The Paradigm

I want to construct a paradigm,

Or maybe to describe the paradigm I operate under.

And tell you if the heuristics I apply,

That is to describe an analogy,

To put it simply.

You see I know there are archetypes at work in my life, and it’s better that I know them, yes?

Well first paradigm is that of the man I should be, or the man that I am.

It depends on whether you think my self is theoretical or actual.

I believe in the theoretical paradigm,

By you, based in reality, have no interest in what I want to be, but know, better than I, the person I am.
Each day I try to balance the two.

I am talking incessantly to myself about who I should be or who I think I am,

And make daily decisions, choices, based on that paradigm I have constructed over these many years.

And I must listen to your beliefs about how my behavior depicts the real me.

The real me? That person who acts, who is, who shows by his behavior the real mettle of his soul, that person constantly amazes me as well as those who love me.

Sometimes the results are good and sometimes not.

So to add to the invisible paradigm I have built I choose an archetype to aspire to,

The archetype of the king, the lover, and the fool.

Which leads me to my heuristics, also often invisible, that are subconscious.

Heuristics, or rules of thumb, guide my decision making.

These heuristics, based on my constructed paradigm, apply leverage to my choices.

Pushing them one way or another.

They (my decisions or choices) are neither balanced nor bias free.

My decisions, taken as a whole are not like any one else’s,

And by choosing and acting I effect them.

My world is of my making, because it is my view of it that defines it,

And allows me to create it.

My world,

Me,

My thoughts and actions,

Are my own unique creation.

Just so you know.

Just so I know.

This is my assertion, my syllogism:

My thoughts guide my actions: my actions are often impulsive: therefore my thoughts are impulsive.

What? You mean they (my thoughts) just pop up?

Yes.

They pop up because my brain presents them (my thoughts) by whimsy,

And because He tosses ideas into the chaos that is my thought process.

What do you think?

Why, where does that kind of thinking come from?

What’s your paradigm?

– Small town boy

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The Box

I think you’ve built a box.

You began when you were small, actually you built most of it when you were very small.

You had lots of help.

You made your box like those around you, because that’s what you thought boxes should be like.

After you built your box, you began to  put things into it,

Things you saw, and things you saw the others do,

Things you heard, especially if it was strident; those were very important words and sounds,

Sounds like tsk tsk, or tut tut, or oh my!

And swear words. You kept all the swear words you ever heard.

And jokes, jokes you didn’t understand, or  didn’t see the bigotry in.

And you watched how people in your life treated other people,

And you wrote it  down.

Actually it’s the things you didn’t write  down,

But remembered, that have had greater affect on your view of the world outside your box.

You never ever let anyone inside your box, it’s personal and private.

You dont show others what is in your box, except by your actions.

Your children watch this and put things in  their boxes.

Sometimes you just spend the day moaning or crying over something awful in your box, quietly and seriously, but unwilling to toss anything out of your box. You don’t ever clean house.

Every hurt, every slight, every put down are all in there. And you nurture them in silence and in the dark.

And then one day, there is someone new in your life, someone you wish to share even those things deep in your special box.

Someone who helps you clean out the trash just by being in the same room, next to you.

Someone who shines the light into your box, and make the shadows disappear, and makes you feel light headed.

With love you both step outside your boxes and think in new ways, do new things, have new experiences.

And later, in the comfort of your abiding life and love, you begin to examine the box you have built

and tear it apart.

And the more it gets rent asunder,

the more you feel the light and the love,

but It now seems to be coming from above!

And so you share it and you grow, growing too big to fit into any box anymore.

And the love you have received spills out onto everyone you come in  contact with.

You love everybody. Every body! Even yourself.

And you no longer need the box.

You’re whole now.

You’re all that He meant you to be and more.

Your world is so large, so large, so large that

You are one with all.

– small town boy

There’s Something in the Park

There’s something in the park today, something green.

It’s bigger than a bread box (google it) and it is not vegetable or mineral.

I don’t know where it came from, the children have been talking about it for weeks,

But it was only today that I saw it, in the morning sun, grazing on the grass.

I forget what it is called (there’s some controversy about its name) but it is big, huge, bigger than a house,

And longer too, and taller, and heavier.

I don’t know where it came from, the children have been  talking to it for weeks,

And they say it’s not going anywhere.

They like to ride on it, but as large as it is and as small as the park is , it doesn’t go far.

Better, they like to slide down  it’s neck and, after walking across its back, continue to slide down its tail.

It came from an egg, I think, but it’s not going anywhere.

It shits really big piles of poop, which I and all the neighbors scoop up and  put in our composite bins (nearly filling them up).

It’s better than elephant poop (Zoo Doo) for gardens and planters and such.

It makes no sound, its small brain is totally consumed with walking and eating and pooping.

It can’t sing, but the children sing to it.

They sing happy songs, fun songs, songs about home and hearth, and it smiles.

Yes, I said it smiles, and then the children smile too,

I even catch myself grinning occasionally, you know.

I asked my grandchildren what it is and they said “It is a Marjorie.”

“A Marjorie?” I ask.

Yes they say, she told us so.

Who am I to disagree?  It keeps them out of the house and from underfoot.

It stops the constant barrage of, “Grandpa, watch this.”

But it doesn’t stop them from going to school.

Actually she encourages school, and reading, and math, and exercise,

Because she has no children of her own, she helps raise ours.

I love Marjorie.

I don’t know where she came from, an  egg I think, but I’m glad she’s here and

I thank the children for introducing me to her.

= Small town boy

Nothing to say

I have nothing to say to you.

I listen quietly for your voice. 

I clear my self tip to toe for what will come. 

Hush mind. Hush my heart. Body be quiet with your complaints. Spirit drop your expectations.

I am here at the end of the day hoping for a message to end the day like the one that I began with you this morning outside picking up the paper in my bathrobe.

Remember? We looked over the roofline hoping to see the rest of the moon, the leftover after its waning in cloudless skies.

The morning was breathless as I saw trees in the park allowing their bright yellow to be seen, as their green evaporated and they fell panting to the ground in colorful abundance.

Such a start to my day, our day.

I happily walked grandkids to the school bus with Tawny, my red golden Retreiver. She was happy.

I felt so good walking today that I continued past the park down Summerfield where all the new houses are complete or started, save one. Over half are sold and most of them occupied in houses not yet a year old. 

No birds, no redwing blackbirds, sang in the wetland next door to the new houses. To early? Too late? Come back after the rains.

The day has been filled with chats with my wife, and touches, and food fresh from the garden that is lowering my glucose levels in the morning.

Planes are heard outside my window tonight after the warm day, because the airport is only a few miles away.

My dog is tired of being thrown off the bed and sleeps by the door. She will join me later in the night and cuddle me off the bed.

I eagerly await  our new meditative time early in the morning. I expect nothing but I’m all eyes for what new thing I might see.

So since I have nothing to say, I’ll just say goodnight.

Thanks for today.

I love you

– Small town boy

Life Quilt, row 5, #5 – A large entertainment park in Orlando (can’t use the D word)

Kelly Vick Pounds, this memory is for/of you.

My daughter Ashley and your daughter Becca rode this ride eleven times.

I rode it once, with you, and got this tat shirt.

I’ve kept it all this time to remember.


The rest of it (on the back?) says, “I recommend you take the stairs.”

Let’s go back to the beginning. Kelly lives near Orlando and used to work for the large entertainment park in Orlando. she hired me to come and help the University there to set goals and mission.  While we were working, her daughter and mine went on the ride above 11 times.

But that’s not the beginning either.

In the early nineties (right Kelly?) I went to Bozeman, Montana to work with Dave at MSU.  He was building a science net for Montana schools. It was so big that folks came from foreign countries (smaller than Montana, like Finland) to see what we were up to.  I was there as a Image Processing expert.

I met Kelly and we have been friends ever since.  she has changed jobs, overcome major physical disabilities, and is the first person on FB in the morning because she is on the east coast.  She has moved on to several very exciting and imaginative jobs since. It is always interesting to see what she’s up to now.

Sometimes we get on the phone and talk about her daughter or mine.

She bikes, swims, and plays golf despite her disability. apparently she doesn’t feel disabled. I dont’t think of her like that ether. 

She’s one of my heroes. I love her.

And every time I see this tee shirt, which now is daily, I think of her. She’s my friend.

-small town boy

This concludes all the tee shirts on the Life Quilt that Joanne made me.  I will remember all these things when. I go to sleep and when I rise. Thank you Joanne. I love you.

Life Quilt row 5, # 3 Peace

I didn’t want to be drafted.

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I was alive when the USA dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I know about the Manhatten Project. I wanted to fly jets and bomb people anonymously. I was two years in AFROTC till they found our I get airsick (because I told them). Now drones would be my thing?

I had a student deferment until that didn’t work.

I had another deferment because I was married, until that didn’t keep me from 1A status.

I became a father and lost my 1A status.

I tried later, when I started teaching, to go to AF Officer Candidate school, but was denied due to very flat feet.

My life would be quite different had I been in the service in the 60’s.

My desire to serve was based in a romanticized view of pilots which I got from WWII movies.

As a youth in the forties (I was born just 69 days before Pearl Harbor) we saw war in the screen with news before every movie. We played “war” all the time, in fox holes or mountains or cities: “BANG! You’re dead! No, I’m not; you missed me by a mile.”

I assembled many plastic kits of AF planes, props and jets. I saw many war movies (which I still watch to see heroic action).

Viet Nam and the sixties and seventies and hippies and anti nuclear and peace, baby.

I marched, i joined the street blockades at Portland State, I wore the peace symbol.

I have friends, vets, who believe peace is the answer; who believe war is not.

As I have been reviewing myself, I have concluded that war is not the answer but peace is not possible on this planet.

So?

The old song sang, “Let there be peace and let it begin with me.”

Or, “Think globally, but act locally.”

I’m working on inner peace. Peace and quiet. A moment’s peace.

Peace and love.  I can love you but can’t give you peace, no?

I can hold you, but I can’t hold onto you.

I can listen to you, empathize, learn, appreciate you,

By appreciating me.

My peace is your peace.

My love is yours.

So?

Peace baby!

– Small town boy

Life Quilt, row 5, #2 – Costumes

This shirt, while wonderful to wear for a motorcycle ride or an OSU event (whose colors are black and orange), the memories it most brings to mind are about Halloween. My Halloween costumes often involved tee shirts.


The darkness you see isn’t dirt. Look closer and see a skull and crossbones, subliminally scarey I guess.

Disneyland

why? Potassium deficiency caused massive low glucose


Disney

We went to Disneyland, I got sick but kept taking my metformin which resulted in low, very low glucose, which resulted in my delusions, which resulted in being hospitalized (see hospital bracelets above), twice, and getting potassium pumped into my hand. This had happened once before as a result of eating too much soft licorice. It seems pure licorice root is a potassium depleted (diagnosis Betsy).

Adams High, 1974

Halloween at Adams High School:


I had borrowed Betsy’s kilt (mini skirt) for school. One of my students told me to keep my legs together because I was drawing flies.

Motorcycle costume (not Halloween)


The difference between motorcycle and motor scooter costume is reflective clothing and body armor.

Scottish costume

After I changed my name to McAnelly a couple years ago I began wearing clan tartans: red Ulster and McNeil.

Burning Man 2015 costumes

My costuming began with me: long hair (what there was of it) and long beard (with a curl).



And ended in my birthday suit


Which gave me my playa name, “Bare Necessities.”

Not my costumes:

Elmo bike costume

Full body tiger suit

My grandson

– small town boy

Life Quilt, row 5, #1 – bicycling the Oregon Coast

So many stories, so little time.


My first time on the Oregon Coast (Hwy 101) was during the first Cycle Oregon in September, 1988, right in the midst of my dissertation. 


I remember the strong headwind we faced out of Mapleton on the way west to Florence. I remember learning to draft (riding closely behind the rear wheel of the rider in front of you for wind protection and cadence).  Each rider took the front for a spell and then the leader rotated back to the end of the line. BTW coastal winds generally flow from north to south. Smart cyclists take that into account and travel north to south as we did.

After Florence came Sea Lions Cave, North Bend, and nightfall in Coos Bay.

then Bandon, Port Orford and Gold Beach.

And last Brookings. 

Well, that was not actually my first ride along the Pacific coast. That ride occurred in about 1983 when my son John and his two friends Maureen and Leslie camped at Cape Lookout (see above) and then rode the Three Capes scenic route in two days.

It was then I first saw what would become our beachhouse in Terra Del Mar. When we returned from the trip a letter was waiting for me. Bike Gallery, where we had gotten parts in preparation for the ride, had drawn my name and I got a free Brookstone touring bike.

I would ride this road from Tierra del Mar to the top of Cape Lookout and back often as a training ride.  When I rode across Wisconsin, each day someone would say, “Wait til you get to THE hill!” None of the hills compared to this climb.  Initially with John and friends we had to walk our bikes over the top, both ways.

It was 100 miles from my home in Portland to the beach house in Tierra Del Mar, but there was a shortcut.With the advent of Max light Rail in the Portland Metro area it made riding to the beach much easier. By taking your bike onto the MAX train from Lloyd Center to Hillsboro you chop off 24 miles, urban miles, with hills, on a four lane highway.

Then by riding the backroad from Hillsboro to Forest Grove and Banks to US 6 which will follow the Lewis river you can climb 7 miles and go down 24 miles. The shoulder is nice and the traffic is not bad.  Jack rode with me after he got his new touring bike. Then it’s a short 20 miles to Tierra del Mar.

Side note: my great grandson found a giant spider in the house!


A western Hobo Spider, not toxic.

Life Quilt, row 4,#4 – My Career as a high school science teacher

Retirement came in 1998 after thirty two years of teaching high school math, physical science, chemistry, physics and  computets. I was recruited from Colorado State University on a cold blustery ground blizzard kind of day in February. Go pack they said, the Camilleas are in bloom in Oregon.


Later I found out from the science supervisor why I was hired.  He liked certain special science teacher candidates. If you hadn’t taught, and you had A’s and F’s, he picked you because it showed him that you could do the work if you wanted to, but you weren’t above failing a class if it wasn’t good.  If you were an experienced teacher, then he looked for evaluations that said you were a good science teacher, but couldn’t keep quiet at faculty meetings. Therefore he filled the district high school teachers that were renegades who often led the teachers unions.


Four of the five high Portland schools I taught in are closed. I started in 1966 at the height of the baby boom at Roosevelt High where I taught Physics (PSSC), general math(SMSG), special math, Introductory Physical Sience (IPS) and was the Neighborhood Youth Corps coordinator after the previous guy left for Job Corps, in the North Portland neighborhood of St Johns. Roosevelt is still open and undergoing remodeling to become a community center.


In 1969 I was selected to join the faculty at the new Adams high school, run by Harvard PhD candidates and using the school within a school model.  the rest of the district called us ‘Disneyland by the park’ because we were filled with radical staff, hippies, and union members.  I taught physics (HPP), Integrated Science (That I helped write at Portland State University), Dr Wong’s physical science (Individualized projects and grading) and General education (THE multidisciplinary course for All students within the College Exploration School (CEX) within a school.) I served as Science Department Chairman.

Beginning in 1966 I was involved in PAT-OEA-NEA, serving as building rep, and trustee for OEA. In 1974 I was the teacher spokesman for the teachers bargaining team. In 1976 I was elected President of the Portland Association of Teachers. Later I would serve as chair of the grievance committee.

When I finished my year at PAT I was assigned at Jefferson High School, a magnet school for the Performing Arts. I taught Chemistry (Chem Study), physics (PSSC), and computer programming. (BASIC and Pascal on the Honeywell mainframe at district headquarters. I also. Served as unit leader for the science, technology and math group;

NOTE: Jefferson is actually still open, but has changed to what is being called a ‘Middle College’ when it joined with Portland Community College (PCC) across the street from the football stadium.

I left Jefferson in 1983 to create the new Instructional Technolody program, a child of the Curriculum and data Processing departments, which eventually situated itself at the old (closed) Washington High School. I was a teacher on special assignment (TOSA).

In 1989 I received my PhD in computers in Education from the University of Oregon, and promptly lost my TOSA position as a result of the passage of Ballot measure 5 which restricted property taxes and was then sent to Marshall High School in SE Portland. (Washington is currently being restored to become a performing venue and restaurant.)

At Marshall I taught Physical Science on Macintosh computers using STELLA, Image Processing, mouse trap cars and video measurements. (Marshall was closed in 2011.)

I retired in 1998 and became a global volunteer, working in South Africa, Mexico, Peru, Viet Nam and Cambodia, and moved to Corvallis.

= Small town boy

Life Quilt, row 4, #1-Politics

Sensitive subject today, no?


Let me say that this tee shirt was a gift from my friends Kara and Jeff,

Probably because we didn’t see eye to eye on the subject.

I am ecstatic that there was a black president, Jeff not so much?

But anyway, I think this implies a different kind of party,

A party where donkeys and elephants have a good time.

A party where donkeys and elephants respect each other and are in turn respectable.

That kind of party.

I don’t know why groups of politicos with a particular conservative or liberal idea

Named themselves a party.

Is a caucus a party?

 

Why aren’t group of politicos called a bouquet? And each bouquet is named after a flower?

I’m red because I’m a rose. My mother was a rose and i have been a rose all my life.

I’m blue because I’m a violet or iris or some other blue flower.

Flowers don’t argue, block important votes, filibuster.

They just are… beautiful and they smell good.

And they sit together well so as to be admired in a floral arrangement,,

Only needing water.

Maybe we need a pool party?

– Small town boy