A few years before we moved out here, congregation members invested more than a million dollars, finishing a portion of the basement under the sanctuary into a day shelter for unhoused youth. Northwest Youth Services manages the shelter's day-to-day operations. This has proven to be a meaningful relationship. Members of the church help support the shelter by contributing food and clothing, and each summer, there is a neighborhood barbecue in the parking lot for youth and members of the neighborhood. Yesterday, the acting director of Northwest Youth Services gave a brief moment of mission during our worship service. He spoke informally and passionately about the work that his agency is doing. Last year, they served an average of 40 youths daily, offering laundry services, showers, lockers, safe spaces for naps, study, and art. They also provide social services when youth are ready to seek jobs, housing, and other services.

In his brief presentation, the director reported on a recent meeting with our representative for the second district of Washington in the United States House of Representatives. While our representatives and senators are used to hearing requests for funding, and Northwest Youth Services does lean on the state and federal government for financial assistance, he did not make a direct appeal. Instead of noting the stressful tensions in Washington, D.C., he asked the representative, “How are you doing?” The answer was, “Not well.”

Our public servants are hurting. Those in elected positions are subject to intense pressures caused by enormous amounts of money invested in manipulating elections. To retain their seats, they are forced to raise money to counter the almost limitless investments of ultra-wealthy individuals and corporations who have no limits on their spending. Those working in government, providing service to citizens, have faced mass layoffs, often unpredictable and uncertain. Some have been offered buyouts of retirement only to find out that the actual terms are not as represented. Others have been fired without explanation.

I was moved by the story of simple human connection from an honest question, “How are you doing?” We have been asking many of our friends this question these days. Some involved in immigrant rights have been facing discouraging results in the past few months. Some who have worked for years to protect the environment, including clean water and air, have been discouraged by what seems to be a wholesale gutting of US environmental policy and action. Some of our friends are members of cross-border families with immediate family members who live on the other side of the border. A waitress who served us when we went out for lunch recently has a boyfriend who lives across the border. She spoke of the increased border crossing difficulty since the US presidential inauguration. Some of our friends and neighbors work in import/export businesses and have had to work overtime for weeks trying to figure out regulations that seem to change daily. Tariff rates and rules are frequently the topics of governmental rhetoric and social media postings, and the status of tariffs seems to change daily.

Yesterday, a member of our church had her laptop with her. She works for US Customs and Border Protection, and she was on call over the weekend to be able to respond to any confusion or incidents at the border crossing near our home. When asked, “How are you?” the answer revealed a lot of stress. While her job demands discretion to protect the rights of individuals she encounters, she could share that her work has required her to put in extra hours and has placed her in situations where the rules do not align with her values. We can imagine many of those settings by reading the newspaper without her having to share details with us. We can see that her job is a lot more complicated these days than it once was.

These difficult times allow us to check in with each other and offer our support and care amid stress and challenges. Some people in our communities are forced to make difficult decisions.

The President has been making a lot of social media posts about the necessity of tariffs to force Canada to increase border security. He cites illegal importation of fentanyl and other dangerous drugs and a border problem. I don’t know if he has any understanding of how border crossings work, but the job of screening at the border for illegal substances falls to the country that people are entering. Canadian border guards check for illicit substances passing from the US to Canada, but it falls to US border guards to check for items entering the US. The way border crossings work, there is little that Canada can do to stem illegal importation into the US. That is the job of US Customs and Border Protection.

New regulations have made the jobs of US Customs and Border Protection employees much more difficult. Tariffs are only one of the new rules they have to enforce. People crossing the border for work must provide paperwork regarding their employment, and people crossing the border for volunteer service must provide proof of liability insurance. Not long ago, a group of Canadians made plans to travel to Florida to help with hurricane and severe winter storm recovery. They were turned back at the border because of the new rules. While border guards are careful to enforce the laws fairly and respond to new directives from the government, they didn’t imagine that it would fall to them to prevent people who are coming to the US to help the victims of disaster from entering our country.

Many are feeling divided by the escalating US-Canada trade war. We can help unite people by asking a simple question: “How are you?” We need to ask all of our contacts this question. As I often say, “We are all in this together.” We need each other and support. When people face pain, asking how they are doing can remind them that they are loved.

Americans have a problem with credit card debt. Cards make spending easy. Electric devices such as cell phones and digital watches allow users to purchase and defer payment. Credit card debt is a significant factor in the financial woes of many US citizens. According to the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, Americans collectively hold a record $1.21 trillion in credit card debt, with balances jumping $45 billion in the fourth quarter of 2024. Almost half of American credit card holders carry a balance from month to month. Debt by generation is highest among members of Generation X (people 44 to 59 years old).

One member of Generation X's credit card use is a chilling example of credit card overuse.

Since 53-year-old Kristi Noem resigned as governor of South Dakota, public records requests have revealed that during her time as governor, the state paid more than $640,000 in credit card bills racked up by her. More than $150,000 was paid by the state for expenses unrelated to state business, such as personal and political trips to Florida to visit Donald Trump. On some of her visits, she charged as much as $600 per night for additional security when staying in hotels. On one trip to Washington DC, she charged $13,418.10 at the Westin DC hotel. During her final year as governor, she charged nearly $30,000 monthly on a state-issued First Premier Bank credit card. Even members of her political party are upset at the spending.

Over the years, I have referred many individuals with financial problems to Consumer Credit Counseling. The service often succeeds in negotiating lower interest rates and developing strategies for people to get out from under crushing debt. One of those strategies involves returning or selling expensive items to reduce debt. Reflecting on how Consumer Credit Counseling works, I have a suggestion for the former governor.

Now that you are in a position where your security details are expensive for American taxpayers, and since you are part of a government with an official Department of Government Efficiency, why not decrease risks to lower security costs? Her is a suggestion. When visiting prisons in foreign countries, it probably isn’t necessary for you to sport a $50,000 watch on your wrist. If those prisoners are as dangerous as you claim, there is no need to take the risk; a cheap watch will tell you the time. After all, some of the people forcibly deported to that prison were guilty of having been born in Venezuela and having tattoos. You can see them, with shaved heads and no shirts behind bars in the press photos of your visit.

According to the watch journalist Brynn Wallner, your Daytona is among the most sought-after Rolexes. Buyers typically have to sit on a yearlong waitlist to buy it from an official dealer, which means you made the order before the election of Donald Trump when you were still governor of South Dakota. It might be a good idea for the South Dakota Attorney General to check your credit card bills to ensure that the watch doesn’t belong to the state instead of you.

According to Ms. Wallner, “If you’re buying it (a Rolex Daytona), you’re flaunting the fact that you can even get one, and you probably pay a little more for it than you had to. It’s a flex piece. It’s a signifier of wealth. It’s not subtle at all.”

Then again, subtle has never been your long suit, Kristi. It appears efficiency isn’t a long suit, either.

Of course, Fox News declared the observations about the watch “Fake News.” However, the credit card bills and the Rolex are not fakes.

In other government news, we talked over the fence with our neighbors yesterday. They work for an import/export business. We asked how it was going for them at work, and they rolled their eyes and said their workload had doubled in the last two months. “No one can figure out what is going on.” They reported calling the official government customs inspection service for instructions on applying tariffs and received the answer, “I can’t tell you what the charge will be.” When asked, “Why not?” they answered, “Because we don’t know how to figure charges. The rules are not complete.” They then asked what to do since shippers are eager to schedule work. The answer was to make a guess. “If the amount is incorrect, you will be assessed for the difference and a fine for not complying.” When they asked how to avoid fines by complying with the law again, they were told that the customs officials couldn’t tell them how because they did not know.

I’m trying to figure out how that is more efficient, but I’m not a government employee, and there is much that I don’t understand. On the other hand, a lack of understanding seems to be part of working for the customs inspection service. I might fit right in.

Meanwhile, we have noticed that mail delivery in our neighborhood has been delayed several days recently. The Post Office can’t hire the necessary employees to fill all available positions. It doesn’t seem all that complex to me. If you have been paying attention to what has happened to federal government employees in the past couple of months, you might get the impression that the government might be one employer to avoid. Knowing you can be laid off on short notice for no reason doesn’t help with job stability or the ability to trust your employer. Knowing that the Post Office is hiring might not be enough to get people to apply for jobs, given the shortage of laborers in other businesses. The government isn’t the only entity seeking employees. Import/export businesses are working a lot of overtime these days. They could use a few more employees, and their work won’t disappear in the next four years.

Rolex watches are manufactured in Switzerland, and they must be imported. What is the tariff on a Rolex Daytona?

We had dinner with friends last night. In addition to good company, excellent food, lively conversation, and storytelling, it was an opportunity to appreciate again my wife’s ability to connect with people through the photographs and artwork they display in their home. I had visited these friends’ home before, but it was Susan’s first visit. Within minutes of our arrival, she was being led from picture to picture in their home, hearing the stories behind the prints, photographs, and paintings. It was a fascinating tour that included stories of their lives, places they had lived, their children and grandchildren, and their likes and dislikes. After our short tour of the house, I felt like I knew and understood them much better than I had before.

In their bedroom is a painting they purchased when they lived in Japan. They have a daughter who was adopted in those years. Later, after returning to their home in the United States, their daughter and son played with a ball indoors. The ball went astray and struck the painting. Some time afterward, they discovered a shop in Seattle that specialized in Japanese artwork. That shop had an old master who restored damaged paintings. He was enlisted to repair their painting. The repair is well done. I’m not sure I would have noticed it had they not pointed it out. We got the entire story, with what it said about their family, simply from expressing genuine interest in the pictures on their walls.

I am grateful to have a partner who helps me receive interesting information about our friends. When we were new pastors beginning our careers, she would use conversations about family pictures to let the parishioners we were visiting tell their stories in ways that made us feel like we had met their families. This helped us bond with the people we served in our church work.

Making friends and developing deeper relationships with the community has been a challenging part of retirement. After living in Rapid City, South Dakota, for 25 years, we established many friendships. We had formed relationships with doctors, teachers, and others. We knew the members of our congregation and their families. A meaningful community surrounded us. Then the time came for us to retire. Our retirement was made even more challenging by the COVID-19 pandemic, which reduced the number of opportunities to visit others in their homes. We focused on moving our household, settling into a new home, and establishing necessary professional relationships. Finding a new family doctor, dentist, eye doctor, and others was a challenge. In those days, we could not accompany each other to medical appointments, so we didn’t get to each other’s healthcare professionals.

We are starting to deepen some of our new friendships by sharing meals in their homes and ours. However, it takes time and effort, and there are fewer opportunities to share meals with friends than in other phases of our lives.

Before retiring, we were called to serve congregations in each place we lived. We moved into established communities. Members of the congregations we served were eager to invite us into their homes, and we enjoyed getting to know them. However, after we retired and moved into a new place, we were not so much the center of attention in the church we joined. We have commented that sitting in the pew is much more complicated than we used to think.

Last evening brought a flood of memories to me. In our first parish in North Dakota, a lot of the homes we visited had a framed print of an older man with white hair and a full beard with his hands clasped to his forehead, elbows resting on a table with an uncut loaf of bread, a bowl with a spoon and a thick book with a pair of reading glasses folded on it. Whoever produced those prints hit a ready market in the homes of folks in that area. Later, we saw some homes with a similar print featuring a woman in a similar praying pose over a book with a pair of glasses. Her meal includes a pitcher and a plate with bread and cheese. I don’t know the artist, but both paintings of individuals praying over their simple meals use a very conventional technique of portraying the main subject in the dark with a light coming from the other side of the painting so that their face is illuminated. They are “facing the light,” a bit of less than subtle symbolism in the painting.

Unlike our tour of our friends’ homes decorated with family pictures, furniture and home furnishing stores in shopping malls tend to feature stylized and overly sentimental pictures. At the risk of offending people who genuinely love prints by Thomas Kinkade, they are the type of generic pictures that I associate with shops and marketing. The association is based on the fact that Kinkade was a master marketer. He trademarked his self-description, “Painter of Light,” and created franchises of galleries that marketed pints and merchandise produced on an industrial scale. I have come to think of Kinkade pictures not as examples of great artwork but as generic and often overly idealized scenes. The depictions of idyllic cottages, always with the lights on in every window, set in park or garden settings, may represent joy, comfort, and home to some. Still, to me, they are a saccharine fantasy that leads the beholder away from reality into a disconnected fantasy devoid of the actual diversity and beauty of the world. It is as if the artist is only interested in one side of life. Real life has stress, grief, and pain, and works of art also evoke those sides of life.

Whether or not Kinkade’s prints move you, I am confident that the pictures displayed in your home reflect your values and interests. Even better than seeing your artwork, however, is the opportunity to have you give a tour and tell the stories behind what you have displayed. My wife knows how to ask just the right questions to elicit that tour, and I am grateful that she allows me to come along and hear the stories.

I have stacks of books around my desk right now. One stack contains books that congregations can use for faith formation programs. This pile includes children’s books, books about worship, books about grief and loss, and more. I am part of a team reviewing many resources, some of which will eventually be featured in an online resource for congregations.

A second pile of books contains resources I am using for an online class I will teach tomorrow morning. I have prepared my notes and bibliography for the class, but I like to have the actual books close enough to grab one and refer to it during class. Sometimes, I want to hold the books up to the camera so the students in the class can see a title and consider reading a particular book.

Another is a smaller group of resources influencing a writing project I’ve been working on since the beginning of the year. I hope to complete the first draft of that manuscript by mid-year. Calling it a first draft is a misnomer since I’m currently working on the fourth draft of much of the material while adding new material. It is complex. I’ve never worked on a project quite like this one, and I keep discovering more books I want to read as I work on my writing.

Over by my chair are a few books of poetry that I’ve not yet finished. I read poetry every day, but I like to go slowly with poetry, and sometimes, I switch authors depending on my mood and the ideas I am wrestling with. On top of that pile is a book by a long-time friend who couldn’t come up with a way to organize his poems, so put the titles in alphabetical order. The result is a random collection of poems, switching subjects and focusing on nearly every page. Not only do the poems surprise me, but they also invoke memories of the parallels in our lives. He is one day older than I am. We were students in college together. We both became pastors who are married to pastors. We retired in the same month. Though we both began our lives in Montana, he ended up in New England, and I ended up in the Pacific Northwest. Still, we have a lot in common, and I’m savoring his poems.

Then, there is the wishlist function on the website of my favorite local independent bookstore. I browse in the store, read their monthly newsletter, check out books online, and add titles I’d like to read one day. From time to time, I purchase one of those books. I also refer to the wish list on most of my visits to the library.

I added five books to that wish list this week, inspired by listening to the radio. Canadian Broadcast Radio hosts a four-day series of debates about popular books each year. On the first day, five people present and defend five books. One is eliminated after the debate. One more is eliminated on each successive day of debate until a single title emerges as the year’s winner. The debates are titled “Canada Reads.” The final vote was close this year, with a 3-2 vote determining the winner. Each year, all five books seem to be worth reading.

The first book eliminated this year was “Watch Out for Her” by Samantha M. Bailey. Described as a thriller about the paranoia of motherhood, the novel explores the dynamics of trusting another to care for your child and the risks of that trust. Maggie Mac Neil, who won Gold, Silver, and Bronze medals in swimming at the Tokyo Olympics in 2020, championed the book. It was the first thriller featured on Canada Reads.

The second was Wayne Johnston's memoir Jennie’s Boy. In it, he describes growing up as a sickly child in Newfoundland. Although he had already had his tonsils, adenoids, and appendix removed by the age of seven, doctors couldn’t find the reason for his insomnia and cough. The book is a tribute to family and community, with some Newfoundland wit thrown in. In the Canada Reads debates, bestselling author Linwood Barclay defended it.

Third was the novel “Etta and Otto and Russel and James” by Emma Hooper. In the story, 82-year-old Etta decides to walk from her home in Saskatchewan to Halifax to see the ocean. She leaves a note behind for her husband, Otto. As Etta walks, she is accompanied by a coyote named James while neighbor Russell tries to find her. The book was defended by Michelle Morgan, an actor and filmmaker.

The fourth book that almost won the competition was a novel about a woman who follows her mother’s past journey to learn who she is and where she belongs. Jamie Chai Run Liew's Dandelion won an Emerging Writers Award. Pastry chef Saïd M'Dahoma championed it.

This year's winner is Ma-Nee Chacaby’s memoir, “A Two-Spirit Journey.” Chacaby is an Ojiba-Cree lesbian and elder who suffered physical and sexual abuse, racism, an abusive marriage, and alcoholism. The memoir is the story of her resilience and how her cultural heritage gave her the strength to overcome the hardships of her life. Indigenous Canadian model and health and wellness advocate Shayla Stonechild defended the book. Stonechild undertook a four-day fast in preparation for the debates.

Inspired by the debates, I intend to read all five books. However, I also intended to read the finalists in last year’s Canada Reads debates. I put all of them on my wish list, but a year has passed, and I have read none of them. Strangely, having a long list of books I want to read is reassuring. I know I will not run out of titles to read. I have books to seek on every visit to the library.

One of my goals in the coming week is to clean up some of the piles of books. I should be able to put away the books for review and the class and organize the ones for my writing project. However, I’ll keep the wish list. I never know when I’ll want to find a new book to read.

My children have informed me that keeping an unabridged dictionary at the dinner table is not normal. I didn’t know that. While the dictionary was not on the dining table in my childhood home, it was close at hand. We weren’t allowed to read while we ate. Dinner was reserved for conversation. In our home, dinner was the noon meal. We were expected to be at the table for most of an hour. Our father closed his business from 12 to 1 pm to come home and share a meal. If a salesperson or customer was in the shop at noon, that person was generally invited to dinner at our house. On Sundays, if there was a guest preacher at church, our father rushed to be the first to ask that preacher and family to our house for dinner. Mother was good at stretching a meal plan for extra servings.

The dictionary was on another table in the room, but we were allowed to get up to look up a word and read from it if it was relevant to the conversation.

When I became an adult, I started with Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. It was what we had, and unabridged dictionaries were expensive. Our first unabridged was an American Heritage Dictionary, followed by Webster's a while later. I used to find occasions to compare the two. The American Heritage seemed quicker to adopt new words and was a bit more inclusive of the slang of farmers and ranchers, which was part of my vocabulary.

All along, I had a particular lust for the Oxford English Dictionary. I first encountered the multi-volume set in the Joseph Regenstein Library of the University of Chicago. It was amazing! I began to look at the volumes in used bookstores, but even a few years old, the set was beyond my means.

However, we did keep a dictionary handy at the dining table. Before we had children, we hosted an exchange student from Guatemala, and a Spanish-English dictionary became an essential part of family dinners. Later, when our children were teens, another exchange student made the Japanese-English dictionary a necessary element at our dinner table. All along, we kept referring to the big dictionaries.

Times have changed. We no longer keep a dictionary at the table. When we moved from South Dakota, I let go of our unabridged dictionaries, which had become dated. These days, we look up words on our cell phones. We discourage using cell phones at the table, but we make an exception when looking up a word.

Technology has given me access to the Oxford English Dictionary, which no longer publishes a print edition. A half million words are at my fingertips. The phone application has a place to enter a word, which might take a couple of attempts if the spelling is uncertain, and back comes the meaning. It lacks some of the pleasure of a print dictionary as it is not convenient to browse for new words. I used just to read the dictionary, cruising for new words.

However, I love the OED website's word of the day feature, a sure way to add to one’s vocabulary. The website also lists recently added words and phrases and updated entries. Each word has a tab for meaning and use, another for pronunciation, featuring both English and American, a tab with the word's Etymology, and a Factsheet.

There are always surprises in the list of recently added words. For example, this year was the first time the OED published a full entry for the phrase “bombs away.” Since it has been in everyday use since World War II, I’ve thought of it as a phrase that has existed all my life. My father was a pilot, and although he didn’t fly in combat, he carried plenty of live bombs that were dropped on training ranges, flying as an instructor pilot and a training pilot for bombarders during the war. The OED waited until the phrase became more generally used for things other than dropping weapons from airplanes, including the general use: “an exclamation used when acting, such as dropping or throwing something, or making a great leap, often expressing cheerful bravado.” For what it is worth, it is pronounced the same in American English as in England.

I’m delighted with another 2025 entry I’ve known about for a while. The OED periodically includes words from other languages adopted by English speakers so commonly as to be a part of the general vocabulary. This year, they added the simple Spanish “tres leches.” It is easily translatable as “three milks,” but the Spanish sounds better. If you haven’t had it, tres leches is a sponge cake soaked in whole, evaporated, and condensed milk. We first discovered it when we visited Costa Rica, but it is currently showing up on menus in US restaurants.

A new entry that I will use comes to English from the Philippine language, Tagalog. “Gigil” is “an intense feeling caused by anger, eagerness, or the pleasure of seeing someone or something cute or adorable, typically physically manifested by the tight clenching of hands, gritting of teeth, trembling of the body, or the pinching or squeezing of the person or thing causing the emotion.” WOW! One word for all of that. I like a concept that makes me both angry and causes pleasure. Think of cat videos on YouTube. I like the first ones I see, but after a while, I’m angry that people don’t have more productive things to do than make stupid cat videos. It also explains my aunt, who pinched my cheeks every time she saw me and made me want to run away in horror.

I’m against using cell phones at the dinner table, but I’ll make an exception for the OED.

It was dark when we left the church to head home last evening. As we drove down the street, I saw some reflective tape moving across the street about a half block away. I slowed and was glad I did because two young people were crossing the street. Both wore dark clothing, and the reflective tape was on a scooter that one was pushing. They were a block from a crossing that had a button that activated flashing lights to warn cars of pedestrians crossing the street. Nothing terrible happened, and we didn’t come close to them, but it was a reminder of how quickly something innocent can turn into tragedy.

When we were driving into town for our meeting at the church, I was in the left lane of the interstate when I saw a motorcycle approaching behind me at a high rate of speed. I could switch to the right lane to allow the motorcycle to pass. I was going at the speed limit, which is 70 mph in that area. The bike must have been going 90 as it passed us. We could see it weaving in and out of traffic, passing cars on the right and the left as it continued down the road. I commented to my wife as it passed that situations like that always make me a bit anxious because I don’t want to round the next bend in the road to discover an accident. A road hazard or small mistake could easily cause a fatality at the motorcycle's speed. As far as I know, the motorcyclist avoided an accident and made it to their intended destination without injury.

I’m sure that I took more significant risks when I was younger. Part of the extra caution I now exhibit when I go about my daily tasks is the result of experience. I’ve witnessed some tragic accidents. I’ve been in the position of being the one to carry tragic news to families about their loved ones. I understand how vulnerable human lives are and how quickly a seemingly normal event can turn into tragedy. Nearly every day, I read an article about someone who didn’t make it home safely.

I have no wisdom about effectively communicating that experience to youth in our community who wear dark clothing because it is popular or because of personal choice and then who rush across a busy street without taking time to use the marked crosswalk. I don’t know how to get a motorcycle rider to increase caution when driving in traffic on a busy interstate. I’m sure that the horsepower-to-weight ratio of the motorcycle allows it to accelerate much more quickly than other vehicles. I’m also sure there is a sense of excitement in going fast and avoiding accidents.

My mother was a nurse. As part of her training, she had a rotation in a hospital emergency room and another as an assistant to a surgeon. She would comment on dangerous things other drivers and pedestrians did whenever we were driving. She was full of stories, some of them pretty dramatic. To this day, I remember one of her stories whenever I have to open a car door on the traffic side of the vehicle.

Reflecting on our drive to and from church last night, I think I have a bit of my mother in me. As I’ve grown older, I’ve become more aware of the risks I see other people taking. Perhaps I’ve always been one to comment on other drivers in a manner that is similar to what my mother did. It would be interesting to ask my children. I’m pretty sure I provided a lot of commentary on other drivers as I drove them from place to place, especially when they were on the verge of getting their driver’s licenses.

I’ll occasionally comment to whoever is riding with me about what I might do if I were a law enforcement officer. “I’d cite that person for reckless endangerment.” “I’d give that person a warning for changing lanes in the middle of an intersection.” I seem full of advice and ideas about what could be done to make traffic flow more smoothly and safely. I doubt if any of it would work. I’ve never been a law enforcement officer. I know agencies are squeezed and don’t have enough officers to respond to every traffic violation. The world would not be better if I had the authority to pull over other drivers.

As I age, I need to be aware of the changes in my ability. My reaction times have likely slowed and will continue to do so as the years pass. I fall into habits, and not all of them are good. I can be distracted by other drivers, scenery, and conversation with others in my vehicle. I have no intention of becoming that little old man who drives too slowly, obstructs traffic, and leaves his blinker on for miles and miles. I’ve encouraged my family to tell me when they see me do something dangerous. There will be a day when it will be in everyone’s best interest for me to quit driving. Hopefully, that is decades away. I am diligent in having my eyes examined and keeping up with the right lenses in my glasses. I try to practice defensive driving strategies. I keep our vehicles in safe working condition.

Transportation involves risks. There are no guarantees that I won’t be involved in an accident. I will not stay home out of fear of potential danger. I intend to live fully and get out to be with others. I’m willing to accept a certain level of risk, but I also plan to be responsible.

Be careful out there, friends. It is a dangerous world, and some people increase the risk for everyone. We value your safety and don’t want you to get hurt. As the saying goes, “We count you when you leave the house and count you when you return, hoping to get the same number.”

I have fallen victim to spring fever many times over the years. For years, I have put out tomato plants too early and lost them to frost. There have been years when I started yard work too early and was unprepared for spring blizzards. Spring fever, however, is a local condition. It depends on where you live. Chances are pretty good that where we now live, we won’t see frost again until the fall. Overnight lows are staying in the 40s and even into the 50s some nights. The lawn has greened up, and I’ve already mowed it, though we aren’t quite close to the place of weekly mowings. We’ve cleared the mulch from the strawberry plants so they can begin to spread. And the hyacinths and daffodils are blooming. The tulips are up and showing green, but no buds or blooms are visible. However, this is the time of the year when we get a lot of rain, and I haven’t adjusted to doing yard work in the rain yet. I have neighbors who will mow their grass when it is raining, but I haven’t felt a need to do that so far.

In addition to paying attention to what is happening in our yard and around our neighborhood, we pay attention to what is happening in the commercial gardens in Skagit County. Skagit County is known for its lush fields of tulips. The tulip festival brings more than ten thousand tourists to view the fields each spring. They purchase cut flowers and order bulbs for fall delivery. It gets so busy that you must buy advance tickets to wander the tulip fields.

The Skagit Tulip Festival is timed to run from early tulip color to the last of the late flowering tulip varieties, mainly in April and May. The exact timing is up to nature and dependent on the conditions of each year.

However, an attraction precedes the tulip festival and is currently underway. In addition to growing tulips and bulbs for commercial sale, the farms dedicate fields to growing daffodils and producing daffodil bulbs. The golden fields are just now reaching full bloom. At least six large fields of blooming daffodils are visible in the rural area between Mount Vernon and LaConner. It is a sight worth beholding.

There are different ways of measuring spring. The equinox and the lengthening of days is a sure marker. I am still surprised by the dramatic difference moving a bit north has made regarding how long the days are. Not only is the difference between the length of day in winter and summer greater, but the rate of change is dramatically quicker here than in the other places we have lived. Right now, we are gaining five minutes of extra daylight every day. We’ve gained a half hour since the equinox just five days ago. From now to mid-September, we’ll have more than 12 hours of sunlight each day.

Because our home has a solar system, we pay attention to how much sunlight we get. Even on cloudy days, the solar panels produce a significant amount of electricity. Over a year, we produce more than we consume. However, We do not have a battery system, so we consume power from the grid at night and during the shortest days of the winter and give extra power to the grid during the daytime and summer. With a net metering system, we pay only a base charge for having the meter on our home, providing extra power to the grid. Our application allows us to monitor solar production and energy consumption in real-time and obtain daily, weekly, and monthly averages.

After living most of our lives in pretty arid areas, adjusting to the rain is challenging. We’ve purchased good rain gear, and we walk every day. When it rains hard, we wear rain pants and jackets. Some days, like yesterday, we venture out with our jackets and leave the rain pants at home. Some days, we misjudge and return home to change out of wet clothing. Even though the outside temperatures are warm, we burn the fireplace almost as much on rainy days as in the middle of the winter.

I am especially eager for the tulips this spring. I keep checking the bulbs in our yard to indicate when to plan a trip to Skagit County to view the tulips. I also check the websites of one of the extensive gardens for additional information. Spring is especially alluring because of the ways that time passes so quickly as I grow older. There is another major dynamic operating in our world this year. The flood of distressing news from our nation’s capitol seems overwhelming. Every day, there is new information about personal grift, political corruption, presidential retribution, power consolidation, and illegal policy as the President, with the support of Republicans in the legislature, continues to dismantle the legal and political protections of the Constitution systematically. Recent stories of retribution against news agencies directly violating the Constitution's First Amendment are chilling. The parallels of the rise of authoritarianism in Europe in the 1930s are too obvious to ignore.

In this climate, it is reassuring to be reminded that nature continues despite the worst of human behavior. Even with the devastating effects of the political destruction of reasonable environmental protections, the tulips are emerging from the ground. The daffodils are blooming. The earth puts forth beauty that is even greater than the ugliness of petty revenge and overt racism that threaten our democracy. The resilience of nature serves as a reminder that even as governments rise and fall and administrations come and go, the earth continues to bring forth new life. Creation continues despite human depravity.

For my peace of mind, I am disciplined about getting away from my computer and spending time outdoors every day, even when the rain is falling. I pay attention to the flowers and look for signs of change. I am not avoiding the news but rather caring for myself so that I will be able to maintain energy for the long haul of this dark political season.

Now, more than ever, it is essential to stop and smell the flowers.

I’m not much of a gardener. I like to grow a few things but am not an expert. One of the differences between our home in Washington and our one in South Dakota is that we can grow plants from bulbs. In South Dakota, it seemed like the deer ate anything that grew from bulbs as soon as it emerged from the ground before we got any blossoms. We did have good luck with iris. Iris grow from rhizomes, which aren’t quite the same as bulbs, but I don’t know much about the difference. Here, however, all of our bulb plants are pretty successful. The deer don’t come into our yard for some reason. Perhaps it is because we live in a neighborhood where the houses are closer together. Skagit County is one of the nation's major flower bulb producers just south of our county. Tulips and daffodils are raised in large fields that are gorgeous to visit in the springtime. We buy bulbs from one of the tulip farms there, and each autumn, we’ve added a few to our yard. Last fall, in addition to planting a few more tulips and daffodils, we planted a bunch of grape hyacinth bulbs.

Those bulbs have been a source of great joy for me this spring. The delightful flowers came early, and the variety we planted is supposed to yield blossoms for a couple of months. Our tulips are up but not blossoming yet, so the hyacinths produce a field of purple dotted with bright yellow daffodils in our front yard.

This is the season when it rains heavily in the northwest. We have a few bright and sunny days, but there are rainy days nearly every week. The cooler, gray days can be a bit gloomy, but the bulbs produce an antidote that makes me want to get outside and look.

A while ago, I heard an interview on the CBC radio show “The Current” with a professor at a University in Edmonton who studies the correlation between nature and people’s well-being. The gist of the interview is that if you take a moment to notice the nature around you, whether it is a tree, grass, flowers, birds, or other animals, you will feel a spark of joy—connections with nature result in an increased sense of connectedness, hope, and gratitude.

Those feelings of connection and hope are necessary in this particular season and the political climate in which we find ourselves. There are a lot of people who are feeling increased senses of stress and anxiety over the destruction of American democracy being promoted by political leaders in Washington, DC. Some of our friends respond by participating in regular demonstrations, writing letters to leaders, and doing other activities. Others are finding communities of support where they are free to talk about their feelings. Others are directly serving those who are most vulnerable and who have been victims of political attacks. In our area, immigrants are feeling especially vulnerable, as are GLBTQ+ youth and adults. Providing safe places for those who are being targeted by cuts in education funding, governmental services, and direct threats of violence and deportation can provide a meaningful outlet for some of our friends.

Regardless of how we engage in positive political action, all of us can benefit from taking time to enjoy the natural world around us. One of the gifts in our lives is that we take a daily walk. We instituted this practice in late 2019 and early 2020 as Susan recovered from a heart incident. It has become a habit, and we rarely miss our walk. Most days, we walk a couple of miles; some days, we walk a bit more. Our most usual path at home is to walk down to the beach, along the shore for a ways, and then loop back up the hill to our house. Along the way, we walk by several of our neighbors’ homes with their yards and gardens, along a path next to a birch forest, down a hill lined with tall trees, and out onto the beach. There is a lot along our route that gives us a sense of connection with the natural world. Our walks give us time for casual conversation, opportunities to view nature together, and the simple pleasure of being outside.

One of the neighbor's homes that we pass on our daily walks has a yard sign saying, “Gardening is cheaper than therapy. And you get tomatoes.” Many days, in addition to seeing the yard and the sign, we have opportunities to talk to the homeowners who are outside working in their gardens. There are several raised beds where they grow vegetables and many spaces filled with ornamental plants. Through our conversation, we met a relative of that family who has a greenhouse a few miles away, and from her, we obtain our tomato and pepper plants each spring. It is still a bit early for those plants to go into the garden, but there are enough chores in early spring to get us outdoors. We are probably free from frost this year, and we have cleared the mulch from our strawberry plants, which are starting to grow and spread as the soil warms.

There are a few blooming trees in our neighborhood. Our cherry trees are full of buds but have not yet burst into blossoms. Watching them and anticipating the beautiful pink blossoms gives us hope. Not far behind the cherry blossoms will come the wisteria, which will burst into purple before long.

Our lives are part of the natural cycles of growth and decay. We are not separate from the natural world. Getting out and sensing that connection is essential to maintaining emotional balance in these challenging times. We started walking to enhance our physical health and have experienced those benefits. We also know how important our daily walks are to our mental health. Noticing the world around us lowers our stress levels and gives us more resilience for the challenges of our time.

My parents formed Sky Flight, Inc. for their Big Timber, Montana airport business. Sky Flight initially provided fuel and repair services for transient aircraft, sales of new and used airplanes, pilot instruction, and charter services. The company grew with contracts to provide aviation services to the U.S. Forest Service and the National Park Service. The Forest Service hired the application of chemicals from airplanes, and the company soon began providing chemical application services to farms and ranches. Several companies were formed under the corporate banner as the corporation's business expanded. Big Timber Farm Supply was a farm store and implement dealership. Yellowstone Air Service was formed around a larger twin-engine airplane for air ambulance and charter services. TAMREC was an equipment and truck leasing and rental company.

Yellowstone Air Service continued as a company after the initial airplane was sold, and eventually, the company was sold. That company name remains the airport services operator in Livingston, Montana. In its early days, Yellowstone Air Service offered several fishing charters to lakes in Canada. My father returned with a Hudson’s Bay point blanket from one of those early trips. Point blankets were initially part of the North American fur trade. By 1700, wool blankets accounted for over 60 percent of the goods traded for furs. The Hudson’s Bay Company was granted a royal charter, allowing them to establish a monopoly in the fur trade across Canada and the northern part of the United States. Boise, Idaho, where we lived for a decade, was originally a Hudson’s Bay fur trade post.

The blanket my father brought home from Canada bore the traditional Hudson’s Bay pattern of four stripes, green, red, yellow, and indigo, on a white background. The indigo stripe often appears to be black on modern point blankets. Additionally, point blankets have short black lines woven into the edge just above the stripes. The point lines indicate the size of the blanket. In the fur trade days, blankets of 2.5, 3, 3.5, and 4 were the most common sizes. Today, the blankets are most commonly found in 3.5, a twin bed size, 4, a double bed, 6 (queen), and 8 (king). My father’s was a 4.

As long as he was in the flying business, the blanket was part of the emergency supplies he carried in whatever plane he flew in the winter. I don’t know what became of that blanket. I am nostalgic when I visit Hudson’s Bay stores, and I have thought of purchasing a point blanket, but such a purchase never became my priority.

I am thinking of point blankets these days and wondering if the iconic Hudson’s Bay blankets will soon become a thing of the past. There was a time when Hudson’s Bay stores, often known simply as The Bay, were located across Canada. The last time I was in one of their flagship stores was in 2006 when we shopped in the large Winnipeg store. On Monday, the company will begin liquidating all but six of its stores. Whether or not the remaining six stores in Ontario and Quebec will remain open depends upon the company obtaining financing.

According to the CBC, customers rush to purchase point blankets at the stores. The remaining inventory is expected to sell out long before the June 15 final business day for the liquidating stores. The company has been selling blankets since 1779, and it now appears that the run will end in 2025.

Hudson’s Bay Company has a checkered history. The monopoly was originally a mechanism for people not living in Canada to extract wealth from the territory. The principal investors were from England and sought profits from trading with Indigenous people. The company has gone through various investors and is owned by NRDC Equity Partners, a USA investment firm.

There are many reasons why the company has been forced to liquidate its assets. Brick-and-mortar department stores have been struggling for decades. Competition from online stores has cut profits and forced the closure of iconic department stores, including Sears and Marshall Fields. Another factor in the failure of Hudson’s Bay Company has been uncertainty around US tariffs and the bourgeoning trade war between the US and Canada. No one wins in trade wars, and it makes sense that a cross-border company might be among the victims of the current trade war.

Among the stores to be liquidated is the six-story department store at Granville and Georgia in downtown Vancouver, British Columbia, just 40 miles from our home. The Bay has occupied a store at that location since 1914. It will be a significant change for the city. I won’t be rushing across the border to shop. They may have already sold out of point blankets, and there will be no discounts on any remaining stock. In addition, Pendleton Woolen Mills still sells wool point blankets with the Hudson’s Bay stripes. Interestingly, the Pendleton blanket is sold as a “Glacier Park” blanket, which seems fitting since Glacier is on the border with Canada and is joined with Canada’s Waterton Lakes National Park. And for people who aren’t sticklers for the exact stripe pattern, Bemidji Woolen Mills sells a three-stripe blanket that looks similar without the green stripe.

I have a warm Bemidji blanket that I enjoy pulling over my legs on cool evenings as I sit and read. It was a gift from Lakota friends. Other blankets and quilts we have received over the years have been given away in the Lakota tradition. We have been their stewards for a while and have sought opportunities to pass them on when appropriate. One trade blanket with its own story is appropriate for us to keep. The story of how blankets and quilts became important symbols for Native American tribes is a story for another day and another journal entry.

I’ll probably keep my eyes out for point blankets when I shop in thrift stores. I may one day find one, though it seems less likely now that new blankets will soon not be available.

When I lived in North Dakota, I used to make a joke about the state that went something like this: “When God created the earth, North Dakota was the last place to be created. There wasn’t much left in terms of supplies for creation. All of the mountains had already been placed elsewhere. All that was left were a few rolling hills. All of the rivers were in place, leaving behind just a few small creeks and one strange river that flowed the wrong direction. Most of the trees had already been planted, leaving behind just a few scrub junipers and cottonwood trees. There we’re no proper lakes, just a few ponds that weren’t very deep. God looked at North Dakota and God saw that it was good, but worried that it might be a lonely place. So God made people who were inherently happy and placed them in North Dakota. They didn’t have any mountains, so they called the hills mountains: The Killdeer Mountains, The Turtle Mountains, the Pembina Mountains. They called hills Devils Lake Mountain, Blue Mountain, and Lookout Mountain and they were happy. God bent the one big river in the area so that the Missouri cut across the state and the people saw it as a dividing line. They made it the line to give their state two time zones. It didn’t go across from north to south, so there were places in Central Time that are west of places in Mountain Time. It didn’t bother the people. They were happy. The people wrote songs about the river that flowed the wrong direction. Despite that it flooded when it froze, the Red River of the North became famous. And the people were happy. They gave the smallest creeks names like Grand River and Heart River. The James River had so little slope that it hardly flowed at all, but that didn’t worry North Dakotans. They were happy. When they didn’t have lakes, they built dams and created reservoirs. And they surrounded shallow ponds with state parks and recreated in water that was barely 20 feet deep. And they were happy.”

Nestled in the Turtle Mountains, which aren’t mountains at all, is Lake Metigoshe, a 1,544-acre lake that straddles the border with Canada. The deepest spot in the lake is 24 feet. You can travel from Bottineau County, North Dakota to Rural Winchester, Manitoba. When we lived in North Dakota, officials didn’t bother with having an official border crossing there. Folks would cross the border to buy snacks at the store in Winchester and officials assumed they’d go back to where they came from.

Although it has now been sold, the United Church of Christ used to have a church camp on the lake called Pilgrim Place. My father went to camp there when he was a teen. I took youth to the camp for weeks of living in Christian community. Each time I took youth to the camp, we would visit the International Peace Gardens near the camp. I was proud to have the logo “Peace Garden State” on my license plates, commemorating the International garden park. Visitors were invited to tour the attraction without needing passports and/or approved travel documents. We took guests from South Africa who did not have visas to visit Canada into the park without incident.

The border between our two countries has been celebrated as one of the world’s longest peaceful borders. It is dotted with peace parks celebrating the friendship between the two countries. Here in our community the Peace Arch Park straddles the border with an archway marking the location of the border. Families routinely meet for picnics in the park with a few border guards making sure that celebrants return to their own countries. As is true of all international boundaries, there are many families with members on both sides of the border. People from the US fall in love with and marry Canadians all the time. Cross border dating is a way of life for folks in border towns.

Across the country in Derby Line, Vermont and Stanstead, Quebec, the Haskell Library and Opera House is a community building that straddles the border. A line crossing the floor of the library marks the border between Canada and the United States. The library has long been a symbol of harmony between the two countries. A few years ago an addition was added to the library to make more rooms for the collections and both countries contributed to the cost of building. The library belongs to both countries.

That peace was desecrated a couple of months ago when US Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noel visited the library. She stood on the USA side and said “U.S.A. No. 1” and the, after crossing onto the Canadian side, said “the 51st state.” She did this multiple times to the horror of the local residents. Now, U.S. customs and border officials have announced that Canadian citizens will not be able to use the front door of the library, which is on the U.S.A. side of the border as of October 1. The Library is working to raise $100,000 to add a new entrance on the Canadian side, but if it is not completed in time, Canadian library patrons will have to go through the official border crossing in order to go to the library. People on both sides of the border are losing sleep over the targeting of their peaceful shared library.

Fears about the border with Canada are based on false information. Yes, there is a problem with illegal drugs crossing the border. Fentanyl, cited by the U.S. President and Secretary of Homeland Security is a problem. Most of the fentanyl in the U.S. has been illegally imported from other countries. However, Canada makes up just 0.2% of US border fentanyl seizures. Canadians seize far more fentanyl coming from the US than the US seizes going the other direction. US officials cite the flow of drugs across the northern border without acknowledging the direction of the flow.

We live eight miles from the third busiest border crossing between the US and Canada. We are proud of our heritage of peace with our neighbors and we are working hard to maintain that peace. Our friends and guests are welcome to visit, but don’t expect us to issue an invitation to Kristi Norm anytime soon. She seems to bring trouble with her wherever she goes.

A friend of mine, a brilliant scientist, used to be fond of the phrase, “If the math is right.” He used the phrase once to explain the concept of Dark Energy. “If the math is right,” he said, “there is a force that drives the Universe's expansion that we call Dark Energy.” No one knows what it is, but we know it exists because of what we have observed in the movement of distant galaxies. I loved the caveat he attached to much of his speculation. “If the math is right” hinted at the possibility that the math might be wrong. It was as if he was looking and perhaps hoping to find an error in the mathematical calculations of his colleagues.

It doesn’t matter how many times any number of people check the math. It is impossible to remove mystery from the universe. A quarter of a century ago, in 1998, the discovery of Dark Energy was dramatic. US and Australian scientists have been observing and measuring the relationship between distant galaxies in search of information about the universe's origins. The predominant theory of how the universe began at the time was the theory of the Big Bang. The view was that the Big Bang had created the universe, which was still expanding from that initial blast. In time, the expansion of the Universe would slow. It would then eventually start to contract as gravity pulled the various objects of the universe together. At that point, the Universe would cease to expand and begin to contract until the objects of the universe were so tightly packed together that another Big Bang would eventually ensue.

What the scientists discovered, however, was that the slowing of the expansion of the Universe was not occurring. They measured acceleration in the rate of expansion. Scientists had no idea what the force driving the acceleration was. The name Dark Energy was given to this force. Subsequent observations have included Dark Energy in the explanation of the motion of objects in the Universe. Several experiments have been conducted to learn more about the nature of dark energy. One of those experiments is the Dark Energy Spectroscopic Instrument at the Kitt Peak National Observatory in Arizona. The instrument consists of 5,000 optical fibers, each one of which is robotically controlled. The fibers serve as telescopes to scan distant galaxies at high speed. The observations of this instrument have further baffled scientists.

If the math is correct, the force exerted by Dark Energy has changed over time. Initially, scientists thought that the changes in Dark Energy came from mistakes in the data, but subsequent observations have not eliminated those changes but rather shown more significant variation.

A new theory of the origin of the Universe will be needed to explain the observations made.

As someone who is not a scientist and who struggles to understand even the most basic concepts of physics, I have asked my friends, who are scientists and physicists, “What if the rules of mathematics are not fixed? What if the systems of mathematics are fundamentally flawed.” As near as I can figure, that kind of thinking is heresy to scientists. My friends all quickly rush to defend mathematics as absolute. To a theologian, it certainly appears their attachment to mathematics is religious. There are some fundamental assumptions about the nature of the Universe that they have accepted as absolute truth.

Recent discoveries, however, raise questions about many previously held convictions about the nature of the Universe. Scientists may be on the verge of disproving some of Einstein's theories, but they do not have comprehensive new theories to explain their observations.

I used to tease a physicist friend by saying, “Physics is far too speculative of an undertaking for me. I prefer to think in terms of less speculation, so I limit myself to theology.” He would quickly point out logical errors present in mainstream systematic theologies.

However, I am not a systematic thinker. In graduate school, I struggled with systematic theology, and my ideas were not always organized into consistent patterns. Any regular reader of this journal understands how random my thoughts can be. The topics that appear are wide-ranging, and I rarely follow any train of thought to conclusions. I am content with speculation and questions. I don’t need to have all the answers.

Living with the questions is as meaningful as learning the answers. This does not mean that I do not engage in the search for truth. I do. I enjoy seeking answers to big questions. I am intrigued by the search for Dark Energy. I never expected to discover a single unifying theory that explains the Universe. It is far more complex than can be fully understood.

Humans can wrestle with problems too big to be solved in a single lifetime, whether in theology or physics. We can pass our understandings and discoveries from one generation to the next. We can access the theories and discoveries of previous generations and use them to advance our knowledge without coming to comprehensive conclusions. Then, we pass our understanding on to another generation. Some ideas have taken many generations to form.

One of the attractions of cosmology is that as we look at the vast distances of the universe, we also look back in time. Because it takes time for light to travel through space, what we see of the Universe is how it used to be when we look to the farthest distances. Many things can have changed in the time it took for light to travel the vast distances of the Universe.

Despite my limited mathematical skills, I will continue to seek to learn more about the study of physics and the theories of the origins of the Universe. I expect that there will still be more surprises in store. We live in mystery.

Our first car as a married couple was a 1966 Opel Kadette. Ours was a two-door model. It was 7 years old when we got it, but it had low mileage. We owned the car for a little over five years, and during that time, it took us back and forth from Montana to Chicago. One winter trip was especially memorable as temperatures were below zero, and the car's defroster and heater couldn’t keep up—the heater problem we solved by wearing layers of heavy clothing and wrapping blankets around our legs. The defroster problem was a bit bigger as we had to scrape ice off the inside of the windshield occasionally. The car only abandoned us on the road twice. One time, it wasn’t the fault of the car. Debris in the road hit and bent the camshaft pulley, and the car had to be towed to a shop to replace the pulley. The other time, a U-joint failed, and again, we had to have the car towed. At that time, we had to wait a couple of days to find the part before we got our car back. At least twice during the time we owned the car, the starter failed. However, the car was light enough that we learned to push it to start it, and we made one trip from Chicago to Montana without a starter, parking on hills when we were able and pushing it by hand when no hills were available.

I purchased the car from my great-uncle, so I knew its complete history. He kept records of every maintenance item. He paid $1,700 for the car and sold it to me for less than half that amount. He used to brag that the car cost $1 per pound, as it weighed about 1,700 pounds. The car's lightweight contributed to its good gas mileage.

In the early 1970s, two maintenance items differed significantly from the cars we drive today. The exhaust system was made of lightweight steel that rusted quickly. I don’t know how many mufflers I put on the car, but if a muffler lasted more than a year, I saw it as a success. The car had bias-ply tires with fiberglass. They would develop flat spots when the car sat. Once the tires warmed up, the bumps stopped. And if I got a set of tires to last 10,000 miles, I thought it would be a big victory.

Our current car is 14 years old and has about 140,000 miles. It still sports its original stainless steel exhaust, and its third set of tires is in great shape. If I didn’t get 60,000 miles out of a set of tires, I would think there was a problem. Modern steel-belted radial tires last longer and perform better on wet and slippery roads than the tires of decades ago.

While I appreciate some of the features that enable our cars to last longer than was the case decades ago, I know that not every advance in automotive technology is without cost. And the cost of our cars is higher than the purchase price, the cost of fuel, and the cost of maintenance. The tires on our car are a good example. One of the chemicals that helps the tires on our car to last longer is called 6PPD. Some of that chemical is left behind on the highway from normal wear and tear on vehicle tires. The dust from our tires combines with that from thousands of other vehicles traveling on the roads. The dust and the chemicals it contains make their way into stormwater drainage systems and, from there, into the rivers, streams, and ocean.

6PPD has reached levels in the waters of the Salish Sea that are toxic to coho salmon. High levels of 6PPD can lead to the death of a coho within a day. It has been determined to be the leading cause of pre-spawn mortality as the salmon return from their journey in the ocean and back to freshwater. Local efforts to restore salmon habitat have been successful. Removing dams and replacing culverts with bridges have removed barriers to salmon returning to spawn. However, unless the levels of 6PPD are reduced, salmon populations cannot return to their previous levels.

Washington legislators are working to reduce the use of 6PPD in vehicle tires. However, the chemical is only one source of pollution that threatens salmon. At any given moment, it is estimated that six tons of plastic are washed up on the beaches of the Salish Sea. Most salmon have microplastics in their stomachs, and we who eat salmon also have microplastics in our systems.

Plastics have contributed to the affordability of many everyday household items, from toys to tablecloths. The material is valuable and popular. But there are things that we can do to reduce plastic waste. Here in Washington, the legislature has passed laws prohibiting single-use plastic carryout bags and charging a fee for acceptable bags. The reduction in single-use plastics affects the amount of plastic waste that gets into the environment. Although much plastic gathered for recycling is never recycled and ends up in landfills, more transparent recycling efforts have led to increased recycling. We can now recycle several types of plastic that, until recently, were not being recycled in our area.

An estimated 75 to 199 million tons of plastic are in our oceans, with an additional 8 to 12 million tons entering each year. Over 80% of plastics in the ocean start their life as land-based products. Plastic is a long-lasting product that takes hundreds of years to break down. As it breaks down, micro and nanoparticles remain in the environment. That means that even if we were to stop plastic production, additional plastic pollution would continue to enter the environment for many decades. The effects of micro and nano plastic particles are not fully understood, but studies targeting the impact of plastics on specific species are ongoing.

Negotiations on a Global Plastics Treaty are ongoing. Other countries are taking the lead and setting ambitious goals. With progress on such legislation blocked at the federal level for the next four years, it falls on states and international partners to continue necessary research and action to reduce chemical and plastic pollution that threatens the health of our food supply.

If you walked out of the front door of my childhood home at 500 McLeod Street in Big Timber, Montana, and turned left toward downtown, you would be looking directly at the Crazy Mountains. Big Timber is laid out in reference to the railroad tracks that pass through town and not the compass. Main Street runs from northwest to southeast. The peaks of the mountains are about 25 miles from town and rise nearly 7,000 feet above the town's elevation. The Crazies are an isolated island range east of the Continental Divide. The view is stunning. Even though that view was an everyday vista while growing up, I am still struck by it whenever I return. It is not something that one gets used to.

The mountains are sacred to the Apsáalooke Nation, also known as the Crow Tribe. The tribe was forced to cede the mountains and the area around them in the face of waves of settlers that followed 19th-century gold rushes. The Apsáalooke word for the mountains is Awaxaawippíia’, which might be translated as “Ominous Mountains.” The language is elusive to English speakers. Not only are many words, such as the name of the mountains nearly impossible for native English speakers to pronounce correctly, their meanings frequently defy simple translation. Translating Awaxaawippíia’ as “crazy” misses the spiritual nature of the mountains. The mountains were a place of vision quests. Young men climbed to the high places to fast and pray. It is said that the famous warrior and diplomat, Plenty Coups fasted near the peak of the highest mountain in the range and there had a vision of the disappearance of buffalo, and white people filling the plains beneath the mountains. This vision shaped his leadership of the people. He wanted the people and their spiritual traditions to carry on. He felt that cooperation would benefit his people more than violent opposition. He argued for education for children and worked for peace for his people in the face of the dramatic changes that settlement brought.

My family were latecomers to the town at the base of the Crazies. My folks settled there after World War II. The Crow Reservation had been reduced, and Crow Agency was a two-hour drive east of town. Sacred places, however, have power that is beyond a single culture or period of history. The Celts use the term “thin places” to refer to sacred locations. There are places where people feel a strong connection to something beyond the ordinary in these places. The concept of thin places reaches beyond physical locations and refers to moments and experiences. Still, it never excludes the physical realities of sacred sites, areas of natural beauty, and places associated with ancient rituals.

My Christian heritage is filled with stories of high places sacred to our people. Moses went to the mountain to confer with God, and the Ten Commandments were received on the mountain. Jesus also prayed on a mountain.

The spiritual power of the Crazy Mountains reaches beyond the stories of the Apsáalooke. Although I moved away from those mountains at 17, they have shaped my vision of the world and my attitude toward the sacred nature of creation.

In 2006, we were awarded a generous grant to support a sabbatical and invested three months in the study of sacred places. We were living in the Black Hills of South Dakota in those days and were deeply aware of the sacred nature of the hills to the Lakota People. We listened to elders tell the Lakota creation story, in which people emerged from Wind Cave to populate the land above the surface. I began the sabbatical by climbing to the top of Black Elk Peak, the highest point in the hills and the highest point in the United States, west of the Rocky Mountains. I also walked to the top of Bear Butte, Paha Mato. We camped at the base of Paha Tipi, also known as Devil’s Tower, and walked around the monolith. Our sabbatical took us to other sacred places, including the ice fields of the Columbia Glacier and the high lakes above Jasper in the Canadian Rockies. We traveled to Australia, viewed Uluru, and walked around its base.

I have now arrived at a new place in my life. We now live close to the shore of the Salish Sea. We can look across the water at the San Juan Islands and beyond them to Vancouver Island. This is my first time living year-round next to an ocean, and there is much that I have learned and much that I have yet to learn. I have not, however, left the mountains. On the short drive to our son’s farm, we can see Koma Kushan, also known as Mount Baker. The nearly 11,000-foot active stratovolcano is covered in snow year-round. It is similar in height to Crazy Peak in the heart of the mountains of my youth, but because the surrounding territory is a lower elevation, the rise of the mountain is even more dramatic. I do not know the indigenous history of the mountain, but I know it is a thin place. It is a place of deep spiritual meaning and shapes the people living near it.

There is something powerful about looking at a snow-capped mountain from the bay's surface. There is a place where I ride my bike from which the mountain can be viewed across a harbor, its height and majesty reflected in the smooth water as it is backlit at sunrise. The mountain is inviting, and in the summer, we take our grandchildren up above the snow line at 5,000 feet to play in the snow and stop at a place of old-growth forest on our way.

I am grateful for the many sacred places I have been privileged to visit and for the years I have been able to live near thin places. I know that the places of my life have shaped my personality and spirituality. May I never take them for granted?

Two of my high school summers involved working on my uncle’s and cousin’s farms. Growing dryland wheat in north-central Montana is a challenge. The way they did it back then was to alternate strips of land. Half of the land was planted with hard red winter wheat that grew throughout the summer. The other half was kept bare. We controlled the weeds on the bare ground by pulling a cultivator with a tractor. With no weeds, the soil could trap moisture used in the next growing season. Wheat would be planted in the fall after the other strips were harvested, and the stubble from the harvest would be worked back into the ground to be kept bare for a year before being planted again.

My days began with an early breakfast, followed by a drive to the field in a service truck. I’d use a transfer pump to fill the tractor with diesel while I checked the oil and greased the machine's fittings. The rest of my day was spent driving around the field, pulling the cultivator. We worked mile-long strips, and one neighbor had three-mile-long strips. A tractor pulling a toolbar doesn’t go very fast. Driving straight for a mile between corners induces boredom. Straying from the straight, however, costs money. It wastes energy to have an overlap that is too large. A skip allows weeds to grow and pull moisture from the soil.

When harvest came, all hands on the farm switched to getting the wheat from the fields to the bins. I never drove combine for more than a few rounds. My role was to drive a straight truck alongside the operating combines so they could empty their hoppers into the truck box. It took precision driving. I had to stay close enough for the auger on the combine to reach and far enough away to avoid collision with the combine. I had to pay attention to the load in the truck, making sure that it was even front to back, left to right. When the truck was full, I had to make a quick trip to the bins and empty the grain before returning to the field. Two trucks could keep up with one combine when working close to the bins. When we had to drive a bit farther, it took three trucks for each combine.

Things are different these days. Tractors combines, and trucks are much bigger. The farms are much bigger, too. Fewer workers are covering more ground. Many farmers use a crop rotation that adds nutrients to the soil and minimizes tillage to preserve soil moisture.

The formula for farm profit is similar, however. Wheat is stored in hopes of getting the best price. When it is sold, it is shipped. Wheat from the farms I worked was loaded onto trains heading west. At the Columbia River, it was loaded onto barges for transfer to ocean-going vessels for export.

The United States produces more corn, soybeans, wheat, and other agricultural products than we consume. Farming profits depend on exports, and farmers rely on imported products, including fuel, fertilizer, and machinery parts. Agriculture is an international business.

I didn’t fully understand the wheat markets when I was a teen driving around and around the field. But I could tell you which years had seen high wheat prices. It was easy. When the price was up, farmers bought new equipment. We used to joke about a neighbor who got a new pickup when wheat was above $5 per bushel and drove the old one in the off years. My father’s purchase of pickups followed the same pattern. He was a farm machinery dealer, and his income rose and fell with farm incomes.

I still don’t fully understand commodity markets. They are complex with the buying and selling of futures. However, it doesn’t require complete understanding to see the impact of tariffs and threats of tariffs on the price of grain. Corn and soybean prices are off by about 10% with the threat of tariffs. Wheat prices have been trending downward since the most recent highs reached in 2022 after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The current US price for wheat is between $5.49 and $5.52. There won’t be many new pickups in farm country. In the years when I was working on the farm and joking about the neighbor’s new pickups, a pickup truck cost less than $3,000, and wheat was bringing in $5. Even with ten percent higher prices, it takes a lot more bushels to buy a $70,000 pickup.

The diesel price for that pickup is trending downward for the third straight year, influenced by lower crude oil prices and increased refinery capacity. Projections suggest an average price of $3.61 per gallon, though tariff threats make accurate projections nearly impossible.

In a recent address to Congress, the US President said he loves farmers. However, that “love” is hard for farmers to feel when tariff threats are closing off markets, costing billions of dollars in lost revenue, and affecting the bottom line of every farm and ranch operation. The financially devastating effects of a trade war will undoubtedly result in the financial failure of more family farms. When family farms go under, the land is bought by larger farms controlled by large corporations. The population of rural counties declines, schools suffer from fewer students and lower funding levels, and local merchants have fewer customers. Small towns across rural America are being abandoned.

Losses for Canadian farmers match the pain US farmers are feeling. Trade wars are wars that no one wins.

I know that we can’t go back to the days when a teenager practiced driving by pulling a cultivator around and around the field before spending a few weeks driving an old farm truck in close confines with the most expensive piece of machinery on the farm. History doesn’t go into reverse. It would help, however, if policymakers would at least study history a bit and try to avoid past mistakes. I fear that hard times are ahead for farmers.

We didn’t make much of a deal of St. Patrick’s Day in our home when I was a child. According to our father, we had primarily German heritage on his side of the family, with perhaps a bit of Russian thrown in, though no one was sure of that. There was a family rumor of a Lakota relative somewhere in our background, but my grandmother wasn’t sure about that. My mother said that our heritage was mainly English on her side of the family, with a bit of Scots thrown in. She didn’t think we were Irish, but was sure that if we were, we would have been Protestant and would not have observed St. Patrick’s Day, which she called a catholic holiday.

On the other hand, I did not want to get pinched at school, which was the punishment for not wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day. This was no problem because our father was a John Deere dealer, and we wore lots of clothing with the green and yellow John Deere logo. Any green at all was a sign that you were safe from torture from your classmates.

Later, as an adult, I had an Irish boss who said that you don’t have to be Irish to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in one of my side jobs. He used the occasion to indulge in a bit of beer with his friends and invited me to join them, but I was a small-town pastor who knew that plenty of eyes in my congregation disapproved of such behavior.

And now, I have a grandson whose name is Patrick. Although his family is not Roman catholic, his father was raised catholic, and his other grandparents are active in their parish. They have provided Patrick with laminated Saint Patrick Holy Cards with a picture of the saint and an Irish blessing. They have also given him additional cards about the saint's life. They have a strong Italian heritage, and I don’t think they identify as Irish. Still, it is important that their grandson know the association between his name and the Catholic bishop who was never formally canonized, having lived before the current laws for such matters, but who is revered as a saint.

Patrick’s story is widely known, and his autobiographical Confessio is available. When he was a teenager, Irish pirates captured him from his home in Britain and took him as a slave to Ireland. There, he tended animals before escaping and returning to his family. Later, when he had grown up and become a cleric, he returned to Ireland, where he evangelized and spread the Christian faith, later serving as a bishop. He has come to be known as the patron saint of Ireland.

St. Patrick’s Day is as much a cultural holiday as it is a religious celebration. Like my former boss, many observe it as a celebration of Irish heritage and ways. Over the years, people with Irish heritage have spread across the globe. Here in the United States, they often settled in urban areas with concentrations of Irish people, keeping their Irish traditions and identity alive. When I was in seminary, the joke was that if a person with fair skin, like myself, wore a clerical collar, there was no need to worry about getting a speeding ticket. When pulled over, the officer, likely an Irish policeman in Chicago, would say, “Let’s keep it down, now father,” and drive off without issuing a citation. I never tested that story. We had a car that was underpowered and unlikely to get going faster than the speed limit on the freeway.

With a grandson named Patrick, it is a good occasion to celebrate his presence in our family. His birthday is in July, so having a bit of a celebration in March seems like a good idea. I wore a green shirt and a tie with shamrocks to church yesterday, and when I received compliments on it, I responded by saying, “I’m not Irish, but I have a grandson whose name is Patrick.” I’ll likely wear green today in his honor as well. When he was younger, his favorite color was green, but those things change as children grow, and I’m not sure what he is currently calling his favorite color.

It has been 46 years since my father sold his John Deere franchise. I don’t have much John Deere identity clothing left. There is a yellow jacket with a green logo that my son occasionally wears at the farm. I have a cap in the closet with the John Deere logo. I also have a light jacket from our shop with the John Deere logo and my name, which I keep at the shop at our son’s farm. That jacket is special to me because it belonged to my great Uncle Ted and was handed down to me because it was embroidered with our shared name.

However, you won’t find me at any of the lively St. Patrick’s Day parties at pubs and taverns around the area. I’m not much of a drinker, which is a strange way to celebrate a grandson, anyway. Calling him seems like a better way to celebrate the day with his name.

In Catholic tradition, St. Patrick’s Day is a solemnity, a feast day celebrating a holy mystery. Our grandson is undoubtedly a holy mystery. His presence in our lives is a miracle. The day is also a holy day of obligation. Days of obligation are when the faithful are expected to attend mass and rest from usual work or recreational activities. I’m retired, so every day is a day of rest. Mostly, however, I plan to observe the day by feeling grateful for the gift of a grandson.

My days are filled with gratitude. My life is filled with many blessings, and grandchildren come to my mind daily. I like to recall their names and ages as I think of them and look at their pictures. St. Patrick’s Day is a good day for celebration, but then again, every day is worthy of celebration for me.

There is a little story in the Bible about two sisters. Since their names are Mary and Martha, many assume they are Lazarus's sisters. The little story nestled in the tenth chapter of Luke is just a snippet, but it is familiar to many Christians. Here is how it goes:

“Now, as they went on their way, he entered a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at Jesus’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks, so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her, then, to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, but few things are needed—indeed only one. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:38-42 NRSVUE)

It is just five verses after the parable of the Good Samaritan. A little snippet shows that those around Jesus were very human and very much like us. I can remember times when there were little tensions between my siblings and me, and when we were hosting guests, it was often easy for feelings to get out of sort for a few minutes. One sister is worried about all of the tasks necessary to host guests. One sister enjoys the guests but perhaps is not working as hard as the other. It is interesting in the story that instead of going to her sister, Martha chooses to complain to Jesus. He invites her to calm down. “Martha, you worry too much. Let your sister be.”

The story is the gospel reading for the sixth Sunday after Pentecost in year C of the Revised Common Lectionary. I have preached a dozen or more sermons that referred to the text. I’m sure I’ve heard at least a dozen more preached by others. It is a beloved story, and plenty of preachers have put a lot of effort into interpreting the roles of the two sisters and Jesus's response to Martha’s complaint.

However, it is just one small story of a minor incident. There is no evidence that Mary and Martha constantly competed over roles in the household. Martha’s particular anxiety in this story doesn’t appear in other places. However, in the story of the raising of Lazarus in the Gospel of John, Martha is pretty blunt in her greeting of Jesus: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

There is more to feminist theology than a story in which Jesus says the sister who listened to him chose the better part. It is a stretch to say that Jesus preferred one sister over the other. Instead, the story reports that Jesus listened to Martha’s complaint and took it seriously. He offered her a different perspective. He didn’t provide an opinion on what Mary should be doing. He offered Martha some advice on how she might handle the situation.

It is interesting to me how often a few verses of the Bible take on a meaning much more significant than other sections of scripture. This is due, in part, to our use of lectionaries. In worship, we read short passages of scripture, leaving the reading of entire books of the bible to devotional reading. Those whose primary source of bible teaching is worship get a few choice passages. Those passages are interesting and meaningful and offer rich living resources, but when they are the only bits of scripture people get, they give an incomplete picture.

The passage should not be interpreted as a commentary on women's roles. It is possible to see the contrast between the two women as one who listened to Jesus and one who spoke to Jesus. It would be wrong, however, to take from this story that listening is “the better part” rather than talking. This is not a story about Jesus favoring the sister who doesn’t speak up.

The story is a gift of insight into the humanity of Jesus and those who gathered around him. There must be thousands of stories that were not preserved in the Gospel record. Jesus must have said many things in private conversations that were not recorded. Here, we have a little moment recorded in this story, and we’re lucky to have it.

Today, I’ve been invited to share a brief moment with children during worship at our church. It is a role that I used to do regularly and one that I cherish. After I retired, however, I needed to cede that role to others for a while. Today is my first return to the children’s moments, and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve gathered supplies to engage the children in helping prepare some things to be served at the fellowship time after worship. I’ve got some pre-packaged bars, so we don’t have to worry about hand washing and gloves. We’ll just be putting the items on plates and the plates on trays to take into the fellowship hall. The children will have already heard a telling of the story, but I’ll remind them of it as we work together. I also plan to make participation in the preparations optional, hoping that at least one of the children will choose not to help. If that is the case, it will allow me to remind the children that Jesus reminded Martha not to worry too much about getting all the work done but to relax and listen like her sister.

I don't need to lead the children to specific conclusions about the story or interpret it for them. I’m comfortable allowing it to be a treasured story that our people have shared for generations. The children can enjoy the story and make of it what they want. I hope it will become familiar enough to them that they’ll share it with their children one day.

When I was in high school, it was expected that students read four Shakespearean plays, with one featured each year. The four were Romeo and Juliet, Julius Caesar, Macbeth, and Hamlet. I had the same teacher for English and Latin II in my sophomore year. While I wasn’t particularly fond of this particular teacher, she showed a bias toward her Latin students, which helped me. We read the story of Julius Caesar in Latin while reading the Shakespearean play in English. She pointed out the differences between the historical record and the play. Two famous lines from the play do not appear in the historical record.

In Shakespeare’s play, a soothsayer warns Caesar to “Beware the Ides of March,” which Caesar dismisses. I probably would have done the same, and I was pleased to learn that there is no particular evidence that the soothsayer existed. It made a good character for the play and allowed Shakespeare to use the dramatic convention of foreshadowing, a point made in English class as we studied the play. In Latin Class, we learned that Caesar died on the Ides of March in 44 BC. In the ancient Roman calendar, the Ides was the 15th day of March, May, July, and October, and the 13th day of the other months. The assassination of Caesar on the Ides of March in 44 BC marked a turning point in Roman History. It was the end of the Roman Republic and the dawn of the Roman Empire. We learned that the difference between a Republic and an Empire is significant. A Republic has a participatory government, while an Empire’s citizens don’t have a say in the decisions and policies of the government. That portrayal isn’t entirely accurate, as Caesar ruled as a dictator without the consent of the people, which was part of the reason for his assassination. The distinction was made at a high school level, and I’m sure I didn’t understand or appreciate the difference as a high school student. Still, it certainly comes to mind in light of the shift away from democratic government in the United States.

The other famous line in the play that is not a part of the Latin history is the last words Caesar utters in the play, “Et tu Brute?” In the play, Caesar’s shock at the betrayal of his friend Brutus, who was among the assassins, gives his life a dramatic and emotional ending. It is possible that Caesar’s last words were similar. The ancient record does not record a Latin response, but a Greek source reports Caesar’s last words as "Kai su ei ekeinon; kai su teknon," which translates to "What! art thou, too, one of them? Thou, my son!" The Greek source wasn’t cited in my high school Latin class, only that the play by Shakespeare wasn’t the same as the Latin version of the story in our Latin II textbook.

I’m sure that the assassination was not a pleasant event for Caesar. There were as many as 60 conspirators. Caesar was stabbed a reported 23 times by daggers. Whatever emotional pain he experienced at seeing friends among the conspirators might have quickly been displaced by the physical pain of daggers penetrating his chest and stomach. Likely, the death wasn’t accomplished in an instant. After a major artery was severed and blood began to be pumped into his chest cavity, he had four to six minutes of consciousness before his brain began to shut down for lack of oxygen. That is enough time to experience a great deal of physical pain.

It was a long time ago, however. Even my sophomore year of high school, when two of my classes studied the event, was long ago.

For forty-four years, the phrase, “Beware the Ides of March,” has not been a reference to the collapse of the Roman republic, but rather to a family event. Our son, Isaac, was born on the Ides of March, and since his birth, every Ides of March has been an occasion for celebration. For us, there is nothing to fear about the day. From the moment I saw him take his first breath and shortly afterward issue forth his first cry, the Ides of March transformed my identity. Every year, being a father was a source of great joy. The miracle of his birth and his ongoing life has made the Ides of March a time of turning for me. And now, forty-four years later, I am a grandfather, a role I enjoy immensely.

Like other families, we have our traditions. Our son’s birthday celebration requires a plain angel food cake served whole. He enjoys tearing off bites of the cake without slicing it, and now that he is a father, his children expect us to provide the cake, and they expect their dad to tear into it. They know they will receive a slice after he has gotten a chunk of the cake. This year, we’re saving the angel food cake for tomorrow, as his wife will be working, and we will celebrate with the whole family on Sunday evening. The children will be happy to help decorate cupcakes and appreciate the treat of cake two days in a row, something that doesn’t happen often in their family.

We also have a tradition of going around the table with each person sharing something for which they are grateful about the one whose birthday we celebrate. Since we had three family birthdays in February, we’re practiced, and the children remember the tradition. My job will be to contain my emotions just a bit. I’m so very proud of our son and of all he has accomplished. There is far more that I could say than is appropriate for a family dinner. The occasion is not about me and my emotions, so I must limit my words.

That is good because no words can describe the incredible gift of a son who has graced our lives with so much meaning and wonderful experience. The Ides of March are a day of blessings for our family.

I grew up watching the weather. Weather forecasts were essential to flying, and my parents were pilots. I don’t remember the first time I went with my father into an FAA office for a weather briefing. I remember being fascinated with the weather maps showing barometric pressures. The lines and marks on the maps showed where strong winds were likely. Other maps showed areas of clouds. Even though my father was rated to fly on instruments and one of our planes was equipped to fly in the clouds, weather forecasts were critical to flying.

I’m still a bit of a weather junkie. I like to look at forecasts. In addition to the weather forecast program that came with my cell phone, I have downloaded another app. I almost always check both apps and compare them. There will be subtle differences, but they usually forecast the same conditions. The apps are generally accurate, though the timing can be off, and the farther ahead I look, the more likely conditions will change.

The reason the apps are in agreement is straightforward. They get their data from the same source. The detailed maps of cloud cover come from Doppler radar. Wind and barometric pressure information come from the same instruments. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) provides weather information across the United States.

Our weather forecasts, however, will be less accurate in the future. The federal government has been making changes, calling back some previously fired employees, but the plan continues to cut 20% of the NOAA workforce. NOAA is not a large agency; cutting staff will affect the services provided.

The initial move of the Department of Government Efficiency was to fire provisional employees. Those employees might be recently hired, but they might be long-standing employees recently promoted. Over 800 employees were cut from NOAA. That meant that members of the elite Hurricane Hunters flight team were out of a job, fired by email. Then, realizing that the blanket staff cuts would cripple essential functions, the administration sent emails telling employees that had been dismissed to return to work.

The title of the ad hoc agency, Department of Government Efficiency, belies how the agency operates. Its mode of operation is not at all efficient. At NOAA and other governmental agencies, job and budget cuts are being made from outside the agency without consulting the affected agencies. The approach is as blunt and stupid as when President Trump used a Sharpie marker to alter a NOAA forecast of hurricane movement. However, while it is easy to laugh off the amateurish antics of the president at a news conference, grounding the Hurricane Hunters because of a lack of critical staff poses the real danger of not having vital information in the face of severe weather.

Wholesale attacks on government are based on generalities. Yes, there is waste in some government functions, and there are times when agencies are inefficient. But some agencies do essential work. When it comes to weather forecasting, having a single agency collate information from various sources and disperse it to those who need it is efficient.

NOAA provides critical weather information to airlines' operations nationwide. Without NOAA information, air traffic controllers cannot give pilots in-route advice, compromising flight safety and causing additional delays and flight cancellations.

A lack of information from NOAA is critical not only during severe weather events such as hurricanes, tornadoes, and blizzards but also for everyday people like myself to decide what to wear and which activities to plan.

NOAA has several employees with specialized skills who are not easily replaced. Engineers and pilots who can safely maintain and fly 50-year-old aircraft into storms are challenging to find. Many veterans have received training during their service in the US Air Force and other military branches. NOAA also needs many different specialized skills. Conducting scientific balloon launches, interpreting data from automatic collection sites, maintaining specialized equipment, and performing other jobs within the agency require employees' unique abilities.

While it may be possible to achieve cost savings at the agency, making wholesale cuts without consulting the agency will likely increase costs over time rather than result in long-term savings. Many of the positions at NOAA require expensive training. Rehiring necessary employees after the wholesale firings will likely cost more than the savings in payroll.

NOAA is just one government agency. The current administration's approach disrupts essential governmental services without significantly affecting long-term expenses. In some cases, short-term savings result in higher long-term costs.

I am no expert in politics, but Much of what is done is about how things will be reported on television and social media. Optics is about how things look. Deconstructing government has widespread appeal. Government programs are inefficient, and taxpayers don’t want to see waste and fraud. The current administration is often focused on optics. They pay close attention to what is reported in the news and what is happening on social media.

In the long run, however, decisions made for optics can have long-term and critical consequences. Government is essential for many things we want to do as a society, including supporting retired workers, providing education and health care, conducting research, and responding to disasters. We can now discern that the Department of Government Efficiency is all about optics. It is not a measured attempt at increasing efficiency. It is making a show of cutting budgets and firing employees without considering long-term savings or impacts on essential government functions. The result is not efficient at all.

I will continue to pay attention to the weather, and I will pay attention to the apps on my phone. Still, there will likely be some instances where the apps are less accurate than they used to be due to changes in NOAA and other governmental agencies. Fortunately, there are different ways to gain information about the weather. A short trip outside can provide important information if I decide what jacket to wear. Knowing where to look for approaching storms is good local information. And when I get caught in the rain, it is good to know that I can change into dry clothes when I get home.

I remember a youth rally a couple of decades ago when I instructed a pastor new to youth ministry, saying, “You don’t get much sleep at a rally. You need to be the last one in bed and the first one up. Rallies are pretty exhausting for me, but I love camping. At camp, the kids all have more energy than I do for the first couple of days, but after Wednesday, I always have more energy than them. It is a matter of endurance. I and take more days of short sleep than they can.”

I believed my advice. I used to be sure that I knew where the youth and their advisors were before I crawled into my bed, and I would be up to ring the get-up bell in the morning. I showered while the youth were still sleeping. I kept up that pace for a long career.

Now, however, I no longer have the energy to be the last to bed and the first to rise. The extra long days take quite a bit out of me. I often have to allow a day or more to recover after a short period when I sleep less. I’m pretty aware of my limits as I write. Yesterday was a long day. On Monday, I flew to Cleveland - three time zones to the east - and came home yesterday. I rose for a full day of meetings in Cleveland, made it to the airport to catch a 5:30 flight, got into Seattle at 8 pm for a three-hour layover before catching a flight that brought me back to Bellingham just before midnight. Traveling through the time zones made it easy to add three hours to my day on a day when I had a lot of work to accomplish before I started to travel.

Usually, I go to bed and sleep a few hours before I write my journal, but tonight, I’m publishing it before I crawl into bed. I’ll try to get as much uninterrupted sleep as possible before having to rise tomorrow. Fortunately, I have had time to write this entry as I traveled. I may have acquired a modicum of wisdom from experience and haven’t scheduled any meetings or other activities today. I’ll likely sleep a bit later before getting up and dealing with the chores put on the back burner during the three days I have been gone this week.

My reduced energy for travel is just one of many signs of aging. I am not as young as I once was. I am not as young as I sometimes think I am. When I scheduled travel for this week’s meetings, it seemed like a good idea to travel after a full day’s work. It seemed like an efficient use of time. However, it is possible that it is not efficient. Since today will be a day of low productivity following the long day yesterday, I might not be able to accomplish anything more than if I had delayed my travel until today.

Had I scheduled travel for today, it would still seem like a long day simply because making the trip home from Cleveland means rising on Eastern Daylight Time and going to bed on Mountain Daylight time. No matter how much I plan, flying adds three hours to the day of travel.

I have long believed that many things are worse than missing a little bit of sleep. Even in my seventies, I can easily catch up on my sleep. Many interesting things beckon me from the bed and remind me that there will be time for sleeping later. Still, as I wind down from a very long day, sleep is inviting.

As I age, I will continue to be less resilient and slower to recover from long days of business and travel. However, I feel fortunate to be able to do what is important to me and to engage in meaningful work.

Yesterday, a colleague and I were reflecting on some of the ups and downs of our involvement in the national setting of our church over the past three decades. We have a shared passion for ministries with children and have been advocates for educational and faith formation ministries for a long time. We have seen staff members come and go. We have seen budgets built and revised. We have had some joyous successes and more than a few failures. We have worked together on curriculum development projects. We have been colleague writers on some projects. At one point, I was her editor as we produced resources for the church's educational ministries. We have a long history of working together, and this project is the kind of work about which we have shared passion. We also have learned how to divide tasks and get work done. This week, however, it has also been good for us to be the elders in the room as younger colleagues participate in the work and glimpse our passion for what we do. I don’t know if we provided any inspiration for our younger colleagues. Still, we demonstrated how we have made lifetime commitments to educational ministries and how we see these ministries as sacred work worthy of passing on to future generations. It feels good to be in the role of an elder but still be engaged in the work.

I left the meeting with a list of tasks to complete. I expected to do so. Some of them will be easy for me. Others will take more time and energy. I am pleased to be able to have a role in moving our church forward. There have been some days since I retired when I lost sight of my role in the church. I know that I am no longer a local church pastor who leads worship each week and provides pastoral care to the members of my congregation. I still miss that work, however. It was good work and meaningful work. Working on a task that contributes to the church's future is good.

However, tonight, my job is to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I will rise to a new day with new adventures and, as always, plenty of work to do.

I had a three-hour layover in SeaTac airport on Monday and another similar layover today. The layovers are almost long enough to justify flying in and out of SeaTac. However, there are several reasons why I didn’t opt to travel that way on this trip. One is that if I drove myself to SeaTac, I would have had to pay for three days of parking in the garage there, which would have been a hassle. I would have had to drive our pickup because Susan needed to drive our car in my absence. The way my flights worked out, flying in and out of Bellingham, made it easy for Susan to drop me off at the airport on Monday morning and meet me when my flight arrived this evening.

Having time in SeaTac allows me to watch people, which I enjoy. I’m looking forward to transferring between my arrival gate and departure gate without the pressure that can occur when connections are tight. I’ll see how the day goes, but I’ll likely have supper in the SeaTac airport.

I noticed at SeaTac on Monday that will capture my attention this afternoon that Alaska Airlines is experimenting with robotic wheelchairs on the C and D concourses, where I will be. I was curious about them on Monday. The chairs are motorized and programmed to take passengers with mobility challenges between gates. They appear to have a touchscreen display on the right armrest, and I suppose that the user can sit in the chair and use the display to direct the wheelchair to the appropriate gate. They are amazing. They make a musical sound when they are in motion and slow down when they sense traffic. They will stop rather than be involved in a collision. Several questions came to my mind as I watched them.

My first question when seeing them was about the Sky Caps, which previously provided the service by wheeling passengers in manual wheelchairs. Do these new robotic chairs signal a decrease in the number of jobs in the airport? It would be sad if the effect of the technology were to eliminate jobs that people need to earn rent and grocery money. On the other hand, being a Sky Cap is a mostly thankless job that is physically taxing, and perhaps the automatic wheelchairs enable people to move onto better jobs.

My second question is about how the users direct the chairs. The chairs could be directed to go from one gate to another. That would be relatively simple programming because the physical distance can be mapped. The airport has wide walkways that allow wheelchairs to pass even when there is a lot of pedestrian traffic. What if a passenger needs to stop at a restroom? Is the wheelchair sophisticated enough to get the passenger to the correct location and wait while the user takes care of their need? This could be done because the D concourse has a lot of private bathrooms that both genders can use. Those bathrooms are all accessible to wheelchair users so that a button can be pushed, and the wheelchair can drive inside. It would be easy for the wheelchair to signal the door to open with a mechanism similar to a garage door opener. It would, however, have to be sophisticated enough to sense when a restroom is occupied and choose another restroom even if it isn’t the closest one.

Alaska Airlines is introducing the wheelchairs as an experiment. Using them in more airports and locations at SeaTac airport may be interesting. Many of those areas have far fewer accessible bathrooms that any gender can use, so programming the chairs for many airports would be problematic. Their use may depend upon extensive remodeling. The D concourse at SeaTac was recently remodeled, including the replacement of all the bathrooms.

Travel already tends to isolate us. It seems counterintuitive. We wait in lines to pass through security, sit in crowded waiting rooms, often without sufficient seats for the number of people, and get into airplanes where the seats are close together. I’ve felt awkward sitting in an airline seat, wondering if I am giving my seat mate enough room while resenting that I am so crowded. And yet, we tend not to talk to each other when flying. At least I try to greet my seat mates, but many people traveling choose not to speak to their fellow passengers and say just enough to tell a server what beverage they choose. An automated wheelchair doesn’t offer any conversation to a user. Such a device might increase the sense of autonomy and freedom for one who needs to use a wheelchair for mobility. I have yet to speak with anyone who has used one, so I don’t know how the users feel about the devices. I have also wondered what happens when there is a flaw in the software or a machine breakdown. All machines are subject to failure from time to time. Even if the wheelchairs are designed to be very reliable, a user might need help from a technician. I wonder if the wheelchair can summon a replacement if it needs to shut down for a low battery or some other reason.

Like many technologies, robotic wheelchairs have advantages and disadvantages. I’m amazed at the creativity and imagination of the designers and engineers who built the machines. I’m intrigued by the test that Alaska Airlines is conducting with them. It will be interesting to see if they become common with other airlines at other airports.

When motorized wheelchairs first became available, some questioned their practicality. They might have wondered if the chairs would go too fast or have problems colliding with pedestrians. Nowadays, motorized wheelchairs are common in many places. Their advantages for users outweigh the challenges they have created. Innovation often results in challenges.

For today, I’ll enjoy the novelty, and perhaps I’ll find a way to start a conversation with someone using one of the chairs to learn about their experience.

1989 I attended the 17th General Synod of the United Church of Christ held in Fort Worth, Texas. I was not a voting delegate. As a youth chaperone with the youth delegation of the Central Pacific Conference of the United Church of Christ, I attended. Much of my time was invested in keeping track of the youth in our delegation, ensuring they were safe and present for all plenary sessions and participated fully in the synod youth events.

One of the interesting debates that the youth watched with some enthusiasm was a proposal that the national setting of the church, which had offices in New York City and St. Louis, be consolidated into a single building in Cleveland. The move was seen as a way to bring the national setting closer to the general membership of the church. It was also speculated that the church could attract more diverse leadership in Cleveland because the cost of living was lower than in New York City. It was also argued that owning a building would be a better long-term investment than paying rent in multiple locations. The General Synod approved the move in a series of actions.

In January 1990, the church closed on purchasing the former Ohio Bell building and began renovating and moving its offices into it. As a local church pastor, I was amazed that the phone system worked. In the new building, calling and getting through to various church leaders when I needed their guidance and advice was easy.

Not long after the move to the new offices at 700 Prospect Street in Cleveland, I began to do a fair amount of educational consulting for the denomination. I was a member of a team of educational consultants who were deployed regionally to serve congregations. As a result, I made many trips to Cleveland over the next few decades and learned my way around Cleveland and the nine stories of the UCC national headquarters. I was used to being able to find various national leaders by wandering into their offices and chatting with them as I saw fit.

In addition to the former Ohio Bell building, the church could purchase a lot and construct a hotel adjacent to what we were then calling “Church House.” We stayed in the UCC hotel when we were in town, which was convenient for our work.

The period of owning our church house was a relatively short chapter in our denomination's history. In 2021, the denomination listed the nine-story building for sale and moved its national ministry offices to leased space in the AECOM building at 1300 E. 9th St. Our meetings today and tomorrow will be in those offices.

As one who has many fond memories of the days when our church offices were on Prospect Street, I am a bit of a dinosaur. Some of the younger members of our team don’t have any memories of the old place, and others remember mostly the things about the old building that didn’t work very well. The new offices are modern and have a lot of technology that works well. The meeting room where we will meet has multiple monitors spread around a large conference table so that participants can see not only the others participating in person but also those participating remotely.

When I come to the national setting of the United Church of Christ, I hear some words describing how our church operates these days. Terms like “business-like,” “efficient,” and “downsized” are bandied about. I suppose that all are truer about how we operate as a church these days than we used to. I remember when the United Church of Christ consisted of multiple independent nonprofit corporations, each with its board of directors. The old corporate boards were large, unwieldy, and awkward. Those days are now gone. The executive council of the United Church of Christ has been reformed to be smaller and empowered for more rapid decision-making. The office of the General Minister and President has been strengthened. The experiment of having a collegium of equals at the church's heart has been abandoned and replaced with a strong executive.

I do not frequently hear about theological models when visiting our church's national setting. For example, servant leadership is rarely mentioned, and sacrifice is not a popular term in this church arena. Instead, I hear about boundaries, role definitions, and lines of authority. Church leaders have explained concepts like the chain of command and executive authority to me.

These are not models one observes in the stories of Jesus and the disciples. The rag-tag collection of followers often crossed over boundary lines. Those who had been rich and powerful were usually called up short. People who didn’t follow the protocol become significant characters in the gospel story. Jesus wasn’t businesslike or efficient. He never directed his followers to downsize.

It is not my position to lay out the operating structures of our denomination. There are good reasons why I am not in charge. I am happy to be a church member, passionate about the ministries of children and youth, and enjoy standing with them and watching their faith develop. When I think back to that General Synod in 1989, it is good that I wasn’t asked to serve on any of the committees, write any of the resolutions, or provide the vision to shape the church's future. I was exactly where I belonged, sitting with teens, observing the church in action, getting to know other teens from other parts of the church, and witnessing the church's workings.

That is still where I belong. My role is to be with and advocate for children and youth in our church. I ask for resources for local congregations to strengthen ministries with children and youth. I suggest programs that can be shared within our church. I do not need to be in charge of anything.

I am visiting the church’s national setting for a few days. I’ll do my best to participate in, advocate for, and promote children and youth ministries. Then, I’ll head back home, where I will read stories, add books to the library, and sit with the youth as they observe the church's processes.

There have been some cloudy days so far in March, but the solar array on our house has produced more electricity than we have consumed. This means we will have gone an entire year without paying more than the meter connect charge when we reach the end of the next billing cycle. Our solar system produces more electricity than we need but does not make it when required. We have plenty of electricity during the day for much of the year, but we also use electricity at night. And during the darkest winter months, we do not produce as much electricity as we consume. Our system is based on our connection to the electric grid and net metering arrangement with our power company. We are using the grid as a battery for our system. Adding a battery system to our home would be relatively easy if we are talking about powering our house during the night during the spring, summer, and autumn months. There are electric vehicles with enough battery capacity to power our home overnight and charge during the day. There are also portable and permanently installed battery systems sufficient for our use. However, with currently available technology, having enough battery backup to get us through the winter months is not practical. For now, our connection to the grid works best for us.

However, we are considering installing a small battery backup system, which would power our home for two or three days in the event of a grid failure. This would also allow us to install a switch on our system that would prevent back-charging the grid in the event of a power failure. As it is now, in the event of a grid failure, we lose our electricity just like homes that do not have solar systems. We cannot use the electricity we are generating because we lack a system that automatically disconnects us from the grid in case of a power failure.

The electricity at our home from the utility has been remarkably reliable. We are connected to a very robust portion of the grid. An aluminum plant is no longer operated just a few miles from our house. Our area has excess available capacity because it used an enormous amount of electricity when fully functioning. However, a few minor earthquakes have gotten me to consider a battery system for our home. In the past month, our area has seen seven earthquakes with a magnitude above 2.5, including one that was 4.5. It was the strongest earthquake in the past five years. In 2001, the area endured a 6.8 quake. The Cascadia Subduction Zone is reportedly capable of producing a 9.0 quake. However, no known way exists to predict when a major quake will occur. Seismologists assure us that small earthquakes are not signs that a major quake will follow. They say that the earthquakes we have experienced in the past month are normal and do not affect the chances of a larger quake.

There are, however, a lot of events around the world that remind us that our electric grid is vulnerable to several possible threats. In Australia, communities in southeast Queensland and New South Wales are recovering from a storm that caused flooding and knocked down power lines. Hundreds of thousands remain without power from a cyclone that struck their area. The storm was weaker when it made landfall near Brisbane, but damaging winds were strong enough to create significant disruptions in the electric grid. One report said that 290,000 properties were without power. Blackouts could persist for days as crews scramble to restore power.

The Israeli government ordered all electricity supplied to Gaza to be cut off worldwide. This poses an immediate crisis for those remaining in the area, as most drinking water comes from desalination plants that require electricity. A blackout not only leaves people without power but potentially without drinking water as well.

Less dramatic but closer to home, our neighbors in Point Roberts are wondering what will happen to their electricity bills in the tit for tat tariff dispute between the U.S. and Canada. Although the tariffs are temporarily delayed, the threat remains that they will be imposed. If the threatened 25% tariff goes into effect, it means an automatic 25% increase in the cost of electricity for the residents of Point Roberts. Although they live in the U.S., they have no choice but to buy their electricity from Canadian utilities. The same applies to water, sewer, and Internet services for Point Roberts residents.

People throughout the western United States have had access to reliable power systems for less than a century. As the U.S. emerged from the Great Depression of the 1930s, rural electrification projects brought electricity to small towns and rural areas. This has been managed by a system of utilities that operate as monopolies with some supervision under the Public Utilities Commissions of the states. The Grand Coulee Dam, constructed between 1933 and 1942, provides 6,809 megawatts of power in our region. That energy was brought directly into our area over high voltage transmission lines to power aluminum manufacturing necessary to the United States war effort during World War II.

We live in uncertain times, but that does not necessarily mean we should consider disconnecting from the grid. We are a part of a community. As our system now operates, the excess electricity that our system produces goes to our most immediate neighbors. While they have to pay the power company for that electricity, it seems crucial that we remain connected. We want to be able to help our neighbors and contribute to their needs being met. Thinking about a battery backup system is an interesting mental exercise, but so far, we are fortunate. Unlike folks in other parts of the world, we are lucky to have the option of thinking of multiple possibilities. We’ll try to keep ourselves informed and aware of changing technologies and options as we seek to be efficient in our consumption and aware of the needs of our neighbors.

I wear a relatively sophisticated digital watch that is connected to the Internet. This allows the watch to sync with other clocks and accurately display time. I just watched as it made the annual adjustment to daylight savings time. The second hand swept toward 2 am, and as it came to the top of the dial, the hour hand went instantly from 2 am to 3 am, thus “leaping ahead,” as required by the law. It is the first time I have observed the watch at the moment of the change, and now I’m curious to make the same observance in the fall, when 2 am should turn to 1 am. I know it is silliness. The display on my watch is not a measurement of anything. It displays time as measured through a complex system mediated by various state and federal laws about changing time.

Tomorrow, when I fly from the West Coast to Cleveland, it might be interesting to look at my watch as I fly from Pacific Daylight, over Mountain Daylight, and Central Daylight on my way to Eastern Daylight Time. I suspect that the watch will make the leaps ahead not at the exact moments when we cross the time barrier, but rather at the moments that the watch picks up signals from cell towers. Since my watch and phone will be in Airplane Mode, the change should take place only when we land in Cleveland and the flight attendant instructs us that taking our devices out of Airplane Mode is safe.

Under Newtonian Physics, space and time are constants. They never vary, regardless of the circumstances. Einstein peeled away Newton’s assumptions and arrived at his special theory of relativity, which states that while the laws of physics and the speed of light are constants, time and space can vary. For example, time measured on a fast-moving object passes more slowly than time on a stationary object. NASA’s Twins Study was a coordinated study of identical twins, Mark and Scott Kelly, focused on the time when Scott was traveling in space to the time Mark remained on Earth. Although the study is ongoing, initial results showed some microbiological differences between the twins that appeared to disappear over time after Scott returned to Earth. According to the special theory of relativity, Scott should be just a tiny amount younger than Mark, but that difference may be too small to have any practical implications.

Quantum physics posits theories that are even more remarkable than Special Relativity. At the quantum level, physicists have made some observations that call into question the measurement of the passage of time and the sequence of events. Some quantum research challenges our understanding of the past, present, and future. In the 1990s, physicists fired photons through a barrier as a wave packet. The peak of the packet appeared to emerge from the barrier before they entered. The phenomenon had been predicted before it was observed.

I am no physicist and don’t fully understand the articles I read about quantum mechanics. Still, I do understand that there are scientific observations that call into question our natural sense of time as a linear phenomenon. Just as Einstein proposed that we imagine a curve in the space-time continuum, quantum mechanics allows us to think beyond the image of a line of time altogether.

Observing my watch jump ahead an hour, it appeared that it was not a continuous line, but instead had a leap. At one second, it was 2 am, and the next, it was 3 am. And, if I am alert at 2 am on Sunday, November 2, and observe my watch, it should give the appearance of time moving backwards.

It is impossible to know whether humans are the only creatures that bother with time measurement. While other animals appear to have memory, it is unclear how they experience the passage of time. Does a year seem shorter to an animal that hibernates for months each winter? Does time seem shorter to an insect than to a giant tortoise because of the difference in their lifetimes? Like many other speculative questions, answers may not be apparent in my lifetime. I have learned to be comfortable with a degree of mystery and the simple acknowledgment that there is much about this universe that I do not understand and will never understand.

According to the usual measurement of people in my part of the world, I will turn 72 this year. Understanding time as linear, with a clear-cut past, present, and future, is helpful for me. At some point, I will reach the end of my life. Since others will live beyond my life while I will no longer have a perception of the past, present, and future, they will continue to exist, at least as observed by those living.

In 2019, our daughter gave birth to our grandson in Japan. Her husband sent us a photograph and a text message. His birthday is July 12, but I received the text message and photograph on July 11 because of the difference in time zones. It was a different day on the other side of the International Date Line. I had fun announcing to my colleagues in the meeting, “My daughter just had a baby tomorrow.” Of course, I knew I was not experiencing some vision of the future; only that time was measured differently in different parts of the world.

Before the 1884 Prime Meridian Conference made time zones official, people had no problem accepting that time would differ in different places. Noon occurred whenever the sun was at its highest in the particular place where one was. It might be noon in one town at a different time than in another. Scheduling railroad service, however, required standardization of time, and standardized time zones became the norm worldwide by the dawning of the 20th century.

While I doubt that I’ll invest much energy in observing the movement of the second hand on the digital watch display I wear on my wrist, there are moments when thinking about time is fascinating and entertaining for me.

The next time someone asks me if I have the time, I think I’ll answer, “Yes, I have the time. Do you want to know what my watch says?” It will only confuse the other person but continue to entertain me.

It all started with the study of insects. In the 1890s, entomologist George Hudson of Wellington, New Zealand, realized that if he got up earlier on summer mornings, he would have an extra hour to collect insects. He proposed that the members of his scientific society adopt the practice. His idea wasn’t taken very seriously by others. It wasn’t until the First World War that Germany officially adopted it nationally. The thought was that moving the clock would save energy during national stress.

In the 1960s, six months of daylight savings time and six months of standard time was proposed. Candy manufacturers responded by extending that proposal. They reasoned that an extra hour of daylight on Halloween would increase trick-or-treating and candy sales. These days, we have eight months of daylight savings and four months of standard time. Tomorrow is the day of change for much of the world.

The switch has several drawbacks, especially the spring switch, when we all lose an hour of sleep. Statistically, there are more automobile accidents following the spring switch. There are more missed medical appointments. There is an increased incidence of stroke at that time as well. The list of problems is even more intensive, including increased workplace injuries, increased acute cardiovascular events, increased rates of depression, increased miscarriages, increased digestive issues, and increased suicide. The disruption of the circadian rhythm leads to physical, mental, and behavioral changes. The changes can affect appetite, productivity, and the ability to focus.

Behavioral experts recommend avoiding napping during the first days of switching to daylight savings, as naps can further confuse the bodily circadian rhythm.

In the United States, the solution proposed by the medical community is to avoid daylight savings time entirely. Two states, Arizona and Hawaii, don’t observe daylight savings time at all. Their practice is allowed by a loophole in the 58-year-old federal law that requires states to stay on daylight saving time. The Uniform Time Act of 1966 mandates that the entire United States observe daylight savings time. It does allow states to opt out and exempt themselves from the practice by staying on standard time year-round. It does not allow states to permanently establish daylight savings time and remain in that time through the winter.

Nineteen states have passed legislation or resolutions supporting year-round daylight savings time, and at least 30 states considered legislation related to daylight savings time last year. However, none of these laws can take effect until the National Congress repeals the Uniform Time Act. In 2022, the U.S. Senate passed a bill that would do that, but it was never brought to the floor of the House of Representatives.

Connecticut tried to circumvent the national legislation by leaving the Eastern Time Zone and adopting Atlantic Standard Time, which is one hour ahead of Eastern Standard Time and is used in Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands. New Hampshire and Massachusetts also proposed a switch to Atlantic Standard Time. A similar proposal was made in Rhode Island but was never adopted.

Idaho, which has two time zones, passed legislation that would move the state to the same time zone if the state of Washington approved permanent daylight savings time. The legislation would make daylight savings time permanent in the northern half of the state that is currently in the Pacific Time Zone and standard time the year round standard in the southern half of the state, giving the entire state the same time year round. Last year, a bill was introduced in the Idaho legislature to establish standard time year-round for the whole state, but it died in committee before being brought to the floor.

In our state, Washington, we have a law establishing permanent daylight savings time that cannot go into effect without the approval of Congress. A proposal to adopt standard time year-round was made in the state senate last year, but it failed to pass.

For now, we’re set to switch times tomorrow morning, rising an hour earlier with the return of daylight savings time. The disruption in our clocks will be intensified for Susan and me this year as I have to get up early on Monday morning to catch a flight to Cleveland for a few days of meetings. That means we’ll have to leave our house at 4 am on Monday, rising earlier to be ready. Our already confused bodies will be even more confused. Susan can come home and nap, but I’ll have a shortened day, rising in Pacific daylight time and going to bed in Eastern daylight time. Then, on Wednesday, when I come home, I’ll have a very long day, rising in Eastern daylight time and arriving at our airport just before midnight Pacific time and getting to bed about an hour later in the wee hours of Thursday morning. I expect my body to be confused most of the week.

To make matters worse, all of the changes and sleep disruptions will not result in me giving any more time to study insects as George Hudson proposed. Furthermore, it won’t result in any energy savings at our home because our electricity comes from solar panels, which produce when the sun rises and do not produce after the sun sets. Our solar production increases and decreases with the length of the day. The solar system on our house produces more electricity than we consume for about 250 days each year and less than we consume during the winter, so the change in the clocks roughly corresponds to the time when we break even each spring. Our state's net metering laws allow us to bank excess electricity with our utility, meaning that the utility does not pay us for the extra electricity we put into the grid most of the year. We do not pay when we take more from the grid than we produce during the winter.’

Many clocks will automatically make the change to daylight savings time, but a few still require attention. At our house, clocks in the cars and kitchen appliances require adjustment. Our phones will alert us if we forget, which is unlikely. At your home, please be careful during the time of change. It causes everyone stress, and despite the advice of experts, a few of us will be taking naps on Sunday afternoon.

“Papa Ted, Play!” My youngest grandson is learning the power of words. His vocabulary isn’t the largest. He often speaks in incomplete sentences. He hasn’t yet discovered the full potential of rhyme or rhythm, though he has memorized some key lines from storybooks that imply rhyme. If I quote a line from his current favorite book and say, “Did Peate cry?” He’ll respond, “Goodness, no! Buttons come and buttons go!” In his typical speech, he doesn’t use the word goodness, but he loves the rhythm and poetry of the book. When he said, “Papa Ted, Play!” he was starting up the stairs in our home and wanted me to go with him up to a playroom were we have a variety of toys. His family had come to our house for dinner. The occasion was a visit from my sister and an opportunity for her to spend time with our grandchildren. His older sisters and brother were at the table with my wife and sister playing a card game, and he wasn’t interested in that game. He wanted his dad and me to come upstairs with him to play with the toys.

Upstairs, we were served juice and milk from a toy pitcher in tiny cups. The game was entirely imaginative, as the toy dishes were stored in a bin next to a small table and chairs. No actual liquids were required. He told me I had the rabbit’s cup, indicating a stuffed toy seated at the table. His father got the bear’s cup.

A short while later, we were back downstairs when he took my hand, led me to the refrigerator, and said, “Ice cream.” He knows the routine at our house. When they come to dinner, we clean up the dishes after the meal and take time to talk or play before having dessert. Ice cream is a treat common at our house and rare at his home. Last night, it was clear that he had been set up to request by his sister, who had coached him just before his making the request of me.

He could still use an editor. He occasionally chooses the wrong word. He often leaves out some of the words commonly used in a sentence. But he is learning the power of communication. His manner of speaking entertains me greatly, and I often reflect on what he has said hours after a visit.

He was born into a family with a lot of love for language. His father grew up in our house before smartphones, when we kept an unabridged dictionary within reach of our dining room table for reverence during dinner discussions. He knows where the shelves of children’s books are in our home and where the books he likes are kept at his own home. He often brings me a book and asks me to read. His father is a librarian, and he knows his way around at least two libraries. He is a regular at the storytelling time at our local library each week. His older siblings enjoy reading and writing. Recently, his brother, whose birthday is the same day as his, sent us a thank you note for a birthday gift that included the following: “What is your favorite book to read? I want to read it because I want to find new books!”

I have suggested a few books to the letter writer, including a favorite adult novel. I also showed him the stack of eighteen books next to my desk that I need to review in preparation for a resource meeting next week and the additional seven on my desk that I’ve gathered to review as I struggle with a chapter in a book I am writing. I also showed him the shelf of beloved poetry books next to my recliner and noted that I had not yet finished a couple of new poetry books there. I read poetry slowly and often out loud, which means I don’t often read poetry when he is visiting our home, though occasionally, I find a poem that is too good to keep to myself and read to the family over dinner. He knows how much I enjoy books and how hard it would be to pick a favorite. He probably doesn’t know that I have a few favorites that I’m keeping until he is a bit older. He is fourteen, loves science fiction, and has read most of the volumes of that genre that I own. But he will have to express interest in building boats or keeping bees before I recommend my favorite titles on those subjects..

I’m delighted with the teenager’s search for favorite books and his preschool brother’s expanding vocabulary. I love the stories their sisters write. One of our granddaughters has created pages of drawings with text in an anime style. She enjoys graphic novels and reflects the style of some of her favorites in her drawings and writing.

I often wonder about the futures of our grandchildren. We live in a complex world that is frequently frightening to me. There are so many possibilities for them to get hurt. The educational system in our country is broken, and many fall through the cracks. It is possible to accrue more debt than practical education from time in college. Many vocations no longer produce sufficient salary to pay for rent and groceries. Learning about intimacy and finding lasting relationships is a challenge for every generation, made even more complex by the dangers of online dating, predators who lurk in online spaces, and unrealistic expectations promoted by online marketers. They will face many challenges in coming years and will have to make their own decisions, face their own risks, and figure out out their own solutions to problems.

I find hope in their use of language. Reading and writing are skills that have become lifelong companions for me, and I hope that my grandchildren will continue to learn to speak and write and find ways to make language work for them. I look forward to discovering more books that are shared favorites.

My sister is visiting us for a few days during her vacation from work. On Tuesday, we went to a local restaurant for a seafood lunch and a walk along the shore. The restaurant we chose is just across the border in Canada. One of the things about living on the border is that we get used to passing through the entry checkpoints and answering a few questions from the agents as we do so. Passports or passport cards are required to go into or out of Canada. Besides remembering to take our passports, we don’t think much of a border crossing. There are school children in Point Roberts who cross the border twice, getting to school on their bus and then twice again on their return trip.

On Tuesday, the crossing times were very short. We didn’t have to wait to enter Canada and were in the third or fourth car in line returning to the US. Upon our reentry, we were asked what we had purchased in Canada. Our only purchase had been lunch, which we had eaten before we returned, so we had no import goods to report.

Over the years, we have learned that the agents are not concerned with souvenirs or other small purchases. There are specific rules about importing raw food such as meat, eggs, dairy, etc. In general, cooked foods are exempt from animal and health inspections. Other items such as alcohol and firearms or weapons also have specific rules that apply when taking them across the border. Since we don’t carry weapons and aren’t big consumers of alcohol, we’ve never had a problem. Once, when crossing the border with our camper, we forgot about the eggs in our refrigerator and were given the choice of cooking them on the spot or surrendering them.

After we got home from our lunch on Tuesday, I realized that part of what was going on at the border was that new rules were going into effect. I expect that the new tariffs imposed by the US and retaliatory tariffs imposed by Canada won’t be an issue for us because both countries have de minimus rules. There is a specific value of goods that an individual can import without incurring import duties.

De minimus is a legal term by which a law enforcement system or court does not consider trifling matters. The term comes from a Latin expression that means “pertaining to minimal things.”

The original Smoot-Hawley Tariffs, passed in 1930, had no de minimus exception. In 1938, as part of the recovery legislation of the Roosevelt administration, Congress amended the act to make a formal de minimus exception of $1. In 1978, that amount was raised to $5. It has been going up ever since. The most significant change occurred in 2016 when the amount was raised from $200 to $800 under a law whose primary sponsor was US Senator John Thune of South Dakota. The rule change was made to encourage the direct importation of items from countries of origin. The result of the rule change was dramatic in its impact. Companies regularly importing goods into the United States could now ship an item valued at less than $800 directly to a consumer without incurring import fees. Large companies in other countries, such as China, began shifting from importing goods in large shipping containers with high values to shipping individual packages directly to consumers.

Having vast amounts of inexpensive consumer goods, clothing, and other items directly shipped to consumers has put an enormous strain on the U.S. Postal Service. Instead of goods entering the US at shipping terminals, being processed with fees paid, and then shipped in bulk to stores, many goods are shipped directly to consumers in small packages. Chinese e-commerce giants SHEIN and Temu relied on this exception to ship inexpensive goods directly to US consumers. This is not a tiny part of the economy. Those two companies ship hundreds of millions of packages.

De minimus rules have been one of the most significant factors in the devastating decline of the domestic textile industry. They have also allowed hundreds of millions of packages to enter the country without inspection, facilitating the illegal drug trade.

This week, imposing new tariffs has caused much confusion about de minimus rules. The President issued an executive order suspending de minimus amounts for Canada, Mexico, and China, another allowing for de minimus exemptions, and more confusing orders.

The customs and border patrol agents we see when we cross into and out of Canada are a small part of what is required to enforce import and export rules. A complete suspension of de minimus for a single country, China, for example, would require a massive increase in the number of the agents needed to inspect packages and likely would result in long delays in delivering goods. US Customs and Border Protection is unprepared for the deluge of packages, and US ports of entry are overwhelmed with a backlog of packages. Bonded warehouses are filled with goods that can be stored pending inspection.

The rules are even more complex. Goods can be imported by three customs processes: formal entry, informal entry, and de minimus. The complex rules create significant confusion at US ports of entry, especially those where goods are transferred. We can see the difference by comparing the two border crossings in our town. The freeway, where private cars come and go, has very short lines with wait times under five minutes. At the same time, at the other entry, where the semi-trucks hauling goods enter, the lines are backed up enough to block intersections in town with wait times as high as 45 minutes.

This is only the first week, and one supposes that some of the confusion will settle with experience, but Congress is considering several potential changes to the rules.

We live in a world economy. Attempts at protectionism can have unintended consequences. Eliminating the de minimus exemption will affect consumers at the lowest economic levels. The result is expected to increase the gap between the rich and the poor in our country and the number of people who cannot afford essential goods and services.

If this essay sounds confused, it is because I am confused. And I’m not the only one. Meanwhile, I try to listen carefully and answer truthfully when we cross the border, and I have no plans to make a shopping trip to bring items home from Canada anytime in the near future.

Several times over the past few weeks, I realized that I had gone for hours with my phone in silent mode. I frequently put my phone in airplane mode or set it to its silent setting when I am doing something for which I do not want to be interrupted. For example, I’ll put my phone in airplane mode as I enter the sanctuary for worship or when conversing with someone. Then, after the worship service or conversation has ended, I forget about the phone and leave it silent for an extended time, sometimes for the rest of the day. When I do so, I am not only ignoring voice calls, but I also ignore text messages, emails, and other communications.

I am retired, so my phone isn’t all that busy. Most of the messages I receive are advertising messages encouraging me to purchase a product I probably don’t want. Someone has been trying to contact me a few times about something important. I’ve had to apologize recently for being slow to respond to communications sent to me with the best intentions.

I am not a big social media user. Although I have Facebook and Instagram accounts, I rarely post on them. This website is my primary way of expressing myself online. However, I occasionally see and respond to social media alerts when my phone is turned on and out of airplane mode.

In my forgetfulness about my phone, I have been reminded of something I used to know: There is great value in being unplugged and disconnected. Setting aside my devices allows me to listen more intently and connect more deeply with the people around me. Not only do I not need a 24/7 newsfeed, but I am also happier when I do not check the latest news on my phone throughout the day.

Jonathan Haidt's New York Times Best-Selling book, The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness, urgently appeals to unplugging from technology, especially for children and youth. He chronicles the shift from play-based to phone-based childhoods over the past few decades and outlines practical steps that parents, communities, and houses of worship can take to change when and how children encounter media.

Our children were grown up before personal phones began to dominate our culture. They did not have cell phones in high school, and neither did their peers. Our grandchildren are growing up in a vastly different world. Portable Internet devices are essential for children to engage in research, connect with peers, and remain safe. I’ve heard many parents talking about getting their elementary child a cell phone so the child can call for help in a dangerous situation. While I understand their fear and desire to keep children safe, I am also aware of the dangers that constant connection presents to children.

I am not arguing for burying one’s head in the sand and cutting off all Internet use. Neither is Jonathan Haidt in his excellent book. When a phone is necessary for safety and essential communication, a simple phone will suffice without having a child or teen constantly connected to social media. Contemporary parents often go overboard with “stranger danger” and avoiding risk by limiting free play while at the same time ignoring the research on what is required to keep children safe from predators and other dangers that are a part of the Internet.

I have become very dependent on my cell phone. For nearly five years now, cell phones have been our only phones. We no longer have a landline in our home. On the other hand, our house has a fiber optic connection to high-speed Internet that allows us to remain connected. Many places I go these days, from the library to church to local shops, have free wifi connection. However, I have grown to value opportunities to disconnect. Here are some things that are important for children and adults.

Quiet contemplation is a vital life skill. It requires time to think, pray, and be quiet every day. Everyone can benefit from setting aside devices and simply sitting quietly.

Going outside every day is vital for a balanced life. We have learned to appreciate the value of bundling up and walking even in inclement weather. However, I lose my connection with the natural world when I get too busy and spend too much time indoors. Feeling the wind and rain on my face is critical to maintaining emotional balance.

Find in-person gatherings. I am grateful for technology’s capacity to keep me connected with folks who are far away. I regularly connect over the Internet with friends in other time zones and countries. There are days when I will have three or four meetings over Zoom on the same day. I have reached an age where sometimes I prefer logging onto my computer to getting out and driving to a meeting in the evening. But I also know the value of being with others in a shared space. I find online worship to be far less engaging than in-person worship. As much as I enjoy connecting with my sister with random text messages or sharing a FaceTime call with my daughter whenever I want, I also long to be together with those important people. Calls are no substitute for traveling to be together, and the times when we are in the same place at the same time are very valuable.

In-person connections are not just crucial with close family and friends. I have come to appreciate the value of talking to strangers. Despite the fears of strangers that are often encouraged by politicians and others, people who are different from me are not generally dangerous. I find essential connections when I look a stranger in the eye and acknowledge their presence. Recently, when I greeted a person who probably has no house, he said, “All I want to for the people walking by to see me.” I got an experience that others did not simply by saying, “Hello.”

I still have my devices, but in these troubled times, I am learning to value my ability to set them aside and make connections that aren’t mediated by technology.

I don’t go to movies often and didn’t pay much attention to the Oscars on Sunday evening, but I read on one website that there was a small earthquake just after people started to arrive on the red carpet. The quake measured 3.9 on the Richter scale, which isn’t very powerful. People who live in Los Angeles are used to earthquakes. Outside of Alaska, Southern California is the most seismically active area in the US. One article I read said that the region experiences an earthquake on the average of every three minutes. The week before the Oscars quake, 36 earthquakes occurred in the LA area, most under magnitude 2.0. Around 15 to 20 events exceed magnitude 4.0 annually in the LA area.

According to Natural Resources Canada, we have had three small earthquakes over the past three weeks. On February 21, there was a 4.7 temblor about 40 miles north of our home. On February 24, there was an earthquake of magnitude five off the west coast of Vancouver Island. And yesterday morning at about 5 am, there was a 4.1 quake with the epicenter on the west side of the tip of Orcas Island, which is just 25 miles from where we live and easily visible from the beach of our bay.

None of those earthquakes caused any damage. None were large enough to trigger a tsunami warning. And I didn’t feel any of them.

I’ve felt earthquakes before. During our visits to Japan, we experienced more significant earthquakes, including one that shook our daughter’s home for over a minute and rattled its shelves.

Experts say that earthquakes are not unusual and that we should not be alarmed. They do use the occasion of earthquakes to remind people to have an earthquake kit handy and learn what to do in the event of an earthquake. We have a blizzard kit that we used to keep in our car during the winter in South Dakota, with a small stove, candles, and freeze-dried food. That, plus a water bottle and a sleeping bag, would keep us alive and comfortable should we need to wait for rescue if our vehicle became stuck in the hills. We spent the night in our pickup truck once but experienced no significant distress. As near as I can figure, the blizzard kit will work fine as an earthquake kit if we freshen up the freeze-dried food supply.

We have earthquake straps on our water heater and a sturdy frame restraining a 50-gallon rain barrel in our backyard. We’re likely good with water in the event of an earthquake. And our pantry is well stocked. If we were to have an extended power outage caused by an earthquake, we’d need to eat the food in our freezer, so that would keep us going for a while longer. Since we live in a neighborhood with homes close together, I suspect we’d end up sharing. It might be time for a neighborhood potluck.

Nearly as close as the epicenter of yesterday’s quake is Mount Baker, which is an active volcano. It is considered by the United States Geological Survey to be a “high-threat” volcano, which means it is likely to have a period of increased activity sometime in the future. Geology, however, is imprecise when it comes to predicting future timetables. Things are pretty calm on the mountain now, and I haven’t heard any predictions that it might erupt soon.

An offshore earthquake large enough to cause a tsunami is the most significant natural disaster threat for where we live. Since our home is right next to the designated tsunami assembly area, we’re sure we are high enough to escape the waves in the event of a tsunami. We think it is less likely that we will be directly affected by the tsunami and more likely that we will be called to help our friends and neighbors who live next to the bay. A well-stocked pantry seems like a good idea.

Other storms and threats might disrupt our retirement lifestyle. The tariffs set to go into effect today will likely increase the gas price and could affect the jobs of neighbors who work at the oil refinery near our home. The cost of some groceries will go up. On Saturday, I bought a case of mangoes from a vendor who drives his van up from California and sells fruit from a stand near our home. I’ve bought oranges from him before. The oranges come from California, but the mangoes come from Mexico. A 25% tariff means that the price of mangos would go up by $12.50 per box. That is probably enough to keep me from buying more, but it is more likely that the mangoes will disappear from his fruit stand. It will be a disappointment but hardly a disaster. Given the expected price increase, we may have to cut back on avocados as well.

I’m not much of a prepper. I don’t have an underground bunker and probably lack extreme survivalist techniques. I’m more likely to head to our son’s farm or church in case of a catastrophe. I’m more interested in being community-sufficient than self-sufficient. I have no desire to hole up in some shelter or head out in a “bug out” vehicle and worry about what is happening to my beloveds. Combining the resources we have in our pantry with the food available at our son’s farm, there is a lot to keep people going for quite a while. It would take us an hour to walk to the farm if our cars were inoperable, and I suppose it could take longer if the street were somehow damaged enough to make driving impossible. We’d have to add a few miles to the distance if a petroleum train were burning at the crossing between the two places. Then again, I ride an alternate route when I take my bike.

For now, I’m comfortable sleeping through little earthquakes. They don’t seem to wake me, which is good.

One of my spring chores this year is painting our fence. Last year, my fence painting project was the fence around the orchard at our son’s farm. My grandson and I painted that fence after spending several weeks repairing it. The fence where our son and his family moved in was white. When I asked our daughter-in-law what color she wanted the fence to be, she said red. I went to the farm store and bought a five-gallon bucket of red barn paint. It was an easy process. I know that barn red is a kind of earthy color, unlike candy apple red, a sought-after color for sports cars. Neither of them is quite the same as the red stripes in the flag of the U.S.A. None of those colors is the same as burgundy.

However, this spring’s fence painting project won’t involve red paint, though a red fence looks pretty good. In our yard, I’d like the fence to be brown. I went to the hardware store, got a color chart of solid stains, and brought it home to pick the color we wanted. The chart has three pages of brown paint chips, all with names you might not find in a box of coloring crayons. For example, kidskin is next to winter wood and is not the same as cameo or pebble. There is chamois and taupe. I think the color we will use is Mesa, which is not the same as Yucatan.

When discussing colors with family and friends, I often joke about growing up with a box that had only eight crayons. I eventually got a box with sixteen, but I never learned the names of all of the colors in the box with 64.

I’m pretty good with the basics of the color wheel, but when it starts to fan out with all of the sub colors, I tend to drift toward objects found in nature. I know the difference between the color of a banana and a peach. I can tell that a pineapple is not the same as a sunflower, and a bumblebee is not the same as a lemon. I would describe all as being shades of yellow, however.

Walking in the heritage forests around here, I experience a wide range of greens. Mosses are different colors than ferns, which come in many shades. Trees have various hues and appear different in different lights. I describe everything from mint to sage as being green. Lime is a different shade than emerald.

It takes quite a vocabulary to describe the colors that we perceive.

I’ve seen a chart online that reminds me of a color wheel that presents human emotions. Emotions, like colors, come in a wide variety of subtle variations. The emotion chart I am most familiar with has seven basic feelings at the center: happy, surprised, bad, fearful, angry, disgusted, and sad. Right away, I found that my emotions didn’t follow the chart closely. I see it as bad to be too broad of a category. I might think that anger feels bad in some situations, but those emotions aren’t even next to each other on the chart. I believe pain or hurt is a basic human emotion, but it doesn’t appear on the chart.

A quick search on the Internet will yield several emotion wheels that attempt to illustrate the range of human emotions. And for every emotion logged on someone’s chart, there are probably a dozen more words describing feelings that don’t appear there. Like colors, describing emotions requires an extensive vocabulary.

I am aware of my emotions and believe I possess a modicum of emotional maturity earned by decades of living. Still, it is easy to find words describing emotions unfamiliar to me. Altschmerz is weariness with the same old issues you’ve always had. Mal de coucou is the feeling of having an active social life but few close friends. Occhiolism describes the feeling that your perspective is too small. Ambedo is becoming wholly absorbed by sensory details.

I’m sure I could make up a few more names for feelings. There must be a word for “I just don’t care anymore.” Perhaps there is one for “I’ve written that sentence a dozen times and still can’t find the right words.”

Like color, not every person experiences emotions in the same way that others do. I met several people when I was associated with Black Hills Works who were neurodivergent. One person could not interpret basic signals from his own body. He did not know when he was hungry or tired or needed to use the bathroom. He did best when he followed a rigid schedule with meal times, bed times, and time to go to the toilet all scheduled and occurring at the same time each day. Another person found it very difficult to sense the emotions of another person. He couldn’t sense whether another person was happy, sad, angry, or amused.

Psychologists use the word alexithymia to describe the phenomenon of not being able to express one's feelings. The word is derived from Greek and translates roughly to “no words for emotions.” I don’t often have that experience, but there are occasions when I need to stop and think for a while before finding words to express my feelings. Sometimes, it just takes me some time to figure out my feelings.

Over the years of my job, where I got to know many people in many different situations, I learned that becoming confused about one’s emotions is common. Frequently, someone will present as angry when their emotional state is far more complex than a single word. For example, anger is a normal part of grief, but grieving people are often frightened by their anger and would describe it as quite different from righteous indignation.

Sometimes, I wonder if it is a bit like color. To be in touch with our feelings, we need a substantial vocabulary to describe them. I can feel positive and negative simultaneously, but I don’t always have a word for it.

Once the fence is painted, I will recycle the charts with all the colors. I’ll refer to my fence as brown, just as I refer to the walls in this room as gray.

What is the difference between grey and gray? Grey is a colour, whereas gray is a color.

In the fall of 2001, after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, a ministerial association in which I was active held a community worship service. I had previously worked hard in our community to build bridges between various Christian congregations in our community. I was active in the organization even when some of the more fundamentalist church leaders pushed ideas and interpretations of scripture with which I disagreed. I served as secretary for a term and then as vice president. I worked to invite leaders of other faith groups to participate. The community service was planned as a show of unity and an expression of grief over the attacks. At the service, one of the fundamentalist preachers used the invitation to lead a prayer to deliver an attack against gay and lesbian members of society, saying that New York had been attacked because of its acceptance of gay and lesbian persons. After the service, I spoke privately to my colleague, saying that I felt his words were out of place. I suggested that he might not have been aware that gay and lesbian members of our community had attended the service and would be hurt by his words. He said almost nothing in response to my comments.

At the group's next meeting, there was an election of new officers. I expected to be elected chair of the organization, a position for which I believed I was running unopposed. However, another person, a pastor of a fundamentalist congregation, was nominated from the floor and elected, gaining more votes than I. I didn’t worry about it. I was busy, and I didn’t need another job. However, a couple of meetings later, a resolution was passed at a meeting that changed the group's name to Rapid City Christian Minister’s Association and required all who wished to belong to the group to sign the Apostle’s Creed. I declined to sign for two reasons. I knew that it was put forward to exclude Unitarian, Bahai, and Jewish participation, and I felt called to stand with those religious leaders if they were being targeted. In addition, our church clearly states that we accept creeds as testaments of faith and not tests of faith. We would never require someone to sign a specific creed to belong to our church.

I quietly moved on from the situation in a busy life with many obligations. I made a conscious decision not to make any public criticism of the behavior of other Christian ministers. I did, however, tell the story of the events to some of my colleagues in our church. One colleague who had grown up in the Evangelical side of our denomination, however, cautioned me. He told of how some of the leaders of our church found themselves in positions that compromised their beliefs in Germany during the rise of Hitler. They also chose not to speak out against other Christians during that tumultuous time. Later, when the Nazi regime engaged in atrocities including the attempted genocide of all Jews, killing over six million, they found themselves estranged from many Christian leaders who continued to back the regime. He told me that many sons of Christian ministers served as SS troopers in Germany and that in those circumstances, it became necessary to publicly name the murder of innocents as being in direct opposition to Christian values. Those who spoke out against Hitler and the Nazis were often persecuted themselves. Some died in concentration camps. Others were forced to leave Germany. Estrangement within families occurred. A high price was paid for the opposition, but in my colleague's eyes, it was necessary. “Sometimes you have to speak up for Christian values. Some will claim to be Christian and oppose Christian values.”

I listened politely and agreed that in extreme circumstances, it might become necessary to be more vocal in opposition to those who preach versions of Christianity that oppose biblical teaching and Christian values. I did not think, however, that what happened to Christians under the Nazi regime could every happen again.

Now, I find myself in a much darker place in history. My country is being run by White Christian Nationalists who claim the name Christian but who seem to be opposed to the actions of Jesus in the Gospel. There will be preachers today who will laud the actions of President Trump and Vice President Vance, who set up a meeting this week with Ukrainian President Zelensky as an opportunity to try to force submission to the aggression of Moscow in exchange for a deal for the US to gain access to minerals in Ukraine. When Zelensky refused to bow and praise the US President and to accept the claim that he had started the war, after he had been called a dictator and been publicly berated, he was ushered out of the White House.

It is essential to be straightforward about the truth in the face of so many lies coming directly from the White House and being repeated by Christian ministers from the pulpit. Russia invaded Ukraine three years ago. Over 12,000 Ukrainians have been killed in the war, many of them innocent civilian victims of relentless bombing and drone attacks. Estimates range from a low of 20,000 to as many as 700,000 Ukrainian children have been seized and removed from their families. Russian President Vladimir Putin and his commissioner for children’s rights, Maria Lvova-Belova, have been indicted by the International Criminal Court, which has issued arrest warrants for both over the deportation of Ukrainian children.

The President and Vice President of the United States, backed by virtually all Republicans in the House of Representatives and the Senate, have publicly switched sides in the war. He has embraced Putin and is following Putin’s bidding. Our leaders have joined what President Bush called “the Axis of Evil.”

Firing dedicated employees, and freezing aid to foreign countries that Congress authorized. Allowing vaccination programs to be halted, denying food assistance to starving people, dismissing leaders who have worked for the inclusion of all Americans in the military and government, deporting immigrants who entered the country legally but have expired visas, cutting benefits for veterans, slashing medicaid, and dividing families are not Christian behaviors.

Enriching the most wealthy at the expense of the most vulnerable is not Christian. Issuing over $30 billion in no-bid contracts to companies controlled by the richest man in the world is not efficient, despite the name of the agency he heads, a position for which he did not have to be elected or confirmed by Congress. “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:24).

Destroying American democracy is not Christian. Too many of those who claim the name Christian are acting in ways that are in direct opposition to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The time for silence is ended. It is time for faithful Christians to name hypocrisy, racism, and bigotry for what they are. Not everyone who claims the name Christian is a Christian.

We’ve had a week of warmer days, so it was time to check on the bees at our son’s farm. I have decided that calling myself a beekeeper isn’t the correct title. I don’t keep bees. I watch them. I occasionally feed them with pollen cake and syrup. I harvest some of their honey. I put devices on their hives to help them stay warm in the winter. The bees to the res of the work. They decide when it is time to head out to collect pollen and nectar from the plants on the farm. They keep their hives clean. They care for the developing larvae. They ensure the queen has food and is kept at an appropriate temperature.

Bees, however, are a form of agriculture. The bee colonies at the farm came from nuclear colonies that I purchased and installed in hives that I bought and built at the farm. The nuclear colonies came from California and were imported into Washington by a friend. Their heritage, like mine, is European. Their genetic strains can be traced back to Italy and Russia. Domestic honey bees are not native to our area. There are approximately 600 varieties of bees that are native to Washington, including alkali bees, blue orchard bees, also known as mason bees, western bumblebees, leafcutter bees, fairy bees, green sweat bees, and nomad bees.

At the farm, a few digger bees are already appearing, and I’ve seen mason bees out as well as the honey bees from our colonies. We are being careful with the bees that we tend. We don’t want them to displace any of the native pollinators. However, the farm grows quite a few plants that also have been imported. The native trees in this area include evergreens, poplars, birch, hawthorn, bitter cherry, and Pacific madrone. The apple, pear, plum, and other fruit trees in the orchard were imported. The blueberry bushes were planted after the farm was developed. The tulips, hyacinths, daffodils, and dahlias were all imported plants. Most lavender and other decorative plants have been brought to the farm. These plants need insect pollinators, so there is plenty of space for a few domestic honey bees.

Raising bees is something that I have wanted to do for a long time, but I had reserved it for retirement because I wanted to have enough time to give the bees my attention. I’m a bit busier than expected in retirement, but the bees are not demanding. I was also inspired to tend bees because of my friendship with a brilliant professor, an amateur beekeeper. He was a practical man with a scientific mind that he brought to all his activities. He had developed his observation skills and combined them with his voracious appetite for reading. He did not need to show off his knowledge but enjoyed sharing the honey his bees produced. I enjoyed consuming that honey. He would donate cases of pint jars of honey to our church rummage sale. Once, I offered to buy any that were left over, but none were left over after the sale. The following year, I bought several jars of honey when the sale was opened to the public.

The bees encourage what I call “slow work.” They can become riled and defensive if I move quickly among them. Last year, I was stung a couple of times when I tried to rush my chores with the bees. I am resolved to try to avoid being stung this year. Yesterday, I was checking on the bees, so I removed a few boxes of frames and looked in on them. I refreshed their syrup, and that was about all. Over the next month, I plan to move their frames into different boxes with fresh paint. The boxes they are in have been outside for two years and need a bit of refreshment. I can move the frames from one box to another without disrupting the bees too much. But if I rush the process, the bees won’t remain calm. When they swarm around me, it is best that I walk away and allow them to calm down before resuming.

I need to calm myself down. If I am afraid of being stung, the bees seem to be able to sense my nervousness. When I am calm and quiet and work very slowly, the bees go on without paying me too much attention. The friend from whom I purchased the bees and occasionally purchase supplies calls it the Zen of beekeeping. I’m not a practicing Buddhist and am no expert on Zen, but I know that part of Buddhist meditation is paying attention to breathing. When working with the bees, I focus on breathing, taking deep breaths, and remaining calm. I grew up around sheepherders and cowboys who spoke to their animals, and I talk to the bees a bit while working with them. I keep my voice calm and greet the girls.
In a bee colony, only drones are male, and there are only drones when the colony produces a new queen. Most of the bees I see are female workers. Bees don’t have ears with bones like humans do. They don’t hear the way we do. They can sense vibration and respond to the vibration of the wings of the other bees in the colony. The perform “dances,” moving their bodies in repetitive patterns to communicate with other bees. They can give directions to productive flowers for nectar and pollen to other bees. I assume that they can communicate danger as well. It seems that the bees recognize me, or at least they recognize the scent of my bee suit. Individual bees occasionally crawl on the suit, but they don’t stay long. They have other things to do. My gloves often have a bit of pollen on them and can be interesting to the bees, but their visits are brief.

I am grateful for the bees' presence and the opportunity to keep and watch them. I’m a novice. This will only be my third year of tending bees. They, however, seem to tolerate my inexperience and have a lot to teach me.