KBOO Board of Directors Candidate Statement--Yaney LA MacIver

Dear Fellow KBOO Members,

I love KBOO and am asking for your vote and election to the KBOO Board of Directors. With over 35 years in community organizing, previous KBOO Board, and decades of non-profit experience: as an employee, engaged member, and valued volunteer; I will be an excellent and resourceful KBOO Board member.

KBOO is at a crossroads now that it is over 40 years old as evidenced by the newly released Strategic Plan, requests to implement a Collective Staff Management process, concerns about board member training, and revenues that are not meeting expenses. In fact just this weekend, KBOO’s board is having a budget retreat to examine its own “debt ceiling” as is our country. Both may require us all to make some serious adjustments. Decisions made at this meeting will challenge the newly elected board; I am ready for that challenge.

I applaud and am excited by the vision in the Strategic Plan of the KBOO as a media center, the strengthening of volunteer and staff training and development, and the focus on radio excellence.

I am concerned with some implementation strategies. How will selling off the translator frequencies in Corvallis and Hood River assist in providing funds for an expansion of KBOO as a media center for the PDX Metro Area? (According to the Strategic Plan these decisions will be made in executive session without member input/approval!) As far as I can tell by member numbers in the translator communities these communities are more than fully funding the translators’ expenses (some members even have KBOO in their wills). In my own community, Corvallis, a 1000 people come together to raise $20,000 more than enough for our translator’s costs (a project in which I was a main organizer).

What other assets do we/KBOO have that might be better utilized to spread KBOO’s light/voice/vision to other communities in Oregon/SW Washington, instead of being sold off—such as Pendleton—(near where a prison is located that houses many of Portland’s incarcerated). Will the owner/members of this new station, KBLU, rebroadcast Prison Pipeline for those inmates and their families? What about other KBOO content, will this new station exhibit KBOO values, etc.?

To be fully vibrant we need a mix of terrestrial and electronic outreach. The internet is not fully assured as capitalist forces are seeking to commandeer it for their own interests.

Hence we need a board that can compassionately and creatively address these financial, outreach, and development issues. I believe that my experience in all aspects of nonprofits (including as a nonprofit employee) will enable me to be strong and understanding leader for KBOO. So I ask all my friends in the Peace and Justice communities (Portland/Regionally), those in TranslatorLand, and all lovers of KBOO to vote for me—and then please click the tip jar—tell them I sent you!

Thanks and love,

The SweetheartoftheValley (@gmail.com/facebook, trysaxy_all—Twitter, piintheskyranch.blogspot.com) 541-829-9788—Pi in the Sky Ranch, on Dimple Hill in Corvallis—7/29/11

Yaney LA MacIver

Toto I Don't Think We're in Colorado Anymore

Sunday, 8/22, Haswell, CO

Well the grasshoppers are quieting down as I wait for the cyclists. They are just out of town. No cell service, no internet—but a fully charged laptop—hence a few minutes. They are cycling from just down the road apiece. Annie will be first. The others are basically together. A call was made from Vernon when they were in Sugar City saying there were no services. This we, Cynthia and I, took to mean that they had no food or water and that we had to hurry to get them sustenance.

So there was concern, but the concern was mitigated or suspended because we had to get Cynthia to the airport to go home as her house had been burgled the night before. What exactly had been taken we didn’t know, but seems her new laptop, hard drive (with her book on it), a big screen TV, and a CD player from her son’s room, but not the peripherals to some of those things such as new and expensive cables, likewise speakers. It will remain to be seen what exactly is gone, seems some lights in the house weren’t working either, but they may be just non-working bulbs.

Anyway two of the cyclists have arrived and we are talking about the Obama and the CIA. And they are talking about the merry-go-round at the Haswell City Park. Now they are all here and talking about heading on to Eads for the night; perhaps the Travelers Lodge, maybe the city park.


Tuesday, 8/24, Leoti, KS

Well more time to catch up. We crossed into Kansas yesterday and into Central Time. This past evening we spent at the High Plains Motel in Leoti, KS; a nice place with a full complimentary breakfast. I got up with the cyclists to have breakfast and to make sure I didn’t sleep in as I had yesterday to the “late” hour of 9:00 AM! By the time I finally left Eads, CO Scott and Annie had made it to Tribune, KS and they also beat me to the hotel in Leoti, but that was just a block and bikes are faster than cars in town.

Vernon and I went to the Mexican restaurant in town (Charlie's Mexican Restaurant). I had gorditias with homemade gordo tortillas. They were wonderful. The excitement happened when a lad leaned his chair back into the lattice screen sending it into our table, twice. No Tecate was spilled in the process, but a few bits of dried plant material ended up on Vernon’s beard.

Riding

I have gotten some chances to ride. I rode the first bit to Monarch Pass from Gunnison, CO (a town with another Toggery—like my home town Bishop, CA) on Wednesday, August 18th as we thought we were just going to Sargents, CO that day. It was a very nice ride and wonderful to be cycling with Vernon again. We originally thought we'd "take" Monarch Pass the next day, but with the weather so nice it was decided to go for it. So the cyclists headed up and out. And Cynthia and I continued in the vehicle to Poncha Springs were we booked in at the Rocky Mountain Lodge. After unpacking the car, settling things into the room, and getting a few celebratory six packs of microbrews and a bottle of wine; I got back on my bike to meet the riders. Well they were just about around the corner at Mimi’s an Eastern and Western Food and Ice Cream Stand at the corner of US 285 and US 50. Vernon bought me a green tea ice cream cone. Yummy and we rode back to the hotel.

Vernon and I had a nice cabin with a kitchen. It was so wonderful to have a space to ourselves (other than the tent) and a real kitchen. I think the latter is what I miss most about home. As to the former; we try to keep expenses low for all so many times we’re in a room with all six of us (or five as it is now). Many times tho the hotel/motel owners/managers will not let us be in a room with more than five due to fire regulations. And when Vernon sets up the tent, he always sets it up facing east. Hence the sun does get me up early, not only with its bright light, but with its heat. And he does this even on rest days, as he did while we were “resting” at Celeste’s in Pueblo.

And I rode part of the way to Pueblo, from Westcliffe to Wetmore. In Westcliffe we stayed at the Grape Creek RV Camp in two cabins (missed making a real dinner that night as the thunderstorms started in just as I was about to cook). It was wonderful to go to the Visitor’s Center/Chamber of Commerce in Westcliffe and have the woman working there assist us in finding a place to stay. They regularly keep track of what is available and she even called around for us. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case in Gunnison, where I had to make all the calls and I wasn’t even afforded a place to sit down to make them! Such service faux pas are particularly frustrating to me as that is my profession. And they lost the sale of an apron there at that Visitor's Center in Gunnison. Alas.

The ride from Westcliffe to Wetmore was wonderful—the uphill part that is. The downhill was a bit scary; many twists and turns (nothing like downhills on highway 34 from Alsea, OR or on Carson Pass—those I like). At one point I felt like I was going to slide out. And I took seriously the slow downs of 30 and 35 mph on some of the curves. Now Vernon kept insisting I get off my brakes, oh well honey, I didn’t. He’s been riding longer and knows his bike more. Sorry if you were burning your brakes out following me—there’s a spare set in my now non-handlebar bag along with the clothespins and the line.

We had arranged to meet Celeste at the City Park in Pueblo, Yeyo and I found our way there (Yeyo being sick that day had decided to join Cynthia and me in the car). I went too fast over a speed bump and dislodged the bike rack—the bikes were fine and Scott readjusted the rack, but I was a bit nervous about putting anymore weight on the rack so I left my bike chained up to the fence at the entrance of the park before I went to get Cynthia and Vernon. Yeyo rode on to a Mexican restaurant at the corner of Pueblo and Thatcher where we decided the new meeting place would be. When I got to Cynthia and Vernon, Bob Kinsey (running for Senate for the Greens) had caught up with them. He’d come from Colorado Springs.

In Pueblo, we were hosted at a potluck by the Colorado Greens at the Unitarian Universalist Church in Pueblo. We got press from the local paper (Ex-lawmaker takes on new venture). Both Bob and Gary Swing (running for Colorado District One’s Congressional seat—also on the Green ticket) were at the potluck. Gary’s line is to solicit the “swing” voters. I love it—who says Greens don’t have a sense of humor! I also had fun, perusing the UU and gathering their information to take back to the “office”. I did get a chance to ride in Pueblo. Vernon, Annie, Scott, and I rode from the Mexican restaurant to Celeste’s house after retrieving my bike. And from Celeste’s Yeyo, Vernon, and I rode back and forth to the potluck. Each time we got lost in different way—but we ended up where we were going by following the canal.

Continuing Thoughts

Each of these towns that we pass through, seem to be facing challenges of staying afloat. Many boarded up buildings, some towns with only one restaurant or hotel where there had been many. I still see the similarities between the shuttering of rural America and the shuttering of places like in Oakland in the downtown and along San Pablo Ave. What will come to all these places? What will come to your town? What will we all do about it together?

Bike4Peace 2010 Yaney's First Blog Post

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

We are in Baker, NV now at this wonderful hotel and restaurant, the Silver Jack Inn and Lectrolux Café. It is a cross between Nepenthe at Big Sur, the Thyme Garden in Alsea, OR and Summit, OR. There are sunflowers everywhere, art, wall hangings, swallows nesting babies mouths wide open right above our door, a mannequin’s leg wearing a hat. A walk up the street and there is a cob wall with a small display of prayer flags over the gate into the backyard of the house. It is nighttime and now the kids working for the Nevada Conservation Corps are out using the wi-fi at the café. I’m just trying to get a chance to write about our adventures at least once.

Bike4Peace 2010 has been a long strange road. We started out in Oakland at the Black Dot Café with a potluck arranged by the Rev. Sandra Decker. We waited a while for Cynthia to arrive. Most of us had never met. Annie and Scott didn’t show up until the ride start the next day at 7:00 AM in front of the House of Common Sense.

As Vernon and Ron had done the first leg of the trip backwards from Martinez to Oakland*, they decided it was not a good route to start the ride on. So we decided to take the Amtrak bike commuter train to Martinez where we were going to meet up with the Valley Spokesmen from the Livermore area. This would cut a good twenty miles of riding off the first day of what purported to be 100+ miles. It still wasn’t enough to take off as we were to come to know. The ride out of Martinez was nice. But Cynthia and I had a tough time keeping up. It was hot and very hilly. Cynthia who had ridden less than me particularly had a hard time keeping up. So as the day progressed we all got further behind. And there were at least three flat tires. I had one, Vernon two. Finally our friends from the Spokesmen, Peter and John, decided to call in the rescue troops at about 6:00 PM. John’s wife and friend Dave took some of us, bikes, bags and all to a meal in Winters; while Ron, Peter and Vernon continued on to Davis, where they were similarly rescued. They got into our hosts house in Sacramento about midnight—yikes—six hours behind schedule.

*Vernon had started out the trip from Corvallis on Saturday, July 10. I rode with him the 88 miles to Florence, OR—only had trouble with chafing—we made it in about twelve hours. We stopped at Alpha Bits in Mapleton, OR for lunch. It is a restaurant run by the Alpha Farm folks in Deadwood. He then headed down the over the mountains in California, too much climbing in the heat. Vernon had texted me about passing out under an overpass in 106 degrees in the shade. He met Ron in Chico on the 21st and they rode together to Oakland and that was a tough ride too. So by the time he got to Oakland, he was gaunt and shaky. It was almost like coming home from boot camp!

But back to Bike4Peace 2010 a late start in the morning from Sacramento, confusion over what was going to be needed at the REI for the cyclists and for Yeyo’s bike, etc. contributed to another late afternoon too hot to ride situation. But riding on the American River trail with no cars from Sacramento to Folsom was wonderful. We were supposed to be in Placerville for a potluck lunch at noon. Cynthia sat down too tired to move at Folsom Prison. We all finally met up at a water store at the intersection we were supposed to take for Placerville. Our hosts in Placerville took many of us, again bikes, bags, and all to the new venue for the potluck, which had been moved to 6:00 PM. Two cyclists, Annie and Scott got there about 4:00 PM, while Vernon and Peter got a wee bit lost and didn’t arrive until 6:00 PM. But in the meantime, Cynthia, my friend Lucy, her friends, and I had a nice nearly woman only time. A rare treat for me!

We were slated to stay in Fairplay that night at Fitzpatrick’s Winery and B&B. Vernon thought we’d have to stay in Placerville, but our host Rick said, “Oh no you’re not.” He’d long ago made the arrangements for us to stay there that night, and Diana (the proprietor had saved us two rooms (one for the lasses and one for the lads). So we got transported to this wonderful place in the world. If you are ever in Fairplay, CA do stay at Brian and Diana’s B&B and don’t forget to have a taste of the ports. My favourite was the Zinfandel Port. (End post for the night due to low battery)

(Continue post morning Wednesday, August 04, 2010, Milford, UT)

Next day we started out with oatmeal and coffee, prepared by Diana at the early hour of 6:30 AM, but late for the start of a ride. This has been and is one of my favourite rides; the ride from Fairplay, via Omo Ranch Road to Highway 50 at Cook’s Station. It was a beautiful, windy road, much like riding up my hill, only more. And since I was in the middle of pack between the strong riders: Annie, Peter, Scott, and Yeyo and Vernon and Cynthia, I had the whole road to myself with nary a car. It was different not to have Vernon at my back suggesting ways to improve my cycling. I sure appreciated the rides up my hill in that I was able to do this ride, without walking and I learned how to breathe and seemed to have my gearing in synch with the climbs. But I was sure glad to see Scott at the intersection with Highway 50 and we both had a huge lunch at Cook’s Station. This would prove for me to be a mistake as I had no energy to continue the climb to the campground at Silver Lake.

In the meantime, Marie, who’d been at the potluck in Placerville and had arranged hosting for us on the fourth night in Woodfords, CA offered to assist us in sagging should we need it. Sagging is taking gear, offering rides, water, food, etc. to cyclists on the road. And did Cynthia and I need it. We caught up with each other at Hams Station—a place to avoid—at least with the present owner, as he said his kitchen was closed and that perhaps Cynthia might want to find a Lenny’s (next door to Denny’s). Sigh. If they ever get a new owner, perhaps you might try again, but the place is very run down and the restroom door doesn’t even close.

We had originally thought to stay in Kirkwood and have a rest day there, but because of Marie’s local knowledge we stayed at the Silver Lake Campground, just a bit further from the Carson Pass summit, but not much and it was downhill to Kirkwood (mostly) from Silver Lake.

The climb in the morning from the campground to Carson Pass was wonderful. I made it all the way, and not too far behind the strong cyclists. Vernon and I stopped a few times; always in the shade, and only once not at the top of the hill. And the ride down the pass—phenomenal! Not over 35 MPH, the wind being a gentle brake on the downhill speed. The wind in my ears made it a bit difficult to hear the cars, but only once was that a problem as I had one car and two motorcyclists behind me. The woman on the motorcycle behind the guy told me to “get off the road.” Alas. I never felt in any danger.

Finally we arrived at a nice turn out and rested from the downhill and headed off to Diana’s (a different Diana) Starlight Lodge. One more climb to go and I got chain suck, within about a quarter mile or less of the turn off to her road. Only then did I walk the bike for a bit. This climb I referred to as “taking granny out for a spin.” I was soooooo slow. When we arrived at the Starlight Lodge I immediately took off my shoes and riding slacks (the latter to prevent sunburn). It was gorgeous, a log cabin mansion. Diana wasn’t yet there but the main house was unlocked, so we went in. She arrived soon after and apportioned rooms, asking if there were any couples. I immediately went and wound my arms around Vernon. We took the room with the huge bed, almost taller than me and Annie took the blue room across the hall. Cynthia was given a room downstairs and Scott and Yeyo went to the cabin—a large domicile in it’s own right. Peter had turned around at the Carson Pass summit to return home. So that left the six of us core riders finally just on our own for a bit (well once Cynthia got there, she and Marie were hanging out—oh and let me mention that Marie does the most gorgeous tie dye!) If you are ever in Markleeville, find her and get some! Her name is Marie Bravo.

Settling in to showers, doing laundry and having a spot of lunch were the first business at hand. Later would be assessing the route, discussing our difficulties of the past few days, and really having our first meeting of the group around the large dinning room table. Thoughts of tandems for Cynthia and Yeyo and Vernon and me were discussed. Ideas of train rides part of the way through the tough parts were also floated. But what it came down to was that most felt better about renting a car for carrying panniers, and for those needing to be transported to the day’s end locations. That was arranged for Carson City the next day after many phone calls back and forth between Annie and Scott and the rental agencies. And we got a very welcome chance to catch up on email and to see about further hosting opportunities, etc. And at last a chance to rest almost a full day, as we arrived sometime early afternoon or late morning.

Diana had asked some people over for dinner that night, it was her 59th birthday. Dinner was delicious, roasted rosemary potatoes, hummus and more that I can’t remember at the moment. The next morning Diana got up early at 5:00 AM to make us breakfast: scrambled eggs, pancakes with nuts and flax, coffee, etc. yum and the strong riders and Vernon (also a strong rider but the one who stays in back to make sure we are all okay) left for Carson City to meet Cynthia and I at the car rental place later in the day. Vernon road fully loaded to Carson City from the Starlight Lodge.

I was soooo sad to rent the car, partly because I was sleep deprived from the last week’s activities (and I haven't even mentioned the Jack London Inn, the Berkeley remembrance trip or the potluck at the Black Dot, well not much). I felt so bad for Vernon that the brave adventure needed help, that I wasn’t in the shape I needed to be, that we were going to use a vehicle, it all just came crashing down. I’ve acclimated to it some now as I sit writing this in an air-conditioned motel room at the Affordable Motel in Milford, UT but it is still difficult and I know I want to ride more. Cynthia and I are taking over the role of sagging the others. I think soon I will be riding with them in the morning and maybe be sagged myself if need be. I miss riding with Vernon at my back (in spite of what I said earlier in the Omo Road remembrance) and he is quite exhausted when he gets in. But in the meantime I’m securing hosting and lodging so I am more valuable that way.

Anyway, rental car in hand, gear loaded from Diana’s car to the rental, goodbyes to Diana, the last Trader Joes shopping until when, forays into Walmart (sorry) and the bike shop in Carson City, a trunk bike rack purchased (for three bikes); the cyclists headed off to Silver Springs for a campsite at the Lahotan Reservoir and Cynthia and I loaded into the car to meet up with them (they got there first and had pizza ordered for us by the time we arrived). We all headed east, thus ending the Bike4Peace 2010 bed and breakfast leg of the tour. Next stop after Silver Springs was Middlegate, NV for a stay and rest day at the Middlegate Station, an American experience not to be missed, thus beginning the night ride/hotel leg of the Bike4Peace 2010 tour.

Now Middlegate Station is something you must experience if you are ever on the road from Carson City to points east on Highway 50 (the “Loneliest Highway in America”) past Fallon do check it out and see if you can find the Bike4Peace 2010 dollar bill near the grill. Middlegate Station is a hotel, bar/restaurant, and camping area. They boast the monster burger, which if you eat it all you are awarded a t-shirt saying that you did so. It is sort of like AlphaBits and the AlphaFarm but a redneck/country western version of a commune. Those who live there run the facility but refuse to call it work. The motel is made up of old man camp trailers that look sort of like railroad cars and aren’t much wider. Each room has its own distinctive rundownness. Walls in the rooms are merely paneling on studs but there is enough soundproofing between rooms, mainly due to the constant running of the air-conditioners/swamp coolers. Vernon’s and my room had the only coffee maker. Cynthia’s and Annie’s room had the best real AC. Of course I must add here that if you are ever in Fairplay, CA please stay at Fitzpatrick’s and do tell them we sent you. They hosted us for free as did Diana at the Starlight Lodge. So do patronize them if you can. Middlegate tho is affordable.

However before Middlegate, Cynthia and I visited John in Fallon. He was referred to us by an ex-wife from the Seattle area. He loaded us with farm fresh eggs, potatoes, onions and garlic (probably enough of the latter for the whole trip).

So with Middlegate began the night riding; Vernon rising at midnight with the others rising in time to push off for 1:00 AM. Cynthia and I sleeping in until 3:00 AM (or later as the night rides progressed). I think I will feel like I’ve gotten sleeping in time when day riding starts again (perhaps tomorrow) with a later wake up time of maybe 4:00 AM or 5:00! Many times the riders got to the destination before us, but not today as it was nearly and 80 mile ride.

We stayed in Austin, Eureka, and Ely Nevada; each town with its particular charm and sadness. Many buildings boarded up, out of business, etc.; much like the buildings in Oakland on San Pablo Ave. and downtown; each town a remembrance of vibrancy long gone. Austin a small town about three blocks long has no grocery store. I wonder if it ever did, in talking with my parents they say my cousins Ted and Bev lived there and had their children there. I’ll have to ask them. Now the only groceries are in the service station convenience stores. They do have a very nice restaurant across from the Lincoln Motel. I think it is called the International.

In Eureka we stayed at the Sundown Lodge, conveniently located across the street from the grocery store and the Owl Club (a chain casino). We cooked over the camp stove that we bought in Carson City, eggs in the morning and macaroni and cheese for dinner. In between times folks made sandwiches, many for their night rides. Reminds me we need a shopping trip today. We stayed all in one room, except for Paul who had hooked up with us at Middlegate. He may be going his own way tomorrow as we approach Cedar City for a rest day and a change from night riding.

In Ely we stayed at the Hotel Nevada and Gambling Hall, a place frequented by the stars back in the heyday of Hollywood. Vernon and I were in the Gary Cooper room. The others stayed in a suite with a room full of single beds (two a bunk) and another room with a double bed. We ate $5.00 breakfasts all day long, met a waitress who knew the scoop on the state of our country (even without internet). Of course now instead of a well appointed lobby with opportunities for musicians there are only slot machines. Sad…….

And last night we stayed at the Silver Jack Inn in Baker (as mentioned before); my last time in my home country of CA/NV. It was a soft night, lightning in the distance, Milky Way visible, crickets, breezes and only one car in the time I stayed out looking at the sky hoping for a glimpse of an aurora. They, Baker and the Great Basin in Nevada are facing their own water wars, reminiscent of the Owens Valley and LA. Las Vegas wants their water. Cynthia says that Las Vegas will run out of water in 2012. A pipeline is being built, ranchers are selling. The property of the Silver Jack, the block it is on, and the block across the street are for sale by the owner of the Silver Jack (a San Francisco artist/investor). As I was watching the sky last night I heard a stream gurgling and I was saddened. Baker felt like a mini version of Bishop, CA my home town.

And in entering Utah, I truly felt like I was leaving home.

Today our sag vehicle helped a group of folks crossing the continent on horse back. And for now I must blog off as I’m hungry and haven’t really eaten since yesterday. Plus I have administrative duties to attend to. I need to find out about hosting in Cedar City, some has been offered, but is still not secure. And I should probably secure our camping through Utah, except for Caineville where there appears to only be a Rodeway Inn. I’m still not sure there is any camping at Hite’s Crossing. And then there is following up on leads in Colorado. Plus it’s time to give the computer over to someone else.

Yaney

Background

Ah no real blogging for over a year. And what a time it has been. So where do we start?

In the summer of 2008 it being my 25th year after moving from Berkeley to Corvallis, I decided to come to terms with what I still feel was a forced move from somewhere I really loved. So I went back to say farewell or investigate whether I wanted to move back and how? It was quite a pleasant journey on the train; it even basically got there in time (which it doesn’t always due to that the freight trains get priority—wish there would be some legislation to require coordination). It was a most pleasant visit. I stayed at a couple of friend’s houses in Richmond. One friend’s house was just two blocks away from where I first lived in the Bay Area as a little girl when my dad was getting his Masters at UC Berkeley. This is the house where I swear I flew, where Mr. Martinucci lived and grew the most amazing carnations, and where the train went by every day and I’d say, “muckatboose” most likely meaning, “Look at the caboose.” Now the BART goes on those tracks across the street in a gorgeous curve and there’s a sweet park and bike lane.

My friends from Berkeley landfill days treated me to a good couple of lunches, Dan Knapp of Urban Ore even had a huge feast of Mexican food for all of the workers to fete me and we reminisced about the great view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the landfill and the politics and the personal of what happened between all the players.

I enjoyed taking my soprano sax, Charlie Louise, out to the now Cesar Chavez Park that I helped create as a Berkeley Landfill worker. I sure enjoy seeing my friend, Knox posting pictures of his loved ones playing at and visiting the park. And it was great to realize that even in some small way I helped create Urban Ore. And that sometimes it’s the small things we do that are just the right stitch to put in the fabric of the greater life on this planet. I still don’t think I’ve completely come to terms with my loss of Berkeley, but I have come to terms more with Corvallis. I still pine for 1940 Cedar or a house that more reflects me than the Pi in the Sky Ranch—but for the time being it is what it is.

Foreground

So what has happened in my life since the Agony Letter? A lot has happened and not much to agonize over any more, even though there many struggles. You’ve seen a few pictures but not much discussion.

I got employed at a wonderful place in March of 2008. The Unitarian Universalists in town agreed to hire me as their Office Administrator—I love the job. The Fellowship is only two and a half miles from my house, the closest place in town for me to be employed. This has become much more important that I would have thought when I took the job. Even though part of the reason I was excited about the job was because I could walk to work. The worst day there is still better than my best day anywhere else. And I can maybe count a handful of difficult days and a couple of long weeks—none bad, just challenging. Mainly it’s electric driven technology (computers, copy machines, and the danged internet connection that usually has to be reset at least once a week, taking at least 45 minutes in the process—that elicit pouts and frowns). And even after being there almost two years I’m still finding out parts of my job that my two hour training didn’t quite encompass. I am looking forward to documenting the job so that the next person or even I will know what, when, and how things are done. And it’s a gorgeous view out my window of a very sweet neighborhood, trees, and flowers.

As some know, Michael had been having a lot of hip pain (since June of 2005), we finally found out that he needed hip replacement surgery; he had that in April of 2008. But in the meantime things were quite stressful as was mentioned in the Agony Letter. He was not a happy camper and it was a huge strain on our relationship. Thank All The Deities (TATD) that it’s over now. He is finally getting back to his old hoppy self and is even starting to head out on hikes on the weekends. Of course along the way he had pneumonia, and a heart attack, pneumonia in June and the attack in October of that year--Ugh what a hard year. Killed a few plants by neglect, (the latter can happen all so quickly, a couple of weeks of neglect and the poor green things are gone) all the chickens got predated, and the housework basically fell apart. Of course there are places in this house that haven’t been touched in 30 years, we’re working on that but it’s still too slow a process for this Virgo lass—ah alas.

I have to say that my stint at Oregon PeaceWorks (OPW), from January 2003 to May 2005, had a great impact on my life and health. I met many wonderful people throughout the Northwest and have gained an appreciation of many communities and their own particular styles. Which actually gave me a greater appreciation for Corvallis and definitely for driving and walking and being downtown in Corvallis as opposed to Salem.

But the two hours of daily driving in my ’79 VW van, Doppio, over the course of two and a half years basically left my right elbow in constant pain, which has still not quite subsided. It’s better, at least I can tuck in a sheet and I’m down to three ibuprofens in the evening, instead of all day long. And the constant meetings and struggles of the way those kinds of meetings go, left me with a need to back away from most things “political”. It was kind of a mini PTSD, I felt that I just wanted to yell “shut up” in the meetings—so I put myself on a good long time out. For which I broke that fast a bit in November of 2007 see More of the Healing Heart.

In this blog I talk about meeting Cynthia McKinney, we in Corvallis did finally get a brief meeting with Cynthia a couple of days later on her way back up to Portland. I sat across the table from her at The Sunnyside Café where she looked us/me in the eye and said, “Tell then the good news.” The good news that there is/was an alternative to vote for other than the two-party duopoly, that there is a message of hope, and that there are people who really care about us/the planet, and more. Sadly we see that one party really exCHANGEs nothing. We still have Gitmo, we are still in Iraq and Afghanistan and now since the election we are bombing Pakistan, the banks have been bailed out and not held accountable; payday loan sharks are resurfacing with 79.9% interest/$500 dollar limit “credit cards”, there is no real healthcare proposal, and the Supreme Court just last month (January 2010) gave corporations full personhood with their ruling on campaign finance restrictions—welcome back to feudalism and let’s not even talk about foreclosures and the credit mess in which most of us find ourselves experiencing. No it didn’t get better fast enough and no I won’t be able to repay it—that’s my next challenge. But I’m not getting too all freaked out about it, even though once in awhile I have a huge pout day or weekend and lose a few winks of sleep.

Anyway after that meeting, Cynthia and I exchanged chats on the Gmail and she even read the aforementioned blog and perhaps the earlier one Weekend Serenade for a Broken Heart and Celebration of Such, where I discuss the hugest broken heart I ever had. Off and on I’ve continued to send her brief messages when I noticed she was on line. And I was deeply happy to see her pop back up on-line after being released from Israeli jail on July 7, 2009 after her mission to Gaza. For more about the mission and the imprisonment see this article for the rest if you are interested please Google it.

Circularity—Just Keeps Spinning Into My Life

So dear reader, I find that life is very circular many times. My cousin, Marla, is the one who really got me into this. When my dear Uncle Bill died and I was coming to stay at her house for the memorial service in late September of 2007, she said that they had wireless and I could bring my computer. Well, I didn’t have computer that had that functionality, I had no laptop. But before the trip I managed to acquire one off of Craigslist.

Then my temp job at OSU’s Student Involvement ended and since I had the technology and wanted to keep up with friends that I’d met there so I started a MySpace and FaceBook page. I’d been blogging before but hadn’t ventured out to being much more of a social networking butterfly than that. MySpace was the first that I really used. Meeting other folks who loved sax, jazz, Donovan, etc.; keeping up with some family, favorite bands, and others who just happened to be interesting. I even developed a crush on a MySpace friend. And when that crush asked his MySpace friends to follow him on Twitter, I did.

And through the Twitter circles, of Jim Page, I found Vernon in August of 2008. See I’d already met him earlier that year in February with Michele during a planning meeting for a CodePink event, but thought he was a bike “fascist” (now I say zealot) and I told him that I’d like to see him “ride up my hill.” What a line!

I mean it wasn’t the first time some single white male had given me a raft about having/owning/driving a car. Andrew Geller was elated when my previous VW Van, Brekex, burnt down in a bizarre fire. It’s just that my experience biking had not always been that pleasant or voluntary. One year when Russell and I were particularly poor, here in Corvallis, I had nothing but a bike and I rode it with three kids on it and a basket for laundry or groceries. I was a strange sight to see indeed; one child, Zeke, on a handlebar child seat (between the handlebars and the saddle), Harvest on the back child seat over the back wheel, and Max strapped to me in a Snuggly baby carrier on my front, with the carrying basket for groceries or laundry in front of the handlebars over the front wheel. I mean I thought of doing a magazine called Peasant Woman Monthly. So let’s say, when we finally got and could afford a car I was quite happy. Maybe if we’d had the money to have those fancy bike trailers, the experience might have been different. And let me mention this was a green three speed—maybe a Raleigh, I don’t recall. After that expeirence I just wanted to put all that poverty behind me.

Anyway, when I “met” Vernon again on Twitter on August 21, 2008, he was, “Looking for a home for my rather large drum set.”My ears perked up and I thought maybe he has some soul, etc. Plus he was part of the tribe/family and new in town. One had to be gracious. So I invited him to come up and see if my basement living room would work. It took a while as our schedules continued to not mesh but on September 30, 2008 he finally rode up to the house to scope out the basement. He did some clapping and decided the acoustics were good enough. I’d been lying on the ottoman upstairs as I’d come down with a particularly bad backache. So after the acoustic test and a bit of discussion on the couch downstairs we went in my Sewing Sanctuary to look up something on the web, I really don’t recall what. And that’s when he started to rub the spot between my wings that had been so disabling. It felt to me like the deities had all decided to visit at once. They were all saying, “Hello, I’m here.” And being one who has read a lot about hosting strangers/deities, I decided there might be something here.

Oh but before that, since I knew he was a drummer, I invited him to come check out our little summer jazz band that was meeting in the Central Park Gazebo. He was late to this meeting as he was helping Michele and Reese out with their car that had gotten somehow stuck in Lebanon, OR. But he did carry my soprano case back to my car and we had a bit of chat about things. Come to find out he had been the next door neighbor to Derek Parrott (my heartbreaker mentioned above) in Langley on Whidbey Island. He was also friends with our (Derek and my) mutual friend Timothy Hull. (TimOH).

See the Langley connection is extremely important. When I went to Derek’s Aloha party (aloha to Langley for Kauai) in June of 2006, I noticed that many of the men in the room were hitting on me, and I made connections with others that I think are still there. I’d had this revelation that I’d fished out all the eligible lads in Corvallis and it was time to try a new village, and I think the lads who were being friendly at that party had also come to the same conclusion about Langley. So here was this lad who had also come from this village and we were meeting in mine. Plus, I could ask those mutual friends about him, and I did!

Anyway, prior to the backrub, I was very leery about Mr. Huffman, but when he was message number 555 on my Gmail at the same time I was number 888 on Knox’s Flapping Myspace and we were Tweeting at the time, I mentioned it. That’s when Vernon let me know about his interest in five against eight time. I have always been a fan of the number five, being born in 1955 (as were Vernon and Cynthia McKinney). So it was a very nice karma to step into. Anyway, that was just a week shy of us “getting together”. I’d been emailing and Gmail chatting with him for a week and when he said that he was “eager for physical affection” what a way to phrase it! I mean woo me with words and some correctly placed commas (I’ve learned more about that particular punctuation from reading Vernon’s words than all my English teachers and Peter Bergel , PeaceWorker editor and my former boss at OPW, combined).

So after a certain amount of electronic exchange where I told him to go slow (adagio), I said to myself, “Yaney, he’s not in Oakland, and he’s not in Portland, he’s only ten minutes away. What’s your problem?” So after telling him to go slow, just minutes after, I went to his place, Veggie House, and decided to really check him out. But by no means was anything settled. Would I “get together” with him or wouldn’t I? It was an explore.

So I showed up at the Veggie House door, and Vernon answered it. He gave me a tour of the house, an old sorority house. And we ended up at a calendar in the kitchen, which had a picture of some peasants in Honduras who had put rocks in the road to block a water pipeline from being constructed. I mentioned that the terrain looked a lot like where I was born, Bishop, CA, he said it looked a lot like his hometown of Big Timber, MT. Then he went on to ask about California, I showed him where Bishop was on the map in the dining room of Veggie House, and he mentioned that his parents had been in California during WWII as pilots and he asked where Victorville was? Victorville!? The town I had lived in from kindergarten through high school. He had connections there?! Well that just settled it—it was enough circularity, more than enough. I decided we should “be together” and we went up to his room. And me droogies, it was like coming home.

Of course, after that night I did finally ask TimOH and Derek what they thought about him. I’d previously asked a friend, Margi, what she thought about him. Her reaction was negative, Derek’s and TimOH’s weren’t. Sometimes you ask friends because you know if they don’t like something, you will. My experience in the last near year and a half has borne this out.

But What Does This Have To Do With The Bike Ride?

Well I have to admit that I never would have thought about bicycling across country until Michele did. And my immediate thought when she told me she was, was “Dang Michele if you do this, I’m going to have to some time!” Here’s my posting about her and Vernon’s ride across the country: More on Peace. I was quite unpleased that she took off. First of all, it was a hard re-introduction to Corvallis after OPW. I was thrilled to have someone who had been a friend of mine during that time in Salem in Corvallis. She’d just had her twins and my granddaughter, Jazmyn, was still in town and I thought it’d be cool for all of us to hang out. But that was not to be.

Michele left with the twins on this strange bike ride. Ouch. And I really didn’t know much about it. I was so upset that I refused to attend the kick-off ceremonies or any fundraisers associated with it. So I never met Vernon then. And I admit that after they got back I thought he was the one who stole her away. Well in reality, she just asked him for advice and his advice was to take him with her. So I guess it was Michele or both of them in collusion.

Well they went on the bike ride and finally Michele was back! But in the process Vernon had fallen in love with her and thought that he was welcome to live with her, etc. Well those plans didn’t quite transpire as Michele had met Reese in the meantime. So Vernon arrived in Corvallis, had his heart broken, was homeless for a bit, and finally ended up at Veggie House with that rather large drum set. And it is an impressive one; six tom toms, two base drums, timbales, etc., and more cowbell. And it’s in my basement, nicely accessorized with him as drummer as he moved into Michael's and my house on New Year’s of 2009. Now I live with two men—yikes!

So back to the bike ride Bike4Peace 2010. As you already know I’d been Gmail chatting with Cynthia McKinney off and on, and when I realized that I was going to go on the next cross country bike ride with Vernon (it will be his third, my first). I invited Cynthia and she said yes! We all will be turning 55 in 2010, Cynthia on March 17, me on 9/11, Vernon on Christmas Eve. I don’t know what all that has to do with it. But part of what I love about being with Vernon is that he is my age, but more than that, is that I feel the high country in him and I am certainly interested in exploring that high country—Carson and Monarch Passes. We will all be pushing more physical boundaries than we really know, and we will succeed. We intend to engage those we meet in discussion about how to save the planet and ourselves, how to reclaim our government, how to arrive at healthcare for all, and how to transition out of the oil economy. Plus now we might be engaging in discussions about the corporate control of our lives and government. Please join us on the road, in spirit, or in contribution to support the ride and riders.

Yours,

Yaney LA MacIver

SweetheartoftheValley, Pi in the Sky Ranch, Dimple Hill, Corvallis, Oregon Sunday, February 14, 2010—Happy Valentine’s Day and Chinese New Year of the Tiger.

Coast Trip for Michael's 80th and other B'day Pics

Dishes after the soup of the week before.
Re-building the futon frame.


A bit of a blurry Y that met us on the rocks
Michael coming from the first tide pool.
Hello, I'm 80!
A very interesting shaped rock figure.

Hole from the Albert Hall
Filling the hole--peekaboo.
Mushroom on the road.
Michael and Leo who met us for a brief minute on the way to Waldport.
A hearty plate of rice at the Thai place on the Newport Bay Front.

New Cat Amusement

I guess Manx's don't chase their own tails. But Starfish kitty sure doesn't need any fancy toys, she's quite happy chasing hers.

Heading to the Dock of the Bay and Area

Hey SF Bay Area--see you soon.

Radio of the Day--The Outside World and Inspiration

Dear all,

Here is the embed that will hopefully work, if not the url is there and the two poems about my wonderful friends at KBOO late night radio.



A Sound Vision
(Ode to KBOO)

I have seen radio,
a vision from which
one will never sleep again:

curled around the speaker,
holding the bubble of sound
as it expands:

circle upon circle
through the atmosphere
then through space.

I have seen radio.

I have seen the Octopus
in his garden
create the pastiche of sound
with a wink and a smirk.

Prisms of waves,
rainbows of quiet,

one sound, then two,
until they pinball
through the speaker

to dreaming eyelids
and
dance in the heart.

10/25/1999

Ode II to KBOO

It is this cord,
umbilical
that pulls us
guide us
from home to
the heart
as we drive
arrive from anywhere
to here, 20 SE 8th.

It is this wave
of delight and torment
ecstasy and despair
consensus and conflict
sweet controversy
which feeds our
introspections
and our global action.

It is this circle
upon circle
upon circle outward
rippling through the
amber waves
and purple mountains
past henge and pyramid
perhaps even to The Great Wall

touching other ripples
creating new angles
of thought.

It is this spiral
which winds us
and springs us forth
through magnetic magic

a conch shell
of ocean sounds
of thunder and of rain.

8/1/2K

cc nc nd Yaney LA MacIver

The Agony Aunt Letter

Dear Friends,

It was quite a pleasure to hang out with some of you when Michael and I came up for the KBOO meeting on January 26^th.

I am at a crossroads in my life or perhaps we are at a crossroads. As many of you know the original plan had been to move to Greece once the kids were out of high school and the house. Well one kid, Zeke, took a couple extra years to move and due to my lay off at HP in 2001 (two weeks before 9/11) I didn't have the luxury of taking a sabbatical to test out the Mediterranean waters and then I worked for OPW which was a huge loss of $$ and almost crippled me due to the drive between Corvallis and Salem. And then Michael's condition deteriorated due to his hip (he will most likely need surgery). And I realise that at least the outside of the Π (Pi) in the Sky Ranch is very much what one would call a landfill (or a hippy dump) and neither of us are up to clearing it together or separately (at least at this point).

It was also, very much a pleasure to be hosted by Michael's son Nic and his wife Jess as well as his daughter Katie over the X'mas holiday week in Santa Rosa and SF. There is a wonderful group of people there who more or less support each other although sometimes with some attitude that is inimical to folks who have been together a long time on a communal project much as Star Mountain or KBOO for that matter are. And Santa Rosa is just an hour away from Berkeley and SF and not much further to Sactotoon where I have many relatives who I don't get to see very often.

Hence I am trying to figure out what to do next. We are not so in debt that selling the house and buying another gracefully is totally out of the picture (the financial deities willing). But there is of course a cash flow issue as I am now again unemployed and feeling like a professional job seeker (I mean I can write mocking cover letters as jokes to friends) and I have been living off credit card checks for the last little bit.

I have talked with Ani a bit about this and I know she would love to have me/us up in Portland Town and I think that would be better for my health (public transit, walking, not driving to concerts, just hanging out with friends face to face, mano a mano―it was so wonderful to be around you Conch you bring laughter and lightness). But would Santa Rosa be much different? I love those kids, they are fun, have good food and they let me be me even when I'm a bit tipsy. They are so awesome! You see the landscape in the Santa Rosa area especially between Santa Rosa and Sebastopol is so much like the landscape around my native Bishop, CA only greener and the hills remind me of going to Summit from Corvallis only with cactus. It's very perfect. But so is Portland Town in its way. I mean it reminds me a lot of Berkeley when I left only my friendships are deeper there than in Berkeley I mean I have folks who I consider soul mates, yet there could be many wonderful soul mates in Santa Rosa. Plus I could go take sax lessons at the Church of St. John Coltrane every week. Anyway. . .

And just a few minutes ago another of the trees fell (an oak that had rotted away) at least it fell on another tree! So I say it s a sign that the land is telling us to leave, it is looking for someone else (most likely younger who can maintain it better). When I moved her nearly 15 or more years ago (The Π in the Sky Ranch that is not Corvallis which was 25 years ago this summer―damn nearly half my life in a place that has never embraced me and that I have not really found soul mates) anyway as I was saying when I moved to the Π I was very much needing a house to hold my three kids as they all left their dad when he moved to Buffalo. And I never thought I'd be at this house that long, I mean I guess it was a choice-whatever real choices life gives us.

But it is time to move on from the Π and I say this with the background of how painful the move from Berkeley to Corvallis was; how poor we (Russ and I) were; how we lived in crappy places with splintery floors at times, dirt basements, cardboard walls. It was the hippy dream (nightmare) and what more was I to expect? The Π was at least safe for the kids. And I haven't been malnourished except for the first year here in Cornvalley. But I just can't do that type of a move again. So what am I supposed to do, can I have a real job please, and a nice house and will you come to potlucks/hang out, etc.? I know some of you may be thinking that I'm being quite the high maintenance valley girl here--but I've had enough funk (not funky music mind you--although) it almost broke my heart to see Liberty Hall when I've seen what folks can do to make a community place. (I know it's what's available and folks have put lots of effort into it yet take a look at Damanhur and you'll see what I mean.)

So my dear Portland friends what say you about me moving up to Stumptown? I can admin and coordinate as you all know. Do you think that a busload of you might come down on Cool (providing it's available and Joe is willing) and help us with the yard? Or something like that. Will anyone step forward to be a point person to organize that up there? Or is this something better left to say JunkBeGone (I've written them but they've yet to reply―I know there's one also in Salem―but maybe they don't service here?).

Tommy Hollywood's 12 String Stolen and Van Breakin Oustide KBOO 2/8

From Tommy:

"Hi Yaney, I'm still reeling from what happened. There was broken glass all over the chocolate frosting on my birthday cake. I'm brokenhearted about my Guild. The electronics are just electronics, but that was a 17 year relationship with an instrument. I'm very bummed. The good news is people are keeping an eye out for it. Its not the most common guitar. The guitar is a Guild JF30 12 string. It is a beautiful jumbo flamed maple instrument. It has a few cracks in the finish from temperature fluctuations. One crack is right at the headstock. The crack is in the finish only. Here are a couple of pix. The Guild is sitting behind the Fender amp in these shots. I was parked half a block from KBOO's door....just waiting 15 minutes for Kathy Fours to move her car as she left at 2AM. I could have easily caught the bastards in the act. That might not have been such a good thing. The larger issue is the security of late night KBOO programmers."

And on his birthday!!!!

As many of you know KBOO was born in Tommy's dad's (Ern Hood's) house.

[hq2600] From Cynthia McKinney: "Something for Which to Vote

"We cannot be satisfied so long as the Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and the Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote."
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. August 28, 1963

Dear Friend,

Are you:
* Incredulous at the fact that two Presidential elections were stolen and no one was held accountable?
* Disappointed that, as a result, our country is at war, involved in torture, war crimes, crimes against humanity, and crimes against the peace?
* Concerned, especially in light of New Hampshire, that your vote might not be counted in November and that the will of the voters will be thwarted yet again with election fraud or outright theft?
* Disquieted that the use of electronic voting machines, coupled with laws that restrict public access to election data "owned" by voting machine companies, might thwart your ability to verify election results if they are in question?

As acknowledged in the documentary American Blackout, I worked with investigative journalist Greg Palast and conducted my own Congressional investigation into election theft in Florida and across our country in the Presidential election of 2000. Those proceedings documented the role of Data Base Technologies, now a part of ChoicePoint, and election officials in Florida, in illegally "scrubbing" the voter rolls.

In 2001, with Al Gore presiding, I objected to the seating of the Florida electors. Not one Senator objected and so there was no discussion and no debate in the Congress about what happened in Florida and across our country in the 2000 Presidential election during the seating of the Electoral College. The same pattern of fraud and theft was planned and executed in the 2004 Presidential election. But this time, not relying on any political party, the people themselves demanded and funded an investigation into what happened in Ohio. More and more information comes to us about how the will of voters in Ohio was deliberately suppressed to produce a desired outcome. This effort at discovering the truth of Ohio was led by independents, Libertarians, and the Green Party because the Democrats had already conceded the election.

In my own 2006 Congressional election, Georgia courts have ruled that the electronic election data cannot be made public because they belong to Diebold. The matter is going to be appealed all the way to the Georgia Supreme Court, but isn't that a shame? In my election night speech I declared electronic voting machines a clear and present danger to our Republic.

I want to keep election protection and a radical common sense approach to issues on the table. As the candidates with populist appeal, but without their party's support, are being pushed to the margins, I want to make sure that the election results are truly a reflection of the will of the voters. That will only happen if there is another voice raising critical issues.

Are you also:
* Waiting to hear the leading Presidential contenders say that it's past time to repeal the Patriot Acts, the Secret Evidence Act, the Bush tax cuts, the Military Tribunals Act, bring our troops home now, and institute a livable wage?
* Infuriated that 48 million of our neighbors have no access to health care while those of us with insurance have our claims too often denied?
* Ready to have the Parties' solutions to the shrinking dollar and the ballooning national debt explained, especially in light of rising food prices and unemployment?
*Tired of the belligerent talk being directed at Iran and Pakistan and ready for our country to become a leader in pursuit of peace? And finally, are you also
*Afraid that the issues you really care about won't get addressed in this election season and therefore the likelihood of them being addressed by the incumbent is almost nil?

I have traveled across our country to almost half its states. I have met too many people disillusioned by their fears that their issues won't be addressed in this campaign season. I've met many people who want to participate, but who long ago figured out that the system was rigged against the interests of working families and so, dropped out, but who want to have hope that our country can be delivered from its current morass.

Too many are feeling that they have nothing for which to vote, that their votes won't count, even worse, they might not even be counted. To them, I suggest looking another way. As I have done. On March 17th of 2007, I declared my independence from national leadership that deepens the slough in which our country finds itself today. That leadership has enabled our country to throw away traditional American values of justice, and peace, and freedom.

I have now become a member of the Green Party and am seeking its Presidential nomination.

I'm encouraging the people I've met to join me and do some things we've never done before in order to have some things we've never had before. I hope you will lend your support so we can press for election integrity and put real solutions to the problems faced by real people on the table in real talk that we all can understand.

This election in November is critical. The future of our country and the content of the current debate can be influenced by us. Please help me create the political space for real issues to stay on the table. I know you support the truth. I know you want to help the American people know the truth.

Please visit www.allthingscynthiamckinney.com to review my record. Please visit www.runcynthiarun.org to donate to this effort.

Please take the time to view two youtube offerings: http://youtube.com/watch?v=03cOM9r51Nw and http://youtube.com/watch?v=ozQ_iPuqCxg

After viewing these films, I hope you will agree that our work deserves your support. The time is too precarious, the issues too important, our futures too much at risk for us to lose any more critical voices on important issues.

Thank you again for your support of truth. I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Cynthia McKinney

P.S. You can mail your donation by U.S. Postal Service to:

Power to the People Committee
Cynthia McKinney for President
P.O. Box 311759
Atlanta, GA 31131-1759

Please complete and include in your mail our contribution form to help us comply with federal election reporting requirements:

http://www.runcynthiarun.org/pdf/contributor_form.pdf

Please note: Campaign Contributions are not tax-deductible. Corporate contributions are not permitted. Only U.S. residents and citizens aged 17 or older may make contributions to federal elections.

--
"It is the absolute responsibility of everybody in uniform to disobey an order that is either illegal or immoral." General Pace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, National Press Club, February 17, 2006

"My brother need not be idealized . . . beyond what he was in life. To be remembered simply as a good and decent man who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it. Eulogy of Bobby Kennedy by Teddy Kennedy, June 18, 1968

"Certain material weaknesses in financial reporting and other limitations on the scope of our work resulted in conditions that, for the 10th consecutive year, prevented us from expressing an opinion on the federal government's consolidated financial statements." David Walker, Comptroller General of the United States, December 15, 2006
_______________________________________________
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Adventures in Translator Land a Report from 100.7 K264AA

Well hi all from the SweetHeart of the Valley at the Pi in the Sky Ranch. As some of you Corvallans might know we have changed our translator antennae site from the commercial one we’ve been paying for through the nose all these years to the OPB/KOAC tower just a wee bit away from the former site. Hence we’ve been playing with the signal abit via KBOO engineer, John Mackey and a few other folks two Roberts (one of them dear Pue Rogers of Mt. St. Helens fame--Echoes of Fury: The 1980 Eruption of Mount St. Helens and the Lives It Changed Forever by Frank Parchman) and a recent KBOO volunteer Brian who came up with Mr. Mackey just this last Friday.

Well what a day to come up to work on a tower! Wind gusts to 40 miles an hour, trees dancing tangos on Vineyard Mountain where the tower is located. And then we get up to just feet from the tower and the buildings and what should our wondering eyes see—but of course a downed tree in the road. Of course John asks if we have brought our chain saw, well myself, the SweetHeart of the Valley (being a bit of princess will not let a chain saw in her new—to her—’97 Plymouth Voyager with two sliders).And we gave the chain saw away as it was possessed and followed me around the laundry room. But thankfully Mr. Mackey has a four wheel drive rig and we pushed the top part of the tree out of the way so he could take Michael, Brian, and himself up to the tower (I as the princess I am stayed in the warm car). So the work got done and we headed back down the hill with John leading the way for me to back up down the road in the dark.

All this being said, should any of you in 100.7 land want to help out in tweaking the signal do let us know, we would like to map where it is better and worse since last Friday’s adventures. I promise you will not have to carry a chain saw—but we recommend that KBOO have one for this particular site issued in the engineering room as one might a portable recording device. And many thanks to the engineering team at KBOO for making the signal better here in Corvalley and its environs.

Love always,

The SweetHeart of the Valley--Ever your Reality Chick
Pi in the Sky Ranch
http://piintheskyranch.blogspot.com/
http://www.myspace.com/sweetheartofthevalley

A Theory of Everything

Hey all check this dude out!! Garrett Lisi not only can the guy surf, he's working on the Theory of Everything, see this article in the UK Independent: Surfer Dude Stuns Physicists with Theory of Everything. Heck I can't even roller skate without breaking my left arm, done it twice. Thanks to my friend Melodie for passing this along to me.

Reminds me of Moon Man--now that's a story I should tell from my UC Berkeley days. I have a moon acre that I bought for a mere dollar. Well he's gone on to write a book about it and new moon acres are now five dollars. Heck I made money in lunar real estate. And when I ordered his book (two copies, one for me, one for a friend along with a moon acre for the latter) he sent along a brand new acre for me, wow a stock split too. Anyway here's his site I Sold the Moon and since we're on the topic I might add to Barry's injunction of "Think Cosmically, Act Globally" to Eat Locally.

Of course why have the two best books I've read recently been by Virgos? 'Splain' it to me Lucy!

--42--

More of the Healing Heart

Well it seems that yours truly my dear reader, cannot stay away on sabbatical forever. What does this week find your Reality Chick doing but attending three, count them three, political events and one, yikes this is where it gets scary, one meeting. It is time in these U$tates to meet candidates, candidates wives, contribute to as many ends as you can with whatever means available. But this time I promise I will breathe, keep my back open at the wings and not hunched over a steering wheel or even this input device.

The events were:

• Elizabeth Kucinich this weekend
• Cynthia McKinney today and tomorrow
• And a Greens meeting this past evening where there were two candidates running one for Senate and one for the House (as in of Reps in DC)

And but wait there will be more.

However due to some Snafu in PDX land Ms. McKinney didn't make it to Corvallis, except by speaker phone--however myself and Tina being the "unwaged" lasses that we are decided we would drive down to Eugene to see her there. It was a fairly good crowd for Eugene, we in Corvallis, of course had more folks. We also had Tofu America pancakes and soysage for breakfast in Corvallis. And Eugene had a wonderful luncheon repast. So I joked with Tina that we should just follow Cynthia to Ashland (her next stop) and eat at Geppetto's, maybe we'd get the delightfully rude waiter. Yum. But we did return home.

Of course the drive to Eugene and back was quite wonderful, this fall day. And as Danu drove us in comfort we two Virgo lasses caught up on the last few years, since our WTO times and I talked of recent heartbreaks, weaving the story amongst others along the backroads between Corvallis and Eugene. The story has condensed, become part of the mythology, the way I describe my life. It along with the other stories I have not had time to tell myself or read about myself until now braided their way along the backroads. And I realise that part of the hard part about this particular heartbreak is that it happened in June--you see everyone is gone for the summer (especially here in Oregon as they go to the Country Fair, etc.) July is particularly vacant for those of us who stay home. And so the telling of this story amongst friends (too long lost) remained unsaid until nearly the end of September. It has now been honed, edited, the essential elements left for the telling and for the understanding.

Of course each heartbreak is a chance for renewal, for getting deep to the core of who you/we/I am. And as there are personal heartbreaks there are political ones. This may be the time for us all to fully realise our heartbreaks there too. To understand how great a love we come from when we act together to create a better world. To forgive ourselves its/our imperfections in the creation of this relationship with our greater selves, as we do with our individual selves. This is the time to care, to breathe, to know that you are working "in love". We have all had a terrible heartbreak from 9/11, Katrina, Iraq, ad infinitum (no thank you W). Our narratives are still being told as much as we tell our personal narratives about individual heartbreaks. We are still honing, understanding, and this is taking time--but in as much as the personal heartbreaks must take us through the grieving process which includes anger, so must our larger heartbreak that we share. And I think we have been in that anger, or we should relish it for a moment, accept it, feel it, love it for its cleansing. Take it in our silence or with wailing saxes, pounding drums, electric guitars on full feedback. Then can we begin to open the joy we once had and come back together again. But let us not be afraid anymore.

We can do it, we are the ones we have been waiting for---------------breathe, release, breathe, release--ACT, but with thought, with love this time. We may well be afraid, but we are facing our greatest fear now. And we still love.

So what did You do with your Extra Hour?

Well dear readers, I went out to dinner, took in two concerts, brought the plants in for the cold season, and laid a carpet in the music room. Of course that took more than the extra hour and I had to sleep in Monday to recover.

Want to post a new pic of me with my new do and glasses.

Weekend Serenade for a Broken Heart and Celebration of Such

Dear Blogospherians,

What a week, what a time, what a life. As some of you know yours truly has been dealing with a particularly pesky broken heart. Well it seems that the mending is taking place. You know sometimes you meet someone who treats you with such sweetness, caring, and respect and if they do say those three words well you are gone. Has this happened to you dear blogospherian? But their “I love you” is not the same as your “I love you”. Of course, fear of rejection keeps you from asking, “Hey, what you mean you love me?” So if any of you in the dear blogosphere have an answer for what is the best, most polite, and less rejectable way of asking that let me know. For me when thrice said, if I like you, I’m gone. It’s almost like a spell. I mean don’t most folks run screaming from the room when you ask for clarification on that.

And the other lesson I’ve learned as we are speaking about the dreaded L word is that perhaps it is best to let the person know when you are “in love” with them. But don’t they run screaming from the room. Well dear blogospherian—you are worth loving. And if they do run screaming from the room, at least you know, it’s easier to deal with it in the beginning than many months or years later. Plus, it gives them real time information that they might want to use. And perhaps to your advantage?!

Anyway for me it’s been like having the water heater drained and a broken bone reset. Not quite as fun as a tooth cleaning but close; all very necessary maintenance activities (should you have the broken bone of course).

And I just did a Google on blogospherian and it is already on The Google. So I didn’t invent it but it is being used. Can we have Mr. Gates please add it to the MSWord dictionary. Well I can do that myself and so can you dear blogospherian. It’s just a right click away. Rejectable is also on The Google so you can right click that one too.

So here’s a toast to those that come along and reset our broken hearts by breaking them in all the right places and helping us put them back together. May their hearts be healed as well.

Thanks for the memories, attention, and caring. Now let’s move on to our next journey and calling.

With deep caring and Irini,

Y

The Gift

You have been given a gift.
Do you marvel at it?
Strange and precious as it is

Did you not ask for it?
Was it not ordered?

Were you not thrilled when it arrived; you opened it with such anticipation, tearing the packaging, maybe reading the card first, or then again later? Maybe you saved it for that special day to open.

And in the receipt or use thereof you find that it was not quite the item you expected from the catalogue.

Perhaps it was more, perhaps it was less, and perhaps it had different features than described or presumed.

Maybe your system requirements were not sufficient or the gift was for an older version.

But you have been given a gift.
And the gift you.

©11 October 2007—Yaney LA MacIver

Dear John—Happy Birthday

The wheel has turned again, the great grapefruit SOHO wheel, and we come to the annual birthday celebrations of John Coltrane and John Lennon—Libras and happy birthday too to Linda the muse, who has called us all here, well some of us. And then Happy Birthday my dear Mr. Beel Dodge you will be 50 when KBOO is forty next year—what plans can we make for the party. Yes Daniel, I’ll go with you on 24 hours of St. John WillIAm Coltrane.

Hence two weekends in a row, of sleep or not to music, screaming Saxes, screaming Yoko, screaming Beatles, screaming flies, screaming electric unladylandlike guitars. Screaming, screaming—primal screaming. How after eight years of Lennon night I begin to notice a wave, a rhythm of the night—Because is always around 2 AM, and Good Morning too early in the morning before we country folks would ever hear a rooster crow, no wonder we are awake all night even in our own bed, and then the soft last two or three songs of the night before the country show starts. We walk softly out of the station; our trash put away, the dishes washed, softly to the bright October morning light.

And I think of/remember last year’s Lennon weekend and the first time I really went to the Greek Fest. And now dear Daniel tells me about the room in the Greek church that has the pix of the churches’ history including pix of his family and him with a crew cut, I imagine someone looking like Eddie Munster—I will have to see this room and the young Daniel to see this Adam’s family portrait.

How, last year/Lennon Weekend, the dream of the Laundromat in Greece was still alive, and the life that had been planned for next to ever was still taking shape, breakfast with Melodie, sitting in mamayiayiapapaFlessas’ living room discussing how that plan might take place and what it might look like. Oh my dear Laundretiki you are no longer a dream, a desire, and I’m not sure what else to put there, or where the dream is leading.

How last year, this weekend, I was so different than I am this year, this weekend. Perhaps I listened too loud to the music, maybe I was supposed to turn down the volume but it kept speaking to me and it did not seem to want to be on mute. I am as changed as if I had studied sax under John Zorn. My whole body has become an instrument, and I have learned how to whisper in the tenor—you should have heard me last Thursday. So soft on that G, so soft, listen loud, play soft. I have been played and I have played, been one, and been alone more than ever. Lost walls between me and the universe, lost boundaries, opened to all, open to one, with the door once open and the light of the sun shinning through it bright with arms open. Then as it opened the door closed, closed, closed; a glimpse as in the dreams, but only a glimpse, evaporation a mirage on the desert highway. Oh yes I could have written the Song of Songs, that is why I don’t need to read it more than the once. I have known it forever. Where is my love? He is always lost in the Song. Where is my love?

Oh and how listening to Lennon, finding the song of Donovan wafting through, even in Rocky Raccoon, and then hearing the Lennon in the other’s music. I don’t think I ever knew how much I’ve listened and internalised the music. But I do know now. And yet how Daniel also is the musician and how he and the good doctor Geoff play the instrument: Lennon.

And then there is Daniel, pitching, “join us" as in it's time to become a KBOO member, telling us all about Yoko and the Peace Tower that will light from the Earth on Tuesday. We parents of children dream/want to bring into being a world that will last for our kids. We will not go lightly into the night of destruction. Imagine. Through your music, Daniel, John and John, Timothy, Donovan, Frank, and Derek we dream/sing the new world that will come. If we continue singing/dreaming/loving.

Yes, "we are all one and it is all about love", haven't we consented on that in the meeting between us. But that love in the ether is just that ether, air/wind. And I call you to remember the very real/substantial earthlings that need love’s kinesis. Although:

Because God Is An Air Sign

Because God is an air sign
around us all the time.
Because God is an air sign
around us all the time.

Not an Earth Sign, God,
Or he’d be standing next to you in the grocery line.

Because God is an air sign
around us all the time.
Because God is an air sign
around us all the time.

Not a fire sign – oh no
Gusts extinguish each flame.

Because God is an air sign
around us all the time.
Because God is an air sign
around us all the time.

Not a water sign
Water obeys wind, creates walls/paths.

Because God is an air sign
around us all the time.

©6 October 2007—Yaney LA MacIver

Irini—Y—10/7/2007

An Extra Special Delivery on My Birthday

Hi all,

As many of you know my birthday was yesterday, September 11. Well now I share it with a grandson--so introducing Kylin Casey.

Mama's Got A Brand New Ride

Pablo and Malcom welcome you to the brand new ride, Danu is his name. And ain't he sweet!