Virginia Arthur's Blog, page 2
May 15, 2021
US Review of Books Posts Review for Stem and Leaf Plots. Ten Eco-fiction Short Stories.
Book review by Heather Brooks
"...Gordon knew humans were in over their teeny little heads when it came to the if’s of a God."
Like plants, the bonds between people can flourish or wither, depending on how carefully they are tended. Rivalrous sisters Nora and Carole finally acknowledge years of mutual hatred and the inability to salvage their relationship. Sometimes one bonds more closely with animals than fellow humans, as neglected young Brady does with an injured goose in his local park. Some people's petty narcissism or materialism is most starkly apparent against the vast background of Mother Nature. For example, coddled and jet-setting misanthrope Rowena has no idea of either the depths of her loneliness or how to take care of her loathsome husband's favorite fig tree after his death. Love of living creatures can also lead to religious awakening late in life, like with Gordon. The newly Christian entomologist leaves behind tongue-in-cheek words of consolation for the mourners at his funeral, comparing friends and enemies alike to his favorite—and least favorite—insects.
Arthur eschews dry, scientific plots for these short stories, favoring lush imagery and metaphor. She presents her characters and the interactions between them as living entities, as vital as the wild flora and fauna she loves. Her writings show that people can forcibly disassociate from nature or quietly accept it and their place in it. The stories imply that an acceptance of the natural world fosters a more ready acceptance of other people. Conversely, rejection of the splendors of nature seems to lead to alienation from those who should matter most. Strikingly, none of the stories promote the theory of evolution as is usual in science-based texts. Meanwhile, in the last story, the existence of God is presented as a real possibility, as is the incapacity of the human intellect to understand divine ways. Environmentally conscious readers who also appreciate vivid fiction will gravitate to this book.
https://www.theusreview.com/reviews-1...
"...Gordon knew humans were in over their teeny little heads when it came to the if’s of a God."
Like plants, the bonds between people can flourish or wither, depending on how carefully they are tended. Rivalrous sisters Nora and Carole finally acknowledge years of mutual hatred and the inability to salvage their relationship. Sometimes one bonds more closely with animals than fellow humans, as neglected young Brady does with an injured goose in his local park. Some people's petty narcissism or materialism is most starkly apparent against the vast background of Mother Nature. For example, coddled and jet-setting misanthrope Rowena has no idea of either the depths of her loneliness or how to take care of her loathsome husband's favorite fig tree after his death. Love of living creatures can also lead to religious awakening late in life, like with Gordon. The newly Christian entomologist leaves behind tongue-in-cheek words of consolation for the mourners at his funeral, comparing friends and enemies alike to his favorite—and least favorite—insects.
Arthur eschews dry, scientific plots for these short stories, favoring lush imagery and metaphor. She presents her characters and the interactions between them as living entities, as vital as the wild flora and fauna she loves. Her writings show that people can forcibly disassociate from nature or quietly accept it and their place in it. The stories imply that an acceptance of the natural world fosters a more ready acceptance of other people. Conversely, rejection of the splendors of nature seems to lead to alienation from those who should matter most. Strikingly, none of the stories promote the theory of evolution as is usual in science-based texts. Meanwhile, in the last story, the existence of God is presented as a real possibility, as is the incapacity of the human intellect to understand divine ways. Environmentally conscious readers who also appreciate vivid fiction will gravitate to this book.
https://www.theusreview.com/reviews-1...
December 19, 2020
I Think We're Apart Okay, Right?
My father died Christmas Eve night, almost 40 years ago. It doesn't matter. It will never matter. It could be the same night he died for the grief I suffer nearly 40 years later. He wouldn't never want this, his children stricken every Christmas, memories of that night. CODE RED, CODE RED. We got to the hospital just in time for him to die after my boyfriend and I drove home from Columbus to Cincinnati in my 1965 Volkswagen, with a completely inoperable heater. I will never forget that bitter Ohio winter night. The windchill was -50. Once we reached the hospital, I fell to the ground when I got out of the car, my feet so cold, I couldn't stand up.
This year, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends will die Christmas Eve night, but their families won't be by their sides. This will haunt them, because the COVID virus doesn't care, yet we do and deeply, desperately.
So Christmas's are hard for me, hard for so many. Tonight, I sat by the fire, writing, remembering (it's SO important). Crying for the world (can someone cry for the entire world?), thinking about my brother and his wife. Her father has COVID and it's not looking good. I think about what they must be going through. My doorbell rings. My doorbell never rings. The last time was, maybe ten years ago? I have a Wizard of Oz door, you know the kind that has a little 'sub-door' built in? It's very cute even if the door needs replacing. Like in the Wizard of Oz, I open it up and hopefully not as cranky, say hello to my neighbor who stands pensively holding a present with a bow on it. We are not sure what to do. Neither of us are wearing a mask. Since she just had a COVID scare in her family, a positive test, we both understand I cannot invite her in and I so want to. I so WANT TO! I want to invite her in for a glass of the latest terrific cheap wine from Grocery Outlet, an egg nog, a hot toddy. ANYTHING! I pine for company, a reprieve from my reverie and sadness. Damn it! "I think we're apart okay, right?" I ask. "Yeah," she answers as she gently places the present on my top step. We visit through my Wizard of Oz door, kind of yelling at one another. It's going pretty fast: how is your family? How are you? "Thank you so much! Be well! Stay Well!" I yell after her as she descends the stairs from my house. I look through my Wizard of Oz door at the the pretty little gift she has left for me. I have to wait, you see, to get it. As I wait, my dogs cry and whine. They love her. As I wait by the door, one of my dad's favorite songs plays on my little boom box, Silent Night by the Henry Mancini orchestra. When the coast is clear (the coast is clear, from warmth and compassion, oh my God), I go outside and stand in the cold air. I look up at the moon. Oh Holy, Lonely, Night. Merry Christmas.
This year, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends will die Christmas Eve night, but their families won't be by their sides. This will haunt them, because the COVID virus doesn't care, yet we do and deeply, desperately.
So Christmas's are hard for me, hard for so many. Tonight, I sat by the fire, writing, remembering (it's SO important). Crying for the world (can someone cry for the entire world?), thinking about my brother and his wife. Her father has COVID and it's not looking good. I think about what they must be going through. My doorbell rings. My doorbell never rings. The last time was, maybe ten years ago? I have a Wizard of Oz door, you know the kind that has a little 'sub-door' built in? It's very cute even if the door needs replacing. Like in the Wizard of Oz, I open it up and hopefully not as cranky, say hello to my neighbor who stands pensively holding a present with a bow on it. We are not sure what to do. Neither of us are wearing a mask. Since she just had a COVID scare in her family, a positive test, we both understand I cannot invite her in and I so want to. I so WANT TO! I want to invite her in for a glass of the latest terrific cheap wine from Grocery Outlet, an egg nog, a hot toddy. ANYTHING! I pine for company, a reprieve from my reverie and sadness. Damn it! "I think we're apart okay, right?" I ask. "Yeah," she answers as she gently places the present on my top step. We visit through my Wizard of Oz door, kind of yelling at one another. It's going pretty fast: how is your family? How are you? "Thank you so much! Be well! Stay Well!" I yell after her as she descends the stairs from my house. I look through my Wizard of Oz door at the the pretty little gift she has left for me. I have to wait, you see, to get it. As I wait, my dogs cry and whine. They love her. As I wait by the door, one of my dad's favorite songs plays on my little boom box, Silent Night by the Henry Mancini orchestra. When the coast is clear (the coast is clear, from warmth and compassion, oh my God), I go outside and stand in the cold air. I look up at the moon. Oh Holy, Lonely, Night. Merry Christmas.
November 17, 2020
Newest is Out! Ten Eco-fiction Short Stories (Includes Winter Girl).
Eclectic collection of humorous, poignant, real, socially conscious short stories.
UBL: https://books2read.com/u/3n880K
Thank you for honoring me by reading my work. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Be well. Stay sane.
VA
UBL: https://books2read.com/u/3n880K
Thank you for honoring me by reading my work. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Be well. Stay sane.
VA
September 23, 2020
August 18, 2020
Dispatch from the Emotional Flatlands.
"You need to wear your f-----g mask. My mother is 87, asshole, and you could kill her," Guy A says to Guy B as I enter the grocery store.
There was a time, not too long ago, when I would have stopped and watched this exchange, stunned, saddened, but like everyone else now, I barely raise my head.
I now live in the emotional flatlands. COVID, the CA fires (now the masks have dual functions), an insane president who will throw a tantrum if he loses the election like the baby he is, all the giant pickup trucks circulating in support of him with their Qanon freak flags flying, too many people in the backcountry, where I always went to get away, and now they're out there too but it's too hot to leave the house anyway, even if you head to 10,000 feet elevation, it's still f-ing hot per the pending planetary death...
When you live in the emotional flatlands, nothing bothers you anymore.
I notice how stylish the masks have gotten. I am not even sure why, but this only further irritates me. I catch myself wondering if I should move on from the standard pleated sky blue surgical mask.
"Look at that one," I think to myself. "She has a giant lotus over her mouth, and that guy has tiger teeth. She's a what, a crocodile?" I am not Googling "stylish yet effective masks" when I get home. I am NOT.
Only one things is getting me through, giving me the tiniest of boosts everyday and no it's not liter bottles of Pinot Grigo. It's watermelon. It's my heroin and I have to have it including driving around at 1:00 a.m. looking for a 24-hour grocery store (no luck), so I buy some awful watermelon candy (?) at the 7-11 on the way home.
In the midst of so much insanity, inanity...there is still watermelon. Cool, crisp watermelon that for a second transports me to the memory of what used to be a simple and pure summer day. Call it my meditation, my tiny little escape. I sit on the floor of my smoke filled house and crunch it, the sweetness, the WATER, the dogs on either side of me joining in, relishing the moment (and the watermelon) as much as I. For a few minutes there is no smoke, there are no fires, there is no pandemic, our post office isn't getting gutted, our President isn't Donald Trump. It's me and the dogs hanging out on the living room floor on a hot summer day, listening to Loggins and Messina...Summer Breeze...Sometimes I cry.
I want one of the big seeded ones even if it takes a crane to get it up the stairs and into the refrigerator but oh, wait a minute! Of course, of f-ing course (!!!), the CA Gods of electricity just announced "rolling black-outs" so by the time I get home, like the witch at the end of the Wizard of Oz, everything in my refrigerator may be melting, melting...
Thinking about this, standing over the cardboard bin of beautiful watermelons, I blurt, "God dnmn it. The electricity could be out by the time I get this baby home." Aside from one guy, all my fellow flatlanders ignore me. "Well, then just eat the whole damn thing," the guy says, annoyed, lumbering off with his. I don't even bother to look up to make eye contact (because this is all it is now and anyway, what's the point?).
Once outside the store, I waddle back to my car carrying my 400 pound watermelon (at least this is how it feels because the air is filled with gritty smoke--of course! After all, it's summer in California!). It hurts to inhale, even with a mask on. Gently lowering my big ass melon into the passenger seat, I quickly get in the driver's side and slam the car door. Off comes the mask. Jesus! It's so hot. I look up and see the woman parked in front of me also rushing to get into her car and like me, she tears her mask off once she's in. She's left something in her cart. What is that? A wallet? I hop out and rap on her window. Yeah, she left her wallet in the cart. She gets out, grabs it, and gets the hell back in her car. I head back to mine when I hear a voice behind me. I turn around.
"Oh yeah," she says lowering the window. "Thanks."
"Yeah, no worries," is all I can muster as I hurl myself back into my car. This is all any of us can muster now that we're living in the emotional flatlands.
There was a time, not too long ago, when I would have stopped and watched this exchange, stunned, saddened, but like everyone else now, I barely raise my head.
I now live in the emotional flatlands. COVID, the CA fires (now the masks have dual functions), an insane president who will throw a tantrum if he loses the election like the baby he is, all the giant pickup trucks circulating in support of him with their Qanon freak flags flying, too many people in the backcountry, where I always went to get away, and now they're out there too but it's too hot to leave the house anyway, even if you head to 10,000 feet elevation, it's still f-ing hot per the pending planetary death...
When you live in the emotional flatlands, nothing bothers you anymore.
I notice how stylish the masks have gotten. I am not even sure why, but this only further irritates me. I catch myself wondering if I should move on from the standard pleated sky blue surgical mask.
"Look at that one," I think to myself. "She has a giant lotus over her mouth, and that guy has tiger teeth. She's a what, a crocodile?" I am not Googling "stylish yet effective masks" when I get home. I am NOT.
Only one things is getting me through, giving me the tiniest of boosts everyday and no it's not liter bottles of Pinot Grigo. It's watermelon. It's my heroin and I have to have it including driving around at 1:00 a.m. looking for a 24-hour grocery store (no luck), so I buy some awful watermelon candy (?) at the 7-11 on the way home.
In the midst of so much insanity, inanity...there is still watermelon. Cool, crisp watermelon that for a second transports me to the memory of what used to be a simple and pure summer day. Call it my meditation, my tiny little escape. I sit on the floor of my smoke filled house and crunch it, the sweetness, the WATER, the dogs on either side of me joining in, relishing the moment (and the watermelon) as much as I. For a few minutes there is no smoke, there are no fires, there is no pandemic, our post office isn't getting gutted, our President isn't Donald Trump. It's me and the dogs hanging out on the living room floor on a hot summer day, listening to Loggins and Messina...Summer Breeze...Sometimes I cry.
I want one of the big seeded ones even if it takes a crane to get it up the stairs and into the refrigerator but oh, wait a minute! Of course, of f-ing course (!!!), the CA Gods of electricity just announced "rolling black-outs" so by the time I get home, like the witch at the end of the Wizard of Oz, everything in my refrigerator may be melting, melting...
Thinking about this, standing over the cardboard bin of beautiful watermelons, I blurt, "God dnmn it. The electricity could be out by the time I get this baby home." Aside from one guy, all my fellow flatlanders ignore me. "Well, then just eat the whole damn thing," the guy says, annoyed, lumbering off with his. I don't even bother to look up to make eye contact (because this is all it is now and anyway, what's the point?).
Once outside the store, I waddle back to my car carrying my 400 pound watermelon (at least this is how it feels because the air is filled with gritty smoke--of course! After all, it's summer in California!). It hurts to inhale, even with a mask on. Gently lowering my big ass melon into the passenger seat, I quickly get in the driver's side and slam the car door. Off comes the mask. Jesus! It's so hot. I look up and see the woman parked in front of me also rushing to get into her car and like me, she tears her mask off once she's in. She's left something in her cart. What is that? A wallet? I hop out and rap on her window. Yeah, she left her wallet in the cart. She gets out, grabs it, and gets the hell back in her car. I head back to mine when I hear a voice behind me. I turn around.
"Oh yeah," she says lowering the window. "Thanks."
"Yeah, no worries," is all I can muster as I hurl myself back into my car. This is all any of us can muster now that we're living in the emotional flatlands.
January 20, 2020
Latest Report from Lying-Awake-At-Night-Thinking-Too-Much Purgatory: Solving Climate Change-UPDATE!!
YES! Sanity (partially) restored.
https://earth911.com/eco-watch/energy...
_____________________________________________________
Am I insane? Missing something? What is this I am clenching in bed? Oh, the sheet, and my teeth...
Isn't it obvious? Or is it only obvious to me?
A few weeks ago I read an article about a school in Southern California that had the kids design and build solar cars to race in their annual derby and it was pretty fantastic. Why are the only people building solar cars 12 year olds? Yes, I know there are college labs...but isn't this the solution, a major solution, to climate change because we are NEVER EVER EVER going to give up our cars. EVER.
When I am lying awake at night gnashing my teeth, clenching my sheet, knocking over the lamp because I can't get these goddamn thoughts out of my head, it goes like this:
1. Oh my God. What was that crap on NPR about carbon trading to stop climate change? Are you freaking kidding me? AGAIN?
2. If I go to the climate change talks, I will be contributing to climate change. Are they video streaming it? Why the f...not? I mean, JESUS!
3. I could drive. I am not going to drive.
4. The solution is so obvious--we need a viable solar car.
5. What if instead of that stupid, stupid, stupid, self-driving car Google "invented" and now is trying to force on us, they invented a viable solar car. Where would we be now...?
6. And why in the HELL isn't Musk doing it? A rocket to Mars? Is he throwing in the towel? And Bezos? You want to save the world, like for real? You could check off the ego box, and in this case, deserve it.
7. Who killed the electric car? Is it now who killed the solar car?
8. Jesus, it's 3:30. GO TO SLEEP.
9. But is there hope? What about those kids...That teacher should be given the Presidential Medal of Freedom, oh wait a minute...
10. President. Trump. God no. How did this happen? I'm having a nightmare. Obviously I am sleeping. No, I'm not.
11. Where is the solar car? Why isn't anybody doing this? This is the answer. It's so obvious. We can do it. I am never going to get to sleep so let's turn on the t.v. for a few minutes.
Ten car commercials later -"you want big, bad, this truck can go ANYwhere" (insert images of big "bad" truck plowing through wetlands, creating eroded muddy hillsides, smashing alpine flowers to get to the top of some poor unfortunate mountain)-- between updates about impeachment. I am now screaming out my window, banging head against wall. I don't think I'm the insane one in this scenario but I will be soon.
https://earth911.com/eco-watch/energy...
_____________________________________________________
Am I insane? Missing something? What is this I am clenching in bed? Oh, the sheet, and my teeth...
Isn't it obvious? Or is it only obvious to me?
A few weeks ago I read an article about a school in Southern California that had the kids design and build solar cars to race in their annual derby and it was pretty fantastic. Why are the only people building solar cars 12 year olds? Yes, I know there are college labs...but isn't this the solution, a major solution, to climate change because we are NEVER EVER EVER going to give up our cars. EVER.
When I am lying awake at night gnashing my teeth, clenching my sheet, knocking over the lamp because I can't get these goddamn thoughts out of my head, it goes like this:
1. Oh my God. What was that crap on NPR about carbon trading to stop climate change? Are you freaking kidding me? AGAIN?
2. If I go to the climate change talks, I will be contributing to climate change. Are they video streaming it? Why the f...not? I mean, JESUS!
3. I could drive. I am not going to drive.
4. The solution is so obvious--we need a viable solar car.
5. What if instead of that stupid, stupid, stupid, self-driving car Google "invented" and now is trying to force on us, they invented a viable solar car. Where would we be now...?
6. And why in the HELL isn't Musk doing it? A rocket to Mars? Is he throwing in the towel? And Bezos? You want to save the world, like for real? You could check off the ego box, and in this case, deserve it.
7. Who killed the electric car? Is it now who killed the solar car?
8. Jesus, it's 3:30. GO TO SLEEP.
9. But is there hope? What about those kids...That teacher should be given the Presidential Medal of Freedom, oh wait a minute...
10. President. Trump. God no. How did this happen? I'm having a nightmare. Obviously I am sleeping. No, I'm not.
11. Where is the solar car? Why isn't anybody doing this? This is the answer. It's so obvious. We can do it. I am never going to get to sleep so let's turn on the t.v. for a few minutes.
Ten car commercials later -"you want big, bad, this truck can go ANYwhere" (insert images of big "bad" truck plowing through wetlands, creating eroded muddy hillsides, smashing alpine flowers to get to the top of some poor unfortunate mountain)-- between updates about impeachment. I am now screaming out my window, banging head against wall. I don't think I'm the insane one in this scenario but I will be soon.
August 31, 2019
How A Giveaway of One Damn Little Comedic Book Turned Into a Horror Story and Yes, I Am Trying Again!
THANKS TO ALL! REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED. THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW OVER.
Amazon Giveaways died today, a well deserved death. Good riddance.
https://www.amazon.com/ga/giveaways/?...
Two years ago, I paid $50 to post an Amazon giveaway. As of this blog a few months ago, it was my fourth attempt to give my damn books away. Every time prior, there was something weird, wrong with the "set-up" of which I was not responsible. The last/fourth time I tried in August of this year, over 400 people clicked to win my book (and thank you, honored) and ZERO books were awarded. ZERO. This was my FOURTH try. I blew my stack and filed multiple complaints against Amazon only to find out, not surprisingly, that there were thousands of complaints about this so-called "giveaway' program, the not so small issue that most of the time nothing was given away. When I asked for a refund, Amazon replied it is policy NOT to refund giveaways for any reason but I could run the giveaway again--that gives nothing away, and then I could run it again, and again, and again which makes me think of Escher's print of the stairs that only ends at more stairs in an infinite loop=insanity. Thanks Amazon!
Thousands of complaints and finally, as of today, the entire program was killed, but not without punishment to authors my friends! You can now only post a book giveaway if you published with Amazon, otherwise, forget it! I did not publish with Amazon.
What is my point? I am trying to give the damn book away again. So today, when I changed the price of my book to "FREE", my listing for Phat's completely disappeared off Amazon's site because they sure as HELL are not going to let a non-Amazon author giveaway their book for free and also, they won't make a dime off it so suck it! The book has been wiped off Amazon.
So here we are. For TWO YEARS I have been TRYING to give away one little e-book! I could write a BOOK!
So today, I set the price for Phat's to ZERO. (When I raise the price, it will show up on Amazon again, or so I was assured as of 30 seconds ago but hey, things change baby so we can't promise...).
Because we are all subject to Bezo's torture chamber, Phat's is now OFF Amazon but here are the links (below) to get it for free from other sellers. Reviews on their/any sites (including of course GR) are welcome, is kind of the point really.
Download the book with pride. What perseverance! Dedication! I am honored you would still even try and thank you! I look forward to Bezo's next 'innovation'=temper tantrum.
https://store.bookbaby.com/book/Phat(...
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/phat...
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/phat...
https://books.apple.com/us/book/phat-...
https://www.bookworks.com/book/phats-...
Amazon Giveaways died today, a well deserved death. Good riddance.
https://www.amazon.com/ga/giveaways/?...
Two years ago, I paid $50 to post an Amazon giveaway. As of this blog a few months ago, it was my fourth attempt to give my damn books away. Every time prior, there was something weird, wrong with the "set-up" of which I was not responsible. The last/fourth time I tried in August of this year, over 400 people clicked to win my book (and thank you, honored) and ZERO books were awarded. ZERO. This was my FOURTH try. I blew my stack and filed multiple complaints against Amazon only to find out, not surprisingly, that there were thousands of complaints about this so-called "giveaway' program, the not so small issue that most of the time nothing was given away. When I asked for a refund, Amazon replied it is policy NOT to refund giveaways for any reason but I could run the giveaway again--that gives nothing away, and then I could run it again, and again, and again which makes me think of Escher's print of the stairs that only ends at more stairs in an infinite loop=insanity. Thanks Amazon!
Thousands of complaints and finally, as of today, the entire program was killed, but not without punishment to authors my friends! You can now only post a book giveaway if you published with Amazon, otherwise, forget it! I did not publish with Amazon.
What is my point? I am trying to give the damn book away again. So today, when I changed the price of my book to "FREE", my listing for Phat's completely disappeared off Amazon's site because they sure as HELL are not going to let a non-Amazon author giveaway their book for free and also, they won't make a dime off it so suck it! The book has been wiped off Amazon.
So here we are. For TWO YEARS I have been TRYING to give away one little e-book! I could write a BOOK!
So today, I set the price for Phat's to ZERO. (When I raise the price, it will show up on Amazon again, or so I was assured as of 30 seconds ago but hey, things change baby so we can't promise...).
Because we are all subject to Bezo's torture chamber, Phat's is now OFF Amazon but here are the links (below) to get it for free from other sellers. Reviews on their/any sites (including of course GR) are welcome, is kind of the point really.
Download the book with pride. What perseverance! Dedication! I am honored you would still even try and thank you! I look forward to Bezo's next 'innovation'=temper tantrum.
https://store.bookbaby.com/book/Phat(...
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/phat...
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/phat...
https://books.apple.com/us/book/phat-...
https://www.bookworks.com/book/phats-...
August 15, 2019
Your President Is A Land Developer. Save Your Public Land and Environmental Protections NOW.
Since I first posted this, of course things have only gotten worse. There is no incredulity for me, as there seems to be for so many people, because this is who he is--a person so vile, so filled with hate, it eeks out from every pore of his body and now, of course, he's going for our environmental protections, if you even want to call them this because they are filled with holes even as it is. Still, they are protections that have been in place for nearly 50 years. Our narcissistic-ally illustrious President, Precedent, has just gutted the Endangered Species Act. They are going for the National Environmental Policy Act, and of course, our little developer Precedent wants to sell off, "dispose" of as many acres of our Public Lands as he can. This is mayday folks. Mayday. Our hope was the Democrats would provide some kind of checks and balances, but are they?
Please contact your legislators. One email a week. One phone call. It's not that big a deal to do! Takes ten minutes! Where is your nearest federal public land? Keep an eye on it and by doing so, you serve your country. Democracy, use or lose it. A lot at stake. Please pay attention and thank you.
Please contact your legislators. One email a week. One phone call. It's not that big a deal to do! Takes ten minutes! Where is your nearest federal public land? Keep an eye on it and by doing so, you serve your country. Democracy, use or lose it. A lot at stake. Please pay attention and thank you.
August 3, 2019
Where is YOUR Nearest Federal Public Land?
Every day I get alert after alert after alert about what is happening to OUR, YOUR federal public lands and every day, absolutely no one in the media talks about it, what the Trump administration is doing, selling off YOUR public lands (he is a developer, remember?), oil and gas drilling on your public lands, logging your public lands, grazing away pristine biodiversity on your public lands...EVERY SINGLE DAY I get an alerts like this. "Maybe I won't get anything today," crosses my weary mind. Well, that's an absolute fantasy.
Say what you will about how 'divided' we are as a nation. There is one thing ALL Americans love--OUR PUBLIC LANDS. Go! Look at them. Look at the families, the couples, the solo hikers embracing their freedom, strapping on the backpack, jumping in the lake, casting into that river, launching that kayak. Our Public Lands UNIFY US AS AMERICANS and we all have a stake in preserving them and this means YOU.
There is this idea that these groups, the ever present "they" will take care of all this but "they" are overwhelmed. "PUBLIC" includes all of us, includes you.
Two hours a week? An hour? Where is your nearest federal public land? Look it up. What is happening on it? (Should be on the agency website). Can you spare an hour a week to stay updated? Then go see it. Adopt it.
There is no "they" with a presidency like Donald Trump which is why I am asking you to embrace the excitement and adventure that is determining where your nearest federal land is then adopting it, keep an eye on it, weigh in. USE IT OR LOSE IT is where we might be at this point as parcels are quietly sold off, logged off, grazed to nothing, the benefits going to corporations--your public land. And even as I type, Trump is trying to exempt the USFS from NEPA, the landmark regulation that requires a democratic process for public land use.
So get out the map and/or get on your phone. Where is YOUR closest public federal land? It's yours you know, for now anyway--so go.
Say what you will about how 'divided' we are as a nation. There is one thing ALL Americans love--OUR PUBLIC LANDS. Go! Look at them. Look at the families, the couples, the solo hikers embracing their freedom, strapping on the backpack, jumping in the lake, casting into that river, launching that kayak. Our Public Lands UNIFY US AS AMERICANS and we all have a stake in preserving them and this means YOU.
There is this idea that these groups, the ever present "they" will take care of all this but "they" are overwhelmed. "PUBLIC" includes all of us, includes you.
Two hours a week? An hour? Where is your nearest federal public land? Look it up. What is happening on it? (Should be on the agency website). Can you spare an hour a week to stay updated? Then go see it. Adopt it.
There is no "they" with a presidency like Donald Trump which is why I am asking you to embrace the excitement and adventure that is determining where your nearest federal land is then adopting it, keep an eye on it, weigh in. USE IT OR LOSE IT is where we might be at this point as parcels are quietly sold off, logged off, grazed to nothing, the benefits going to corporations--your public land. And even as I type, Trump is trying to exempt the USFS from NEPA, the landmark regulation that requires a democratic process for public land use.
So get out the map and/or get on your phone. Where is YOUR closest public federal land? It's yours you know, for now anyway--so go.
May 31, 2019
50 Year Anniversary of Desert Solitaire--50 Freaking Years!
In honor, grab the book, and you better still have it, the dogs, beer, and head out.
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
Signed,
VA
Arthur of Birdbrain, one of Ed's demented literary offspring.
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
Signed,
VA
Arthur of Birdbrain, one of Ed's demented literary offspring.
