A Close Encounter

I met an elephant in Namibia last week, and his tired eyes looked deep into mine.

I have seen many elephants during my nine safaris in southern Africa. I have visited several times an elephant orphanage in Kenya where I sponsor three orphans. I have long felt a particular affinity for elephants. Their intelligence and compassion amaze me. But the experience I had with this tired-looking old bull elephant is unlike anything I have ever experienced, and it is impossible to find the words to adequately explain my feelings.

It was early evening when we spotted him standing alone (as bull elephants often do) behind some dried plants. It was obvious he was aware of our presence, but he stood still, making no attempt to walk away. It also was apparent that he was in musth, a time of dramatically increased hormone levels in healthy adult male elephants. This bull, whom I call Mutara (I have no idea where I got that name), was secreting a hormone-rich substance called temporin from a  temporal gland on both sides of his face. Musth bulls can be irritable and aggressive, but this bull was very calm. To me, he seemed tired.

After a bit, he took a few steps, which showed a very obvious limp in his left front leg. His tusks, which should have been much longer, had been broken off, perhaps more than once. Our guide estimated his age to be around 50 years. Elephants can live 70 years, but with habitat loss, conflicts with humans, and poaching, many do not make it that long. 

We waited quietly in our safari vehicle, cameras clicking, in awe that we were able to be so close to this magnificent animal. Gradually he started munching on some dried weeds, which appeared to have no nutritional value. 

Then he did something that still brings tears to my eyes. He turned directly toward us, and I swear he looked into my eyes and deep into my soul. Not only did he know of our presence, but he, I believe, was making an attempt to reach me. Knowing how old he is and that once an elephant has worn out its six sets of molars it will no longer be able to chew its food, it seemed that he was telling me goodbye.

I don't claim that I can communicate with animals. I don't pretend to be able to peer into their thoughts and their feelings and into their souls. But something happened between this old bull elephant and me. We connected, we two beings that were brought together by a chance encounter that lasted just a few minutes. 

I don't know whether the four other women in my group had the same feeling as I did. But I do know that everyone was awed by the experience of spending time with this magnificent bull.

I am in awe of the beauty of leopards. I admire the speed of a cheetah. I have always loved elephants. But never have I had such a deep, visceral connection with a wild animal as I did that evening.

My thoughts have returned to this elephant numerous times since our meeting. And every time, tears well up in my eyes and I silently wish him a good, happy, pain-free life, for however long that may be. Whether this truly was a connection between members of two very different species, I will never know. I will never know what this magnificent animal thought about our encounter. 

But I do know this: For a few brief moments, on an unknown level, we connected. And for that, I will be forever grateful. 

Another Day. Another Mass Shooting in America.

I have been home from a trip for less than a day, and already the news has reported still another mass shooting.

This shooting took place during an Independence Day parade, by a shooter standing on a building rooftop and using -- what else? -- an assault rifle. The 'alleged' shooter is 21 years old, so he fits perfectly into the age group of too many mass killers.

Once again our political 'leaders' will offer their useless 'thoughts and prayers' to the families of the six murdered innocents, and to the two dozen injured. Gun advocates will repeat the tired mantra that 'guns don't kill people, people kill people.' There will be a smattering of calls for tougher gun laws, and as always, nothing will be done. 

Once again, a small minority of misfits adds to the pervasive sense that  nowhere in America is safe. Not schools. Not houses of worship. Not grocery stores. Not shopping malls. Not movie theaters. Not parades. No place in America is safe. I do not want to live in a country where nobody is safe. And I definitely don’t want to live in a country where our impotent public officials are unwilling and unable to make meaningful changes to reduce this risk to human life. Apparently they are so far up the asses of the NRA that they just can’t bring themselves to do anything.

Nobody in this country needs an assault-style rifle for personal protection, or for hunting, or for any other reason. NOBODY. 

The bottom line is, Americans in 2022, as they were in 2021 and in 2020, are simply not safe going about their daily business. Each of us is it risk of being slaughtered by some individual carrying an assault weapon designed to do one thing and one thing only: to kill as many people as possible in as short a time as possible. These are weapons of war. They are designed to kill. I’m sure our founding fathers did not ever envision the day when pretty much anybody can buy an assault rifle. The second amendment, the most holy of all parts of our Constitutional amendments according to the gun nuts, was written when the only weapons available were muzzleloaders capable of firing no more than four rounds per minute.A fully automatic assault weapon can fire 600 rounds per minute.

Depending on the source, the Highland Park mass killing marked either the 309th or the 300 15th mass shooting this year. That’s right. In the first six months of 2022, more than 300 mass shootings have occurred in this country.

So spare me your thoughts and prayers, and do something!

Stop the Annual Horror Show!

This is for everyone who thinks setting off explosives is great fun to celebrate July 4, New Year's Eve, or any other day.

Do you get some perverse sexual thrill when you light things that go 'boom?'? Does it help you pretend you are a brave soldier engaged in a raging battle to save the country? Does it make you feel like a 'real man'? Does it make you feel like Sylvester Stallone playing Rambo? Or perhaps you believe you are Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Terminator movies.

Or maybe you a) think it's funny to terrorize domestic and wild animals, or to bring actual military combat veterans into terrorized, quaking individuals. Option b) is that you simply don't give a rat's ass about how you little pseudo war games impact others, because it's your right to have 'innocent' fun, right?

Every July 5, animal shelters are filled with animals that ran away to escape the terror raining down on them. People frantically search for their lost pets, some of which never will be found. And just imagine the terror felt by wild animals. Anyone with PTSD will have been plagued by flashbacks to the experiences that created the trauma in the first place.

My own dogs were terrorized, again, as they are every Independence Day. But this year, the noise was so much worse. My youngest dog, now 15 months old, tried to dig our of her kennel, where she usually sleeps peacefully, while panting heavily. My 11-year-old dog, who is hard of hearing, was equally terrorized, panting so hard I feared he might keel over. 

The explosives used this year were so close to my house that in addition to hearing them, I could see the flash of light as each explosive was set off.

This 'tradition' of mass terror and hysteria needs to end. Are people so simple-minded that they think setting off things that 'go boom' is a fun and appropriate way to celebrate a holiday? Are they so clueless that they don't care about the impact their 'fun' has on others? Or are they simply so selfish and self-centered that they simply don't care?

A Battle for the Soul of America

I was talking to a friend recently about the state of this country and of the world at large.

I generally am an upbeat person, and when I’m not, I try to make a point of changing my attitude and my thinking to something more positive. But what’s going on in the world right now makes this a real challenge. My friend expressed similar sentiments.

It is really hard these days to stay upbeat. Just look at what we’re dealing with. Ukraine and its citizens are being bombed into oblivion by Russia because of its sociopathic leader's claim that Ukraine is full of Nazis. (Note to Putin: the president of Ukraine is Jewish and lost numerous family members at the hands of the Nazis during World War II). And we mustn't overlook his need for power and to rebuild the former Soviet Union.

We just crossed the 1 million dead mark from Covid in the US, with a big uptick predicted in the US this fall and winter. Pandemic fatigue is real, and no one wants to see a resurgence of this virus.

The Supreme Court seems set to overturn 1973's Roe v. Wade decision that made abortion in the United States legal. 

Various states either have or are in the process of enacting legislation that would make abortion a criminal activity for both the woman and the physician involved.

Nearly every day brings news of yet another mass shooting somewhere in the U.S. Meanwhile, Congress, afraid of losing votes and the NRA's blood money, sits on its hands and does nothing more than offer useless 'thoughts and prayers.'

Millions of cult followers of the former president, who increasingly damning evidence show tried to overturn the results of the 2020 election, continue to foment discord and threaten our nation's democracy.

Prices of everything are sky high. I know, I know. There are are all kinds of excuses for why prices are so high. It’s a shortage of workers. It’s a supply chain problem it’s the war in Ukraine. The bottom line is, it’s greed. Corporate greed. Pure and simple. It isn't Biden's fault. It isn't the federal government's overspending. While Americans struggle to stay afloat, big corporations are raking in record profits.

The climate change crisis, still largely unaddressed by the world at large, threatens the very continuance of life as we know it. Wildfires have so far destroyed more than 300,000 acres in the West just this year, costing several lives and destroying hundreds of structures. And this is in New Mexico alone.

Locally, what the news media calls the 'crime crisis' continues unabated. Albuquerque just reported its 51st homicide of 2022. Shootings, home invasions and break-ins of people’s cars in their own driveways are commonplace.

So yes, it's often hard to remain happy and cheerful. All of these things that cause me stress and sleepless nights are things that are beyond my control. So what can be done?

I do what I can to help. I donate money to organizations that are on the ground on the border of Poland and Ukraine, as well as working inside Ukraine to provide hot meals to the millions of displaced people. I have donated food and toiletry items for human victims of my state's horrendous wildfires, as well as donating large bags of dog food. 

I can’t do anything about the high cost of groceries and gasoline, but I do recognize how very fortunate I am, so I share what I have with others. I watch in admiration the determination of Ukrainian citizens as they fight the Russian invaders. I watch in awe the Americans who have opened their homes and their bank accounts to Ukrainians who managed to make it to America until they can return to their homeland. One couple featured on the news recently hosted 20 Ukrainian refugees. Another took their refugee guests shopping for clothes. 

There still are good people doing good things for other humans and for non-human animals. But it seems we are losing the battle for the soul of our country.

I’m Fine

How often have we uttered those two little words? I’m fine.

And of the many times we have said I’m fine, how many times have we in reality not been fine? How many times have we been anything but fine. How many times have we said we are fine because we don’t want to explain why we’re not fine. Or we don’t want to admit that we aren’t fine. Or we don’t want to admit to ourselves that we are certainly not fine. Admitting that we are not fine forces us to admit that we are struggling, that we are less than strong, that we are human after all.

It’s easier to tell someone that we are fine rather than admitting the reality of how we are. Many of us don’t want to admit that we are less than fine. Perhaps we feel that admitting that we aren’t fine makes us appear weak. And admitting publicly that we aren’t fine also forces us to admit to ourselves that we aren’t fine. So this is a supposedly easy way to deny our true feelings.

Of course, if the clerk in the grocery store asks how we are doing, we aren't going to lay out all our fears and worries. So there certainly is a time and a place to tell someone we are fine. It's a social norm. The clerk doesn't really want to know everything about your life. Asking is just a social norm.

We construct a facade by pretending, to ourselves and to others, that we have no problems or difficulties or emotions with which we don't want to deal. We construct the (false) image we want to project to the world. And in the process, we deny our true feelings. 

The words I’m fine are uttered frequently in television dramas, when it’s all too obvious to the viewer that the characters uttering those words are anything but fine. As vierws, we know the backstory. But it isn't only in television dramas that people pretend they are fine. Real people do it all the time, to avoid admitting that they are struggling, that they aren't as 'together' as they want people to believe they are, and to avoid the potential shame or embarrassment that might arise if we admit that our life isn't what it appears to be.

Unfortunately, avoiding our true feelings is not a good, or healthy, long-term strategy. Eventually our repressed or ignored feelings will catch up with us. Perhaps we will become physically ill. Perhaps we will have a breakdown.

And if we acknowledge our problems or fears to others, we have to face them and admit to ourselves that we are not happy, that we are struggling, or that we we need help. Sometimes we pretend that we are fine to avoid conflict with others.

Please think before we utter those two little words I'm fine. Are you really fine, or is there something you are avoiding?

The Memory of Me

A member of my brother-in-law's family died recently.

I knew him from family gatherings, but since I lived in California and later, New Mexico, I hadn't seen him for many years. After I made a donation in his memory to his chosen charity, I received from one of his sons a thank-you note and a small card with his photo on one side and information about funeral services on the back.

What really struck me were the words on the back. I don't know who wrote the verse, but it struck me.

I'd like the memory of me to be a happy one. 

I'd like to leave an afterglow of smiles when life is done. 

I'd like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways, of laughing times and happy times and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve, to dry before the sun of happy memories that I leave when life is done.

My version isn't quite so poetic or elegant. I would write the following thoughts about my life.

I'd like the memory of me to be a happy one.

I'd like to leave memories of my great love of animals, especially dogs, wolves, elephants and leopards.

I'd like to leave memories of my efforts to protect these precious animals.

I'd hope to leave memories of my passion for helping to feed the hungry in this country, in Africa and in Ukraine. 

I'd like to leave memories of my belief in education as a way out of poverty and a path to a better life, especially for women. 

I hope the young women I have helped with their education, both in this country and in Kenya, will remember my belief in them.

I hope those I leave behind will not forget how I supported women struggling to survive in impoverished countries around the world.

I hope people will remember my love of photography and that I used my talents to raise money for charity, as well as to brighten lives.

I hope my love of travel will inspire others to follow their dreams and their heart.

I hope those I leave behind will remember my love of music and of reading and of history.

I hope memories of my desire to always keep learning will inspire others to never stop learning.

I hope the memories I leave my daughter are good ones, and that she remembers that despite our differences, I always stood behind her.

Most of all, I hope I will have left the world a better place than when I entered it.

I have no plans to depart this life any time soon. My health remains good, my mind sharp. But sooner or later, the hourglass of my life will run out of sand. Until it does, I plan to continue to pursue my passions, to read voraciously, to travel, to explore, to learn and to photograph this beautiful world and its magnificent animals. 

Whenever my time comes to an end, it feels good to know that I have set down in words those things I hope friends and family will remember about me.

Surprise Memories

Every so often something happens that takes me back to a time decades in the past.

Sometimes it’s a smell. Sometimes it’s something as mundane as using my mother’s mixing bowls. This morning it was a sense that enveloped me when I walked into my bedroom. i guess it was the feeling of a spring day, with the windows open. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and cool and fresh. And it took me back to being in my bedroom in my parents’ house many, many years ago.

Every time I see a ceramic chicken, I think of my mother, who collected ceramic chickens. When she died, each of us kids took one as a tribute to her. The others were donated to a charity thrift shop.

It's always a pleasant surprise to have these sensations surprise me at random.