October 24, 2024

My Thoughts About 399

The death of an animal influencer

I have so many emotions regarding the death of the most famous grizzly bear in history. Here is my take:  

I loved her.  How can you not love any being that raises four babies to adulthood?  It’s a great accomplishment in the animal world just as it is for humans.

Of course, the way she did that is tragic.  She stayed near the road to keep her offspring safe from male grizzlies.  Her behavior was partially driven by climate change.  See the great documentary available on Prime Video, “Grizzly 399: Queen of the Tetons." 

Thomas Mangelson’s famous photos and anthropomorphism of Grizzly 399 had lethal consequences.  Her cubs, raised in the safety and nightmare traffic caused by his beautiful photography, were so habituated to humans that they caused much concern and work for the park service.  One of her 4 famous cubs had to be euthanized.

His words in the documentary reveal many anthropomorphization tendencies.  The most telling of which, for me, was calling the later euthanized cub by a different name than the park service designated name.  The recent rise of shows like the HBO Documentary "Chimp Crazy" is a great example if you can stand to watch it.  I was able to do it through fingers over my face like I use for jump scare horror movies.

There is no doubt that her death was a tragedy.  The oldest living reproducing grizzly in the park raised 4 cubs to adulthood and then reemerged with another yearling currently at large but thought to be unhurt in the traffic accident that killed 399.  

Spending so much time near the road undoubtably caused or was a major factor in the accident.  Simply by being so familiar with, and often on, the road.  The hypothesis by the park service is that 399, along with her yearling cub, was trapped against a hillside in the accident Tuesday night around 10:30 pm according to Lincoln County Sheriff Department incident report.

Although I’m sure her cubs may use the same tactics, nature does will out and eventually that behavior will die out.

For now, I’m just sad she’s gone.  She was a force of nature in every sense of the word.

 

Lessons Learned

I'm reading a book right now and this morning it hit me. The father in the book reminds me of my Dad.

In the book a young girl has gone blind and her father finds a way to show her the world. My father did exactly the same thing.

Sometimes, it was drawing a one yard square in the dirt while we were working and I was too small to constantly have something to do, and telling me to watch it until he returned. Then he would quiz me. What did I see? What did I learn?

Other times it was taking my sister and me on a hike in the woods and then announcing, “I'll see you back at camp.” This started happening when I was very small. My sister and I learned to pay attention. Dad would say things like,“Look at the way that tree is growing, do you think the one with the fork above it caused it to be stunted like that?”

Lessons like: A flowing stream will eventually lead to a river and towns are built on rivers. Water with bugs is safe. I knew a lot about edible plants in the wild and where the dry tinder (on the underside of conifers) could be found in a pinch.

The Colorado Rockies held no fear for me. I camped alone there from the time I could drive. The Utah desert was the same. All the ways to find moisture, how to spot flash flood danger, where to watch for rattlesnakes.

In the novel, the father makes a model of the town for the newly blind girl, prewar France in August 1944. A year later, they step out of his work, a journey they've made with her hand on his belt loop, every work day, and he says, “take us home.”

I marvel at my Dad, telling us, see you back at camp and stepping off the trail. He was gone. We couldn't see him, couldn't hear him. I remember being very afraid. I was 6 years old. But my sister was just over 4 years old and already crying. I said, “Don't worry, we can do it.'

I knew he would not ask of me more than I could do. He trusted me because he knew my capabilities. He believed in me and taught me to believe in me.

Dance Threshold

Our son once called us "quotable."  My love, who is wicked smart, teases me and delights in my laughter.  The banter is stimulating and fun.

He has grown to enjoy "This American Life." I've been a fan for years.  We went to see Ira Glass when he came to Kalamazoo.  It's one of several podcasts I listen to while doing housework, commuting or, my favorite, communing in the tub with a cold drink or a glass of wine.

I received this text from my fella recently:

I listened to the episode first on the drive home.  Didn't quite get it.  A bit ago, once more.

Then it hit me.  It's the intro, about marriage.  I loved the piece but didn't recognize myself in it.

SHS gets me.  He reads me.  I was shocked.  Did he miss a cue?  Did we have a disconnect?

NO.  Not at all.

I will post a link to it here.  If you look in the app store you would just search:  This American Life and get the episode marked, "Choosing Wrong."  I'm a couple of episode behind and this one has a lot of interesting stuff but the part he's referring to is the beginning, about marriage.

A few years ago, I went along with my husband, our son and a friend to see the Griffins.  We were waiting for the game to start.  They played 30 seconds of an eminently dance-able song.  I bopped.  I was loved, happy, excited and teasing my soul mate by really grooving.  His enthusiasm for dance is mostly fueled by my love of it.  I think it takes courage to dance when you're a foot taller than anyone on the floor. He's got a rhythm.  Mostly stays in "the zone." After a few beers he's actually really good. I love dancing with him.

When I was 22 years old, I would dance for hours with almost anyone who asked.  I don't have skill but I have lots of enthusiasm.  It fills me up, the music, the crowd, the movement.

So, in my 30 seconds of jamming, the camera found me.  I didn't see it - but our son did.  Pointed and shouted and laughed at the big screen.  I sent up a fervent hope that I hadn't embarrassed the young man too much.

My husband?  Laughed with pure delight, squeezed me tight.  Kissed my cheek.

Then the hockey was on . . .

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/590/choosing-wrong

The Illusion of "Brokenness"

I wrote this 13 months ago but I've been busy.  Before I write the blog I came here to write, I'm going to post it.  If you've read some of my older blogs, you know I believe that the white space is the art in a piece.  This one is unfinished but it talks about what I was learning, thinking and using to grow, a year ago last May . . . .

Can't kayak this morning - so I've been thinking (and visiting with a friend) about how each of us is "broken."   I know that the struggles of my life have caused me to have triggers.  Triggers can be worked on, worked out and improved with work.  Think Therapy!

Although we can work on the way we are broken, the triggers will continue to affect us, create opportunities to learn about ourselves and others.  Maybe the triggers are a gift.  They are painful, awful things.  I still don't walk to the mailbox to get my mail.  My fella handles that for me.  There are many things he handles for me and many I handle for him.  We each have Stuff we are carrying.

One of my friends recently said that marriage is that "you team up against the world."  So, those things we choose to handle for one another are gifts.  It doesn't mean we can't each handle our own Stuff.  It means we love each other enough to pinch hit in the tough times.

When I was meeting men, while searching for my love, I met many men who had big Stuff.  Carrying big stuff is a part of life.  Dealing with big stuff is a part of life.  Finding someone whose stuff you can deal with is the key.

One of my friends described the dating sites as "the island of mistfit toys."  I think that's about right.  On the other hand, I've always felt that the key in any friendship is to be in it.  I do think many friendships have a natural trajectory.  Someone I feel very close to may need to move on.  I may choose to not be involved in their lives.  There is an arc to many relationships.

Pain is Relative

It's something I've been saying for years.  I know I've heard others say it but I discovered it as a truth to describe the fact that empathy does not capture another's experience.  This came to me shortly after my mother died.  Actually, it may have been the year after.  That first year was a blur of pain and sadness.

I started saying it because it didn't take me long, especially in relation to the people I met in the Hospice grief support group that I attended, to realize that EVERY experience with grief is different.  You could put two people in exactly the same series of experiences and because each of us has such a different set of tools, emotional vulnerability and access to support, there is just no way to compare the pain.

I stopped saying things like, "I understand because . . . (fill in my life altering painful experience here)."  I started stopping at, "I'm so sorry for your loss," and then trying to listen and really hear and respond to the other's expression of pain.

Giving up the concept that there needs to be comparison or understanding to sit with anyone, in that moment, and just share in their pain has led to some really loving and intense moments with people I will never really know.

It also gave me permission to feel the grief I need to feel.  Surviving those trials by fire, concentrating on the fierce love that gives me those connections.  That's been worth the pain.

Images are from Artprize 2013 exhibition will credit with artists name as soon as I can locate it.

Scotch Eggs

 

Boil 6 until hardboiled, cool and peel.  Mix 1 lb hot sausage and 1 lb regular sausage.  Add kosher salt and pepper to taste.  Beat 2 eggs with a splash of water.  Form balls of meat mixture around eggs.  Roll in egg and coat with falafel mix.  Put in freezer for 20 minutes.  Repeat egg and falafel mix.  Repressing into shape.  Cook for 30 minutes at 350 degrees.

Halloween Inspired Stuffed Peppers

Red peppers on the small side for stuffing but they were available and nearing the end of their lifecycle.
Boiled them in unsalted water for about 15 minutes left in water until ready to assemble.
Rather than the tomato sauce version of ground beef with cooked white rice, I sautéed onions and browned a little over a pound of ground beef.  Drained and set aside.
Made beef broth risotto the easy way with long grain rice and boiling water with some beef and tomato bouillon.
Folded in beef and onions, placed them in casserole and surrounded with the risotto mixture.  Covered tightly with foil and baked for 40 minutes at 350°.