Saturday, February 5, 2022

Things That Annoy Me About Social Media

The internet is its own universe. Things can be modified from reality. Portraits can be painted that aren't quite accurate or complete. We know this. 

There's a lot to love about social media: connecting, sharing, reminiscing and staying in contact, learning about new things and far away places. Since I was a child I have been built to create content. That's what I was born to do, so I love social media as an outlet for all those thoughts and concepts. I love it. 

But here's what I find annoying AF:
  • Constant streams of selfies. And not even GOOD selfies. When you're looking at your own face in the screen, you look stupid. Your eyes are down. Look at the camera. Get out of your car.
  • And on that same note- FILTERS. People who know you know you DO NOT LOOK LIKE THAT. Nobody's face is that smooth and nobody's eyelashes are that thick. Be happy looking like how you really look. 
  • TikTok and FB/Instagram Reels. I've seen some good ones, but mostly they are STUPID. People lip-synching to some song that is barely relevant to their message. Badly edited, truncated, self indulgent. Maybe I'm too old to "get" these, but they make me feel like the human race is circling the drain. Do better. 
  • YOUR when it should be YOU'RE. This ruins so many things. Funny memes ruined by ignorant grammar. Again, are we living in Idiocracy? Sometimes it feels that way.
  • POLITICS. Nope.
  • ANTI VAXXERS. Okay, we got it after the first 100 things you posted. Give it a rest.
  • Unboxing videos. Does every company with social media ads need to show someone receiving their product, opening the box excruciatingly slowly, and annoyingly unwrapping everything? Stupid. Is this somehow "satisfying" like ASMR in that it's so annoying it is also somehow soothing?
  • People getting hacked. Hacked people sending me friend requests from friends I am already friends with. For some reason it's always older ladies who fall prey to getting hacked, so I forever have in my Friend Requests some older lady friend of mine in her 70s who got hacked, more than once. 
  • Fake people friend requests. I guess my algorithm somehow sends to me a bunch of windowed veterans all the time. Their cover photos and their profile photo is always a a picture of the alleged dude. When your profile photo and your cover photo both are photos of you, that is weird and a red flag. These lovelorn friendship seekers always live someplace super fake sounding like Florida City, Florida, or Alabama City, Alabama (...but really they live in Nigeria).
  • Poorly moderated groups that share the same posts over and over. 
  • "Asking for a friend". That phrase has jumped the shark, folks!
          Hey you kids! Get offa' my lawn!






Friday, January 7, 2022

Thoughts on Growing Older: A Generation X Perspective

Last night I was waiting for my husband to come to bed, laying there in the half-dark room listening to him ramble around the house, drinking a glass of chocolate almond milk, turning off lights, brushing his teeth. Instead of getting cranky with his futzing around, I did something I had not done in years, yet in my youth had done every night for decades.

I turned the radio "sleep" button on.

For those unfamiliar with the 20th Century, this button turns the radio on for 60 minutes and then automatically turns it off during your slumber. For all of my childhood I fell asleep this way, listening to Chicago stations, WJMK "Magic 104", "the Loop", WLUP, the Dr Demento Show on Sunday nights.
Drifting into dreamland by the analog crackle of the airwaves.

clock radio c. 1982

In fact, I have the very same clock radio I fell asleep listening to as a child. One of my most precious possessions is this Realistic Chronomatic 230 which I got in 1982, as a Christmas gift from my grandparents. My brother got a matching one. Gram and Gramps were definitely trying to teach us to be responsible, wake up on our own, and quit being such a burden to our Mom. "Grow up, kids!", was the message.

We have a long history. It's been a part of every bedroom I ever lived in, from my childhood home on Chicago's Northwest side, to college, the dorms, the boarding house in DeKalb Illinois where I met Chad, to our youthful move west 25 years ago, to Flagstaff, to Jerome to Clarkdale, AZ.
This clock radio has awakened me for every important day of my life since, graduations and birthdays and funerals and new jobs and weddings and flights. It continues to do so.

But I quit running the sleep button after getting married, because my husband wasn't a fan.

Last night, after a long hiatus, the sleep button returned to my routine, and Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters" chimed to life. There in the dark, straight as a log, my dogs nestled along my side. A long thread ran through me as I lay there, a 47 year-old woman suddenly feeling like 20, 16, 12....

It was overwhelming, this sense of nostalgia and a feeling about life in general gripping me.
What it means...why it's both infuriatingly fast and slow at the same time.
Was I here before?
Are our souls recycled?
Who was I before and who will I be next time?
Do we meet the same souls from life to life?
Those people you have an instant rapport and connection with--- were we connected in a past life?
Spouses or siblings or BFFs or coworkers in another time? Or enemies, working shit out from life to life?

The clock radio and the 1990s Metallica ballad put me in a trance, putting me in close proximity to accessing these answers. They were just out of reach. I was floating in space, and maybe if I worked at it a little harder I might find myself 30 years younger, and waking up in a past bedroom in one of my old houses, starting over, choosing an alternate ending.
Tears quietly filled my eyes, I felt so jumbled and electric.

Will I feel this way laying on my hospice bed at 96? As my life winds down?
Entertaining some younger person next to me with tales of the 20th Century?

"There was a time someone called you on the phone and if you didn't answer you didn't know who it was that had called you! It was all a mystery. And even if you DID answer, you still didn't know who was calling until they started talking. And you never knew where they were calling from. We used to do this thing called 'crank calling' where we'd dial random numbers and mess with whoever answered."

"There was a time we didn't have red M&Ms. Because Red Dye No. 2 caused cancer."

"And, conversely, there was a time when all pistachios were dyed red for some reason. Your fingers would get all red from peeling the shells off."

"Used to be you could go places and no one knew you were there. And you could have your own thoughts and not have to share them with an audience. All of my teen angst was written in journals and hidden in a box. It wasn't broadcast on the internet."

"My baby bedroom was yellow. Because that's what they did back then. Yellow or green. Nobody knew ahead of time if you were a boy a girl. Now we know. But we still don't know at the same time. Because maybe that kid will identify as something else. Ironic."

2022 now. I started this story two years ago, further illustrating how time flies.
 
At my job, I've been here almost 20 years now. When I started I was 29 and was once one of the youngest employees. Now at 49 I am one of the oldest. Randomly trying to explain to Millennials about life in the 20th Century. 

Okay, so there was this commercial around 1984 that went what you'd call viral now. It was really popular. These little old ladies were ordering hamburgers at a fast food counter, and they bring out this huge bun with like, a comically tiny burger sitting in it. One little old lady, this 80 year old woman named Clara Peller yelled out, "WHERE'S the BEEF!?" 

Suddenly, everyone was yelling this. WHERE'S THE BEEF? Like we shouted it at people out of the school bus windows. Girls shouted it at guys on the street. There were t-shirts and stickers, and Clara Peller became famous.
It sounds really stupid when you talk about it now. 

"We didn't have thousands of pictures of ourselves growing up like kids do today. Most teens probably have 100s of selfies in their phones right now.. I only have a handful of photos of my high school friends and me. My Mom is a great photographer so we do have documentation of our youth, but it was special to have your photo taken. It cost money to have film developed, and camera rolls were limited to 24 or 36 shots. We didn't always bring a camera along, but when we did it was special. We had to choose wisely before snapping that shutter. And it was real. No filters or fakery."

February 1987 Ellen at Lincoln Park Zoo

Here's me at 14. I recently saw this pic in an album at my mom's house, and looking at it now I wonder why I never had a boyfriend in high school. What a peach! I was a hot number! Maybe I was too hot? Or maybe I wasn't hot at all, for the times. I didn't wear make-up or do my hair up with Aqua-Net. I was an art student, and threw the discus. I was the slowest girl on the cross country team. I listened to old blues and big band music. Maybe too weird and natural for the average fellow teen boy of the mid 1980s. Maybe I was somehow both ahead of and behind the times. Maybe some there were some shy guys my style who secretly pined for me, just as I secretly pined for other dudes who I felt were way beyond my ability. I wasn't all that "boy crazy" though. I was entertained by my own little projects and adventures and imagining being married to various Chicago Cubs. I had very few beaus before I got married at 23. Ironically, I married a man who grew up in the suburbs going to all of the school dances, dressed in suits, driving a hot rod. A real stud with spiked hair and skinny ties! He'd had plenty of girlfriends before he moved into the same boarding house as me in college. 
 
chad and cutlass, early 1989
 
 
My Realistic clock radio woke me up again today, 39 years after I got it. Chad and I both turn 50 this year. I drive a 49 year-old car. We live in a 118 year-old house. The passage of time is something all around me. I am steeped in it, surrounded by it daily. Keenly aware of it, yet also not understanding it and what our place in time signifies.
 
skater 1980 and 2021

Biffing it hard on my roller skates at 49 has much longer recovery time than it did when I was 8. I wear safety gear and a helmet now too, which I never did as a kid. We're more fragile now, no longer made of rubber. Bruises take shape faster. Skin heals slower. The cell turnover rate slows. We're past our prime.

It's weird because in many ways I feel exactly the same as I did at age 8. 

As we push 50, things that have happened to our bodies over the years, either by injury or diet or simply the passage of time cause the "check engine light" to come on. We laughed about this meme, because it stopped us from crying....




The chunks of flesh the dermatologist carves off of us due to long ago forgotten sunburns. They don't even really warn you before they slice! It hurts a lot. Chad has problems with a foot and leg he injured in a cross-country skiing crash in college in the '90s. He has to take pills for high blood pressure and cholesterol and watch his blood sugar. He had to have eye surgery due to retinopathy. I've already had a colonoscopy. There are doctors appointments and waiting rooms now.

I'm really irritated I have to wear "cheaters" to read the fine print. The first time I realized I couldn't read that small print was really shocking to me. My eye doc said that normally people much younger in their 40s need them, so I'm above average...but he also said my +1 prescription is going to go up as I get older (+2.5 is the biggest cheater you can buy off the rack at the store). As a teen I used to draw the smallest cartoons, and on 1/4 size paper, so tiny and focus so closely on them. 

Old fillings from the 1980s crack and the dentist has to replace them. My jaw pops because because 1. I'm a woman in my 40s and 2. as a child in the '80s I would chew entire packs of Hubba Bubba at a time. 

The sun spots on my left cheek from being in the driver's seat in Arizona for 25 years. It adds up, slowly but surely. My hands look like a 90 year-old's most days. My little uterus, never having born a fruit, quietly drifts into menopause. Gravity and greys arrive right on cue. Having an old house and an old car, I am accustomed to the treacheries of age and oxidation. Sometimes it's just the genes. My silver streaks are a direct link to my paternal side. My dad was fully grey by age 36. And because I'm the same girl as I was at age 14, I don't dye it. I rock it natural.

Q. What's the trick to looking good as you get older?
A. To never have been that cute when you were younger.

My looks were never a source of praise or attention, so there was never any kind of currency for me in being cute. I developed a personality and talents independent of my appearance and for that I am grateful as I grow older. That fresh peach I used to be has aged and distilled into a smoky brandy, full of nuance and knowledge.

Michael Apted's "Seven Up!" series followed  a group of British 7 year-olds every 7 years. I think they're on "64 Up" now. The initial premise behind the documentary is that human being's personality is fully formed by age 7. I tend to agree and the documentary over the years definitely confirms it. 
Some things don't change with the passage of time. Some are timeless. But most things are not this way.

Elder generations exit. 
Friends begin to leave too. 
The first friend of yours to die is always such a shocking revelation about mortality. But by the time you've reached my mom's age, 80, you will have seen many of your old friends pass away and start to feel lonely if you think about it too long, everyone who's gone all around you. Where did they go? Will we see them again in the next life?    

Does time overlap like a burrito as posited by Richard Norvik (Barry Miller) in the time-travel classic "Peggy Sue Got Married" (c.1986)? What happens to us when the lights go out and we breathe our last breath? Does our soul move along to the next place? Is everyone hanging out together in Heaven, or are we recycled as babies are born? Is there a finite supply of souls? When you have a "deja-vu" are you remembering a past life? Or an alternative universe that never happened? Do the spirits of dead send us messages and visit us in our dreams?

If I fall asleep listening to my clock radio, might I wake up and be 14 again, in my childhood home, with my old leather Nikes kicked off in the corner? Going through all of the same challenges all over again? 

Would I even want to? 




Wednesday, August 28, 2019

Everything is Ruined But It's Your Own Damn Fault

The other day we were at the Verde River, hanging out in a lovely spot called Lower TAPCO River Access Point (RAP). This area has been developed by the Town of Clarkdale as a recreational site and a boat launch area for both commercial and non-commercial kayakers. We buy a yearly pass ($45 for Clarkdale residents) and we're there all the time, in every season. There's a big fat part of the river there, just below the first rapids: a big curving lagoon lined by shady willows and cottonwoods, perfect for swimming, picnicking, kayaking, tubing, dog walking, or just sitting by water's edge sipping a beer.

  4th of july instant film


When the town cleaned up and developed this spot several years back, long-time locals who grew up here lamented the loss of their teenage party spot, grumbling about how it used to be free, and they used to camp out there and party out there and waaa, now it costs $5 for a parking pass! And you can't have a keg party or bonfire out there anymore like you did in high school in the 1970s and '80s. Boo hoo, babies.

I was at this spot a few times before they made it the recreational area, and it sucked. It was known locally as "the Gravel Pits" back then, and it was a mess. Broken glass, garbage, shell-casings, barbecued goat. We even found an abandoned Chevy Chevette carcass there as well as the occasional dead cow. There was a sense of danger about the place that negatively impacted the beauty of this rare Arizona riparian area.

It's much better now. Nature has returned to areas formerly trashed. The area is not overly developed, but orderly. Safe.  Dirt parking areas. A port-a-john. Picnic tables. Some interpretive signage. Rules.
There are rules now.

Sometimes when we're there we don't see anybody else for hours.

But when we were there the other day, floating around in inner tubes with the dogs, sipping a beer, some folks rolled down to the boat launch in their big truck, parking it with the rear tires in the river so they could dangle their legs into the river. Their loud music playing on the car stereo. I couldn't paddle away fast enough from this obnoxious intrusion into nature. Dog off leash running loose, despite signs mentioning this wasn't allowed. Parked in the commercial boat launch unloading zone despite signs clearly designating it as such. (Eventually a commercial kayak company arrived and booted them, but they just moved to the public boat launch, ignoring the "10 minute only-unloading zone"  sign).

Normally there is a "Verde River Ambassador", a ranger in a white truck , maintaining the rules, but that person is only there until 3pm, and it was just after.


autumn along the verde

I was reminded of what this area was like back before the rules. Of the times folks drove in the river, did donuts in the dirt, burned things, blasted music, left garbage and goats and Chevettes.

Just anyone doing whatever the hell they wanted with no thought of how their actions impacted others.

Suddenly it occurred to me that whenever people complain about not being able to do something they used to do, instead of blaming "progress" or the people from the modern day for this, blame someone from your own time--from back in the day. Blame some thoughtless person (or many thoughtless people) who ruined it for everyone because they didn't know how to behave. It takes only a few turkeys to ruin it for all.

They left garbage.

They took risks that got them injured or killed .

They trespassed a time too many.

They stole relics and artifacts and personal property.

They vandalized. They carved their names, spray-painted, shot holes, tore things apart.

They killed plants and trees and animals.

These people ruined your youthful memories, not any of the relative newcomers to this valley. .

I can complain too about stuff I used to have as a kid that no longer exists. Often time these things are gone for the same reason. Some jerks ruining it for everyone. I can lament the lack of roller rinks in the 21st century . I loved roller rinks! But they died off because too many people sued the rinks when they fell down and hurt themselves while skating, and the rink owners could no longer afford the liability. Because of a few assholes who could not take personal responsibility for their own injuries. It's not the fault of the person who lives in the apartment building or works in the restaurant that now exists where the roller rink used to be.

Fossil Springs, a beautiful travertine waterfall many miles outside of Camp Verde, is another example. A place that had wide open access, free camping, etc. but is now restricted, requiring a permit, because careless people trashed it. Leaving garbage, empty 18pks of Busch beer, diapers, fast food wrappers. I applaud the forest service for protecting it better.
You can't camp there anymore.
You know why?
That's right. A few creeps ruined it for us all.

Rules and protected areas conserve natural spots like this for EVERYONE.
Not just you and your secret club from days-gone-by. At least you have your memories.
Some of us never even got the chance.

Slide Rock State Park in Oak Creek Canyon is a place that comes up often in the discussion of long-time locals griping about how much better things used to be. How it used to be less crowded. Used to be free. Cleaner. Before it was a State Park. All the fond childhood memories, now ruined by overcrowding, baby diapers and thoughtless people who don't know how to react with respect to this beautiful scene.

Truth be told, this "crown jewel" of the Arizona State Park system is probably one of the most crowded, over-used places in the entire state. There are rules, yet due to the sheer mass of people there throughout the summer, the ratio of thoughtless people increases to an excessive levels, resulting in:

Garbage

Vandalism

Injury

Traffic

E-Coli bacteria in the creek

Slide Rock State Park


Last time we were there, in April 2017 (because most locals avoid it), I was stunned by pulsating techno music being blasted at a picnic kiosk. It echoed over the entire park, inescapable  (it is located in a canyon, after all).I don't even know how the family group in the kiosk, eating sandwiches next to the speaker, could hear themselves think. I asked a ranger about it and she just shrugged, like there was nothing to be done about it. To me, I was flummoxed not only by the crappy taste in music, but the utter thoughtlessness that everyone at the park would want to listen to that noise.

What will eventually happen is, there will be more rules at this park too. Because the few bad apples who don't know how to be thoughtful of others. You will need to request a permit in advance, like you have to do with Fossil Springs.You won't be able to park along the highway when the parking lot is full, because too many people fell 50 feet down from the road trying to scramble down into the park.(This seriously happened like 3 or 4 times this summer, resulting in First Responders rescuing injured people, and highway closed for rescue vehicles).

I wish I knew the solution to thoughtlessness. People with entitled behavior, thinking the world is for them alone to do as they wish. Most traffic accidents and automobile fatalities are a result of thoughtlessness.

Thoughtlessness is truly the root cause to so many problems in our world.
Not sure the cure.

The only thing I can do is be extra thoughtful.
I can push thoughtful energy into the universe. I can be gentle and graceful with others and follow the Golden Rule.

I can let people in when they're trying to merge into traffic.

I can drive the speed limit (or close to it), cruise in the right lane and use the left only for passing.

I can hold doors.

I can keep my dogs leashed.

I can enjoy nature quietly, listening to the sounds of the river.

I can leave things as I found them.

I can read signs and respect rules.

I can rescue lizards and bugs and birds.

This word isn't just for me to use up however I want. I'm not the only one here tryin' to survive.

There are thousands of ways to be thoughtful.
And honestly, there are far more thoughtful people than there are thoughtless.

Why do we let the thoughtless win?






Thursday, May 10, 2018

The Farce That Is 2016.

Note: I wrote most of this before Trump's January 2017 inauguration and filed it away as a draft, never publishing it until now.  In revisiting it, I see many of my concerns and fears have not changed. In fact, some have come true... so it's worth sharing....

A friend of mine whom I respect and relate to surprised me the other day when she said, "I have a crush on Vladimir Putin. I think he's hot. I wish Putin were in charge of me."

I was flabbergasted by this declaration. I honestly didn't know how to react other than laugh.
This state of current politics is like nothing I've ever experienced in my nearly 45 years on planet earth. In some ways, the 2016 Election of Donald Trump is worse and scarier than 9-11 was. "Who knew 11-9 would feel just as bad as 9-11?"  A friend of mine in New York corrected me when I said that , saying no way. Not even close. No comparison. But in one regard, he is wrong. 

When 9-11 happened, Americans came together. We realized something profound and all came together, rural and urban, black and white, men and women, born here and not.
When 11-9 happened, it was the opposite.  I am not afraid of faceless suicide bombers. I am afraid of my fellow American.         

Because I did not vote for Donald Trump (and because I have serious and legitimate concerns about his ability to be President) his legion of fans (and/or "trolls") on Twitter and other websites will attack me, calling me any variation of the following: 

  • "Lib" 
  • "Libtard" 
  • "Elitist"
  • "Sensitive Snowflake" 
  • "Whiny Loser"
  • "Not a Real American". 

They will accuse me of: 

  • living in my parents' basement 
  • being jobless
  • being a hater of police and the armed forces 
  • being treasonous
  • being on the government dole 
  • wanting my free "Obama phone" (whatever that is)
  • wanting to stay in my "safe place" with my coloring books (?)
  • wanting America to fail.

They will make fun of me personally after cruising my profile, calling me fat or making fun of me being an artist, insulting my dogs. It gets creepy really fast.  They don't know me at all. I'm somewhere in the middle, politically-speaking, with a left lean. I'm fiscally conservative and socially liberal. The correct answer is always somewhere towards the middle but nobody wants to go there. I aim for civil conversation and bridging the gap. These angry Trump people don't want your civility. They want to chum the waters with your critical thinking.

Being in our own "bubble" of like-minded friends is what causes the shock and awe that such a legion of angry people exist, so I put myself out there to try to have discussion with these Trump people. Rarely does one try to have a calm conversation. When they do, I appreciate it. Generally it's something more like this: 


Donald Trump has been elected our president and spends each day tweeting insults about people who question or disagree with him, attacking the press, individual citizens and successful businesses like Boeing, the NY Times, Vanity Fair. His legion of "deplorables" (they proudly call themselves that) take to the internet and attack on his behalf. 

So, instead of trying to keep up on the ever-escalating ridiculous news coming out of the Trump transition and staying up too late into the night arguing with people on social media, I am condensing all of my election angst in once place. My fears for the future of the United States are very real. Don't tell me to Get Over It. I won't get any joy from the inevitable "I told you so"ahead. There will be no satisfaction a year from now, as our country's economy, environment, global standing and its very security lie in ruins. 

2016. A rotten, no good, terrible, very bad year.


So many brilliant people died. FujiFilm of Japan stopped producing my most favorite instant film in February (which felt very much like a death of a loved one). In April Clarkdale's baby eaglet vanished. In June my dear pal and coworker Lisa quit working with me after 13 years of sharing an office. Though she is still alive and still my friend, her leaving our office also felt as though something died.


Election years are always terrible and this was the worst ever in my lifetime. 
Dangerously ignorant "Don the Con" Trump, a modern day P.T. Barnum, managed to get elected president, dividing the country more than ever, and started filling his crony cabinet with silver spoon billionaires furthering the divide. 

First, a disclaimer: There were some good things that happened in 2016. 
The Cubs won the World Series for the first time since 1908. 
2016 was the Centennial of the National Park Service. 
Friends and family visited us in Arizona.
Children and  baby hummingbirds were born. 
Our buddy Tim was elected mayor of Cottonwood, AZ showing me politics at the local level have a lot of heart. 
Because Fuji ceased making FP-100C I bought myself a fun little red Pentax digital camera that I love. 
Art was made and sold successfully. 
Adventures were had both near and far--including a trip to Mackinac Island with my mom in June and Chad's birthday adventure to Laguna Beach in late summer. 
I saw the Roberts in South Haven on Dawson's birthday. 
I saw the Dahlbergs, watched the boys play little league games and I ran through fire hydrant spray with my brother at a real Chicago block party. 
Chad's folks are doing well and my Mom turned 75 this year and is in good health. 
I won a giant TV set in a gas station giveaway. 
So yeah. Not allll terrible. I scroll through the year's highlights and there was a lot of good in 2016.

But I'm scared to death of 2017. 


Every day the presidential news gets more bizarre. Like we're living in an upside-down world, where left is right, right is wrong, dark is light and night is day. Fake news is real. Real news is fake. Bend over for the Russians. We're their puppets now. 




And the hits keep coming. People ask me if I'm "over it" and if I've "moved on" yet. I try, I really do, but every day there is an escalating ridiculousness from the Trump transition. Some new bizarre story. Trump not wanting to live in the White House. Trump staying on as part time producer/host of The Apprentice. His taxes, his kids and his business conflicts. This Russia mess. Trump acting like he doesn't know Putin although his daughter vacations with Putin's wife and his son is quoted on business dealings with Russia dating back to 2008. Trump's attacks on Saturday Night Live, a show that has lampooned presidents for more than 40 years. He's the first to complain. 

Donald Trump named failed Presidential candidate (and failed "Dancing With the Stars" contestant) Rick Perry his nominee to lead the Dept. of Energy, a department he'd forgotten the name of during a debate ("Oops.") when vowing to destroy it. 

It compounds the insanity of current Cabinet nominations that include Rex Tillerson, CEO of Exxon-Mobil with ties to Vladimir Putin, and big oil business pending as soon at the US eases sanctions on Russia (which would be his job as Secretary of State!). Dr Ben Carson who initally said he was not prepared to play a role in the administration accepted a nomination for head of  Housing and Urban Development, which he knows nothing about (but Trump seems to always associate "urban" with "black" so that's probably the sole factor). 

Other nominees include the lady in charge of the World Wrestling Federation to head Small Business, and for Dept. of Labor, the CEO of Carls Jr. fast food chain who is publicly against just about every employee benefit available to workers. 

The man chosen to lead the EPA has sued the EPA. 
(SNL had a funny skit where "Breaking Bad" meth-king Walter White was named head of the DEA).
.
The list goes on-- crony billionaires who supported Trump during the election are now being awarded roles in the White House antithetical to their known stances. Trump is putting foxes in charge of the hen houses. 

Trump's Chief of Staff "alt-right" (read: White Supremacist") Steve Bannon, on record as an angry hateful fellow, was quoted in The Daily Beast in 2014 declaring “I’m a Leninist." Though later he denied the remarks, the journalist quoted him saying “Lenin wanted to destroy the state, and that’s my goal, too. I want to bring everything crashing down, and destroy all of today’s establishment.”

That's what all of this feels like. Everything tumbling down and being destroyed or dismantled. As an artist, I can understand that sometimes that sort of deconstruction can lead to something great, even by mistake. But to be fair this isn't a simple arts & crafts project. There are bigger ramifications, globally, to such destruction of our country's government. 

Trump, a lifelong liar, a con man, a draft dodger and adulturer, somehow snowed the voters into seeing him as a breath of fresh air, a drainer of swamps, a "tell it like it is" maverick worthy of their vote. But he fooled them all. He immediately stocked the swamp with the same old slop. 

He's a bully, a thin-skinned narcissist attacking private citizens via Twitter, rallying hatred and violent threats against those that disagree with him.

Trump supporters rail against any discontent with the President Elect, telling us to "get over it" and "your guy lost- don't be a crybaby". 
That's not what this is. My choice has lost before. But I never felt this sort of deep, dark fear from a Presidential election. Over the past 8 years I never understood the hate for Barack Obama, a class act who had to be twice the man of most white presidents. The Tea Party "patriots" vowed to obstruct his every move and in doing so hurt us all. 

Obama fixed the broken recession economy he inherited,  he got Osama Bin Laden, he kept us in cheap gas and high global esteem. He showed grace and respect and intelligence. I thought his administration, while imperfect, was a huge step into the future for the United States. Sustainability, conservation, environmental protection, diplomacy. These things were all valued.

Also, I didn't worry every day about what next crazy story would come out of the White House. What shocking new revelation. What insanely rude tweet. I was able to stop thinking about politics most days. It was really nice. 


Sigh.

It's May of 2018 now. I wrote most of this story in January of 2017, before we even knew as much as we do now about the deep-seated corruption in Trump's administration.... before porn stars and pay-offs, before half of Trump's appointees quit or were fired, before Robert Mueller and the Special Counsel, before James Comey's book, before Michael Cohen and before Rudy Giuliani... Every day it's some other insanity. 

One good thing about it? I've gotten more involved. More than ever before. I write letters. I donate money. I've joined the Nature Conservancy and the Sierra Club. And one other good thing? The comedy. Late night TV has never been so great. 

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Greetings from Floyd Street

Greetings from Floyd Street

Ellen Jo Roberts


The Fundamentals of Floyd. 

There will never be another like him. 
Though he was miniature in size, his presence in our life was gigantic.
He was the first dog I owned as an adult and he changed my life.

Fourteen years of Floyd. 

If I could write a bio about him, Wikipedia-style it may look something like this...

Floyd 
"Roberts' Fivehead Floyd" (June 29, 2003-September 1, 2017) was an American Chihuahua, born in Arizona, and best known for his appearance in a series of travel photographs, "Greetings From Floyd Street". As president and founder of the Clarkdale Chihuahua Club he was known to march in parades and attend concerts in the park with fellow club members.


Floyd in 3D!


Early Life
Floyd was born along the Verde River at a ranch in Cottonwood, AZ in the summer of 2003.
His parents were the AKC-registered "Cowboy's Right Hand" and "Lil' Bit of Rain." Floyd’s registered AKC name, “Roberts' Fivehead Floyd” was inspired by his huge dome-like noggin. The owners of the ranch were long-time breeders of Chihuahuas and also owners of "Horses 'R Us", a feed store in Old Town Cottonwood. On August 8th, 2003, Ellen Roberts saw a "Chihuahua Puppies" sign propped outside the store which prompted an immediate u-turn. 

"I had wanted a Chihuahua for years. I have a plaster Chihuahua I named 'Honey Boy', purchased from a Mexican grocery store, that had been inspiration for photos and paintings. Now I had the chance to have my own real Chihuahua," said Roberts.

introducing floyd ! © 2003

"Oh my goodness, this little guy. He looked like a wind-up toy. They took him out of his pen and set him on the floor and immediately he pursued a young dachshund and bopped him squarely on the nose with one paw, wanting to play. I was instantly enchanted with his overwhelming cuteness and bold confidence," said Roberts.

super deluxe chihuaua pup- 2003

floyd and honey boy


A few hundred bucks later Floyd moved to neighboring Clarkdale, where he would be a lifelong resident, and quickly became a well-known local icon in the area, frequently spotted in the historic town park, strolling sidewalks and trails, and floating down the Verde River on rafts and kayaks.

From his earliest days he came along on every adventure possible.



August 2003- Photo by Tim
2003. Payson, AZ Rocket Slide. Photo by Tim Elinski.

Roberts
2005. Photo Credit: Heidi Paul


6 24 my new favorite group photo of the dogs - at colorado river along utah highway 128

During his lifetime, Floyd shared his home with five other pets: 
two cats, Clyde (2000-2011), Ned (2011-) and three dogs, Ivan (2004-2017), Hazel (2011-) and Simon (2013-)



Education.
Earliest education in Floyd's life came from a cat, a big, mouthy Siamese-mix named Clyde, many times his size, who could have killed him but chose not to. 

Per Roberts, “They were pals. Clyde was graceful and refined. In many ways, Floyd learned to behave from Clyde. He was more cat-like that dog-like in many ways. He was gentlemanly and polite and never did rude dog-like things such as eat poop or roll in dead carcasses."



from the archives: clyde and floyd, august 2003

In autumn of 2003 Floyd attended a 6 week course at "Academy 4 Paws" in Cornville, AZ where he graduated with honors.


Modeling Career
An artist's muse, Floyd was depicted in innumerable paintings, photographs and cartoons during his life. From Floyd's youngest days he was keen on the camera and always ready when the lens was focused on him. 

“Floyd  inspired art, comic books, photos, joy,” said Roberts,”He was always good sport about it. He tolerated hats and masks and funny glasses. He wore wigs. As long as there was a treat on the other side, he was game. He was always camera-ready. And sometimes the soulful look on his face could completely melt your heart.”

Melancholy


floyd in disguise 3






Sticky, Volume 7, the Travel Issue
Vintage Blonde


It's Chihuahua Bunny season!scuba floydbutterfloyd

Floyd's Greetings from Floyd Street series was featured on the Flickr blog in July of 2007. In 2008 he also appeared on the cover of MTV's industry magazine, "Sticky" and was featured a full-length article in the May 2013 issue of the Chinese "Outdoor" magazine. From 2010-2015 Floyd and his cohort Ivan were poster models for Hair of the Dog, an annual animal rescue benefit in Florida. 



His entire life Floyd was in the public eye, beginning with his random puppy appearance on the local KNAZ-TV NBC news, and bookended in his final summer when he appeared as part of the second letter "A" in Clarkdale’s  award-winning "town hall selfie" in 2017. 






Greetings from Floyd Street
Despite his tiny size, Floyd didn't get carted around like some pint-sized prince.
He scampered up rocky trails and floated down rivers. He was a gnarly wilderness Chihuahua.



Greetings from Floyd Street

He walked. He hiked. He traveled by plane, boat, bike, raft and rails. 

He rode on the backs of vintage fire trucks, and hid quietly under the table at Waffle House.
He shivered in snow and subzero and sizzled in summer deserts.


He rode the Southshore Line train and was stuffed under airplane seats in a carrying case. He took a ship to Catalina Island, walked the sidewalks of Chicago, rode Pittsburgh's Monongahela Incline and stood outside the White House. Once Floyd strolled completely across the island of Key West from one side the the other, leaving behind a wake of smiles. He looked out over oceans and stood atop mountains. In the end, the thing that probably most defines the life of Floyd is his travels.
simon and floyd and schwinn


ellen and floyd and a hop knotch i.p.a.

chad and floyd at our camp site


utah colorado border hovenweep ellen floyd hazel

When Floyd was just a puppy the Roberts started the "Greetings from Floyd Street" photo series. 
At that time the project didn't yet have a name. It was not until they encountered a street called Floyd in Seligman, Arizona, that the title came about, but the basic concept never changed:

1. Find someplace awesome to take a photo (scenic, historic, nostalgic or all of the above)
2. Hold Floyd up high into the air in front of this scene.
3. Take a photo.

Greetings from Floyd Street, the beginning...

These were officially the very first "Greetings from Floyd Street" photos, taken at the Grand Canyon and nearby Tusayan, AZ in September of 2003.

very first photo in the series.... sept. 2003

Puppy Floyd and Fred Flintstone- 2003

“From that moment on, any time there was an important landmark, kitschy sign or any other point of interest anywhere even remotely near us, we voyaged there with Floyd in hand and took his photo," said Ellen Roberts, “Any place of significance in my life I took Floyd's photo there.The house where Chad and I met in DeKalb, Illinois. All of my alma maters. Every ocean, lake, river. As many favorite landmarks, national parks, monuments and vintage neon signs as possible.Any crazy roadside statue? We were there! Any cool old motel? Check us in! We sought the real, the authentic, the weird and wonderful.”

re-enactment of Floyd + Inyo Face, 12 years later


In his 14 years Floyd visited most of the National Parks and Monuments of the Four Corners. He stood at the shores of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, Gulf of Mexico, Sea of Cortez and the Great Lakes. He cruised Highway 1 along the Big Sur Coast and Highway 1 through the Florida Keys. 

He climbed mountains in the Rockies and sank below sea level in the low deserts of Southern California.

As residents of Northern Arizona, Route 66 was a popular destination. Per Roberts, “We just naturally found ourselves on the old ‘Mother Road’ often, in both directions.”


A series of Floyd images was first shown to the public at the annual Made in Clarkdale art show in December of 2006.

Made In Clarkdale Dec. 1st, 2006
 

Also in 2006, Roberts joined Flickr, a photo storage and sharing website, posting a few years of Floyd travel pics on her photostream. Before everyone was Instagram -ing and sharing photos on smart phones every second, Flickr was one of the only photography communities, a very dynamic and active site. In July of  2007, a few years into the project, Flickr featured the Greetings from Floyd Street series on their blog and Floyd went "viral”..

Greetings from Floyd Street featured in Flickrblog July 31 2007

floyd in las vegas- 2006 (rescan of earlier lo-res scan)

Floyd was famous! 

This internet renown spurred on the project even farther. “We continued taking far flung detours to capture all of the places on our photo wish list, " said Roberts, "Floyd went with on all of our family road trips, and via airplane more than once with me solo including several 'Mother-Daughter' adventures my Mom and I took-- to Wisconsin, Pittsburgh, North Carolina, Washington DC. With Chad's folks residing in Florida we took Floyd there a few times, capturing all of the local highlights to add to the photo series."


Greetings from Floyd Street
Click through to rockin' slide show featuring a few of Floyd's favorite adventures
In 2013, Floyd's fame went international with a feature article in China's "Outdoor Magazine."

outdoor exploration -special "travel with pets" issue- page 1

outdoor exploration -special "travel with pets" issue- page 2 

(Very loosely and comically translated via mdbg.net free Chinese to English translator…)

SPECIAL ISSUE special report

 Mini travel companions

Traveling with a Chihuahua Ellen Jo Roberts wrote Ellen Arizona travel enthusiasts, The owner of three dogs and four cats, pets Travel was her way of life.
Freud The Chihuahua weighs five pounds, their footprints Two States, all 13 States, with dozens of Flights flight experience, travel For ten years.

 In 2003, Freud in central Arizona Valley Ranch was born.

The first time I saw it, It is a skinny little dog babies, and its brother Sisters huddled together inside a cardboard box. At that time, Floyd and the brothers and sisters nails and sold at a local horse feed Store, quietly waiting for someone to buy them out. 

Accidentally glimpses on the side "selling a Chihuahua" this ad Immediately after comes a 180 degree turn around and went straight into the home Shop.

Then, we are proud to welcome the first official adoption Dog: Chihuahua in a handsome, lively. Although Then my family and has a number of other "members", but Freud always come first. Although size Petite,Is it personality the most. Due to the Petite, so travel with it is very convenient. Every time we holiday adventure, whether short or long,Floyd will be included in the travel plan. With pets Holiday made the journey more enjoyable, but it is also accompanied by more Difficulties. We plan travel destinations at all times consider the dogs. Whether motel, campground Or hikes were accepted and became the pet

The dog. When selecting a flight, to book in advance in order to Fellow pet set aside special locations-usually you can reset The portable suitcase under the seat.

 10 journey, from the West Coast to the East Coast, from the most Deep valleys to the highest peak, have left a Freud Footprint. It slept in a cabin, slept on the ship,Slept in the tent, spend the farmhouse, lived in rice Shop. Of course, never slept less in our lap, count Not clear it has on our legs how sleepy were hit.It visited small towns also visited the large city. In the 66th,Road and highway has left his story, 1th. It Had entered the Atlantic, Pacific, and Mexico Bay, and the Great Lakes. It several times along the Mississippi River. It United States extreme South-Florida from Key West Miami 160 kilometers away.

As typical of Mexico, and Floyd visited it "South of the border", visited the province of Sonora. And if With the typical American, Floyd, Washington, DC,Get a picture before the White House.

Travel with Freud and For many years, we have come to feel one thing: no matter where And as long as we're together, Floyd, right at home Warm no matter how difficult the road, how climate and evil Worse, how hard the journey, as long as we're together, Florida Lloyd is like playing happy. Whenever we prevail Travel Pack is always quietly from time to time found it Myself curled up in my suitcase, or lying in my On a pile of clothes, as if saying: "don't you leave me".

”Floyd is so lovely that it appears always Caused a lot of people knees. But they do not know, Freud Real is a fierce little guy. "Furious five pounds Meat, "this is my alias for it.
If there is a stranger When it get too close, it will be upset. First the nose Slight wrinkling, looming soon thereafter revealing its tip The tooth. If a stranger talking continued, Freud would open Started screaming, and then full attack!

But and are familiar with When they were together, it changes back to the loyalty charm small Love. And with another dog, it's like a foreign Ambassador, other dogs is like spending time with it.

And Freud's many years of experience tells me: no matter In what city, people see cute little Chihuahua Will smile and say hello to it. Floyd is now living in Arizona, accompany it There are other pet friend, Ivan, a Boston dog; Hazell, a mixed Chihuahua; Ned, a lively House cat. If the foot is not so much small thing, without it Brings the various "surprises", not those out all Yes ... ... Our lives may be able to lighten up. But If that were true, home will be much better than now Joy. Perhaps one day in the future, Freud would pass across the The sea, appears in the familiar small-town streets."

   
don't be bashful, famous guy

In 2015, The Greetings from Floyd Street story was featured on the Arizona Office of Tourism's Travel Blog, with the subtitle: "Furry friends make for excellent travel companions, and this local shares her insider tips for bringing pets on Arizona adventures."
https://www.visitarizona.com/planning/local-word/greetings-from-floyd-street-travels-with-an-arizona-chihuahua 


Personal Life
 

floyd is vicious!

Well known locally for his vicious demeanor, Floyd was often times rude to strange humans but always kind to strange animals.

beware!

After one unsuccessful attempt at breeding to pass on his AKC genes, Floyd was neutered in 2005. Just as well, due to a few defective DNA strands. For one, Floyd was mostly monorchid, which means he only had one testicle. "He did actually have two testicles, though only one dropped properly,", explained Roberts, "Also, his teeth were a mess. He got 11 of them pulled because they were baby teeth with nothing underneath."

i am thinking...about biting you.

Per Roberts, "Floyd liked to ride on my shoulders in the car. In general he was a bit aloof and not overly affectionate, but he liked to snuggle right up next to me under the blankets at night. 

He liked to sit on laps. He liked to lick noses sometimes. He also liked to lick all of the other dog's ears. What a weirdo."


floyd loves chad

saturday night in the yard

Though generally unfriendly to most people, he did have some favorite human friends.
Here's a shout-out to some of those rare individuals, Floyd's favorite folks:


blue tongue and dog
Floyd and his "Aunt Brandi"

Clarkdale Chihuahua Club, pre-parade.

drawing pictures at Tim's


jacket

 

 hey-hey-hey....

home- jim with floyd & ivan 1



road mom and floyd


mom and dad at rainbow springs


He howled when the phone rang.


chihuahua and yellow phone

Most of his life he ranged between 5-6 lbs.

He would try to drink your beer if given the chance.

Floyd sniffed the hand of Ellen Roberts not long after she was able to pet the famous First Dog, Bo Obama, during a 2011 tour of the White House.

Floyd in Washington DC

He was the ring-bearer at the wedding of James Dahlberg and Carla Carton in 2007 on the rooftop of Murphy's Bleachers overlooking Wrigley Field.

waveland 1

A lifelong fan of the Chicago Cubs, Floyd was fortunate to be alive during the sweet 2016 season when the Cubs won the World Series for the first time since 1908.



Lift the curse, Floyd!



Nicknames
Floydie Doodle, Five Pounds of Fury (in China this translated to "Five Pounds of Vicious Meat"), The Tiny Jumping Peanut (thus dubbed by the children of the Clarkdale Park).


very first group photo, June 7th 2011

choco dogs at gateMarried 12 years.

Death
Floyd died on September 1st, 2017 at age 14, preceded in death by his beloved Boston Terrier buddy, Ivan who died in July 2017. With a "hitch in his giddyup" for more than a year, Floyd was arthritic and his eyes were glazed blue with age. Floyd weighed in at a bony 4 lbs. in his final week. 
"He'd been unable to get up the front steps for a while, and his slow, crooked gait while on walks had prompted complete strangers to point at him and ask, 'What's wrong with HIM?'," said Roberts,  
"We'd shrug and say, 'he's old?', and they'd say, "OhhHHHhhhh. He's OLD."

happy birthday floyd!

In late August of 2017, a few weeks after returning from his final road trip to the Oregon coast, Floyd became a bit paralyzed all at once and had stopped eating and drinking. He wasn't in any pain.

“He woke up that Friday morning, had a couple of funny hiccups, looked at us and peacefully died in our arms. It was the perfect, graceful departure from a long-life well-lived," said Roberts,"He checked out on his own. He woke up and died. It was kind of beautiful, really."

 goodbye old friend

beloved chihuahua


He was buried near his best friend, Ivan.


Legacy

Our lives have been forever changed by Floyd.
He will live on forever in the artwork and images he inspired.
Floyd, cheers to your next adventure, friend. Your spirit is always with us. 
We will never forget you.

floyd portrait 2010


 

 
floyd the tourist

Five Homies

Ned and friends

don't tell anyone i'm a chihuahua

Our Dog Entertains Us

before ivan



on the beach in mexico


el chihuahuacito

9 floyds for 9 years


clarkdale chihuahua club


hair of the dog 2011

Happy Easter from the Chihuahuabunnies

dogs and dog portrait



lake Tahoe floyd