31 January

Portrait: At RISSE, The After School Program

by Jon Katz
The After School Program

Sometimes, when I visit the after school students at RISSE, the refugee and immigrant support program, one will come up to me and ask me a question. This young girl caught my eye, and  gave me a heart-melting smile from across the room.

I asked her name, but she spoke so quietly and shyly I didn’t want to push it. She wanted to know if I would take her photo, she very much wanted to have her photo taken. She came to the United States from Africa. She asked Ali to ask me if the United States would permit her to live here, she doesn’t ever want to go back to the refugee camp, she did not like it there.

I don’t ever lie to these kids or anyone else, I said I didn’t know what would happen, I didn’t understand the people in Washington, our capital, but i wanted her to know that there are many generous and welcoming people in America, and I was sure she would have a much better life here.

She smiled, and seemed relieved. I showed her photos of the donkeys in my I phone, and her eyes almost popped out of her head. I wasn’t sure who she thought I was, perhaps someone official. People sometimes think that when they see my big camera.

I loved taking her portrait, she has such an open and trusting face. I hope she never loses that look, that face, that trust. I can tell you she does not belong to one of those murderous immigrant gangs our leaders are always warning us about when they talk about immigrants.

She wants to come to the farm to meet the donkeys, they had donkeys  back home, and she misses seeing them..

She is no threat to us.

31 January

Dog Etiquette: The Emotional Needs Animals. Of Peacocks And Rats

by Jon Katz
Does Red Come With Me Everywhere?

Someone asked me on Facebook the other day why I didn’t bring Red with me when I went into a convenience store to have coffee with my friend Ali? She said she was just curious. I am often asked that question when I post a photo of me without a dog in it.

I told her the truth. The answer is no. I don’t want Red to be with me everywhere I go, and neither do many other people.

This morning, I  saw a new report about a woman who tried to take an “Emotional Needs Peacock” on board an airline and was refused permission. She was one of more than 250,000 people who attempted or did bring “Emotional Needs” dogs, or snakes or lizards, or birds or rabbits or ferrets or rats on board airlines last year.

For once, I had good thoughts about an airline. This inspired me to write about the ethics and etiquette of exploiting dogs or other animals in that way, and completely disregarding the needs and well-being of humans in the process. We are rapidly losing all of our boundaries when it comes to dogs.

They will suffer for it, not us.

I have had three therapy dogs – Lenore, Izzy, Red, (Gus in training) in my life.

They were not  Emotional Needs or Emotional Therapy dogs. They were just therapy dogs. Lenore dropped out (I fired her) because of undue interest in the food of hospice patients. Izzy and Red were stellar.

Red is the best.

It took me several years to train these two dogs, and both passed a rigorous temperament exam from a vet and a rigorous dog therapy certification organization in Vermont. Red wears his ID, number and badge wherever he goes.

I am no Therapy Dog snob. Having a therapy dog does not make me superior, or even equal, to other people.

I don’t need a vest or handkerchief of flashing light or bumper sticker announcing there is a therapy dog on board and requesting caution  (it’s apparently okay to crash into a car with regular dogs on board.)

Red, to be clear, is not my Emotional Needs dog, he is a dog trained carefully to meet the emotional needs of others. That was the idea.

If I couldn’t ride on an airplane without a peacock or rabbit or snake, I think the answer for me would be to get more help than a peacock or rabbit might offer me.

I meet a lot of people all the time who ask me if they can do therapy work with their dogs, but they rarely, if ever, do the training or pass the certification test, which examines the dogs in all sorts of chaotic and even aggressive simulated circumstances. I know many people who simply walk their dogs into hospitals and elderly care facilities  and are astonished when the dogs gets spooked, jumps on people, knocks them over, or runs off out of control.

Many people have told me they know their dogs will make great therapy dogs because they have been abused. I never respond. What I am thinking is that a dog who is chronically abused is very likely to make a bad therapy dog through no fault of their own. They have frightened or injured in ways we can’t really know, and thus we can’t protect them from surprises.

It is a great thing to bring a dog to comfort people, it is a foolish thing to think any dog can do this work because you love him. The most  terrifying words in the dog universe – they are often heard – are “Sorry! He’s never done that before!”

What is Red trained to do? He will not approach any person without a hand signal from me. He is trained to refuse any offer of food, as food can distract a therapy dog from people, and ruin them. He is trained to never jump on anyone, the elderly or people in hospice care are easily knocked over, their skin tears easily, they be frightened badly by the sudden movements of animals, even run and fall.

He is trained to look away from people who look away from him. He is trained to sit quietly for hours if necessary.

He will not bark at or response to cats or fight with other dogs. He is not startled by sudden and unfamiliar movements o by sirens, fireworks or other loud and sharp noises.

I am proud of Red, I trained him well.

But he didn’t need to learn to be gentle and intuitive, that is his nature, the foundation of his work. I could built on his nature, not create it.

People who haul Peacocks onto planes because they can’t bear to fly without them are doing great harm to the therapy  dogs who are so carefully trained and who do so much great work, because if the airlines ban animals, then so will hospitals and hospice facilities and assisted care organization.  They are turning therapy work into another TV and Internet joke, a ridicule channel.

Their lawyers would love to get dogs out of most institutions, they are potential liabilities, especially if they are not trained or certified or vaccinated. Everywhere we go, we present a rabies and health certificate from the vet..

Do I bring Red everywhere I go? No, I don’t.

I don’t take him on vacation, I consider my vacations partly a vacation from dogs. I can sleep late, walk where I want, and don’t have to carry those plastic bags around.

Why would I bring Red into a convenience store? Some people are afraid of dogs, some find them unhealthy near food. Some just don’t want to eat near them. I’m happy to have some time away from Red. I don’t need for Red to everywhere with me, he’s quite happy in his crate or lying by the wood stove.

At the dentist’s office, they always ask for Red, and I bring him where he is invited, never to where he isn’t. I never presume people want to be close to my dogs or touch them if they don’t ask. Some people are terrified of dogs, many gave been bitten or traumatized by them.

Am I so needy that I can’t go into a convenience store and have a cup of coffee by myself? Or take a walk by myself? Or go shopping by myself? The Emotional Needs epidemic is not good for dogs or people. And nothing is free. If you want a dog to connect to people in a positive and nourishing way, it takes work, not a warm and sticky impulse.

Taking a ferret or rat onto a place to meet the emotional needs of the passenger gives therapy work with dogs a bad lame, and will inevitably lead to restrictions and bureaucratic obstacles. A hospital executive told me a few months ago that every hospital or health care administrator hates dealing with animals  (even if they love them) because of possible infections or other behavioral problems. Most would be  relieved to keep them out.

Lawyers hate any kind of lawsuit risk, and I have met two people in hospice facilities who were bitten by dogs who had “never done that before,” and were neither trained or certified before. The facilities were both sued. The dogs owners said they knew they could be therapy dogs because they were so nice.

The Emotional Needs Animal could use offer administrators the very excuse they’ve been needing.

There are professional social workers, psychologists and therapists who can help people overcome fears like aviophobia, the fear of flying.  A good therapist will probably have more treatment ideas than a peacock, and a visit to a counselor will not frighten, disturb or anger humans entitled to their privacy and security.

When I go to a friend’s house for dinner, I do not need a dog there to worry about, walk or coo over. I like being able to talk with people without distraction. And yes, I do love people more than dogs, I’ll be happy to admit it.

I love my dogs and enjoy my time with them, I also believe in boundaries. It seems hundreds of thousands of people are losing their boundaries when it comes to animals and traveling and therapy work with animals. I did not bring any dog to New Mexico, and had a blast.

This therapy work is precious and important work, and Red and I worked hard to learn it,  it gives me worms to see it trivialized and exploited in so thoughtless a way. I always want to stand in the shoes of other people. A lot of people, perhaps even a majority of people, do not wish to encounter dogs everywhere they go.

I am one of them. Dogs were never meant to be our personal therapists.  That is something people want, not dogs.

No, Red does not need to go everywhere I go. We need to keep some space between us.

31 January

The Bedlam Farm 2018 State Of The Farm Report. We Are No “Shithole.”

by Jon Katz
State Of The Farm Report

This morning, I went out to the barn as usual, but instead of feeding the animals right away, I gave my annual “State Of The Farm” talk to the sheep, donkeys and dogs (said dogs were on either side of the sheep, the strange little dog was in the house, spitting something up, no doubt.)

They all gathered attentively to hear my message, the alfalfa treats in my pocket had nothing to do with it.

I should tell you it was an amazing speech, there has never been one like it, it was..well, amazing.

I told the animals I was happy to tell them that the state of the farm is good.

We had excellent hay all winter, and mice did not get into the grain bags. The manure pile is growing at a faster pace than last year, perhaps because of the feed we fed them to help with the cold.

“I’ve done an incredible job on the farm,” I told the animals, who were on their feet cheering every moment of the talk. Only Lulu turned her head away, as if disgusted. The sheep baaaaahed at her. Lulu gave off a strange bray.

It sounded like “more bullshit,” to me, but she just looked at me with her big brown eyes.

“This year, in just a few months, ” I said, “we became the safest, strongest and best farm in history. Our animals grew antennae, transmit signals, can read French, we abolished ticks, the sheep can take hay out of the barn themselves, they have formed their own subscription  blog online.

We have abolished our outdated policy of rescuing brown and black sheep from other farms. We don’t need those sheep here, they just bring trouble. Some of them are killers of  baby rabbits.

Those farms are “shithole” farms, we don’t need animals like that here.

The chickens can no longer lay eggs wherever they feel like it, they must stay in their roosts, and we will only accept new animals to the farm who come from Southern Vermont, where the chickens are white, rich, hardy and very well-bred.”

I am pleased to say we have the best stream of any farm, with the best and freshest water. So much better than it was when those old farmers were here. We have only the best water.

The farm is great, I went on to say, but we will make the farm great again, or even greater…or whatever (great snorting and stomps of approval at this.)

“The donkeys did a stellar job of guarding the sheep this year. We need to support our guard donkeys, and stop making jokes and calling them “asses.” They have given us their best, they deserve our best in return.”

“There were plenty of coyote tracks around, but no coyote came into the pastures, no sheep were lost for any reason. Thanks in part to our four new sheep, the Romneys, we had the nicest wool and yarn ever, and Maria sold all of it. It is the best wool available anywhere in the world. The previous owners of the farm were stupid and weak, their wool was think and scrawny, but we are strong and brave and smart, and our wool is rich and thick.”

Here are some more notes from my speech, which (I’ll be honest with you) said nothing of real value, made no interesting proposals, told little if any truth, was completely self-serving, and basically repeated what everyone already knew and had heard before. It was a sensation, everyone watched,  the best State Of The Farm speech ever made. You wouldn’t believe the stomping and approval.

“This Spring, we will all work together to replace the boards in the Pole Barn eaten by the snow-bound donkeys. We will replace the boards with donkey-repellent wood. This will be a New Moment for the farm. We had a hard winter, but I am happy to tell you that the frost-free pump never froze, the pipes in the farmhouse never burst, the bats in the attic never perished, the mice in the basement had one of their best mice years ever – they got into a giant bag of Red’s dog food and had a fine January, warm and dry and horny.

As many of you know, we have a problem with one of our farm family, Gus has megaesophagus and has done some of the best and strongest and most dependable vomiting – we call it regurgitation –  of any animal we have ever known. The very best megaesophagus a dog could have. As you know, little Gus will eat almost anything that is not cement or hammered into the ground, and happily throw it up. A muzzle, we think, might help.

We are experimenting with different muzzles to see which one fits him best – two are coming this week, so hopefully he will return to the pasture soon. As an aside, a number of people have gotten the idea that it would be sort of cool if Maria would knit or sewed a muzzle for Gus. Healing vibes, it was thought. Er…

Those of you who know Maria, as I do, know these creative suggestions are quite problematic. First off, fiber artists like her do not knit or weave dog clothing, and it would be wisest not to ask them,  the very suggestion could spark violence or retribution or the withholding of favors.

They make art like quilts, hanging pieces and potholders. They talk of Goddesses and mystics, not the making of things for dogs to vomit into and spit bile and yellow gook over. Maria, I am proud to say, had a very good year. She sold everything she has made for a year on her  much-loved website – the most loved website ever – except for one hanging piece and one quilt, both still for sale.

I hear about those two pieces every day of my life, usually more than once, i hope people buy them one day.

I had a great year too, I decided to do good rather than argue about it. I turned in my new book, “Gus And The Big And Small Lessons Of Bedlam Farm” in October, and am still waiting to hear from my publisher. The call will come. I am a five-time New York Times Bestseller. I have a Mansion and A Yacht.

In the meantime, the farm has become a legend in the world of farms.

Here, on Bedlam Farm, in just one year, and all by ourselves,  we have cured climate change, bred sheep who live for a thousand years, eliminated poverty, bred donkeys who pee molten gold, cured cancer,  invented invisible fences, converted vomit into wine, and  manure into cereal that lowers cholesterol. No one thought we could do it, when I came to the country, everyone laughed at me, thought I was a joke.

I could never survive on a farm, they said.

They are not laughing now. Thanks for listening.

So the above was humor, and I have learned I need to say that when I try to write humor, before the outraged messages start sailing in from people who have sometimes forgotten how to laugh or smile.

I did – seriously (this part  is not humor)  – think this morning about the state of our  farm and the state of our lives,  me and Maria, and I thought this: Some years ago, we set goals for our selves and our lives together. After our painful and frightening bankruptcy, we resolved to pay off our debts, live lives of independence and creativity.

We have achieved those goals, and they remain our goals for the future. We vowed to live lives of encouragement and we have met those goals, we have tried to help a number of artists and creatives to find their voices and do their destined work. We have paid all of our debts.

Last year, when the country was so bitterly divided by politics, I  resolved to alter my life, to use my blog, my writing, my photography to do good rather than join the raging arguments that are tearing the country apart. I am not a hater, not even for politics. I do not hate anyone, especially the people who disagree with me. I resolved to focus my work on the Mansion residents and on the refugees coming to New York State, most notably the residents and  RISSE refugee soccer team, based in Albany.

The result has been the evolution of a group of very disparate angels all over the country who operate under the name of the Army Of Good. With their help, I have done more good in a year than in my previous 70. And much more to come. I did what I said I would do. This has made me happy, proud and fulfilled. I am less angry and resentful than I have ever been.

I am reminded every day of the wisdom of this path. Yesterday, I wrote about Chairman Mao on my blog, I saw his poster on a recent trip. I said he was a monster, and had killed more people than Hitler. I wrote that he had also brought health care to China, destroyed the feudal system of work, brought women into the workplace, and brought education to the poor.

I got this message from a man named Roger,  who said he had read all of my books, and called me a number of names. “You should be ashamed of what you have done!,” wrote Roger K. “I have deleted any reference to your Blog and will sell your books at the next Jewish used book sale!”

Then, after that, he added “you on the left often call those who do not agree with you fascist and assign them to Hitler, but he comes in a distant third when compared to Mao and his buddy Stalin.”

Roger definitely got to me. A USED Jewish book sale? How dare he?

I told Roger I would work to respond to disagreement with civility and grace, as he clearly  does. But a used Jewish book sale? Poor Rose, poor Orson. Don’t they at least deserve a more holistic, sectarian, burial?

I remembered a waitress I fell in love with when I worked as a reporter in Atlantic City, the reporters all got drunk every night after work, and Rose, a person, a hostess and singer in a popular all night cafe called the Stanley Restaurant, Rose usually got drunk too, along with us.

One night an inebriated tourist demanded she sing Moon River. When Rose refused, he stood up and called her a “no good Jewish whore!”

 Rose stopped, pulled herself up to her full height, walked over to the man’s table and leaned over and looked him straight in the eye. “Listen, mister,” she said with fire in her eyes, “nobody calls me a Jew!”  The whole bar cracked up and the shamed tourist fled for his life.

But back to Roger, he said he would be reading me no more. And how could he? His books would be gone.

Then, of course, I realized that Roger was not Jewish at all, that was kind of the point.

So how do we live in a world like this, where the Rogers of the world can send messages like this all day long for free and without consequence and enter our space and consciousness at will? That’s a challenge for all of us.

Well, I am learning the answer. With patience, and grace and humor. And with love. I set out to do that, and am doing it. I don’t need to love Roger or even like him, but I don’t need to hate him either, he is, like the man in the Stanley Restaurant, a foolish and lost man.

I am happy to tell you in this serious part of my State Of The Farm message that love and grace and patience and humor are alive and well at Bedlam Farm in 2018, and here, we are committed to doing more of the same in the coming year. We are not eating the poisoned candy of rage and judgment, we simply seek every day to go good, and then more good, and then more good after that.

Who knows where this will take us? The idea of Bedlam Farm is growing deeper and richer. It is only getting better, and I mean to keep it small and focused. I mean to be here through the last days of my life, alongside the person I love so much.

I wish the same for you all.

30 January

Ali And Me: The Schaghticoke Confabs, Every Week

by Jon Katz
Me And Ali

Once a week, Ali (Amjad Abdulla) and I meet at the Stewart’s convenience store in Schaghticoke, N.Y., equidistant between Albany, N.Y., where he lives and works, and Bedlam Farm, where i live and work.

He is the sweetest man with the biggest heart. We have been meeting for awhile at the convenience store, we have a favorite orange plastic table and booth, we sit with the construction workers at lunch and the big men in trucks.

We have lots to talk about these days, we have coffee and a sandwich and plot support for the kids on the RISSE soccer team, and now, the new girls’ Basketball Team. Ali and I call one another “brother,” and it is like that, we are so easy together know.

I always bring Red, he stays out in the car, and Ali, who is a formal, well-mannered man always comes out to greet Red and also sends his best wishes to Maria.

We have a full agenda every time. Ali and I are different, yet similar, we laugh every time and usually finish one another’s sentences. He wants me to come to the Sudan next year when he gets married, I’ll have to think about it. Somehow, I get the feeling they don’t  much like people like me there.

We talk about how much money we have left in the refugee fund, and how best to spend it. Sometimes, it’s on very personal teams, sometimes it’s for the team.

I tell him we have to make the money last, we never really know if it’s going to be replaced when we spend it or whether it can last awhile. There are so many needs.

We try to plot and plan and figure out what the team will need this year, week by week, season by season,  and more importantly, what the boys on the team might need, as well as the girl’s on the new basketball team, which is a couple of month away from league play. We are pretty clever, we are pleased with ourselves.

Ali says there is a saying back home, don’t lick all the honey out of the nest, there won’t be any left. I tell him I have a saying too, keep going until you drop or someone stops you.

One boy has only one pair of pants, the American kids in school make fun of him all the time, so I gave Ali a check and he will go out and buy some pants today. We both agreed that was the most pressing need. Our First Rule: the kids needs come first, above everything.

Kevin Smith of Sportsplex keeps buying the team pizza after their 90 minute practice (some of these kids only get one meal a day on weekends), they are tired and hungry after playing. But we need to cover his costs, I say. The pizza costs $75 for all the kids after practice, Kevin and I agreed to a discounted deal, we get the pizza for  $35.

I gave Ali money for a months’ worth of pizza after practice.

Ali said we would need some soccer balls soon, Kevin, an angel who has miraculously appeared to help the team,  came up with 18 used soccer balls in good shape. Each member of the team will have his own used ball. No charge. Ali told me one of the kid’s families is very low on food, the household has a single mother who works, she is hardly ever home and makes a bit over the minimum wage.

We are going to bring home some groceries to his family in a week or so. Thanks to several generous donors, we have just raised enough money to buy uniforms for the girls’ basketball team.

Two of the soccer kids have birthdays this week, and birthdays are a big thing for Ali. He says the refugee parents don’t celebrate birthdays and don’t have the money for parties, but they are important to the kids, so we agreed on one party for all the kids, and Ali will have enough cash to buy each one a gift.

Generally, he takes them out for food and arranges a party.

We talked about how shy the boys are, how they will never ask for help, even when they are in dire need.

We just have to figure it out what the  boys need. The only thing they ever ask for is McDonald’s. But if you listen and pay attention (Ali does, and I do when I can)  you can pick up some things. Some of the other kids told Ali about the boy who needed more pants. He would never have said a word.

I am exploring buying each of the members of the soccer team an equipment bag, one like all the other players in the soccer league have to carry their clothes and soccer sneakers (the RISSE team do not have soccer sneakers, just regular ones.) I came up with a new twist – equipment bags with the individual name of each player on the bag, something the other team players do not have.

Ali loves this idea, when he flips over an idea, he says it is “the greatest thing ever.”

Apart from the impact on morale, I see these kids have nothing to hold their belongings in. Ali says they would love the bags. A few have backpacks.  It would be “the greatest thing ever,” he said. Good enough for me

I’m no athlete, but I’ve been told how important things like equipment bags are in terms of identity and morale. It makes the kids feel important, that they belong to something special, and they can use them almost every day of their lives.

Ali wanted to stencil the “Bedlam Farm Warriors” on the bags, but for once I talked him out of it. The bags should  have their individual names, they don’t need to mention. Although Ali did tell me a curious thing, wherever he goes, people spot the “Bedlam Farm” name on the uniforms, and they offer to help out the team or pay for their meals. He says he has to fight to buy himself a cup of coffee now. God bless these good people, they all mention the blog..

Ali is getting lots of messages from people who read the blog and have all kinds of ideas about things they want to donate or things they think the kids need. Many are e-mailing him.

Ali is not used to having any celebrity, he is nonplussed by the messages. I told him to forward them to me. Right now, as federal subsidies are being cut, the family’s needs are quite basic, mostly food and in some cases clothes or household supplies. They are not really in need of decorative or personal gifts. We both think we need to stay small and focused, and right now, the focus is on the soccer team.

RISSE is putting up an Amazon Gift page, the things the refugees and immigrants need will be posted shortly. I think that will be the best way for people to help in material ways, because they list things that are needed.

I told Ali we just had to keep talking frequently, keep communicating, and do the best we can for as long as we can. We generally meet in Schaghticoke every Tuesday or Wednesday. One day we might run out, but will keep going  until we do.

Every time I get nervous and think the refugee fund will dry up, the Army Of Good checks in with some donations, and we stay in business. We have about $1,600 in the fund right now. I like it to be around $3,000, we use the same account for the Mansion residents.

If you wish to donate, the need is great. We want the kids to have decent clothes and good food and decent equipment, and we want the soccer team to beat everyone in their league. The symbolism goes way beyond the game.

If you wish to donate, you can send a contribution to  Jon Katz. P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., (“refugees)” or “soccer”), 12816 or me via Paypal, [email protected]. Refugees and immigrants are under siege as never before, I hope we cam help fill some of the holes in the lives of these children.

The Schaghitcoke Confabs have become important to me, and indirectly to some good people in need of help. The light shines on Ali, his heart and soul are filled with love and generosity. He is always thinking of the kids, of the team.

30 January

Remember The Blog. Support My Work, Too!

by Jon Katz
Maria in her new hat, one of two birthday presents I got for her on Sunday. She says the hat is outrageous.

In the past year or so, I’ve gotten skilled at raising money for what I believe are good causes – Joshua Rockwood, the Mansion residents, the refugees and immigrants. I have been reminded that I sometimes forget to raise money for myself.

it has been awhile.

My  blog is the engine that drives all of this, my work and the work of the Army of Good. It is where I share my work and my life, and it and the photographs that appear on it are expensive to produce. The blog costs a lot of money to upgrade and maintain. It is also free.

Although millions of people read it every year, few people actually support it. That is the nature of the Internet, people are used to getting content for free. I would be the last to blame them.

That is changing. Blogs are becoming ever more central and popular to cultural small fry like me, they are how we now make our living. And you do get what you pay for.

I appreciate getting paid for my work, it took me a long time to ask for that support. The blog  will always be free, I will not abandon the good people who stuck with me all this time, just because they have no money.

But for those who can help support my work, it is necessary and much appreciated. I recognize that lots of people online ask for donations and continuing support payments. I am very careful about them myself.

So we have thought about it and I have offered several ways to support the blog and the work I am doing ( and many of you are doing with me). This work seems more timely and more important as time goes by, and in ways I never quite imagined even a few years ago.

It is time – it’s been months – since I reminded readers about supporting the blog. But it’s necessary. Publishing has changed radically, and I can no longer make a living writing books only.

I am as much a blogger as a book writer now, and this is mostly how i earn a living and feed these amazing animals I live with.

So here’s the reminder.

You can subscribe to the blog in three (voluntary) ways – $5 a month, $10 a month, or $75 a year. You sign up with your own account and password, only you have access to it for your protection (no financial information of any kind is stored on my blog). You can cancel it at any time, and quite easily.

We made sure of that.

You can use PayPal or major credit cards.

This method gives me some assured income, since I am not blessed with large bank accounts or IRA reserves No complaints, this is the life I chose, and I love living in it.

If it is easier for you, you can also make one-time donations to the blog, just hit the yellow button at the bottom of every post. If the blog is meaningful or uplifting for you (or entertaining), please consider supporting it in one way or another.

Many people give $75 donations annually, some give $5 when they can. Some give $500. All are much appreciated.

If you are uncomfortable using the Internet, you can also send a contribution or donation to Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. Please mark it “blog.”

Please remember once more that the blog is free, all payments are voluntary, if you cancel a subscription or can’t donate, you are quite welcome to keep on reading the blog. No one is keeping tabs.

I am always happy seeking funds for the Mansion and the refugees.

I am always uneasy asking for money for me. But it’s necessary, without the blog, it would be impossible for the Army of Good to function in its current form. This is working, but a good friend jogged me a bit and reminded me that i need to ask for support for me and the blog also. So I am.

I am very proud of the blog, and have worked hard on it for more than 10 years now, I think it is the creative achievement of my lifetime, a showcase for my writing, my thoughts and my photography, almost all of which is offered for free use. I post nearly every day, usually more than once.

I am obsessively faithful to it.

Thanks for listening, and if you can, for supporting my work.

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