Unlike so many Americans with African roots, Barack Obama is lucky to know which country his family hails from.  It’d be like knowing merely that you were European…  Italian?  Portugese.  Belgian?  Finnish! Scottish?  Not many of us would be comfortable with such vague information.

When I was in 5th grade, a relative of my father’s - perhaps a 2nd cousin, we were not at all a close family - sent us a request for information; she was doing a family genealogy. I was very intrigued, and offered to help her.  Sadly, she broke my heart by sending me a very condescending letter. What she didn’t know was that, 14 years later, I would solve the mystery that ended up stumping her.   At the time of publication, her volume left a mystery:  was the “John Harrington” on the neighboring lot indeed the father, the next link to the past?  At this point, due to a lack of paperwork proof, that strain of the Harrington tale “ended”.

For myself, I wondered why no one tried to start from the other end - to start where Harringtons started and see if they could find evidence bringing a John Harrington to that town in that time…

I forgot all about that thought until, at age 25, newly arrived in Ireland, my brand-new map in my hand, I became transfixed (without a thought in my head) with a little island off the coast of County Cork:  Bere Island. Nearly a week later, having gone to a music festival and traveled around a bit, I claimed Dublin as my own town.  Told a new friend about my neat and mysterious experience with Bere Island, to which he said, “Well sure, that’s where the Harringtons are!”  and proceeded to bring out his phone book, which actually included the professions of at least some of the listings.  The first one he showed me was (first name?) Harrington, ferryman. For a small island, there were lots of Harringtons.  I knew that, though there were lots of Harringtons in England, that my family was Irish.  Several visits to England had never brought any feeling of familiarity, had solved no personal mysteries. Discovering the Irish connection really did. (More about that later in a later post!)

It was like my cells recognized their own roots.  So….  Intuitive - or genetic?  Who cares, really?  It was a deeply confirming experience.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s like the question about the chicken and the egg.  It’s irrelevant really, which came first:  What’s important is the connection between them.  And that’s what you get when you know your roots.

I’m looking for a really smart tech person (I am not skilled in that department!). For blog issues, website work, computer questions, and the like - not necessary to have design or artistic ability, just the ability to implement it!

I’d like an ongoing relationship, where I can call or email you with problems or new projects, and you would help me in the next day or two (or three). Ideally, someone I could meet with in the Bay Area, as when tech-speech people ask me questions, I’m often not even sure what they’re asking me. Easier, then, when they are right there, looking at the same computer screen. (We could possibly use a webcam pointed at my computer screen as an alternative, if needed.)

My preference? Honestly, a younger person and a non-professional. From my experience, they’re more likely to be enthusiastic and to think outside of the box. Younger, non-professionals are more likely to tell you when they don’t know how to do it, and also less likely to want to do your website their way. Very fluent English is essential, as I am, as I’ve said, pretty lame at understanding tech talk to begin with.

If this is YOU - or someone you know - contact me: (415) 200-8292

One of the perks of living in city is the occasional opportunity to be on the cutting edge….

Today (in San Francisco) I was part of a focus group, discussing and RIDING the new A2B electric bike. What a blast! I left with a feeling very similar to the one I had when I watched Who Killed the Electric Car?  These vehicles have an organic feel to them, I swear! I end up feeling a little like a kid does when it’s fallen in love with a puppy or kitten:  I want one!

Thanks to Cindy Sheehan for bringing this to my attention. I don’t believe in cloning, but, if I did, Cindy Sheehan and Mark Twain are two people I’d love to have several copies of! This piece would great for teaching the concept of satire.

from The War Prayer  by Mark Twain:

…O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale form of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts….

I have once again deliberately cut my roots, inviting Life to blow me where it wants me to go - - inviting “free-fall”, inviting the Universe to sew me, the Seed, in the most fertile soil possible.
I’m watching what’s occurring: wonderful reflections in my current community, to start with, so whether I stay or go, it’s enriching my appreciation for the community I currently call Home. Kind of like a re-commitment ceremony while staying to a years-old marriage, if I should stay right here, it’ll be on more conscious terms, having re-examined my options, once again deciding that this is what I want.

Years ago, when in the midst of a double-bind situation, I effectively stopped much of my despair and worry about the outcome (in which there would be “casualties”, whichever way it went). I had an inspiration to wear nail polish whose color was called “Blood”, so dark it sometimes looked black.

As I move my arms and hands around when I talk, I knew it would stop my thinking when I saw my pale skin in dramatic contrast with those nails. And it worked, beautifully: I was constantly being startled by the appearance of my hands - - startled into the Present Moment, which, though the situation was still filled with land mines, allowed me the grace to get through it. It helped me to stop projecting into what the different terrible outcomes could be, and to stay with what was right in front of me.

And later, though the element of surprise was eventually gone, seeing my dark-nailed hands became a happy reminder of how I had given myself a hand up. (Sorry - these puns!)

Obviously, some lifestyles don’t allow this kind of self-therapy: imagine an Armani-suited lawyer on whose shoulders a sensitive and serious verdict lies. He approaches the bench, his hands each with five dark, dried-blood-colored nails… Why, they might dismiss his argument off hand!

I’ll post anti-depression tips for him - - and others for whom this particular tip doesn’t apply, in another post.

How about a laptop that would allow your head to stay up fairly straight, encouraging better posture?  A laptop whose hinge would allow the screen to raise up a few inches when opened. I tried raising the whole laptop for this purpose, but then the keyboard was too high. Anyone out there who wants to take on this idea?