A Sad Anniversary

Today marks the 25th anniversary of the terror attacks on the United States. 

And unlike the idiot vice president of this country, who noted that we will soon be celebrating September 11, most sane people will not be celebrating this day. We will commemorate the day. We will reflect on the horrible loss of life that happened that day. We will shed tears as we recall there we were on that terrible day. But it sure as hell is not a day to celebrate.

Some 3000 American residents, some of them immigrants, lost their lives in those dastardly attacks. And life for the rest of us has never been the same. Little things, such as having to remove a jacket or take our shoes off or limit liquids or gels that we can carry onto the plane with us to 3.4 ounces and to be screened and patted down as security precautions in the airports, those are all a result of the events of September 11.

I worked for the federal government in California on September 11, 2001. As I approached the gates of the compound where I worked, I was surprised to see a long line of cars waiting to get in. One of the smaller gate was closed. Traffic at the main gate was seriously backed up. When I finally got to the gate, a guard, and the facility always had guards at the gate, asked which building I was going to. I told him, he closely inspected my badge, and then he inspected my car for explosives. Then I was cleared to drive to the building in which I worked, building N204.

I have written about this day previously. Nearly everyone at our center, except for people deemed essential, was sent home. I stayed and managed the public affairs office’s response to the events of that day. I drafted talking points for our senior management. I coordinated talking points with headquarters. I fielded countless questions from local reporters.

I didn't have time to process the events of that day or to grievee until I finally got a day off work a few days later. I remember foing for a walk during my lunch break one day, as I usually did. All flights had been canceled, so when I heard an airplane about to land at the airfiled we shared with the US Navy, I was panic-sticken. Fortunately, I had learned at a sentior staff meeting that morning that a military flight was expected, so my panic quickly subsided.

Even today, 25 years later, watching video or reading about that day brings me to tears. 

I read something this morning that bears repeating: The best way to honor those those on 9/11 is to be the people we wear on 9/12. Americans, regardless of political affiliation, religion, ethnicity or any other things by which we sepearate ourselves, came together. Grief and anger united us. Indeed, the entire world, even our supposed enemies, came together with the United States.

As NBC News anchor Lester Holt said as he wrapped up the network's coverage of the events of 9/11, "What has happened to us?"

Be Well, Happy and At Peace

May you and all beings be well, happy and at peace. 

I really like this quote that the venerable Buddhist monks use to close their Facebook posts. This is the group of monks that walked some 2,300 miles across part of the United States in the name of peace. They have done similar walks in other countries. This group of monks is based in the Dallas area. 

The monks are Vietnamese and Vietnamese-American. During their walks, they aim to spread mindfulness, non-violence and inner healing. They are accompanied by Aloka, known as the peace dog. Aloka is a former stray dog from India.The group's spiritual leader walked most of the route barefoot despite winter weather.

It was amazing to see how people were drawn to the monks. Everywhere the monks walked, they were greeted by crowds of supporters.

They also published the following: May all beings everywhere be free from hatred, be healthy, be safe, be peaceful and at ease in body and in mind, and may they meet no obstacles in their daily lives 🙏

What a lovely thought, especially during this chaotic, greed-filled time in our country country. Many find peace and solace in their dogs, so it shouldn't be a surprise that so many have been drawn to Aloka.

May he be well, happy and at peace. And may he have many more years of helping the monks spread their message, a message this world is sorely in need of hearing at this time.

The Sparkle Is Gone

Dolly Parton died August 25 at age 80.

She was, in the words of one person on social media, "a truly good person." Those four words sum up Dolly Parton's legacy. I have not heard or seen anybody speak ill of her. She was beloved by liberals and conservatives, by young and old, by people who love country music anb by those who can't stand it.

She was a singer. She was a songwriter with more than 3,000 songs to her credit. She was an actress. She was a philanthropist. Her Imagination Library mailed some 3 million books for free to children from birth to age five. She was kind. She believed in acceptance. She supported the LGBTQ community. A devout Christian, her religion was personal. She never tried to impose it on others. But she lived the most Christlike life of anyone I’ve ever heard of.

There is a burgeoning movement to make 9/25 Dolly Parton Day. The city of Nashville, Tennessee, where she lived, is hoping to rename the city airport after her. I mean, if an airport can be named after the felonious president of the United States, how about naming the Nashville airport after such a good, kind and generous person?

I have never liked country music, but I would listen to Dolly‘s music. She wasn’t the old style country music with all the twangy guitars, so I could listen to her. But I think much of my willingness to listen to Dolly Parton sing was the knowledge of what a great person she was. She was funny. She was self deprecating. She was kind. She was compassionate. She stayed well away from politics. She was a dog lover. She cared about the environment. She was a wonderful, generous philanthropist. She donated $1 million to Vanderbilt University to aid in the development of what has become known as the Moderna COVID-19 vaccine. When people in her part of Tennessee were suffering in the aftermath of a mess massive flood, she donated lots of money. She was a big advocate of the LBGTQ population.

She was an extremely successful woman, breaking down barriers from the very first days of her career. She was an astute businesswoman. She grew up in extreme poverty, the fourth of 12 children in the family. Yet she never forgot where she came from. The people of eastern Tennessee remained close to her heart for her entire life.

One person online described her as being goodness without self righteousness.

The world will be a sadder, crueler place without Dolly Parton in it.

Fly Free, Jackie

Jackie, a bald eagle with thousands of followers online, died recently.

The foks at the Ojai Raptor Center in southern California worked tirelessly to save this cherished symbol of America. Her cause of death remains unknown, although she was severely anemic  She was involved in a fight with two other eagles, although reportedly her illness was unrelated to the fight. She was rescued as she struggled to make her way through water.

Jackie and her mate, Shadow, were followed by thousands of people in the US, and by millions globally via a 24!7 web cam.

Jackie and Shadow successfully raised  14 chicks between 2018 and 2026. Jackie was believed to be 14 yeas old. For more information about the eagles of Big Bear Valley, Calirofnia, check out www.friendsof bigbearvalley.org.

Maybe, just maybe, this majestic symbol of the United States suffered and died as we sit by and watch this country suffer and grow ever weaker.

Is This Crazy?

 Is this crazy?

From time to time I get a mouse in my house, usually but not always in the pantry. This usually happens as the weather cools. This isn't the case now, however, with temperatures in the mid to upper 90s. But we are in a serious drought, so I suspect the little rodents are seeking water and food.

Last week I set out a trap baited with unsalted peanuts, after finding a bag of peanuts with a hole chewed in it. When I checked the trap a day later, I saw a mouse inside. I drove it to a sparsely populated area about 3/4 mile away, and it scampered away.

I put peanuts in the trap but saw no more mice for aboutaweek. But this morning as I reached for a new roll of poop bags before heading out to walk my dog, I was shocked to see another trap with the door closed. There was a mouse inside, although the trap was not in a place where I typically put a trap. And I have no recollection of putting it there

I grabbed my headlamp and headed out in search of a good release site. When I removed the release door, nothing happened. Then a dead mouse tumbled out.

I have no idea how long the mouse had been trapped without food or water. I don't want mice in my house, but I won't deliberately hurt one. That's why I use live traps.

I left the little mouse where it was.

I'm sorry, little one. 

To Make A Difference

You have the power to make a difference. 

I love these words from the late Dr. Jane Goodall. 

She strongly believed that there is always hope ... but only if we take action. She encouraged everyone to take that first step, no matter how small. Each of us holds the power to make a difference. 

Don't eat meat one day a week. Turn the light off when you leave a room. Walk or ride a bicycle for short trips. Take reusable bags when you go to the grocery store. Recycle everything you can. Think about the consequences of the choices you make.

When I die, I want to know i did something to change this world for the better. I read this quote in a book about people who rescue dogs from southern states. The author of this quote transports unwanted dogs from southern states to pre-approved homes in the Northeast, working with a variety of rescue groups. I read that his efforts have saved the lives of some 30,000 dogs. Now that is the way to make a difference!

I know that I have made a difference to my daughter, whom I adopted from Russia when she was 11 years old. I have made difference to the 15 dogs I have adopted over the years. I have made a difference to the people who received the food I and so many others have donated.

What I have done over the years -- adeoptions, donations of food and money, and my time --are but a drop in the bucket compared with what is needed. It often seems overwhelming and a real uphill battle. But our donations, our kindness, do make a difference. And yes, we don't have to be rich or famous to make a difference in another's life.

I have admired Jane Goodall for decades, and I can think of no better way to honor her than to follow her example.

A Change of Perspective

I got a phone call Saturday from someone at the boarding kennel that I have used to take care of my dogs when I need to be out of town. 

She informed me that the kennel will be closing for good on a date in September. The staff at this kennel have taken care of my dogs over the years for 16 years. The facility has been in operation for more than 60 years. 

The building itself is showing its age, and it doesn't have the amenities that many boarding kennels seem to have: play groups, swimming pools, etc. But the staff throughout these 16 years has been wonderful. They take really good care of my dogs, who happily walk off with whichever employee comes to my car to escort my dogs into the kennel. The owner has also been great to work with. The same is true of the office staff. So to say I was shocked to hear the news that Dan is retiring and the kennel will be closing for good was a real shock. 

I have already booked a stay for my dogs in October, which means I now need to find a new boarding kennel. In addition to boarding, there's a groomer who works there who has taken great care of my dogs' grooming needs. The kennel also has been active in helping homeless animals. 

Another organization runs a pet food bank that is located at the kennel. The future of this pet food bank is now in serious jeopardy. If it goes away, that means untold numbers of people will have to find other ways of providing food for their dogs and cats. I'm hoping that a new location for the pet food bank can be found. 

I have started the search to find a new boarding kennel for my dogs. 

Hearing that this kennel will close for good in September really distressed me. But after feeling sorry for myself because I have to start looking for a new place to board my dogs, I realized that I need to change my perspective. 

Yes, I am being inconvenienced by the closure of the kennel. But my inconvenience is nothing compared to the impact of the closure on many other people. The pet food bank will most likely close. And all the kennel employees, some of whom have worked there for many, many years, now have to find new jobs. Finding a job in this economy isn't easy. 

So I have decided to start doing what I need to do, and to accept the situation in which I find myself. Realizing that the impact of the closure on me is much less than on a lot of other people, makes moving forward without distress a whole lot easier.

This Flag Is Mine

 That's right. 

The American flag is mine. If you're a black American, this flag is yours. If you're Asian-American, this flag is yours. If you're Hispanic, this flag is yours. If you're female or male, gay or straight, this flag is yours. Whether you're a Democrat or a Republican, an independent, a libertarian or a supporter of the Green Party, this flag is yours. If you are a legal immigrant, a naturalized citizen or someone living here illegally while hoping to become an American citizen, the flag is your, too.

It appears that the American flag has been co-opted by the maga movement, that they are, in their minds at least, the only truly patriotic Americans. But patriotism is so much more than simply wrapping oneself in the flag. 

Being patriotic means having a deep love and support for your country. It balances cherishing our country's values and history with the willingness to hold it accountable, striving for positive progress, and respecting the diverse fellow citizens who make up the community. It doesn't mean whitewashing or removing the parts of our country, such as slavery, that are embarassing to us. It does mean accepting and dealing with our nation's mistakes and striving not to repeat them. It means working to treat all people as equals regardless of gender, race, age or ethnic background. 

Seeking to bring in several thousand white South Africans because of the color of their skin is not patriotism. It is racism, pure and simple.

True patriotism is distinct from nationalism. While patriotism is rooted in devotion and civic duty, nationalsim can become dangerous when it seeks power, demands conformity, or inspites hatred toward others. This is precisely what we are seeing in America under the current regime. Acting to remove those with temporaty ptotected status, as is the case today with hundreds of thousands of people from Haiti and Syria who are facing deportation because they happen to have black or brown skin is not patriotism.

There are those who tell those of us who refuse to celebrate America's 250th birthday. There are those who say if we don't love this country, we should leave. Actually, the exact opposite is true. We will not leave America because we love her so much. We refuse to sit by and do nothing while our country, our Democratic way of life, are stolen from us.

The colors of the American flag are red, white and blue. They're not white or brown or black. They are red, white and blue. And I pray that someday soon we will take back our flag and show the world what it truly stands for.

No Celebration For Me

On July 4th, the United States will mark its 250th birthday. 

Compared with many other nations, the US is still a youngster. But with all that has been happening to this country under the current regime, I have to wonder how much longer America will continue to exist as we have always known it. No longer is our country a beacon of hope to the world. Racism, misogyny, greed and corruption should be the new motto of America. We are no longer the land of the free and the home of the brave. We are now the land of the oligarchs and the home of the most greedy. Not much to be proud of, is there?

I am not excited about celebrating this milestone anniversary. Everything in this country has been hijacked by the dictator currently occupying the White House. Recently, he and his cronies held a massive so-called Christian rally on the mall in Washington, DC, paid for, of course, by the US taxpayer. 

We must not overlook the hypocrisy and the irony of the driving force behind this pseudo religious rally being a convicted sex offender, a 34 times convicted felon, someone who has cheated on all three of his wives, who is a con man, a convicted rapist, a racist and a misogynist and who is obviously mentally unfit to lead this country. And let's not forget that he doesn't go to church, and the only thing he worships is money. This is the same person who released an AI generated image of himself as Jesus Christ.

For those who need reminding, the United States is not now, and has never been, a Christian nation. Our founding fathers were very clear about their intentions to keep this country from its very founding as a nation beholden to no single religion. The Constitution itself states that the government shall not establish a religion.

Ostensibly as part of the celebration of America's 250th birthday, but in actuality a celebration of the dictator's 80th birthday, the dictator arranged to have a UFC nofight on the White House lawn inside a huge cage. Supposedly the cage is going to be removed, if it hasn't already, but the lawn beneath the cage has been totally destroyed.

I suspect that I am not the only American feeling apathetic about America's 250th birthday. The political polarization in this country is extremely widespread and very deep. The economy is in the toilet. So many people are struggling to provide food and pay for housing and medical care, not to mention the sky high price of gasoline. And what is the regime planning as part of the celebration? A so called American State Fair. As of this writing, this has been a total flop. Rather than the thousands of people the dictator was expecting, daily attendance has been in the hundreds. 

I think the only positive thing to come out of this alleged celebration of America's birthday is the fact that by a six to three margin, the Supreme Court ruled that the 14th amendment must be followed. This amendment allows that any child born in America, regardless of the immigration status of the parents, is a US citizen. 

It's inconceivable to me that something that is an integral part of the US Constitution had to be ruled on by the Supreme Court. It's also incredible that three of the justices voted to overturn the 14th amendment to the US Constitution. 

So I will not be celebrating this independence Day. I just can't. I love my country, and I hope and pray that before too long we will begin the long and arduous task of returning this country to its former principles and standards.

What I Don't Care About

Things I don't care about, in no particular order: 

The former prince Andrew and his ex-wife Sarah Ferguson 

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle 

The World Cup of soccer 

The NBA championship

The UFC 

Things I do care about: 

Protecting our environment 

Protecting our wildlife, wolves, elephants and bears in particular 

Affordable health care for every American 

Voting rights for all eligible citizens 

Restoring women's reproductive rights 

Keeping religion out of our public schools and out of our government at all levels 

Restoring America's leadership role internationally 

Releasing all of the Epstein files with minimal redaction

Getting justice for the victims of Epstein and his ring of pedophiles, regardless of who is named in the papers

Do Good Stuff Today

I ran across a clip from television reporter Steve Hartman's 'On the Road' features that aired on television for a long time. 

The story that popped up was about a man with his beloved mustang car that he had hoped to restore and drive again. But then he was diagnosed with ALS and wasn't able to do the work. So several of his friends from high school decided to restore the car. Other high school buddies paid for the parts. 

They got the car restored, took the man with ALS for a ride, and then decided to visit him again and again and again to drive him around in his car. In the final segment of the story, one of the volunteers said "Just do good stuff for people. Do good stuff today. "

These men gave the man with ALS a priceless gift. And I believe they were enriched by the experience as well. 

So let's go out and do good stuff today. This world needs all the good stuff weekend provide.

Make Every Day the Best.

Make every day the best. 

I love this quote from a Pennsylvania photographer and blogger named Linda Stager. 

She was writing about her love of photography and her fervent desire to continue photographing the places around her for as long as she can. So, she has decided to make every day the best. 

Isn't this great advice that all of us can follow? We are on this planet for a finite number of years, and as we age, many of us find it more and more of a struggle to do the things we love to do. So while we are still able to pursue our passions, why not make a decision to make every day the best it can be?

I travel a lot. Travel is something I really enjoy and something I have pursued since I retired roughly a 16 years ago. 

I have had people ask why I travel so much. My response is always the same: because I can. I travel because, at least for the moment, I can afford to. I travel because I am in pretty good health for someone my age. I travel because I still have my wits about me. But most of all, I travel because I love it.

Yes, I am much more careful about the trips that I choose because I'm not as strong or as agile or as well balanced physically as I used to be. But after numerous surgeries on both eyes, leaving what used to be my stronger eye pretty much useless for photography, I have redoubled my decision to travel and to pursue my passion of wildlife and landscape photography. I'm hopeful that my team of eye doctors and I will be able to maintain my remaining eyesight, but I won't take my vision for granted.

No matter what your passion is, our time on this planet is finite. So go out there and make this day and every day the best.

No, It's Not Happy Memorial Day

Are Americans clueless or ignorant or do they just not care? 

I suspect the correct answer is all of the above. 

Monday is Memorial Day in the US. But sadly, this holiday that should be a day of honoring and mourning the members of the American military who died while serving this country, has become little more than just another excuse for 3-day weekend. There will be sales and barbecues and lots of drinking. What there won't be, however, will be any attention paid to the real reason for the holiday. Memorial Day, as its name implies, also is not a day for recognizing veterans and active duty military.

Members of the military, as they do every year, have placed a small American flag a boot length in front of the headstone marking the final resting place of thousands upon thousands of US mititary who are buried in military cemeteries. 

Some cities may hold seremonies honoring the war dead. But for most Americans, the day is just another excuse for a three-day weekend.

We need to do a better day of recognizing and honoring the sacrifices made by the 1.3 million members of the US armed forces who have died in combat or who perished from injuries suffered while serving.

Feeling Sparkly

There is an AI character I follow online. 

His name is Bobo, and he is a golden retriever puppy. He recently said something about trying to make other people's and other animals' hearts feel sparkly. 

I love that sentiment. What would the world look like, I wonder, if more people did their best to make other people's lives more sparkly? 

That started me thinking about what makes me feel sparkly. I am writing this post while on a photography trip in Italy. I love this country, its food, its landscapes, its history, everything about it. And of course, I absolutely love photography. 

So the first thing that came to mind that makes my heart feel sparkly is photography. These photography trips are physically hard on me.

Most days we leave our hotel at 4:30 in the morning. We return for breakfast about 4 hours later, have a midday break and lunch, and then go out again just before sunset. I generally skip dinners because I don't like to eat a big meal late at night. 

So the trips leave me feeling exhausted. My schedule is all topsy-turvy. But it's all worth it because the travel and the photography and the landscapes and sometimes the wildlife all make me feel sparkly. 

I wish each of you a beautiful and sparkly day. And thank you, Bobo, for helping me to be sparkly.

Have The Day You Deserve

I love this sentiment, especially when it pertains to magats who are finally learning the hard way what the current regime in power in the US is all about. 

These people voted for this demented megalomaniac, It should have been abundantly clear to them what kind of person he is. After all, he's been a terrible, evil, greedy person for his entire life. We saw what he did and how he acted and how he spoke during his first term. So why in the world would anybody vote for him again? 

And now they're acting oh so shocked and so surprised when his demented actions and words impact them. Now they're learning the hard way that he doesn't give a rat's ass about them or anybody else. His only interest is in himself and his money and how to get more of it.

So go ahead! Have the day you deserve. You'll get no sympathy from me. You got what you voted for. So remember, decisions, especially votes, have serious consequences.

Honor the Light

I am an avid photographer. 

Photography is my hobby, and it is something I absolutely love to do. My favorite subjects are wildlife and landscapes.

As I started this blog post I was sitting in an airport waiting for my flight back home after spending 3-1/2 days in Utah. We had only two days rather than the three we had planned to photograph some of Utah's beautiful wild mustangs. The herd we photographed was habituated to humans, so the horses -- some 150 wild horses -- didn't run away in fear. In fact, there were times when the horses were walking our way and we needed to move so we didn't get too close to them. 

The thing about photography is that light as much as anything else is so important. Without light, there is no photography. And light at different times of the day can make all the difference in a photo. 

One photographer I know uses the motto "it's all about the light." I have chosen the motto of "honor the light." Another photographer I know has as her motto "chasing the light." However the word is used, the most important element to any photographer is light. Is it warm? Is it bright and harsh? From which direction is the light coming? Is the subject backlit, front lit, or side lit? Is it creating harsh shadows?

Light, for most people, isn't something they think much about. It's either present or it isn't. We tend to think about light only if the room is too dark and we need to turn on a light. But for photographers, light is all important and it is something we as photographers of any level need to acknowledge and appreciate.

Light is the reason I and my fellow photographers get up before dark so we can be in position to capture the warm light of sunrise. And light is the reason we get in position before sunset to take advantage of the warmth of that light. Doing photography in the middle of the day doesn't work, because the light is too bright, too harsh, and it produces shadows. 

So aside from all the other benefits of sunlight - - allowing our crops to grow and lifting our spirits - - It is so essential to any kind of outdoor photography.

So Tired

I am tired of being angry. 

I am tired of being upset. I'm tired of being disgusted. I'm tired of being embarrassed. I am tired of being afraid.

What the current regime in power in Washington and in so many states has done to this country angers me. It upsets me. It disgusts me. It embarrasses me. 

When the chief muskrat and his minions slashed funding for NOAA, what did they expect would happen? Meteorologists aren't getting the data they need to predict life-threatening meteorological events. Case in point: the devastating floods in Texas that claimed the lives of more than 100 people, including numerous children. They slashed FEMA funding, which means there will be little to no assistance for people whose lives have been devastated by natural events. 

So yeah, I'm angry and disgusted and embarrassed. Americans are supposed to look out for each other. The government is supposed to help Americans in need. But now, instead of helping those in need, we're helping the billionaires get even richer.

Non-profit organizations are struggling to help those in need, as more and more and more people need assistance. I am bombarded every day when the snail mail is delivered with appeals for donations. I just made a donation to the local Meals on Wheels chapter. I do what I can, but I can't afford to support every appeal for money. And I refuse to donate to any organization if it isn't one to which I already donate. That would just open more floodgates of appeals for funds.

I have to wonder whether the members of the regime, and their millions of magat followers, enjoy eating. If they do, they might want to think about who is going to gather the food they enjoy -- the fresh produce, the fruits, the meat they devour. The people who harvest the crops and process the meat are by and large immigrants, many of them here illegally. Who is going to spend eight or more hours every day picking strawberries or harvesting other crops in back-breaking work? Some regime idiot said that once work requirements for Medicaid recipients take effect there will be lots of people to work the fields. Do they expect the disabled or the elderly to show up to pick crops in 100° temperatures?

Every day brings news stories highlighting the depravity and cruelty of this regime. There's nowhere to go to escape. I have been limiting my exposure to the news in order to try and safeguard my sanity. This has not been easy, as my professional career, all 20 years of it, was spent working with the news media, either for a large non-profit organization or for a federal agency. So news is something that I used to need everyday. I like to keep informed about what's going on, not just in the United States, but around the world.

So how do I keep from losing my sanity? First, let me say, it’s not easy. But as I noted above, I limit my exposure to the news media. I stay physically active every day. I read a lot, mostly biographies or historical fiction. I listen to upbeat music. Sometimes it’s Tchaikovsky or Mozart, but lately it’s been ABBA. Anything to distract me and to lighten the mood. Recently I put together a couple of photo wall calendars, one for a friend and one for me. I am fortunate that I can afford to take a variety of photography trips to beautiful locations.

I know I'm not alone in feeling frightened and depressed and overwhelmed. All we can do is take this one day at a time. Thinking that we still have three and a half more years of his madness is something I can't even consider.

Words

There are some words I just don't like. 

Sometimes it's the sound of the word. And sometimes it's what image the word conjures up in my mind. 

Let's start a list of my least favorite words. 

Snack

Patty

Panty 

Beverage 

Vomit

Merch

Wipes

App

Hack

Crotch 

Scalp

Some people have issues with the word moist. That isn't one of my favorite words, but it doesn't really bother me.

As a writer, I love words. I love playing with words and finding just the right word to fit the sentence I'm writing. But some of the words above I will never use in my writing. Not only do certain words sound ugly, some, even most, of the words on my list, represent something ugly.

Why use these ugly words when there are so many beautiful words to choose? Words can express emotions. They can explain things. They can bring back memories both good and bad.

There are too many beautiful words to use to waste my energy on these ugly ones. 

Unrealistic Expectations

I read trip reviews before I plunk my money down for a trip deposit.

Lately, I have been seeing a lot of what are, in my mind, ridiculous complaints. Many come from people who have traveled to other countries and who had difficulty finding vegan or gluten-free meals. 

These kinds of meals are not so difficult to find in the US, but in many developing countries, I'd guess that chefs aren't very familiar with vegan diets or with gluten-free foods.

One woman complained that while in Kenya, the selection of gluten-free foods was extremely limited. Nobody even offered her peanut butter, she complained. I have been to Kenya and other east African countries many times, and peanut butter has never been part of the diet there. Research shows me that peanut butter is sold in Kenya, but how popular it is I don't know. I have never seen it offered as part of the menu.

I have been known to pack a small jar of peanut butter in my suitcase simply because it is one of my favorite foods. I take a small spoon along so I can scoop some peanut butter from the jar. 

I am not vegan, and I certainly could never be vegan, as I love cheese too much. The same goes for gluten-free foods. I don’t need to avoid gluten in foods. I have read that many European countries have plenty of gluten-free options, but if those foods aren't part of the typical Kenyan or Tanzanian diet, or the diet of other developing countries, perhaps the traveler's expectations are too high. I know from research that gluten-free foods are available, but my guess is the chefs aren't all familiar with the concept of gluten free.

When I travel, I expect to enjoy trying the local cuisine. I was offered kudu (a large African antelope) at dinner once in Kenya. I passed, and there were plenty of non-meat foods to enjoy. The kudu on the menu were farm-raised, but I still couldn't bring myself to eat an animal whose relatives I had photographed earlier that day.

A couple of people complained that they returned from a trip with covid. Someone else returned with a swollen knee. Really, people? Covid is still an issue. Why didn't the people wear masks while on the bus or inside a building? There is, or should be, a certain amount of personal responsibility involved. And unless the tour operator was negligent, somebody's swollen knee isn't their problem. 

I tripped on a log that had washed ashore along a rain-swollen river in Kenya. I fell and broke my wrist, which required surgery in Kenya. It was nobody's fault, except maybe mine for not paying more attention to where I was walking. I didn't blame anybody, and I later stayed at the same lodge twice more. Things happen.

One time in Tanzania, as I was exiting the safari vehicle, I slipped on a mud-covered step, twisting my knee. That was nobody's fault. The knee was sore, but it was fine by the next day. Should I have castigated the tour company because there was mud on the step of the vehicle? Absolutely not. These things happen. I, and the tour companies with which I travel, take appropriate precautions, but things still happen. People get sick. People get injured.

International travel is a wonderful thing that I enjoy immensely. I’m looking forward to more international trips over the next few years. But I think those of us who travel internationally must set our expectations and our demands realistically. Things in Kenya or Tanzania or South Africa or Brazil aren’t the same as they are in the United States. If they were, there would be no reason to travel.

My advice? Travel wherever you are called to go. Take precautions. Be fully vaccinated against whatever is recommended by staff of a travel medicine clinic. Pay attention to your surroundings, but don't expect everything to be as it is in the US. I notice things in other countries that wouldn't be allowed in the US. So it's up to me to remain alert and more observant. Most of all, my expectations must be realistic when I travel outside the United States.

Who Else Feels This Way?

Who else is feeling this way in this chaotic, turbulent, stressful time? 

I'm tired, but I have trouble sleeping. I woke up this morning at 3 a.m. I did not go back to sleep, so I got up at 4 a.m. Sadly, this is not the first time this week I woke up in the middle of the night.

There are a lot of things I want to do around the house and yard, but I have zero motivation to do anything. 

If I accomplish one or two things every day, aside from taking each of my dogs for a walk, I feel quite accomplished. I set my goal of doing a couple of things everyday. Some days I'm successful, some days I'm not.

It's hard to focus on anything - - a television program or the book I'm reading.

My nerves feel frayed. I feel very stressed. My patience is extremely limited.

I'm usually not a terribly emotional person, but these days, I am. There's so much cruelty and hatred in this country that it's difficult to hear about it.

At least the weather is nicer and warmer, aside from some very cold nights. I'm lucky to live in a place that has more than 300 days of sunshine every year. That's always good for a boost.

Is It Time To Unplug?

Maybe it's time to unplug. Maybe it's time to get out of the rat race. 

I have been retired for nearly 16 years. While I for the most part enjoyed my job and the opportunities it offered, I don't miss working in the least. I have time now to travel, to read a lot, to write, and to spend time with my dogs. 

But I've been finding that the hectic pace of this world and the overwhelming dump of information is really bothering me.

I cringe every time my cell phone notifies me that I've received a text message or an email. I turn my phone off usually by 7:00 p.m. I limit my consumption of the daily news to one 30 minute local broadcast and one 30 minute network broadcast. 

I confess to being a news junkie. During my long career with both a federal agency and a large non-profit organization, I spent a lot of time working with the news media: arranging interviews, answering questions, writing an issuing news releases. So the news is in my blood. And I'm not interested only in US News. Because I have traveled a lot, I'm also interested in what is going on in the United Kingdom, in various African countries, and in other places around the world. 

So far I'm okay with limiting my consumption of daily news. There's nothing I can do about what's going on in this country or around the world, so I've decided to do my best to reduce my stress levels. I've started listening to relaxing music more than I did in the past. I like classical music, smooth jazz, saxophone music or kestrel music, all kinds of music without words. 

I also read a lot. I don't know how many books are on my Kindle, but I would guess the number to be somewhere around 300 titles, possibly more. Once the weather improves, I plan to do more work in my yard to prepare for the spring and summer. Not only is this something I need to do, but it also offers my dogs a chance to hang out outside and snooze in the sun if they so choose. 

I confess that there are some days I am so upset that I resort to stuffing myself with comfort food, preferably popcorn or potato chips. Neither of these items is especially good for me, but sometimes only comfort food will do. So far I have managed to drop 5 pounds despite my binge eating of comfort food. I still have another 3 pounds to lose, and I hope that once I reach that goal, I will lose even more. Like most people as they age, I have packed on extra pounds that I don't need and that are not good for my health.

I also walk between 4 and 5 miles every day. Each of my dogs gets a roughly 1 mi walk every morning, and the rest of the distance is made up by walking alone, or just by doing regular activities around the house. 

Writing this blog is another thing that helps me to decompress. Regardless of how many people do or don't read my posts, I write because I enjoy writing. 

I took a three- week break from Facebook, which was initially a challenge, but after a couple of days I didn't miss it at all. In fact, my initial plan was to take a break for three days. Then I figured I could go a week. Then I pushed that to two weeks, finally rejoining social media after three weeks. 

As much as I would like to, I doubt that I will ever totally disengage from the electronic, information heavy era in which we live. 

I would love to hear about other people's coping strategies during this very stressful in chaotic time.

When Your Heart Hurts

 What to do when your heart hurts.

I asked myself that question one evening as I thought about all the horrible things that are going on in this world. In the US, we have drought, we have massive flooding, we have record snowfall, we have tornadoes. 

And on the world stage, we have a madman president who, without the approval of Congress, which has the constitutional authority to declare war, who unleashed a massive attack on Iran, in conjunction with the leader of Israel, who is as crooked as the US president. One of the first thing the Americans did was to attack an elementary school for girls in Tehran. 

So far the US death toll is at seven, but with talks of sending US ground troops into Iran, And the possibility of bringing back the draft, we know that total will rise. Gas prices have skyrocketed, and will undoubtedly go even higher. The US economy is shrinking, with tens of thousands of jobs lost last month. Inflation remains. And the president, who as he always does was spending the weekend at his fancy resort in Florida, decided to attack Iran because he "had a feeling" Iran was going to attack the US. 

So yes, my heart hurts. I feel nauseous. I am helpless. All I can do is donate funds to organizations on the ground in the Middle East providing aid to citizens affected by the war. My long time favorite organization is World Central Kitchen. 

That's it. Like other Americans, I am helpless to do anything. I know my representatives in Congress oppose this war. So contacting them would be a waste of time. 

I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of feeling angry. I'm tired of feeling upset. I'm tired of feeling ashamed of my country. I served this country as a civilian for 23 years. I held high security clearances at a couple of points during my career. So I'm a little bit more than just an American spectator. 

And quite frankly, I am sick. Literally sick. I have never hated anybody the way I hate the American dictator. His entire administration is a joke. It's nothing but a bunch of unqualified buffoons and grifters. And I see no good way out of this.

I love my country, but I despise what it has become. This is not what America has always been. We have civilians being shot in the streets by members of ICE. We have immigrants, some of them having become US citizens, rounded up and carted off to be incarcerated God knows where. 

The only thing America stands for now is greed. Greed is what runs this country. It's not honesty. It's not integrity. It's not care and concern for others. It's greed. And I hate it.

I am reaching the point where I just don't care any more.

People I Admire

I don't admire many people, and certainly their celebrity status doesn't make me admire them. 

I don't care whether they're wealthy. It's what they do that causes my admiration. 

Here's a short list of people I think are worth being admired, in no particular order. 

Dolly Parton 

The late Jane Goodall 

Sir David Attenborough 

Malala Yousafzai 

Chef Jose Andres

Taylor Swift

Pink

Three of these people are known for their philanthropy: singer/songwriters Dolly Parton and Taylor Swift, and chef Jose Andres of World Central Kitchen. Singer-songwriter Pink also has an impressive history of philanthropy.

Dr Jane Goodall is famous for her studies of wild chimpanzees and her ongoing campaigning for the environment.. 

Sir David Attenborough has spent 70 years writing and producing documentaries about the natural world.

Malala Yousafzai is a Pakistani advocate for female education. She was shot by the Taliban because of her efforts.

Taylor Swift is a mega superstar worth billions of dollars. And she is a very generous superstar who gives a lot of money to food banks and food pantries wherever she has concert performances.

These are people worth admiring. Rather than acting as so many billionaires do and working furiously to accumulate more and more money, these people work to make life better. 

They are people to admire.

Nothing To Laugh About

There's been a lot of talk lately about how the American men's Olympic hockey team defeated Canada to win the gold medal. 

These hockey players aren't some college kids who happen to be good at hockey. No, they're all professional hockey players. They're adults, not kids. So their reaction when the president of the United States, during a phone call to the FBI director who had absolutely no business being there at government expense, commented that he guessed he would have to invite the women's gold medal winning hockey team to the White House as well. Otherwise he might get impeached. 

What did the hockey players do? They laughed. Hahaha. Talk about a bunch of misogynists. We know the president is a huge misogynist and a sexist and a pedophile. But the reaction from the men's hockey team was stunning. No one protested. No one said anything. Nope. They all laughed. Hahaha. Very funny. I don't care whether they just won a gold medal or not. That doesn't excuse this abhorrent behavior. Do they act like this around their wives or girlfriends or mothers?

The men and the women were all invited to the White House so they could eat cold hamburgers and drink bottled water, as that's what's always served by the multi-billionaire president. And everybody was also invited to attend the State of the Union address. The women politely declined the invitations, citing other commitments. But 20 of the 25 men on the hockey team showed up. They didn't just show up, they showed up their collective misogyny. 

And today I read an opinion piece online by someone with whom I generally agree, but with whom I couldn't disagree more this time. He said we need to stop talking about the men's hockey team and its misogyny. Boo hoo hoo. 

No, we won't stop talking about it. We women are sick to death of the misogyny, of being overlooked and discounted. We're tired of being treated as less than, as second class citizens. The women's team also defeated Canada and by the same score by which the men won their game.

I suppose the statements from the president, who is mentioned thousands of times in the Epstein files and who has been found guilty of sexual assault, should, is no surprise. But the response from the men's hockey team is a huge disappointment. They should know better. Maybe someday they will know better. 

What Is Wrong With Men?

Why is it that the vast majority of negative, critical, selfish comments I read on many posts online are made by men? 

Women will make intelligent comments. Women are supportive. But not the men. All they can do is b**** and whine and make stupid comments. So many of these men respond by hurling insults. And of course, men love to throw out the 'what about' card. What about this? What about that person?

Why is this?

It seems that a large portion of males in this country is intimidated or frightened by women, especially strong, intelligent, well educated women. And it's no surprise that Republican men are the majority of this group. They, as evidenced by the statements of the ruling regime, believe that women shouldn't be allowed to vote, that women should stay home and produce babies. Women should take care of the family, cook, clean, feed the kids, and welcome their partners home with a hot, home-cooked meal. Oh, and they must be young, slim, blonde and know their place.

Women are too emotional to govern, these Neanderthals claim. But guess what, cretins? Had Kamala Harris won the 2024 election, she wouldn't have us in the situation we are now in thanks to the bloated orange buffoon occupying the White House.

The differences between males and females, Democrats and Republicans, are always on stark display when a disaster happens. Democrats offer words of sympathy and condolence. Republicans blame the Democrats for something they allegedly did or did not do in previous administrations. And they blame the victims. 

There are exceptions, of course. Barack Obama is a master at conveying compassion, sympathy and words of support. Bill Clinton is similar, although not quite as eloquent as Obama. Barack Obama is such an outstanding and eloquent speaker that I think I could listen to him reading a phone book and be entranced. And his sympathies and his compassion aren't just for sure. They're not just words. His feelings and his support are genuine.

Sometimes, just for fun, I will read a comment without looking at the name of the person who posted it. In 90 percent of the time, if it's a stupid, sexist or racist comment, I would bet anything that it was written by a man. Not all men are like this, of course. Some men make supportive and thoughtful comments. But they appear to be the minority.

Again I ask, what is wrong with these men?

Messages from Beyond

I was talking to my dogs' groomer recently, and the subject of my heart dog Benny came up.

I told her about the dream I had a year or so ago, and the fact that Benny was in the dream. I have shared my life with dogs for more than 50 years, and this was the first time I ever dreamed about one.

The dream was quite short, but it left a lasting impression on my heart. In the dream, I was at the Rainbow Bridge, and I saw Benny on the other side. I called out to him, "Benny! Momma is here!" He immediately started to run toward me as fast as his little legs could move. 

(Benny was a golden retriever/corgi mix. He had the build of a corgi with the coat, ears, tail and temperament of a golden retriever.) He ran into my arms, and I knew we would never be separated again. I was sad because he has been gone almost 3 years. But I was heartened to know that we will be together again for eternity.

Before this dream with Benny, I was sitting in my office talking on the phone with a friend. Suddenly I felt a dog nose 'bop' my figer. I checked to see where my dogs were. Benny was in the back yard enjoying the sunshine, and Layla was sleeping in the living room. Her sister, Bailey, had died recently. When I told my friend about the nose bop, she said it was Bailey letting me know she was OK.

The frist time I had contact with one of my deceased dogs was years ago in California. Patches was the first dog I adopted. She was a small terrier mix, and we had a very close connection. On more than one occasion, I spotted her peaking around the corner at the end of the hallway, something she did frequently. I also heard the jingle of the tags on her collar at other times. Despite the fact that she had died of cancer, the vision of her and the sound of her tags jangling was real. The only explanation I came up with was that she was checking in to let me know she was okay. 

I would love to hear from anyone else who has had experiences like these. I've had 15 dogs all told, and 13 of them have passed. So these messages from beyond don't happen very often. Somehow I wish they did. I have asked Benny to come to me in my dreams again. Even if fleetingly, seeing his beautiful face with such a treat. And it's so reassuring to know that my dogs, no matter how long they have been gone, are doing okay and waiting for me.

Celebrating A National Treasure

Dolly Parton turned 80 years old last month.

I know that many people share my belief that she is a national treasure. I don't like country music, but I happily listen to Dolly's music. She is the complete package: singer, songwriter, actress, bussinesswoman and philanthropist. She is kind and generous, and family and close friends mean everything to her.

She exudes happiness and warmth, acceptance and kindness. Her self-deprecating humor pokes fun at the many plastic surgeries and botox injections she has had. How refreshing it is to find a mega celebrity with class, no poitical agenda and no ugly gossip or scandals. She was happily married to her husband Carl, who died in 2025, for 60 years.

She grew up in a dirt poor family of 12 children in rural Tennessee. Their house had no electricity or running water. She never lost her memories of being bullied and laughed at because of her homemdade clothes. Her father never learned to read or write. This fact was the inspiration for Dolly's amazing Imagination Library program, which sends a free book every month to any child registered for the program from age birth through 5 years. I made sure my grandson got signed up. He will turn 5 in June, so he has just a few months left to enjoy the books. I have been an avid reader for as long as I can remember, so passing my love of reading to him is important. 

During the pandemic, Dolly donated $1 million to Vanderbilt University to aid in the development of a new vaccine. That vaccine is now known as the Moderna vaccine against covid. I got an updated Moderna vaccine just last week. She helped fund a medical center in Sevierville, her home town, including the Dolly Parton Center for Women's Services.

Her Dollywood theme park in her home state of Tennessee creates good jobs for local residents in an area where good jobs are scarce. Dolly welcomes people of all colors and nationalities, and she is popular with members of the LGBTQ community. 

Her philanthropic efforts focus on education through the Imagination Library, which has given more than 300 million books to children. Through her Dollywood Foundation, she supports scholarships and efforts to decrease high school dropout rates in her home county of Sevier, Tenn.

Dolly's 'My People Fund' provided $1,000 monthly for six months to families who lost their homes in the 2016 Smoky Mountain wildfires. She also supported flood relief in 2021 and wildfire recovery in 2023.

She often supports initiatives anonymously.  Despite growing up in poverty and then achieving tremendous wealth, Dolly has never forgotten the impoverished people of her state. Nor has she forgotten to be humble and kind.

Remembering But Not Learning From History

This post initially appeared in September 2019. I have updated it and am reposting it in light of the increasing number of anti-semitic attacks in the United States.

The thoughts expressed in this piece have their origin in my intense 12-day trip to Berlin and Oswiecim, Poland.

You say you've never heard of Oswiecim? Perhaps you know it better by its German name of Auschwitz. I went with 11 other people on a tour to learn about the origins of the so-called 'final solution to the Jewish question,' and to see and learn about the places where mass crimes against humanity took place. The trip was developed by Road Scholar and led by a German political scientist who has spent years educating people about the Holocaust and the conditions that gave rise to it. 

I struggled to find the right words to describe this trip. As a writer, I love finding just the right words to express myself. I enjoy manipulating language to convey the proper feelings. But this is different. It's quite difficult. And I think it will continue to be impossible to find the right words to adequately describe the experience and the reality. Several of us in the group talked about struggling to find the right words. This trip was intense. It was surreal. it was impossible to understand the why and the how. 

Despite the impossibility of finding the right words, and knowing that only those who have spent time at Auschwitz will understand, here are some of my thoughts. I jotted down some thoughts each evening after dinner as I tried to retain the experiences while they were still fresh. With so much information thrown at us, and so many surreal experiences, it was difficult to process everything. So I took a few notes.

Each aspect of this trip showed us just a tiny fraction of what the more than 1 million people who were killed in Auschwitz went through. It also showed us a bit about the life of the large Jewish populations in Germany and Poland before the war. 

This was a physically and emotionally exhausting trip. Days were sometimes 12 hours long. There was a lot of walking and a lot of standing. Our trip began in Berlin, where we spent 2- 1/2 days visiting a variety of sites and memorials. We visited the Brandenburg Gate and the

Reichstag, and we saw some of the many 'stumbling stones', brass squares engraved with the name, date of deportation and, if known, date of death, of Jews who lived in a given house and subsequently were sent to death by the Nazis. 
 
We saw the main Berlin synagogue that was seriously damaged during Nazi attacks in November 1938, as well as other buildings that played a prominent role in Berlin Jewish life before the war. Sadly, the synagogue must still be protected by two police officers to safeguard it from vandalism.

We visited the memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe, as well as memorials to homosexuals and to the Roma and Sinti (Gypsies) who fell victims to the Nazis. One of the most touching places I visited was the Wannsee conference center where 15 members of the Third Reich got together one day in January 1942 on the shores of the lake to decide how to implement their so-called final solution. They put in place concrete plans to rid Europe of all Jews, as well as homosexuals, those with physical or mental disabilities, and the Roma (Gypsies). After that they enjoyed a hearty breakfast while gazing over the lake.

We spent time in private exploration of the Topography of Terror museum, built on the site of the former Gestapo and SS headquarters. But the place that touched me most was track 17, the train track in Berlin from which Jews were shipped off to Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen and other concentration camps. The tracks are no longer used, of course, but the short section that remains is marked on both sides with metal plaques indicating the date, the number of Jews deported that day and to which camp they

were shipped from Berlin. Perhaps most unsettling of all was hearing trains at the nearby, still functioning train station. Trains leaving from track 17 carried some 50,000 German Jews to their deaths.

Leaving Berlin, we took an 8-hour bus ride to the Polish town of Oswiecim, infamous for its most well known landmark, the Auschwitz concentration camp. One morning, we toured the old city of Oswiecim on foot. This city of some 40,000 inhabitants once was home to a thriving Jewish population. Today, not one person of the Jewish faith lives there. Most were exterminated during the war. Survivors, understandably, don’t want to live there. The only remaining synagogue is used only for special occasions by Jews from nearby towns. 
 
Our lodging was a former Carmelite m  onastery now known as the Center for Dialogue and Prayer. The rooms were simple and small, but comfortable. Meals were served family style, and consisted of typical Polish food, usually soup, cabbage salad, potatoes and pork or chicken. It was plain and simple food, yet as I ate, I recalled the watery soup fed to the prisoners in the camp and their near-starvation diet. 

The lodgings provided a wonderful respite from the emotional stresses of our time in Oswiecim. Staying in a fancy hotel would have been so inappropriate. Even the center's name encouraged us to engage in discussions and to reflect on what we saw and experienced each day. And at the end of an emotionally and sometimes physically exhausting day, I looked forward to returning to my room, a hot shower and some solitude. Our lodging wasn't totally devoid of comfort, however, as we could get a bottle of Coke, a latte, ice cream or a candy bar.

On the first full day in Poland, I went for a walk around the monastery grounds at 6:30 a.m.

The outside temperature was 43°F, and the sky was foggy. The weather seemed to reflect the somber nature of our visit. Somehow, a bright and sunny morning just wouldn't have seemed right. As I was enjoying the early morning solitude and fresh air, I heard a train whistle, a sound that this morning gave me chills as I thought of those innocent souls who were brought to their deaths on trains. And as I walked in the chill and fog, dressed warmly in a long sleeve shirt, long pants and a down jacket, my thoughts turned to those who endured freezing cold winters in Auschwitz without benefit of warm clothes or shoes, and who returned from 12 hours of back-breaking work to unheated barracks.

Several mornings after breakfast, we walked to the main Auschwitz camp for a morning of work or study. The walk was less than a mile each direction, but I think it gave each of us some very tiny experience of what the prisoners must have endured as they walked and ran everywhere. I felt that walking made me feel more like a participant in the entire experience rather than as a mere observer. Some days, we walked back to the camp after lunch. Walking was for me a meaningful part of the experience. Rather than arriving in a bus as most visitors did, we walked across some of the railroad tracks and saw some of the many buildings that still stand as stark, cold reminders of the Nazi horrors.

The appearance of the main camp, with its tidy brick buildings, is deceiving. It looks like a small village, with streets neatly laid out. The reality, of course, is far more sinister. Auschwitz is anything but a neat Polish village. The famous sign at the main gate, with its proclamation that "Arbeit Macht Frei" (Work will make you free), was a chilling introduction to the camp, marking the place where countless people walked to their deaths. We passed the spot where the prisoner orchestra played as new arrivals entered the camp, and where the bodies of those who were killed while trying to escape were displayed as a warning to others. 

We had a 4-hour, in-depth tour of the original camp, Auschwitz 1, led by a Polish guide who provided an amazing wealth of information. Auschwitz is a state museum, and it feels like a museum. It covers 49 acres. Despite the atrocities that took place there, I don't feel that I got a real sense of the horrors and reality of life and death in Auschwitz 1. Yes, I saw displays filled with eyeglasses, suitcases, shoes, brushes and even human hair. For some reason, the collection of thousands of shoes got to me, as it did the first time I visited Auschwitz a few years ago. My eyes were drawn to the two red shoes in the case among thousands of brown shoes. People -- now brutally murdered -- once wore these shoes. The human connection was very real. But I felt detached from the realities of this place whose name will always be synonymous with cruelty, torture and death on a mass scale.

I saw the basement 'standing cells' where prisoners were forced to stand up. There were four standing cells at Auschwitz in the basement of Block (Building) 11, each of which measured about 1 square yard. Four prisoners were crammed into each tiny space that forced them to stand, with only a 2-inch opening for air. I also saw the starvation cell, where prisoners were held without food until they died. Block 11, with its narrow corridors and dark cells in the basement, truly was a house of horrors. Another tidy brick building was the scene of horrific experiments on woman, most of them Jewish. I saw displays of empty cans that once held pellets of Zyklon B, the pesticide used in the mass killings in gas chambers. I saw a display of the gray pellets themselves. Auschwitz 1 also housed SS headquarters. The camp initially held Polish political prisoners and Soviet military prisoners, part of the Nazi plan to exterminate Slavs, whom they viewed as sub-human. Later it and its sister camp, Auschwitz-Birkenau, held primarily Jewish prisoners.

Despite knowing about and seeing these horror chambers and exhibits, I feel that the camp on the outside seems too neat and tidy. It's hard for my mind to imagine the torture, the starvation, the cruelty and the mass murder that took place there. At the back of the camp, just beyond the electric fencing and several guard towers, stands the house once occupied by Rudolf Hoess, the commandant of Auschwitz who was hanged for his crimes. It is occupied to this day, complete with a satellite dish on the side of the house. I cannot imagine how anyone can bear to live there.

During the trip, I certainly was struck by the immensity of the suffering and death, but strangely, I didn't have a strong emotional response. I was very tired, yes, both physically and emotionally, and overwhelmed, but I was surprised by my muted reaction to what I saw, experienced and learned.   

Perhaps one reason for my lack of a visceral response was due to the fact that the brick barracks are not what most people envision when they think of concentration camps. The first time I visited Auschwitz, I expected to see the wooden barracks shown in many documentaries about Auschwitz. This, in part, made it difficult to imagine and comprehend the true horrors of this camp. The double electric fences and numerous guard towers, however, did give an idea of the true nature of the camp. Perhaps the human brain simply has trouble comprehending such cruelty and death on an unprecedented scale.

Seeing the rooms in the brick buildings (known as blocks) crowded with wooden bunk beds gave a pretty good idea of the awful conditions in which prisoners were kept. Some groups of tourists were noisy, chatting away and laughing. The group I was with, however, was silent and solemn as we toured the various buildings and learned of the horrors they had held.

The following day our Polish guide led us on a 4-1/2 hour tour of Auschwitz 2 Birkenau, the huge expansion camp about 2 miles away from the original. This camp covers 423 acres and has 360 barracks, 60 of them brick and the remainder made of wood. It had four crematoria and could house 92,000 prisoners.

Standing outside the main gate, looking at the tracks where the trains entered the camp, I tried to imagine how frightened and exhausted the new arrivals must have felt. They had no way of knowing what lay ahead. Perhaps that was a good thing. But of course, my imagination fell far short of their reality.

We first viewed the camp from the big guard tower at the main gate, gazing down on the massive prison. We then stood near a train car, frozen on the tracks with the doors closed. I looked at long rows of barbed wire, electric fences and countless brick buildings destroyed by the fleeing Nazis attempting to cover up their crimes. We walked the route prisoners took as they went either to the gas chambers or to barracks where they would be worked or starved to death. We walked most of the acreage and visited sites most visitors don't see, including a lush, green field of grass that holds the ashes of countless bodies cremated outside when the nearby crematorium V stopped working. This camp truly was a house of horrors on a massive scale. The overcast skies, and eventual rain and falling darkness, only added to my sense of foreboding.

One building holds displays of photographs prisoners had with them when they were 'processed' and sent to their deaths. Some show smiling couples, families, children and individuals. They were ordinary people condemned to death simply because they were deemed different, inferior, sub-human.

The final stop at Birkenau was known as the death barrack, for the two buildings housed women deemed unfit by the SS for further work. These women awaited death in the gas chambers without food, water or medical care, perhaps for several days. When the barrack was full, additional prisoners were kept outside in a locked yard. There is no electricity in these buildings, so it was nearly impossible to see the crowded barrack and stacked wooden bunks in the falling darkness. Some visitors used light from their cell phones to provide the only illumination. The building has a stove, but there was no wood with which to provide heat during the cold, cold winters.

The next day we returned to Auschwitz I. My group spent about an hour one day and 90 minutes the following day raking leaves and sweeping a small portion of Auschwitz 1. These very mundane and seemingly small tasks were our little contribution to maintaining the grounds at this very special place. It also, I think, enhanced our understanding of what it was like to live here. But we had proper clothing. We all had shoes that were appropriate and that fit. We had no concerns about being beaten or shot if we didn’t work quickly enough or hard enough. And unlike the prisoners, we were able to leave and return to our lodgings for a good lunch. Everyone in our group pitched in to help others. We took pride in our simple work. And we were happy to contribute in some very small way to the museum.

I think each of us felt this personal contribution to the museum. My back was sore after the first day of sweeping and raking, but my discomfort was nothing when compared with the suffering of the prisoners. Physical labor, something most of us weren't used to, put things into a new perspective. We also spent time on other days checking portable displays for signs of damage or wear and tear, and inspecting permanent exhibits for spelling or grammatical errors in the text that had been translated from Polish into English.

In the evenings, we had a debriefing session to ask questions, present our thoughts about what we saw that day, and respond to questions from our German leader. His questions were thought-provoking, to say the least.

We also got to hear from a member of the archive staff who showed us some of the documents (letters and Nazi forms) both original and photocopied produced during the war. The Nazis were consummate record keepers, a task carried out by slave labor under the direction of the Nazi overlords. But only those prisoners not sent directly to the gas chambers were registered, so no record remains for the vast majority of those who passed through the gates of Auschwitz and Birkenau. 

We got to see a special exhibit of art produced at great risk by prisoners and by survivors, as well as getting a tour of the facilities where work is ongoing to preserve the thousands of artifacts from the camp. Everything from baskets to some 3,500 leather suitcases

to toothbrushes and enamelware are being carefully preserved. Sitting next to a box of toothbrushes that once belonged to prisoners, and realizing the very personal nature of these items, was chilling.

We had a couple of hours of free time on the last day, to revisit exhibits, take photographs or just be present among the ghosts of  Auschwitz. I took advantage of the nice weather to wander the camp one last time, taking photographs that I hoped would capture the horrors of this evil place. This also gave me a chance to be alone with my thoughts. The people in my group are wonderful

The wall where the SS shot prisoners.

people, but sometimes I needed to be alone.

Auschwitz is so much more than just a stop on a tour of Poland, or a day trip from nearby Krakow. The first time I was there a few years ago, I visited both Auschwitz 1 and Auschwitz 2 Birkenau in a single day. There was so much I didn’t get to see and experience. 

Auschwitz is so much more than simply a a collection of buildings, guard towers, electric fences and mass killing facilities. It deserves to be visited with enough time to truly understand its horrors. What members of my group struggled with, and that still remains unanswered, is how this could happen.

This trip was very physically tiring due to the long days, lots of walking (more than 7 miles a couple of days), as well as the emotional and intellectual toll it took. But as one member of the group noted, our feelings of hunger, our sense of feeling tired or sore or cold, are nothing. 
   
As I prepared to leave Auschwitz 1 for the last time, after spending many hours there, I paid a final visit to the crematorium. There were few people inside, so I was able to offer a final, quiet tribute to the victims of the Nazi killing machine. I wanted to say something to the ghosts of all those murdered by the supposed superior race, to let them know that they have not been forgotten. It didn't matter that I didn't even know the names of those whose murders took place there. This was the scene of a crime against humanity. But all I could whisper was "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The crematorium and gas chamber at Auschwitz I.