As Andy Rooney Might Say....

As Andy Rooney Might Say…

It finally occurred to me that the TEA people and people like me (a progressive rural liberal) have something in common that may be at the root of their disgruntlement. I do not like the policies and personalities of those people, as far as I know them and would not like to have them as leaders as they vilify some of the most important safety nets and aspects of our security and the progress that has been made (at high cost) to make this country so great. My thinking, in so many ways, goes against the grain of those naysayers; they are just too damned backward, it seems. So before I digress and get angry, I will let you know what the commonality is, though.

I am tired of the rule makers and the rules…..in general.

By that I mean that there are far too many people around who are far too interested in creating enforceable rules and regulations. These rule makers are super tenacious (read vampires and killer octopi) in their need to control the world around them. Because of that tenaciousness they tend to impose themselves and interject themselves into every aspect of our lives. In the guise of doing good they have created, as a cultural storm, so many controls and naysaying that it has become difficult to maneuver around our planet. I include many of the so-called environmentalists who would gladly and did completely kick out the aboriginal residents of all of the major “wilderness” and park areas; not wanting them to, god forbid, touch the land and actually live on it and use it (as they had for tens of millennium; making their first mistakes that they learned from thousands of years ago, I am sure).

Anyway, the less rigid people could actually be in the majority. There are many of us that belong to the “live and let live” category. Maybe we want to build our own home, for instance, and have issues with the codes (important as they are) or engage in a variety of activities that we think should not be overseen to any great degree. Riding around in the back of a pickup truck, for instance, always seemed like one of the pleasures of life. Even the birds and insects have the freedom to construct a place to live and fly around without interference from the “nest police”. The more easy going people just want life to be more “free” and not to have to think about all these controls so much of our valuable time as we are enjoying ourselves and doing our work. It is a matter of degree, I guess.

That is not to say that regulating the bankers and hedgefunders, for instance, is a bad idea; that is a good idea because the potential damage is so great. Those rich computer-fingers are not my idea of “easy going” people; quite the opposite as they wreak havoc on our civilization with their reckless nano second algorithmic viral surreptitious mentalities.

So the obsessive rule people tend to win the day, like many fundamentalists, also, because they are, yes, so obsessive and tenacious in their need to control. They make life miserable for the most of us (with all of their “musts”) as we don’t wish to be locked into a bunch of rules; good as they may be. It just doesn’t feel like we are free or able to move (you know; like the Sundance Kid talking to butch Cassidy when he is trying to show him how well he can shoot and keeps asking, “Can I move?” because he clearly can only shoot well when he is on the fly and diving and putting his full personality into it).

And now one of the people I thought I liked the least shows up this week and writes about the local people taking over the reins of the forests to protect their surrounding lands from catastrophic fires and starting to do grassroots forest tending. I agree with him on this and wish it were someone else sending the message, but it isn’t. Paradox pie. If only the obsessive environmental left could decide to be more in touch with forest management through action not litigation. I admit it; I agree with Steve (see link below) although suspect he would be less careful of the forest in general.

So that puts me, once again, in the Obama camp where he is trying to work “with” the conservatives in order to solve problems. Now I only wish Barry Obama knew how to use a chainsaw and came from a forest products gathering background (but not wielding one like Bush who brought his chainsaw into the kitchen with him). I shook Ralph Naders’s hand once, also, and discovered that he was lily handed (as I suspect Barry is too, as well as most of those rule makers, including Steve Pearce). You cannot have everything and I would rather have Barack than most others…..as long as he doesn’t add too many more rules. I agree with my friend, Jess, who says that there ought to be a law that says, “For every new law or rule that is created, the governing bodies must get rid of two old ones!” Enough Already.

http://www.santafenewmexican.com/Opinion/Looking-In--U-S--Rep--Steve-Pearce-Work-together-for-common-good

Guy

When I first saw him he was playing with a large pig

Then he tipped his hat to my wife

Then regaled us with talk of roping elk, riding elk and chasing burros

For only twenty something I think he was quite a guy

In fact I think his name was Guy

He could live here too and take a cowboy dip at the falls

Or he could be driving the crawler around the ranch fixing things

Or taking Belle out dancing and two-step, polka, waltz, schottische, pretzel

Or making a table or set of shelves with all those tools, or less tools

He could be drunk in a bar, staggering all over the place

Wrapped around the toilet after closing time

He could be getting a divorce from his Anglo wife or his Spanish one

He could be talking to cops because his son turned him in for child abuse

He could be crying like a baby because it is all so beautiful and yet so sad

He could be writing a story of how he dumped the 1010 off the back of the truck

Or drove it off the mesa with no brakes with the 1010 and wife aboard

Or lifted it with a crane with neighbors and cops everywhere

Or hugged the bulldozer and then the crane guy for good measure

Or picking peaches with Fernando and supporting apple branches with sticks

Or walking in the river bed looking at rocks, beautiful rocks

Or making art, rustic and textural, pouring bronze or melting glass

Or wondering where the next dollar was really coming from

And worrying whether he was taking too long or charging too much or too little

And  bringing children onto the land so they could scamper around day after day

All summer long

Or catching rattlesnakes with a long pole and loop, dropping them into the dynamite box

And watching the children dreaming of catching one themselves later that day

And hearing his daughter talk of how the hawk swooped down in a blur of feathers

As she stood by wondering “what the hell” as it tried to get the duck six feet away

Or watching the ducks in water as they freed up that tension in his chest

Just by being themselves and loving water by birthright

Or playing his electric guitar loud and long and feeling the music in his body

Or playing Leadbelly songs on a 12 string Stella

Or going to an iron pour in Denver and playing for everyone solo

As the molten metal was poured into moulds for bowling balls

And sent down the chute spraying sparks and glowing red-orange

Headed for the white pins made of ceramic mold

Or speaking Spanish all day long to his helper, learning about Mexico

And how difficult it is down there and how much poverty and crime

Robos and drogas, gubierno sin mucho ayuda

And how they took the railroad apart for the steel

Or working hard, sweat dripping, arms pushing and pulling

Hands manipulating, making , making, thinking , thinking

Stress and tolerances, level and plumb, straight and curved

All things leading towards a goal, a house, a fixture, a door, a shower

Working for a living like our lives depended  on it

Like a young cowboy, Guy, playing with a large pig

On a beautiful rented ranch above Folsom and east of Clayton

Just a small one, barely 20,000 acres, barely enough to make a living on

Ya gotta give us credit where credit is due

For playing with that pig, alone, with noone watching

Except for maybe a tourist or two or a lessor and his friend

Credit for knowing that a donkey can toss a lady in a creek

If you aren’t careful

Or a sunset is worth taking a camera to, worth pointing and shooting

Give us credit that we got that elk and butchered it and brought it home than lean year

Credit for telling his hunter friends they are full of shit

Cause they don’t know a rat turd from a pinon nut

Credit for tanning the hide or trying to

Credit for buying the gun and chasing the bastard down with it

And going half-crazy afterwards, like a man in war who just shot a guy

Yeah and for saying “Howdy, maam”  and tipping that hat to the lady

And deciding not to get wrapped around a toilet anymore

And learning how to help things cool off

And learning how to type

And knowing how to read a tape measure, by god, and not tossing it into the nearest drink

And write stuff that is important, somehow