(Recognizing that to be here now mindfully , we must learn from the past and care for the future).
With respect to Ram Dass.
The home page of The New York Times on-line today had photographs and an article about a deadly tornado in Joplin, Missouri. Reading about the devastation brought the spontaneous emotions of compassion and concern, as we have with all such news. I was moved to read the article more thoroughly than I might otherwise have done because for a couple of years of my life, I was deeply engaged in a matter that concerned Joplin and traveled there a number of times.
The original intent of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 (known by its acronym ERISA)–my legal specialty– was to make sure that if workers were promised a retirement benefit, they would actually get it. What has happened with the expansion and revisions of the law since is like any complicated matter in a society that is subject to the entanglements of the economics of business and human nature and far beyond the scope of this blog.
At its most basic level, the ERISA requires that if a company promises to pay workers a certain amount on retirement, they must put money in trust to be able to pay it. A company in Joplin had promised dozens of workers a retirement starting long before the enactment of ERISA and continued making the promise until the company closed in the late 1980s, but never made any effort to comply with the law when it was enacted. The family and executives were fine financially when the company closed its doors, but a cadre of mostly pink collar retirees were left with no pension. I was new to the Department of Labor and still litigating. I was assigned the case to hold the owners and responsible executives responsible for not properly ensuring in accordance with the legal requirements that the necessary funds had been put in trust to pay the workers’ pensions. This meant that I had to travel to Missouri to interview witnesses, to take depositions, and to appear in court.
One trip required a deposition in Tulsa, Oklahoma. To save money and time for the government, I simultaneously scheduled interviews with witnesses in Joplin, which is about a two-hour drive east of Tulsa. On that trip, an attorney junior to me was attending so that he could start learning with someone there to observe him. My plane to Oklahoma was delayed by over 24-hours–first massive thunderstorms in DC; then, the bankruptcy of Transworld Airlines, which stopped flights while I was waiting for the new flight after the original had been cancelled due to weather. Instead of arriving in Tulsa the night before, I got there at 10:30 am the day of the deposition, which had been scheduled to start at 9:30. The defendants refused to wait and bullied the extremely nervous junior attorney into starting without me. He muddled along and then I finished when I got there, although the defendents certainly had created an atmosphere of antagonism that is not really necessary. (The best lawyers I know treat everyone involved in a case with courtesy, respect, and friendliness, with the recognition that each one has a duty to best represent the interest of his or her client.)
While the deposition was pending, one of the attorneys who was based in Missouri got a telephone call that the judge had ruled on the defendants’ motion for summary judgment–a filing that asks the court to rule that as a matter of law, there is no way that the other side can win regardless of what facts might come out. This was before email and cell phone, etc., so we had to wait to find out what was in the ruling. During the course of the day, the defendants threatened to go after the government for costs if we continued the deposition because they were so certain that they had won. It was a long and challenging day, but we persisted.
At the end of the work day, we got into our rental car and drove from Tulsa to Joplin. It is flat, open land–tornado country. There had been afternoon thunderstorms with towering clouds and breaks of sun and blue. Even though we were as tired as one might expect from this story, we managed to enjoy the roadtrip aspect, spinning the am radio dial at every song to find one we thought worth hearing. As we neared the end of our trip (getting ready to check into the Ramada on the highway amidst the strip malls and fast food joints that had put out of business all the small family-owned shops with any charm in the downtown), we saw an enormous and full rainbow light up the sky. One end was right in Joplin.
When we checked in, we were handed the decision of the court, which a co-worker had faxed to us. We had prevailed on all counts; the case on behalf of the retirees could continue (not long after, we settled for as much as could have been gotten at trial because of the ruling). That was almost 20 years ago, but I still remember the feeling that at the end of the rainbow was the small pot of gold for those workers. Many of them were already in their 70s and older in 1992, and those that are living are truly getting on in years. I hope they are ok.
The other day on one of my now only occasional walks out, I saw a man on the ground at the entrance to the CVS and several cops. Rather than trying to stay completely away, the first thing I did was get out my own phone and then only walked on when I had confirmed that someone else was already standing witness and filming. Earlier in my life, to film would not have been my first reaction. I’ve also had unfortunate opportunity to be called to help out in the face of witnessing harassment more than once since 2015. We all should know what to do. Here’s a good resource:
https://www.afsc.org/bystanderintervention?emci=d4f309b3-0e1a-eb11-96f5-00155d03bda0&emdi=03d69ace-741b-eb11-96f5-00155d03bda0&ceid=319218&utm_source=weekendreading103120&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=weekendreading
Snowpeas, tri-color beans. Peppers. Cherry tomatoes, basil (blueberries and strawberries did not make it out of the garden).
A student asked me the other day why I garden–was it to save money, he asked, was it for better tasting food?
It does save money to grow food and food eaten straight out of the garden is a foodie’s exquisite pleasure, but those are not my primary motivations.
I garden for the delight it brings through all of my senses and for the joy of knowing that the garden never questions nurturing. The more I give the garden, the more it gives back, without question or judgment.
I garden for the sense of relationship with the deeper seasonal patterns. To experience at an intimate level the impact on health and thriving of variations in seasons, light, heat, and rain.
With the drought and extreme heat in our area, the garden is struggling. Peppers are fruiting before having gotten tall and full. Cucumbers are yellowing and drying, though a couple have grown large enough to eat. There is a surfeit of kale, but the snow peas, which prefer cool weather, barely had time enough to grow enough to flower before it was too hot to thrive.
Part of the reasons some recipes have many ingredients is because they are premised on there not being enough of any one thing to make a meal. I am getting a few servings of vegetables every day, but the blasting heat is preventing the kind of abundance for some things I might have in another year. The grapes, though, may be outrageous; they like this crazy heat.
I want to be conscious of these challenges and serendipities. I want to know how I might need to change and adjust to thrive in a world that is ever more out of balance. I garden because it helps me be aware of crisis and challenge, but always and first providing extraordinary pleasure and beauty.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Even though not documented much recently, the garden has moved into summer effulgence. It is a place of curiosity, wonder, and delight. What brings you joy and nourishment in these troubled times that are calling for ever more engagement?
