Commodifying Hope

I had high expectations for the recent Generation Regeneration online summit last weekend, July 10-12. While it was not wholly without merit, I found it disappointing and somewhat misleading. We definitely need a vastly different approach to our human enterprises and existence on this planet, but I remain unconvinced that most proposed solutions will work. What I can do here is share my impressions of the event, the majority of which I attended, and why I am having this negative reaction.

The Generation Regeneration online summit was sponsored by Future of Cities, and hosted by Tony Cho. It turns out that FOC and Tony Cho are essentially the same thing. I learned about the event through a Facebook advertisement that promised I could reserve my free seat for the live event. I signed up.

Why was I interested in this at all? My next book, provided I can find a publisher, will be a collection of essays centered on urban natural history. Not in the usual sense of squirrels, raccoons, and pigeons, but on the most common urban animal: Homo sapiens. I want to be able to offer readers some concrete examples of successful innovation and social progression, and hoped to find that in this summit.

The first....red flag, if you can call it that, was that while I did receive confirmation of my reservation, it did not include a link to what I had assumed was a Zoom call. Turns out it was streamed on a handful of platforms. I chose YouTube. The post-conference assessment from Future of Cities boasted an attendance of 20,000 viewers. I was one of no more than eight (8) on YouTube, at any one time. Maybe there were 20,000 participating via Instagram. I don't know, I do not have an Instagram account. I'm skeptical.

The second annoying correspondence suggested that I should upgrade to the "VIP Experience," for a mere $99, which would include a copy of Tony's forthcoming book, in press now, and access to the recordings of the presentations/conversations/interviews making up the summit, for a longer period than if I retained my free registration. This seems to me to be a classic bait-and-switch marketing tactic, and it was a real turn-off.

Then there was, in the aftermath, the "but wait, there's more," an invitation to enroll in the "Co-design Cohort," an online course, for $555 until midnight tonight (July 13), before the price jumps to $1,111 thereafter. Now I can see this for what it is, mostly: an economic engine for Future of Cities.

What is a shame is that there were some truly important featured guests at the summit, who are doing critical and successful work. Majora Carter is an urban rivitalization strategist, a MacArthur Fellow, Peabody Award winning broadcaster, and author of Reclaiming Your Community: You Don't Have to Move Out of Your Neighborhood to Live in a Better One. Her conversation alone would have been worth the VIP package. Same with Atossa Soltani, Director of Global Strategy for the Amazon Sacred Headwaters Alliance, and founder and President of Amazon Watch. Dr. Dominique Hes was another outstanding interview. She is a Director at Greenfleet, in Melbourne, Australia. She helped engineer and execute a paddock project, implementing eco-inviting components in a human-centered development, with exciting results.

See what I am gravitating towards, here? I wanted more Indigenous and other minorty voices. There were at least many women featured, which is a great start, but it still felt like it came up a little short.

Then there were people we have heard from before, and now consider largely irrelevant, like Marianne Williamson. There were self-help gurus, people who Tony Cho met at Burning Man....Some even admitted that what they do, and/or subscribe to, is often viewed as "woo-woo," new age mumbo-jumbo. Whether there is any validity to such things is largely irrelevant when public opinion is mixed at best. The last thing we need right now is any more devisiveness.

We do not need catchphrases like "regenaisance" (seriously, this is what Tony Cho is calling this). We don't need more self-appointed leaders trying a bit too hard to be fashionable and progressive. We definitely don't need to prioritize the accommodation of capitalism. Cho repeatedly asserted that the regenaisance does not seek the elimination of capitalism. There were a few too many guests in relatively fancy offices sipping vendor coffees, at least for my taste. The entire event resembled a series of infomercials in many instances, punctuated by truly meaningful content.

At least I can now go directly to some of these individuals, and their organizations, to learn more and get recommendations for other people to investigate and learn from. I can appreciate Tony Cho for collecting all of these people, even if I find only a few of them relevant to my own projects.

MMGA (Make Morality Great Again)

Remember when morality used to mean something? Yeah, me neither, at least in hindsight, so maybe take the “again” off of that, and simply make morality great? How do we do that when we apparently have a lack of agreement on what is moral, and what is not?

© Vocal.Media

I used to think that the social and economic fabric of a given community begins to fall apart when you add the “nth” person to the population, as if at some point you reach a critical mass after which you get lawlessness, and disrespect of each other’s rights. I no longer believe that. I am now more inclined to believe that it is the emergence of the first extremely wealthy person, or persons, locally or at large, that drives a great deal of bad behavior.

Is morality even a real thing? Maybe it is a code, written by the privileged to control the underclass masses, which the authors have no intention of adhering to themselves. That certainly seems to be the case in modern times, where “accusation is projection.”

The weaponization of morality should itself be considered unethical, and ought to be illegal.

Indeed, the correlation between morality and authority is troubling, especially when one invokes divinity to justify their argument for what is right or what is wrong. A religious document is no better than the dictionary I reached for to see if there is a difference between morality and ethics. At least the dictionary is unbiased, with no agenda beyond education.

Morality, ethics, and, ideally, legality, should all be determined by consensus. When only powerful, and usually wealthy, people are making these decisions, it creates understandable resentment, if not outrage. It becomes clear that what is “moral” is meant to preserve economic and authoritarian privilege, rather than promote the public good.

Morality is frequently used as a distraction from the concentration of wealth and power. In reality, there is nothing inherently controversial about sexual identity, or sexual preference in partners, for example. Science can demonstrate that such conditions and behaviors are naturally occurring, with seldom any negative effects, until some righteous bigot starts a fight over it.

We are still too influenced by theology, marketing, and family and friends to reach our own conclusions organically as to what is moral.

We are suffering needlessly from some very arbitrary moral constraints. We cannot have the freedom to use some drugs recreationally, for example, because it would infringe on the profiteering of large pharmaceutical corporations and their majority shareholders. We could have very durable, high-quality goods made from hemp, but there is an ongoing smear campaign by powerful lobbies for cotton, pulp and paper, and other industries that would lose their stranglehold on clothing, paper, and other product manufacturing.

We have to question, then, who benefits from these moral judgments. The weaponization of morality should itself be considered unethical, and ought to be illegal. We cannot rely solely on representatives in government to do the right thing when their first allegiance is to campaign donors. Increasingly, we cannot rely on the judiciary, either appointed, or elected (again with the campaign donors who own them!).

It is sadly ironic that in this day and age when we have a literal global village, connected by the internet, that we are not able to reach consensus on right and wrong. We are still too influenced by theology, marketing, and family and friends to reach our own conclusions organically as to what is moral. Not to mention that we are at the mercy of the tech bros who architected our social media and continue to weaponize that, too.

Maybe we were meant to live in small clans after all, in numbers few enough to ensure the welfare of all members. Maybe I am dreaming of a utopia that never existed. What we do have is our imaginations, and our will to bring to fruition a truly just society where everyone prospers in tangible and intangible ways. We have to keep experimenting.

Guest Post: Letting Habitat Restore Itself

It is a rare occasion when I invite someone to guest post here, but when I read the following social media post by Justin Thomas, I knew I needed to share his message formally. I will have a few comments at the end, but here let us first hear his experience, without edits.

”Here are the woods by my house near Springfield, Missouri, USA, after six years of doing absolutely nothing but letting nature order itself over time.

© Justin Thomas, May 9, 2026, 6:05 PM.

A brief history: This is the crest of a north facing slope that drops off dramatically in the background (photo facing northwest). The road you can see is called "Bluff Drive," because of the steep slope. To the south the hill flattens for 60 meters or so and then becomes a large flat grown over field. The field was obviously plowed historically and the woods, on the edge of the field, were cut-over, but not likely ever plowed. The earliest aerial photography I've seen is from the early 1960s, and the woods between the road and the field (the woods in the photo) had begun to grow back and are now some of the oldest woods within many miles. They were probably grazed until the mid-1970s when the houses on this dead-end street (now a mile outside of city limits) were built.

The woods are largely early successional trees like Black Walnut and Hackberry that germinated after the grazing and probably brush-hogging, or Euro-American burning. There are also large Black Oaks, Maple-Leaved Oaks, and Chinquapin Oaks that are likely sucker sprouts from the stumps of the original woods, or sprouts from the stumps of the sprouts of an earlier cut, that though the same size as the early successional trees, are decades older. This last point is important because though there are big oaks, they are not yet colonizing, nor can they because the damaged system is not what they colonize into. Still, I suspect in the next 20-30 years, left to their own devices, they will recruit back into the system.

© Justin Thomas, May 7, 2020, 6:07 PM.

The woods in the above photo (taken in 2020) are full of Buckbrush, Missouri Gooseberry, Clustered Black Snakeroot (Sanicula ordorata), and little else. These are hallmark species of former grazing, especially in woods. My family and I moved onto the property in 2016 and I immediately expressed my desire, my NEED, to get in and cut all the Buckbrush in order to open the woods for floral diversity. My wife asked me to leave enough to maintain the privacy it provided us and our neighbors. That's how thick it was. I was too busy and, let's face it, too lazy, to ever do it.

Turns out laziness has many rewards. In the spring of 2020, and the reason I took the photo, I noticed that there was less Buckbrush and Gooseberry than the year prior. Over the next couple of years that decline increased substantially every year. Six years later the Buckbrush, Missouri Gooseberry, and Clustered Black Snakeroot are almost completely gone. As these short-lived shrubs died of old age, and minus any further ecological damage that would allow their seeds to germinate and replace their parents, slowly more and more sedges, grasses, and forbs colonized the woods.

Let me rephrase that, because the sedges, grasses, and forbs were already there, just at very low densities (as is usually the case in such places). What I should have written was: as the woods became less suitable to Buckbrush and Gooseberry it became more suitable for the sedges, grasses, and forbs that had been eking out their existence at very low densities in the micro-scale nooks and crannies that had not been highly impacted. These kinds of population lulls also afford many species an escape from pathogens, so when they do have the opportunity to recolonize, their metabolisms are more geared toward reproduction than defense.

While this was going on, young saplings, and some larger trees that were suppressed under the larger trees, also could not maintain their metabolic needs and they died. This further opened the canopy and midstory, allowing light to power the ground flora metabolisms. Simultaneously, with less canopy and midstory, air moves around more and the site dries out faster, decreasing the fungal load (fungi are the number one seed predators), increasing insect activity, and aiding both wind and insect pollination.

The point of this story is that no human did anything to increase any of the wonderful clockwork things that happened and that are happening. The only human part of the story is the negative impact and subsequent abandonment. The powerline cut in the background, just before the road, has Bush Honeysuckle, Japanese Honeysuckle, Multiflora Rose, and Eastern Red Cedar. They, too, are declining. Why? Because this is what nature does. Damaged systems are colonized by species that thrive in the damage (largely driven by nutrient availability). When damage/disturbance stops, the nutrient availability declines and eventually the system becomes the sort of place where damage-dependent species cannot persist. This is why most damage-dependent species have short lives, long distance dispersal mechanisms, make lots of seeds, and have seeds that bank longer than stability-dependent species. It is a core natural phenomenon inherent to all living systems.

I'm sharing this because it isn't a freak occurrence. I see this everywhere, and I hope that after reading this you may see it, too. It is so beautifully encouraging to realize that so much of what we worry about in conservation/ecology comes from a lack of understanding of how magical living systems actually are. When we understand how they work, there is so much less to worry about (and so much less "work" to do).

This is my 30th year as a botanist/ecologist and the greatest joy of doing it this long is revisiting sites I've known for decades, and seeing them benefit vastly more from no human intervention than from too much human intervention. I don't see these healthful trends and trajectories in many places that are "managed". Sorry, I won't pretend that I do.

This idea is going to upset people. This is not the conventional perspective. I was resistant to it myself, but as someone whose job it has been to collect data and monitor ecological management, from thinning and fire to controls, this is a vastly overlooked truth of the natural world: that it can do it better without us.

Maybe that isn't fair. I'll rephrase: it can do it better when we appreciate and understand how it can do it better without us, AND we follow its lead and offer a bit of assistance. Not to get political, but when you love something correctly you ask for consent and anticipate your love's needs, rather than telling it what YOU like, what it likes, and forcing it to comply. Love, patience, understanding, and compassion are ecological principles, not freaky hippie nonsense.

I know a lot of woods that look like the 2020 photo. I'm so excited to see them when they hit the point of transcendence, and so happy to know that I don't have to do anything for it to happen.”

--------------

What struck me from reading this is the concept of “disturbance-dependent” flora; and the idea that further disturbing a parcel of land, even in the act of removing invasive species, frequently makes things worse, or prevents reversion to natural conditions. Is this true in every ecological situation? No. Should it be considered in designing and implementing restoration and mitigation efforts? Definitely.

This is also the kind of philosophy we should be using in addressing all kinds of environmental, economic, and social problems. We have to start questioning the validity of the systems that are dictating certain ways of acting, and suppressing alternative methods. We cannot continue to use only profit and costs to determine the best solutions. “Scaling up” is not necessarily the best way to go. In fact, it might exacerbate the problem.

This blog respects dissent as well as validation, so please do not hesitate to enter your own thoughts into the comments, in a respectful fashion. Share *your* experiences. Thank you.

Justin Thomas is the co-founder and Science Director of NatureCITE, and the co-founder and Director of the Institute of Botanical Training. He has a BS from the University of Missouri and an MS in botany from Miami University – Ohio. He has 30 years of experience conducting ecological and taxonomic research, instructing plant identification workshops, and serves as a scientific advisor to several conservation organizations in the central and eastern United States.

Wildlife From the 2026 City Nature Challenge

The annual City Nature Challenge is one of those events that I look forward too with great excitement. I don’t like that it brings out my competitive streak, but it always yields some surprises and joys. Please see my Bug Eric blog for this post about the insects I observed, but continue reading for the birds, mammals, and “herps” that I saw.

A male American Goldfinch at the Schlagle Library in Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

I am most fortunate to have Heidi as a partner. She has amazing observation skills, and is happy to point out what she finds so that I can get my own images, or at least try to. Much of what I see is thanks to her generosity.

Blue-gray Gnatcatcher at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Aside from insects, birds are the most obvious wildlife, and what Heidi is usually looking for. The City Nature Challenge conveniently falls near the peak of spring migration of songbirds, so we have that going for us.

Palm Warbler, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

This might be the year of the Palm Warbler here, as that was the most obvious of the warbler species after the abundant Yellow-rumped Warbler that we see throughout the year.

Barn Swallows were nesting *on* the library building at Wyandotte County Lake Park.

Wyandotte County Lake Park, in Kansas, is one of our favorite places to visit, in part because there is a public library branch there, the Mr. and Mrs. F.L. Schlagle Library. It also functions as a nature center, with live captive animals, and bird feeders outside. There are nest boxes for bluebirds and Prothonotary Warblers along that part of the lakeshore, too.

Bald Eagle over Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

At this time of year there is little waterfowl diversity, so we only saw Canada Goose, and maybe a Mallard. A female Red-breasted Merganser did put in a distant appearance as we were crossing the dam.

Red-breasted Merganser female, from the dam at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Lapping the lake via the roads, we pulled into one viewpoint to find a Raccoon happily dining on what was probably birdseed, put out by someone to attract avian friends into view, where they could photograph from their vehicle.

Raccoon enjoying lunch at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Weston Bend State Park, across the river in Missouri, is another must for local birders. The “problem” this year was that the tree canopy was already so dense that seeing birds was exceedingly difficult. We’ve had a warm, periodically wet spring, and plants of all kinds have flourished.

Camera-shy Carolina Wren in the bottomlands of Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

Rather disappointed by our visit to Weston Bend, we came home to the delight of a male Rose-breasted Grosbeak dining at our backyard feeder here in Leavenworth, Kansas. It figures. LOL! A Lincoln’s Sparrow has made itself a regular in the back yard, too. It is still there as I write this on May 8.

The male Rose-breasted Grosbeak at our backyard feeder in Leavenworth, Kansas.

We may be the Eastern Gray Squirrel capital of the country, too. The number of squirrels per capita has got to be pretty great. At any one time we can have two to four squirrels or more in the back yard, with more running up and down the giant Pin Oak in the front yard.

Eastern Gray Squirrel in the neighbor's yard, Leavenworth, Kansas.

A new mammal for our back yard has been a Hispid Cotton Rat that alternates between hideouts in the log and brush pile, and the back of our water feature, stones framing a forty gallon prefab pond.

Hispid Cotton Rat sneaking some birdseed in our back yard in Leavenworth, Kansas.

No snakes this year, but Heidi did see a Common Five-lined Skink in Wyandotte County Lake Park. By the time I reached the location, it had disappeared, as skinks tend to do.

Heidi's photo of the Common Five-lined Skink, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

We had better luck with turtles. Two different logs at Wyandotte County Lake hosted two different kinds of turtles. The usual pond sliders occupied one log, but River Cooters were on the other. Thanks go to Travis Taggart for the identifications on iNaturalist.

River Cooter turtles on a log in Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Amphibians included the abundant Blanchard’s Cricket Frog. I also spotted an American Bullfrog in a stream, from the bridge going over it.

Blanchard's Cricket Frog at the edge of Sportsfield Park in Leavenworth, Kansas.

American Bullfrog in creek, from a bridge in Leavenworth, Kansas.

We walked the Leavenworth Landing Park along the banks of the Missouri for our final outing of the City Nature Challenge, and Heidi spotted many great birds.

Clay-colored Sparrow at Leavenworth Landing Park, Kansas.

Harris's Sparrow at Leavenworth Landing Park, Kansas.

Heidi also noticed a Gray Treefrog sitting on an open gate where the walking path goes under a railroad trestle. Had I even seen the animal at all, I would have dismissed it as some kind of gross trash discarded by a human. Wow. Camouflage in plain sight.

Gray Treefrog at Leavenworth Landing Park, Kansas.

As we exited the waterfront park, we noted Chimney Swifts flying overhead, and two Western Kingbirds on utility wires. It was a pleasant ending to another great City Nature Challenge.

Western Kingbird, downtown Leavenworth, Kansas.

You can find all of my observations for the challenge at this link on iNaturalist. Heidi’s observations, with much better images, are here. Please share links to your own observations in the comments. We love to see what you are finding!

Chimney Swifts over downtown Leavenworth, Kansas.

Earth Day Thoughts

On this 56th edition of Earth Day, I feel compelled to reflect on how we got here, and where we are going. In many ways, it seems we have taken more steps backwards, especially recently, but I also see hope and promise, if we have the collective will.

© NASA from Artemis II mission

How amazing, if not coincidental, that one of the images that inspired Earth Day was Earthrise, a view of Earth from the orbit of the Apollo 8 mission in 1968, a photo taken by astronaut Willam Anders. Fast forward to earlier this month, and images of our Blue Marble taken by the astronauts aboard the Artemis II mission leave us in awe all over again.

That awe needs to now translate to reverence, something fundamental to Indigenous cultures, and which has been nearly absent throughout the history of Western Civilization, replaced instead with fixation on attainment of gratuitous wealth, and increasing economic growth.

I was nine years old when the inaugural Earth Day occurred in 1970, too young to appreciate the fact that the major purpose of the celebration was to preserve the planet for future generations like mine. All I knew was that I loved going exploring, looking for insects, spiders, snakes, and other creatures that nobody else liked. Today, I cannot escape the observation that we treat whole sectors of humanity as badly as we do “bugs,” and sometimes even worse.

When did Homo sapiens first begin to imperil our one and only home? Some will point to the Quaternary megafauna extinctions of large mammals at the end of the Ice Age, 10,000 to 50,000 years ago. A good argument could be made that the Industrial Revolution, at least the second one, was the beginning of the holocaust. Widespread environmental damage was certainly accelerated by the burning of fossil fuels, which continues to this day.

Every human revolution magnifies the impact of the previous one, and so the Industrial Revolution led to an enormous increase in the scale of the Agricultural Revolution that preceded it. Machinery replaced draft animals, and permitted enormous plots of monoculture crops to be grown. The Third Industrial Revolution began to automate jobs that were not already outsourced to cheaper labor pools elsewhere, and the current Fourth Industrial Revolution is being defined by the widespread employment of artificial intelligence (AI) to replace most other functions in industry, business, and even the service economy. The end goal appears to be reducing most of humanity to the category of consumers, who take little part in the production of goods and services.

Overall, it appears that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are actually colonialism, capitalism, patriarchy, and racism, not necessarily in that order. There are certainly additional players, but here are your lead actors. They have all been behind conquest, war, famine, and death. Those four characteristics of human society must be extinguished if we are to have future Earth Days.

The good news is that more people are waking up to the realization that the systems of power, wealth, and governance are not working for them, or any other living thing, and that there are alternatives that are more just, participatory, and sustainable, or at least less damaging. There is renewed interest in permaculture and regenerative agriculture, for example. Community gardens, urban farming, food forests, and foraging are helping address food deserts in cities. Cooperatives and credit unions are looking a lot more humane, and less extractive, than corporations and banks.

Elevating Indigenous people, people of color in general, women, and other marginalized demographic categories into positions of power and leadership will help immensely in changing the trajectory of our world, for the betterment of all species. Priority must be given to enact change at a local scale, where experimentation is less risky, and results more immediate. There is zero room for politics, only teamwork.

Much as we may feel demoralized, replaceable with technology, and seemingly powerless to change any of it, we must begin living differently. Sometimes, that means dropping out of the systems that are destroying us. Your innovation and example are needed now more than ever.

Where's Walden?

Watching the three-part Public Broadcasting Service documentary Henry David Thoreau, I am struck by the fact that in many ways I am searching for my own Walden Pond, in more ways than geographical. It is more about finding community, and seeking accountability, as my years here on Earth dwindle.

Cranberry Pond, western Massachusetts.

There is no way I am even remotely in the same league as Thoreau. I have not even read nearly enough (including Thoreau!), for one thing. It has taken me more than twice the years to make the same observations, and arrive at the same conclusions, as it took Thoreau. In one sense I am embarrassed by that, and on the other I am proud of myself for coming to such realizations at all, in an age of distraction, and of global consumerism of goods and services rather than ideas and other intangibles.

What has shaped my perceptions, goals, and ideals, has been a conglomeration of mentorship, alternative media that I stumbled upon, the persistence of movements like Black Lives Matter, social media accounts and podcasts coming from otherwise suppressed voices in the LGBTQ, neurodivergent, disabled, Indigenous, Black, Hispanic, and other communities, plus my own observations and experiences.

It is becoming apparent that while my wish list for the ideal place to live the remainder of my days is one with a mostly warm, sunny climate, high biodiversity, public transit, diverse demographics, a robust healthcare system, and affordable cost of living, I am forgetting the need for creative inspiration and accountability. What I should be seeking is a community, or communities, of individuals that will demand of me those practices that I have been resisting or neglecting: writing regularly, reading, and collaborating with others. It is high time I become a literary mentor now, not “just” a mentor in entomology.

My partner and I could probably be happy in an even smaller house than our current two-bedroom here in Leavenworth. The likes of Thoreau’s one-room cabin on the shores of Walden Pond may be a bit too challenging, but I found it comforting to learn that he had friends willing to sleep on the floor for extended visits. We’ve all grown to have expectations of guest accommodations that are all about physical comfort, if not luxury, when what we value most is the camaraderie.

Thoreau could walk into Concord at will, which I find ideal, enjoying the literal pedestrian life that I do. I never learned to ride a bicycle, and am generally terrified of driving, at least in circumstances of congestion at speed. I currently walk with relative regularity, on a nearly three-mile route, which to this day is not at all strenuous. It takes me through a park with ballfields that is frequented by birds, squirrels, and at least one Red Fox, along its periphery by a creek. There is a forested park adjacent to the ballfields, but it is being managed for additional active recreation (a new frisbee golf course is intruding into the woods). If I walk in the opposite direction, non-stop, I can be downtown in about forty minutes.

In other aspects of life here, there is a reasonably vibrant graphic artists community, and my partner is active in it. Nothing similar for literary arts, though, or it is flying well under the radar. Youth, and minorities, however you define them, are seldom encountered except as service workers, and in schools. This is overwhelmingly a town of military veterans, current and former prison employees, and retirees who presumably cannot afford to live elsewhere. Yes, I freely admit I may be too judgmental. We do have good local restaurants, and a handful of unique small businesses that everyone appreciates, regardless of our differences.

My partner grew up here in Leavenworth, Kansas, and her parents still live here, too. She quickly adjusted to life here, and I have some misgivings about asking her to leave again, to assimilate to a place where both of us may not have existing friends, or any kind of support system. Still, continuing to live where I feel that I do not have a support system is becoming increasingly intolerable. Not enough of the residents share our values, or at least don’t express them. When you expand to the state level, it gets even worse.

Where, then, is my Walden, my Concord, my Massachusetts, my New England of yore? Where can I explore and once again be filled with wonder and hope, and have the family that has been so elusive for my entire existence?

Creepy Cooper's, Sinister Sharpie

Last month we had two predatory birds visit our yard in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA. While they were thrilling to observe, they gave me a bit of the shivers. Cooper's Hawk, and Sharp-shinned Hawk, are both accipiters, well-known for ambushing songbirds at feeders, much to the consternation of birders. These raptors don't give up easily, either, as I learned from the two I witnessed.

Profile of a regal killer.

My first look at the Cooper's Hawk.

On December 8, at about 12:15 PM, I got up abruptly from my chair in the living room, having remembered a household chore I needed to do. Glancing up, I saw, through the open blinds over our backdoor windows, the largest bird I had ever seen in our backyard. It was an adult Cooper's Hawk (COHA if you are a fan of banding codes), perched atop the shepherd's hook from which our feeders are suspended. Since I was startled myself, I fully expected it to fly off immediately, but went to get my camera anyway.

Oh, no, it's leaving?

The bird did indeed launch itself a short time later, but merely glided to the back section of our fence, where it came to rest once again. I was delighted to get more opportunities for photos from between the slats of the blind, through the entirely too-dirty windows.

Still here!

Three minutes later, the hawk flew to another section of the fence, closer still. A minute later, it returned to its previous spot on the rear section of fence. From there it moved to the fencepost that abuts our detached garage, and beneath a non-functional light fixture. We need to have that looked at, but I digress. The bird was staring intently at the brush pile I erected to offer cover to songbirds for situations just like this one.

At twelve-thirty, the Cooper's Hawk flew onto the brush pile itself, perching low, on one of the more exposed limbs. A minute later it was back atop the back section of fence. A moment later it was on the side fence again. What it did next was unexpected.

Prowling on the ground.

The hawk flew down to the ground into our backyard. It proceded to skulk around our forty gallon, prefabricated pond, and crawl through the dense, weedy thicket that is our vague attempt at a pollinator garden.

At this point, I became unsure whether I was watching a hawk, a Greater Roadrunner, or even a weasel. The alert, thorough searching of this predator was truly remarkable.

Searching in the weeds.

At twelve thirty-eight, the hawk returned to the brush pile. This time, it dove right in, scouring every inch of the labyrinth for potential prey. Creepy. Literally. Another minute or two later, the hawk flew away for good, headed in the direction of the federal penitentiary, an embarrassing block-and-a-half to the north, beyond the back section of our fence.

Exploring the brushpile.

The whole encounter seemed to last much longer than the twenty or so minutes between the time stamps on my first and last photo. I would have expected the hawk to conceal itself in the brush pile, and simply wait for the House Sparrows, House Finches, Dark-eyed Juncos, and maybe other birds, to return to the feeder, unaware of the potential danger. Not so. This was active hunting, and it took me completely by surprise.

On December 15, just before one o'clock PM, I stepped out the backdoor to top off the feeder. A bird about the size of a dove, maybe slightly larger, rocketed out of the brush pile, nearly giving me a heart attack. Miraculously, I could tell immediately that it was another accipiter, but definitely not the Cooper's Hawk from the previous week.

I was able to follow the flight of this smaller raptor and, amazingly, it came to alight atop a neighbor's fence about thirty yards away or so. I went back inside the house to retrieve my camera.

Even more surprisingly, the hawk was still there when I returned. I was too excited, and too vertically-challenged, to get a sharp (no pun intended) photo of what I suspected was a Sharp-shinned Hawk (SSHA banding code), over three layers of fences, at distance, but I tried anyway.

Sharp-shinned Hawk.

Separating Cooper's Hawks from Sharp-shinned Hawks is a challenging exercise even for seasoned birders. You caannot use size as a reliable difference because there is overlap between a small male Cooper's Hawk and a large female Sharpie. Both species are clad in nearly identical colors, though the back of the neck is colored the same as the top of the head and back of the bird in Sharp-shinned Hawk. The back of the neck is vaguely paler in Cooper's Hawk, giving it a black-capped appearance.

In my limited experience, I have noted that sharpies, when perched, look like they have no neck at all, the head tapering immediately into the rest of the body. Their beaks are very short and comparatively delicate compared to a Cooper's Hawk.

Profile of the Sharpie.

More experienced birders note that the eyes of a Sharp-shinned Hawk are larger in proportion to the head, such that they appear to be "bulging." The tip of the tail in a sharpie is straight-edged, whereas it is rounded in a Cooper's Hawk. This last trait can be unreliable, though, or at least difficult to properly perceive.

I wish I had not flushed the sharpie, and been able to observe whether it behaved similarly to the Cooper's Hawk. Maybe I can train my brain to recall these encounters before I abruptly and absent-mindedly throw open the back door again. It could be months, if not a year or more, before we get another visit, though. I suspect the hunting territory of these hawks encompasses a pretty large area.

You are invited to share your own stories of accipiter encounters in the comments here. I moderate input at least once per week. I will try and not be envious if you have seen a Northern Goshawk on your property.

Birthday Thoughts

I recently turned the big sixty-five, and there is possibly no other anniversary more important for a resident of the United States. As an official elderly person, I realize I have plenty left to say, but it isn’t “get off my lawn!” or even “today’s music is terrible.” No, there are too many topics of far greater substance. Some of them are personal, some are collective.

My overall sentiment is that I have exceeded my expiration date. There is a certain degree of envy for those who have already passed, and thereby relieved of continued suffering, which includes watching others suffer, species going extinct, the brutality of imperialism, White Christian Nationalism, global capitalism, religious wars and terrorism, and climate change. I would rather not continue bearing witness, thank you.

If I do not find a way out of my current town of residence, surrounded by people mostly older than I am, more sickly, arguably more unhappy, and clinging desperately to “the good old days,” and a culture that no longer serves us well, then I will surely die sooner rather than later. I thrive when surrounded by younger generations with energy and creativity. Few people here have any respect for the natural world.

Turning the magic age of Medicare eligibility is not the reward you might imagine, either. One of the shocking revelations is that Medicare is definitely NOT free healthcare. Parts A and B cost me about $200 per month. Friends have told me that they have that taken out of their Social Security benefits. Because they raised the official retirement age to sixty-seven, I am not yet receiving that income. I would be left with little after the Medicare payment anyway.

Oh, and I still have to find a “Medigap” plan, through a private insurance provider, to cover what Medicare does not. Naturally, that still won’t cover dental, vision, or hearing. I did secure prescription drug coverage, but will I meet the deductible?

What concerns me most is my mental health. At best, I am not nearly as productive as I should be. I loathe writing, now. It isn’t that I don’t have something to say. I simply don’t have the energy and desire to execute the keystrokes to put it down. I may go back to longhand and then transcribe it, like I used to do.

My mental state does not even entertain the idea of engaging with anyone in my community, in person. I see my in-laws on the regular, for dinner out almost every Saturday. I attend meetings or events of the local artist group my partner belongs to, maybe three or four times a year. That’s it, pretty much. Oh, the homecoming game at my partner’s high school.

The most awful notion, right now, is the idea that I need to put my life in danger in defense of vulnerable people, at a time when I am the most vulnerable myself. I’m the physically weakest I have ever been, have even shrunken in stature. I do take long walks regularly, and perform a handful of upper body exercises twice per week, but that is not enough. The rage that once fueled me to protest vigorously, has subsided greatly, though my partner might tell you otherwise. I feel ashamed of my physical cowardice, when I could not be more aligned with those who need protection.

Finances are yet another worry. Overseas travel is highly unlikely. I regret terribly that I did not visit other countries when I was younger. I have been neglectful of too many friends here in the states because I cannot be everywhere at once.

The funny thing is, I can easily envision a better world for everyone, for every species, in fact. It involves the abandonment of global capitalism, corporate control of infrastructure, pursuit of continued colonialism and empire, and instead embracing a borderless landscape. We need a “ruralopolis,” a seamless network of smaller cities, with agricultural corridors in an otherwise sparsely developed environment. International commerce would be a rare, but guaranteed treat. Currency would be something nearly intangible, almost unnecessary. We would reach consensus quickly concerning what we truly need and want. Most of those items would not be products.

Am I optimistic? No, not currently, but apparently I do have hope, and that vision, to keep me going. I do, after all, want to live long enough to see the Indigenous take back control of what is rightfully theirs.

I Shouldn't Be Ashamed....

Football season for my college alma mater is mercifully over. They finished with two wins and ten losses, including a defeat by a then 0 and 8 team. It is one of the worst performances in school history. They fired the head coach mid season. The fact that this happened, and that I am distraught by it, is a product of my own disproportionate emotional investment in what amounts to athletic entertainment, and the greater collective problems with universities, the media, and the money involved in all of it.

During my time at university, I had nothing to do with the athletic department, aside from attending football and basketball games as a student, back in the early 1980s. Since then, college sports has grown exponentially into an entertainment empire that is increasingly coveted by media conglomerates that continue to cannibalize each other, concentrating vast sums of money. It is now ESPN/ABC/Disney, FOX, CBS/Paramount, and, to a lesser degree, NBC, the CW, and other smaller networks, that are determining "winners" and "losers."

The media quest to cash in on college football began decades ago with the migration of games from free broadcast television to cable channels, namely ESPN. Ultimately, nearly all bowl games, BOWL games(!) became unavailable to any fans unwilling, or unable, to pay for ESPN. This model has continued with the recent playoff format and national championship.

As if that was not enough for the hungry media corporations, those companies drove conference realignment to create "superconferences" that make zero geographic sense, terminated some traditional rivalries, and completely abandoned at least two colleges. One of those universities left for dead was my own. The argument was that we respresent too small a "market" to attract viewers. I have been in a state of perpetual rage ever since. The schools that fled our once vibrant conference also attempted to abscond with all the money, forcing lawsuits by the two remaining schools to protect themselves financially. This is what I mean by the media choosing winners and losers.

Today, the media is obsessed with only two of the "power four" conferences: The Southeast Conference (SEC) and the Big Ten. The Big Twelve and the Atlantic Coast Conference (ACC) are only begrudgingly accorded recognition, persumably to avoid outright mutiny from those fanbases. The entire structure now guarantees that the Alabamas, Georgias, Ohio States, Notre Dames, Michigans, Oregons, and Oklahomas will always be at the top, or at least ranked, with little revenue left for any other programs to improve unless they have millionaire booster benefactors.

It gets better, or worse, depending on how robust the athletic budget of your school. Student athlete stars are now rightly demanding Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) compensation. Are the media giants stepping up to meet that new burden? Hell, no. It is left to each university's booster clubs to pay their own athletes. Once again, the schools with rich and powerful alumni and other benefactors, profit by being able to elevate the visibility of their athletes, and gain an enormous recruiting advantage, while every other university is left behind.

Now to even more important questions. How have we, as a society, let it come to this? Why do we allow our universities to be branded "winners" and "losers" based solety on the performance of their football and/or men's basketball teams? Why is the public face of higher learning one dimensional, equated with the school's mascot? Did I not receive a quality education? I would say so, especially given that I did not graduate from my state school, yet my current publisher is an Ivy League press. My alma mater did something right in my case. That is all that truly matters: how your education at the university level translates to advancement in your chosen career, even if that is not in professional team sports.

If we, as a society, were truly committed to fairness in college athletics, we might demand the following to help level the playing field:

• Institute a cap on booster/alumni contributions to athletic departments. Academic quality should be the overriding concern of universities, and capping donations for athletics would allow other departments to prosper.
• Require all universities, public and private, to join a conference. No more independents like Notre Dame, so that they cannot enter into their own individual contracts with broadcast media outlets, with the resulting unshared revenue.
• Put the burden of NIL on media outlets, and the agents of individual athletes, instead of picking winners according to the wealthiest universities with boosters that can afford the cost.
• Require any athlete entering the transfer portal from a ranked school, to sign with a lower-ranked, or unranked university. Spread the talent more equitably. Make it more difficult for talent to defect. Everyone should be making sacrifices in the name of increased parity.

The remaining two universities in my school's conference have entered into an agreement to rebuild the conference, poaching the better teams from the Mountain West Conference; but for at least the next two years there will still be only eight teams, guaranteeing that no conference champion will be granted an automatic playoff berth consideration. Terrible.

Why am I personally so dejected? This year, at least, I think I am so depressed by the state of humanity, and the planet, that I am looking for *any* example of justice, fairness, redemption, and reason for joy. I want the underdog to triumph, and to do so emphatically. I want the elites and bullies to be punished, demoralized, metaphorically eviscerated. I guess I look to sports for signs that an actual revolution of importance can happen. Who am I kidding?

Fear and Self-loathing

We faced a substantial, unexpected expense this week, related to our one vehicle, and it conjured up all manner of emotions, some based in reality, and some emanating from the deeper wells of my paranoia. I do not believe I am alone in such reactions, so I am sharing them here.

First, we are fortunate. We can absorb the cost of repairs and new tires with our savings. There are countless citizens who are not that advantaged, who would be charging it on a credit card, or forced to abandon personal transportation completely. Racking up debt seems to be as much of an American pastime as baseball and apple pie.

Every time we dip into savings, though, means less money for the future. It is snipping another thread in the safety net. Everything monetary seems extremely tenuous now, and that is where fear starts to creep in. I believe that anxiety is a legitimate concern. Everyone who is not a billionaire should behave cautiously.

The self-loathing comes from not having traditional employment, or at least some kind of reasonably dependable income. I abandoned that lifestyle well before the pandemic. I am simply dysfunctional in the average workplace. Subjecting others, and myself, to that is not in anyone’s best interests. I do thrive when I get to choose who I want to work with, but I am in a rural location now where that is almost impossible to do in person.

I am nearing retirement, I think, but the age at which you can claim full benefits from Social Security keeps going up. Neither political party seems to have a problem with this because the people we elect to public office are so wealthy they don’t need Social Security themselves. They also get a government pension, and their own premium healthcare package.

Personally, we have investments, even a “wealth manager,” but they certainly have bigger fish as clients. Obviously, everything tethered to the stock market is precarious now, thanks to tariffs and other destabilizing actions that our President and congress have been taking. Consequently, I don’t think of our financial state as “real,” let alone something we can count on over the next twenty or thirty years.

This is all a predicament I think many of us share, and it has enormous ramifications. One horrifically distressing aspect is that as perceived personal risk goes up, we are a lot less likely to make donations to nonprofits that, ironically, help people in even worse circumstances. There are also many environmental organizations and civil rights advocates that I would like to support with my dollars, but what if we have another personal emergency?

I begin to rage when I think about how government has defunded many of those agencies and non-governmental organizations doing positive work, and instead grossly inflated the budgets of the “War Department,” and I.C.E. Emphasis on “gross.” We should have the exact opposite scenario.

If money itself is not the problem, it is the weaponization of it that enables cruelty, and compounds existing misery. We have to make money irrelevant, somehow, to rob it of its power. We stand to lose control of it entirely should cryptocurrency become the new standard. Almost nobody understands blockchain, myself included, and crypto represents, essentially, the privatization of currency. Its value will be determined entirely by powerful individuals, and we will be at their mercy.

My greatest act of fiscal resistance has been to enroll in a credit union. I did that decades ago when I lived in another city, and I have been delighted by the results. Spreading assets across different types of financial institutions seems like a good strategy, at least for now.

Today, our car is safer now, with new brakes, and rides a little smoother thanks to new tires, but where will the proverbial road take us? The GPS navigation device/department of our governments seems to be malfunctioning, and we are being taken for a ride, instead of being in the driver’s seat and determining our own destination. Fasten your seatbelt.

Nacho Land

There is another thing that bothers me about the concepts of “home” and “sense of place”: Do we even have a right to claim any understanding of the landscape, let alone ownership of it? What qualifies as home when you have stolen the land? How do you, personally, and we, collectively, reconcile our participation in the damage done, or at least halt the continuing destruction and disrespect? First, we have to accept that we are part of colonialism, without shrinking and shaming. Somewhere between illicit pride and Christian Nationalism, and paralyzing regret over what our ancestors started, lies a path to humility and true progress.

IndigenousPeoplesResources.com

With all due respect to Woody Guthrie, this land is not your land. It belongs to Indigenous peoples who occupied the continent prior to European settlement (read “theft”).By this measure, none of us who are White can call the United States, Canada, Australia, South Africa, or any number of other countries “home.” We cannot say we have reverence for a “sense of place” in our nature writing when our residency has no legitimacy.

Before Independence, and even after it, for that matter, parts of the United States were settled by empires other than the British. The French and Spanish had significant territories, of course. The Dutch also had a presence. In the southern U.S. in particular, someone of British descent might be third in line for claims to ownership.

It should b evident by now that empire and colonialism have never benefited the land, its ecosystems, or even the vast majority of settlers themselves. Instead, those manifestos have punished and exterminated Indigenous peoples, enslaved others, and extracted natural resources, to advance the wealth and power of a select few.

Meanwhile, capitalism has gone hand-in-hand with colonialism, promoting the idea, in theory, that one can achieve private individual ownership of property, including land. Public ownership of land varies greatly from state to state. I grew up in Oregon, where federal lands account for 53% of all acreage. State ownership adds another three percent. I now live in Kansas, where 98% of land is in private hands. This does not necessarily translate to ownership by Kansas residents. Between 2015 and 2023, absentee ownership of Kansas agricultural lands increased by three percent. Kansans owned 71% in 2015, but only 68% in 2023.

Increasingly, foreign ownership of land in the U.S. is on the rise. This is especially true for mining companies in Canada. Absentee ownership in the industrial sector has frequently resulted in severe environmental damage, and often increases in chronic illness in surrounding communities.

In urban locations, private equity is now precluding home ownership by the average citizen. Private equity firms outbid other real estate entities with lucrative cash offers, buying houses in bulk, to be rented out. Again, these corporate enterprises are usually absentee owners, often with little interest in maintenance and upkeep of their widely-dispersed properties.

It is no coincidence that the people telling us that land has no value until humans build something on it, or pave it over, or plow it under, are the same people telling us that our country would be better off if we killed the homeless, eradicated the LGBTQ+ community, deported immigrants (undocumented or not, apparently), and celebrated White supremacy. They benefit from culture wars that distract us from solving real problems, allowing them to profit beyond their wildest dreams. We know better. Reparations look a lot like land back, and fair housing for all.

It is obvious, from science and spirituality, that the Earth owns us, not the other way around. It is interesting that so-called pagan religions have more of a grasp of this than their Christian counterparts. In order to effect lasting change, I would argue that we need to invite Indigenous people into our public and private institutions, then promote them into positions of leadership, authority, and power. When we have more Indigenous leaders in our collective spaces, we can begin to learn the ways of properly living on the land, and engaging fairly with all citizens.

Sources: Dehlinger, Katie Micik. 2023. “Minding Ag’s Business: Land Ownership and Foreign Investment Trends in Kansas,” Progressive Farmer.
Mayyasi, Alex. 2025. “Here’s what happens when private equity buys homes in your neighborhood,” Planet Money Newsletter (NPR).

One Thirty Over Eighty

It took a little longer than average, but I am officially old now. My physician finally prescribed high blood pressure medication. As one ages, blood vessels naturally become a little stiffer, but I dare say there is more to it than that. There are other factors at play, some of them beyond our control.

Image does not equal endorsement of the device pictured.

My good vascular health is the product of circumstances that not everyone is fortunate to have. Good genetics. Opportunities for physical exercise in terms of time and location. Financial privilege that allowed me to withdraw from the corporate workforce earlier than usual. Fewer pressures from external sources means lower pressure on my internal organs. That is what a modest inheritance can do for you, but there should be more avenues for escaping the rat race.

U.S. manufacturing is booming, if you count stress as a product.

My doctor would still like me to be on a low sodium diet, and less sugar and fat couldn’t hurt, either. Sorry, doc, but I’m not going to sacrifice the few things that still give me comfort and delight. Do you know how difficult that is to do, anyway? My partner cooks recipes passed down from generation after generation, and I guarantee you that salt content was not a consideration. If anything, such dishes may have originally met with “could use more salt” criticism.

Diet might be the least impactful element anyway. U.S. manufacturing is booming, if you count stress as a product. We are programmed by our culture to be living machines of productivity and consumerism, with precious little reward for either. We are hardly recognized as having any value outside of an economic definition. This is unhealthy, to put it mildly.

Indeed, we have allowed every aspect of our existence to be framed as monetary transactions. Even your personal health is a commodity. Problems, including those created by business enterprises, are viewed as “opportunities” for additional profit. We have the industrial-legal-medical complex whereby law firms specialize in either defending corporations, or representing individuals who are harmed physically or emotionally by those entities. Not paid a fair wage? No problem. Try the lottery, sports betting, other forms of gambling, and frivolous lawsuits. Apply for another credit card, or take out a loan. You can always use the debt consolidation services later.

When I went in for my annual check-up, a year-and-a-half or so late, the one that resulted in the blood pressure meds, I presented my insurance information first thing. When I departed, I asked the receptionist if I needed to pay anything, and was assured that my insurance would cover it since there was no specific “complaint” that would trigger a co-pay. I did have the on-site lab take blood for testing, since I didn’t know when I could get back to the clinic again….

I don’t think it was even two weeks later that I received a bill for nearly $1,000.00. The invoice also asserted that they had no insurance information on file. Wow. I called the number and, to their credit, reached a representative in a timely manner. He took my insurance information again and told me they would issue another statement once the matter was resolved. Awesome.

I don’t think another two weeks elapsed before I received another bill for over $400, likely related to the lab work since it was from a different division of the hospital. Again, they claimed they had no insurance information. I called again. Pretty certain I got through to the same representative (a comforting East Indian accent), and he took my information once again. So far, fingers crossed, I have not received another bill. Good thing I got those high blood pressure meds before the bill, right?!

I will be turning the magic age next year, and am procrastinating the debacle that is negotiating Medicare. Assuming Medicare still exists going forward. If I have to submit my insurance information multiple times as it is now, what am I in for next? Talk about needless stress, so insurance companies can profit from Part C, or whatever.

I have seen multiple posts to social media suggesting that we should be making personal friends with doctors, so that when the system collapses, we at least stand a fighting chance. I don’t think this is hyperbole, but it is a sad state of affairs. Oh, the diet thing? It really would pay to make friends with farmers, so that when the food supply chain goes south, you can at least eat. Stressed out yet? Yeah, me, too.

Home Is...?

I recently posted on social media the assertion that “Home is not a place, it’s a time,” adding “That is why you can’t go home again.” The responses, few that there were, suggested more intangible definitions, such as “a feeling,” and “a memory.” Someone said “….a smell, a taste….” It may be complicated, but I detest the romanticism associated with the idea of home. I am a slow nomad.

In the traditional sense, geographically and temporally, my first home was Portland, Oregon, in the nineteen sixties through the mid-1980s. If this evokes your idea of paradise, then good for you. My reality was that of an only child with two parents who frequently fought verbally, and occasional property damage by my father. I also remember seemingly lifeless coniferous forests under overcast skies, and rain. Home was a place where I lived against my will.

Work eventually took me to Cincinnati, Ohio. I remember storms, one of which flooded my apartment. I recall the self-inflicted trauma of being fired, or asked to resign, by multiple employers because I was never properly socialized. Cincinnati was the home where I confronted my tumultuous childhood, and curbed my drinking.

From Cincinnati, I took a job in rural southern Missouri. The employer downsized eight months after I got there. I decided that my being there, however briefly, was less about the work of fabricating exhibits for museums and nature centers, and more about gently suggesting to my coworkers that they use something in addition to religion to craft the fabric of their lives.

On a whim I moved to Tucson, Arizona. I bottomed out financially, and it took five years, in my forties, to establish quality friendships. Ultimately, a temp assignment turned into something permanent, mere blocks from my apartment; and I got my first book-writing opportunity. The office eventually closed, but by then I had met my partner, Heidi.

Moving to Colorado Springs to be with her felt more like home than prior locations. I got the benefit of instant friends from her workplace at the zoo, and found additional friends through other networks.

Heidi retired from the zoo after 26 years, but she probably should have done so sooner. Keeper work takes a toll on the body. Meanwhile, the rising cost of living in the Springs meant we could not afford a home in a better neighborhood. I agreed to her suggestion that we move to Leavenworth, Kansas, her childhood hometown, where her parents still reside.

Four years on, and I still have no friends that I see regularly, aside from the in-laws. I assume everyone here is a Republican cult member unless proven otherwise. I want my old friends back. Leavenworth demographics skew heavily to the White, geriatric end of the spectrum. The town does have young people, but no collective energy. Leavenworth is prisons, the military (Ft. Leavenworth), and churches. At least we have a house we own free and clear, and a couple of yards.

What is the overall theme here, then? Misery? Trauma? Isolation? Mere dissatisfaction? I abhor sentimentality attached to the idea of home. Nostalgia can screw itself. Portland was not a bad place to be at the time I lived there. Today, the traffic is worse than Los Angeles. Before I left for Tucson, a coworker told me that he lived there in the 1980s and loved it. In the early 2000s, I did not. Timing is everything, and the idea of place cannot divorce itself from that. A place does not stay stagnant, locked in some kind of Neverland. It grows up, and is usually the worse for it. Colorado Springs continues to sprawl because the powerful and wealthy insist that the high prairie I love is worthless until somebody can profit by putting in a subdivision or an industrial park.

I think, for me, home has been a series of gratifying, if not occasionally euphoric, punctuations in an otherwise unsatisfying existence. The places I have the fondest memories of were fleeting destinations, experienced over weeks or weekends, with friends of the highest order. I can sometimes put myself mentally back in those places; or on a beach in the Caribbean that I’ve invented in my mind, listening to calypso or jazz fusion, and drifting off to sleep.