day. This is because I've placed those gifts all over the house - on shelves, in corners, wherever the gift looked nice. And I thought - they don't even know that! Connecticut is a long way from Washington, and there is a whole group of them and just one of me, and so typically I see them by going out to Connecticut, and not the other way around. They did come one year, at the Christmas holidays - about eight years ago now. So they do know the structure of my house. But they haven't seen which rooms I've painted since then, or how I've decorated with their gifts...

So I sent them an email yesterday, saying "this is where I've put" this and "where I've put" that. I had about seven or eight pictures in all - and that didn't even capture everything! One of the photos that I sent was this one, of the gingerbread house that they made back eight years ago on their visit here. Yes, it's trying to fall apart, eight years later - but there's no way I can do anything but keep it on a shelf to remember that trip, and how sweet they were as they put it together:

And here's a photo of the frame from this past birthday. This is, in fact, my niece-and-nephew corner - I set it up that way on purpose - so almost all the knicks, and definitely all the knacks, come from one or the other of them (and the hippo was a gift from 13 years ago from my soon-to-be-30-year-old nephew who won it in a Las Vegas carnival contest of some sort. I watched him win it, cheered him on, and then he just turned around and gave it to me - such a good nephew):


And here is a photo of my mantel - on it is a blue glass crystaled pyramid that my younger niece gave me last winter - there it is, right in front of a green-dyed gourd that I got when a group of us (including my nieces) went on a cruise in Alaska, back a couple summers ago. It's a nice line-up of memories up there on the mantel, because both the pyramid and the gourd make me think of my nieces:


And speaking of Alaska.... off to the side from the mantel, on top of my built-in book shelves, is another Alaska memory. It is a blue glass I got on the ship. There was a special one night - for $10, you bought a particular liquor (as much as you wanted), and the glass for it. Great deal, right? So I spent the ten dollars, and picked out a glass - I had a choice, I went with blue - and then at the end of the trip, I brought home the glass - carefully, carefully - and put in on this shelf (one of my favorite shelves in the house - full of life and color). Can you see it in the foreground there? It keeps the memory well.

Oklahoma Outlaws

The Outlaws stole the win last night, in the American Legion World Series finale.

And when I say "stole," I mean it in the most positive of terms. Those kids stole every base out there, including home. They played scrappy, and they won two games against the up-until-then undefeated Eden Prairie, MN team. They deserved the title, in the end.

And when I say "stole home," I don't mean from just an errant throw to second or something. One player decided to steal home on just a regular pitch. It took everyone by surprise - including the pitcher and catcher for Eden Prairie. And he made it! Safe. Amazing. And then another Outlaw who had just gotten a walk, and was acting like he was settling into first base, just took off and landed on second instead. Apparently the ball had still been in play, and the pitcher had not yet settled into the mound...

And for as miserable as a game that it turned out to be for Minnesota - set of games, actually - they did have some highlights. There was one throw to home where the catcher had to leap for the ball but was able to defend the plate anyway and tagged out the Outlaw running home. And then there was the eighth inning. There was one out, with Outlaw runners on first and third. The first base runner went to steal second, and the catcher threw the ball and got him tagged out. And the second base man immediately threw the ball to home - anticipating, by now, the third base runner's intention to steal home in that circumstance - and somehow the catcher tagged out that runner as well. So it was a double play, and the inning was over. Eden Prairie had finally figured out Oklahoma's methods. It was too late in the game to make a difference for the final score. But it had to have been nice for the Minnesota kids to have that play.

As I've written in recent posts, the American Legion World Series was in Spokane for the first time in its 85 years. I went out to the ballpark on Sunday and Tuesday for book signings, with net proceeds going to the Legion's World Series efforts. We raised a total of $300 from 39 book sales for the Legion (which is all proceeds except the wholesale cost of the book to me). So it was a nice roundup. And people from all over the country purchased the book, which is nice. A few umpires too! I told them to watch for the book's scenes with umpires. There are a couple fun ones.

There was another flyover last night of a World War I era plane. It wasn't announced, or expected. We all looked to the sky when it happened. People softly clapped, too. A surprise, but a nice one. And perfect, for a Legion event.

For as much as the games last night were not seriously in question, the skill of the players was something to watch - from both teams. Attitude, too, was admirable (for the most part). (I did see a couple jabs between players. But these are kids. They're learning too.)

Perhaps attitude is always improved on the field if you have to say a Sportsman Code before every game. This is the one that the Legion has - that they read to the players before each game - and that they had each team captain read to each of their teams, in front of everyone, before the first game last night:

I will
keep the rules
keep faith with my teammates
keep my temper
keep myself fit
keep a stout heart in defeat
keep my pride under in victory
keep a sound soul, a clean mind, and a healthy body

Words to live by. In fact, perhaps we all should say this Code every morning, the moment we wake up.

Next up: book signing at the Indians' game this coming Saturday. Fireworks night!

American Legion Baseball

Well, that was exciting!

In yesterday's blog, I talked about how I was going to a book signing yesterday out at the Spokane Indians' baseball field, which is currently being used for the American Legion's 85th World Series. I was looking forward to it - my novel "Until The End Of The Ninth" is about the 1946 Spokane Indians team that died in a bus crash midway through the season. Eight of the nine who died had served in World War II in some capacity. I'm sure they also played American Legion ball, or would have wanted to play it. So signing books at the Legion's World Series - the first time it has ever come to Spokane - seemed like just the right thing to do.

I went. It was great. Great baseball, great people. Great plays. In one play, the second base man from Roseburg, Oregon bare-handed a grounder and then flipped the ball behind his back to his shortstop (since he didn't have an angle to first), who caught it and threw to first, just in time - well, just in time to make it a tie at first, so the runner was safe, by my oh my (as they say in the announcing world) - what a play. Everyone stood, including everyone from both benches, and gave him a standing ovation.

(Can I just say here, I think bare-handed it? I heard someone say that's what he did. It was spectacular, that much I know for sure.)

There were other highlights too. Great baseball! And there was a fly-over, before the start of the second game, of double-winged planes - like the ones used in World War I. There were four altogether, flying in unison. I thought of the 1946 baseball men - from World War II, not I - and thought what it would have meant to them, to have the World Series here, to have this flyover - a reminder of days gone by...

I sat right behind home plate, with a little table and a box of books, intensely in the sun, turning bright red, and people wandered past me with nary a look (or with an odd look, like "why's this woman in the way?" or "shouldn't she have some sunblock on?") and I thought, well at least I get to watch good baseball.

But then I sold a book. Hurray! To a man from Sandpoint, for his son who plays Legion ball.

And then the events organizer and I came up with the great idea of having the PA guy make an announcement over the loudspeaker, that I was there with the book and all. "Terrific book," he said during the announcement. (I didn't even give him that note!)

And that's when we sold 27 more. There was even a line. Very exciting.

All net proceeds are going to the Legion, so it was nice to be able to raise some money for the group. I'm going back on Tuesday for sure - which is the final game, the World Series finale - and maybe tonight (am going to try...).

I've heard much through the years about American Legion baseball. As I understand it, the organization gives kids a chance to play organized ball at increasingly skilled levels. As the linked article states, most major leaguers played American Legion ball at some point. And then they gather every year for a World Series, facing double elimination during the tournament itself. Here's a link to the main page of the American Legion, which is a veterans service organization.

What I loved yesterday was how they started each game with the American Legion creed - about health, and strength, and staying strong in defeat, and humble in victory... I can't find a copy of it on the Internet. Will try to write it down at the next game.

The two teams I'm rooting for - well, I root for all of them, and can't stand to see any of these kids lose - but if I have to choose two teams right now, they are the Roseburg, Oregon kids and the Minnesota team. Roseburg because it's the local team, Minnesota because I've been talking to all the Minnesota families (for some reason). And Minnesota brings me fond memories of the Duluth Dukes - the other minor league team that lost players in a bus crash, two years after the Indians' crash, in 1948. (Two bus crashes in two years, and then nothing more. Thank goodness.) I did a book signing at the stadium in Duluth back a couple years ago. Nice people.

So I hope to be out there at Avista Stadium tonight. And I definitely will be at the stadium for the game on Tuesday evening - or games, if there's more than one because of the double elimination system. I will be there from start to finish tomorrow evening for sure. And maybe tonight, I'll get a chance to sneak in for the game between - gasp - Oregon and Minnesota...

Spokane Events

On Friday, I received notice this weekend that Jive Five, a friend's band, was playing at the Garland Street Fair on Saturday. I'd heard of the fair but had never gone. It's the only blocked-off street fair in town, and is up in the Garland District - up north of the river by a mile or two. It's a place of history in Spokane - has the Milk Bottle restaurant, the old Garland Theatre that is still independent from the AMCs, and nooks and crannies of neighborhood shops. Its theme every year is "Wizard of Oz," because of Garland and Judy Garland. Fun.

Also on Friday, a friend of mine asked me if I'd gone out to the American Legion World Series games yet. The ALWS is in Spokane for the first time in its 80+ year history. It has only been in Washington three times before, each time in Yakima. My friend thought it would be a great opportunity for a book signing. I hadn't even thought of it, though I'd been reading about all that good baseball in the newspaper. It's odd that I didn't think of it, since I've been thinking about book signings recently. In fact, I've got one out at the Indians' stadium next Saturday, for fireworks night (another fireworks night).

So yesterday, I made it a Spokane day. First I headed to the baseball park - the ALWS is being held at the Indians' Avista stadium - and talked to the organizers about coming out for a book signing. I'll be there today for all three games. Fun! They'll even let me sit in a place where I can watch the games.

Then I headed over to the Garland Street Fair, in time to see the Jive Five play. They were so good! Almost a big band sound, with jazz thrown in. The sound is hard to describe, but I kept hearing people around me talk about how good they were. Definitely a treat.

Here's a hard-to-see-them photo of the Jive Five, at Garland and Post:

And here's a photo of the red boots I bought from the now-closed Ruby Slipper (a very cool, upscale shoe store in Spokane that went out of business but had a few shoes left to sell at the Fair). I felt a little bad about the great deal - but they are trying to clear out merchandise:


And then here's a very-bad photo of the Milk Bottle (off to the left) - which is a greasy spoon restaurant in the shape of a milk bottle - quite the conversation piece in the Garland District - also at the corner of Garland and Post, across from where the Jive Five was playing.

Here's a better photo of the Milk Bottle that I found on Flckr, coming at the restaurant from an opposite (and clearly better) angle, though not taken during the Fair itself. Photo credit goes to Christphre Campbell. Photo is found here.

Billy McLaughlin - "Into the Light" - with update

A couple weeks ago, I bought a new CD - "Into the Light," by Bill McLaughlin. It's as wonderful as any of his other CDs - in fact, a little more wonderful, because of the title song.

As I listen to it, I can see Billy playing - my memory sees him, immersed, engrossed, lost on stage to the music.

It has been more than a decade since I saw Billy McLaughlin perform. But I can still see him, in my mind's eye, as I listen to his music.

Billy was born for this. He was a miracle musician - playing his own compositions that, for nearly any other guitar player, would require two guitarists. But for Billy, it took just one. I know that's what amazed so many - his ability to play on one guitar what should have taken two, or even three.

For me, it was the music. It sang into my heart - touched my soul - from soul to soul. The music had come from God to me through Billy, is how I felt. It was like having a conversation with God for me, to listen to Billy play. And yes, there was something miraculous about seeing him play in concert, because he did in fact play all the notes himself, almost with sparks flying from the guitar, almost beyond possibility. But the music itself is what compelled me to return.

"Into the Light" - now, finally, recorded under a CD of the same - was the first song I ever heard Billy play. He was at the Gardenia Center in Sandpoint, at their Sunday service. I happened to be at the service too. He was giving an introduction to his music that he would be playing that night in Sandpoint, and the next night in Spokane. And he started playing "Into the Light." That is where I went, with him. Into the light. I was mesmerized - hooked - had to bring a passel of people with me to the next night's coffee shop concert in Spokane... I bought a couple CDs, and hoped "Into the Light" would be on the next CD. Over the next couple years, I'd look for that CD, and at his Tour Schedule to see when he might be coming back to Spokane from his home in Minnesota....

and then, I lost track of him. There just was so little movement...

Turns out, in 2001, Billy was diagnosed with a disease called focal dystonia. It caused his left hand to seize up when he played the guitar. As he explains, he had symptoms for awhile. "Something had crept in ... into my hand, my wrist, my arm....an unwanted guest that wouldn't leave. I had no name for this visitor who caused my fingers to suddenly curl, caused the music to veer out of control as audiences cringed, caused my solo career to slowly (against all my stubborn nature) grind to a halt." As he also explains, he was almost relieved by the diagnosis, so he could know he wasn't going crazy. Yet it was devastating too. Though only on his left side (hence the modifier "focal"), it could ultimately spread throughout his body. Doctors told him to stop playing the guitar altogether. Instead, this left-handed guitarist decided to retrain his right hand to do what the left had been doing. And he has been on a long road since.

I didn't know any of this until recently. My heart broke for him when I heard. How does that happen? How does one of the most gifted guitarists on the planet come down with such a debilitating disease? Especially a musician whose music comes from such a place of purity....

I wondered - what is supposed to come from this? how is he supposed to use this? or - us? or - something.

I wasn't trying to put a rosy picture on it. I meant it. Music that comes from God, through a human body - there has to be a bigger picture purpose when that same body no longer can perform as it did.

It made me think of Beethoven, going deaf. He was deaf when he wrote his Ninth Symphony - his masterpiece - the first symphony to have a chorus in it (the fourth movement). In the end, his curse became our blessing. His lack of ability to hear outside noise seemed to transform him to a place where he could hear only purity instead. It was as though all his works - amazing in themselves - were just setting the stage for the Ninth.

Except... that's where Billy McLaughlin started... in that place of deafness - not that he ever had to lose his hearing - just that he already did keep the extra noise out when he wrote and played the music he had within. Or so it seemed to me.

Billy's situation also made me think of a passage from "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" - a book I have not read since I was a teen - that I probably couldn't get through today, as idealistic as it is (as I recall it). There is one part of that book that I've never forgotten. Jonathan is trying to figure out how to fly as fast as possible, so he dives from the highest of heights, only to break up at a certain speed. But then he comes up with the idea of pulling his wings into his body. This way, the wind can't pull on his outstretched wings - can't hold him back. It's a brilliant idea. A brilliant move. It works. Jonathan dives, and reaches an unbelievable velocity.

Except he hadn't thought ahead to imagine how to get out of such a fast dive once he got into it. And when he turns to pull himself out of it, he's going too fast. Instead of moving up and out, he crashes into the ocean like he's hitting a brick wall. We wonder if he's dead. He isn't, but almost.

That could have cured him from his desire to go so fast. But it doesn't. Instead, he realizes that he will need to adjust his turn out of his dive to accommodate his velocity. So he practices. And figures out that, at that speed, to change course doesn't require an entire flapping of wings. It only requires the flip of a couple feathers. He practices and crashes a few more times, until he has the formula set. He realizes that not only has he succeeded, but he has succeeded with ease. Once he made one part of his path easier, the whole path could follow, with similar ease, if he just imagined it. And now he could move to the next level.

With Billy, he's become a voluntary ambassador for the Dystonia Medical Research Foundation. There's a PBS special on him called "Changing Keys" (cool title - I'm trying to get Spokane's PBS channel to show it). And as for his music, he's added an orchestra. He continues to compose. In 2007, he generated the above-mentioned "Into the Light" cd - with orchestra. I'm so grateful to hear the music now, whenever I want, on my new CD.

Yes, he's retraining his right hand to do what his left hand could do before. But he's expanded his options too. And while he is not the only one to play his music anymore - at least at this time - not at one sitting, anyway... I wonder what else he might be able to do because his disability asks him to stretch there. I wonder - as he flies - what he will see and imagine to get him beyond, into all levels possible.

And I wonder what I can learn from his journey, as I listen to the first CD recording ever made of "Into the Light." I wonder where I'm trying to do everything myself - could just expand further if I allowed for more than just my individual effort - or a different, easier individual effort than how I am doing it now.

And as I listen to "Into the Light" - that one miracle composition that drew me in, from the beginning... As I listen to it, I can imagine what it might feel like, to fly always into the light.


UPDATE: CBS News just did a feature story on Billy (this a.m., May 27, 2011). Read the article and watch the video here: http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2011/05/27/earlyshow/main20066772.shtml