2008. Goodbye to some bad stuff
Posted At: Sunday, December 28, 2008 8:18 PM | Posted By: Jon Katz
Rose, on duty in the last storm.
December 28, 2008 – I can’t say I’m all that sorry to say goodbye to 2008. It was a wonderful way in many ways – my book, “Izzy & Lenore” was well received, and I had a great book tour at a difficult time for many people. I sent Elvis, Harold and Luna off the farm, along with the goats. The steers are providing meat to a teenage homeless shelter, Luna is still around, being bred.
Izzy did some amazing hospice work, and I value that. We lost a lot of people in hospice care, inevitably. I wrestled with some difficult personal and emotional issues. I have reimagined Bedlam Farm, and am changing many things about it. My photography, and its challenge to me to come out as an artist was one of the most important developments in my life.
The mask came off, and I realized I didn’t know who I was. I am learning. “Out Of The Shadows” is about to be published. Mary Kellogg’s poetry volume, “My Place On Earth” launched Bedlam Farm Books, and is in its fifth printing. Thanks to Mary’s hustle in part, it actually made some money. I finished my next book, ‘”Soul Of A Dog,” which explores the question of whether animals have souls or not, and that is being published by Random House next August.
I am continuing my hospice work, and also my teaching creative writing in public schools.
I also saw the country change, and dramatically. I am not political, and find the self-righteous distaste I see in liberals and conservatives for one another a distasteful thing. In 2008 it may be we are saying goodbye to some useless things: wastefulness, obliviousness, greed, cruelty, lack of empathy and arrogance. More and more, I believe 2009 will be a better year, more meaningful, purposeful and spiritual. I mean to make that happen, at least for me.
I mean to remember what is important. Love, fulfilling work, encouragement, and a ferocious determination to live my life.
Looking ahead to the New Year
Posted At: Sunday, December 28, 2008 6:26 PM | Posted By: Jon Katz
New Year’s is my least favorite holiday, because it’s really about nothing but choreographed joviality. I think it is somewhat useful to reflect on the past year, and on hopes for the new one. I am spreading the meme that next year will be better than this one in many ways. The Dogs of Bedlam Farm are looking ahead.
I am anxious in the New Year to be a loving man, good to my family, devoted to my friends, committed to my writing and photography. If the economy turns around quickly, I would love to buy another camera, so I won’t have to keep switching and dropping and breaking lenses. I want the Canon 5-D Mark II, but not now and not for awhile.
I want to continue to be absolutely determined to live my life, to protect and preserve the farm and fight for its vitality.
I want to breakthrough my long search for a meaningful spiritual base. I want to write a lot of fiction.
I do not want any new animals coming to the farm. I have two donkeys, three dogs, 26 sheep, two barn cats and three chickens. That’s enough. More on New Year’s goals later this week.
Hospice Journal: Warren, Izzy. The Best Christmas
Posted At: Sunday, December 28, 2008 6:17 PM | Posted By: Jon Katz
December 28, 2008 – Izzy and I visited Warren again today, and we decided it was time for another poem about his relationship with Helen, his wife of more than 60 years, who died last year. This is his first holiday week without Helen. He is at home, tending to business, watching TV, talking with friends, gracious and at ease, as always. He and I are going to get together on New Year’s morning to toast the New Year with a bottle of wine he is saving for the occasion. Perhaps we will get drunk early in the day. I think I’m up for that.
This poem was about Warren’s recollection of their first Christmas/New Year together, when they were both students at Michigan State in 1947, and were living in a 22 by 8 foot trailer with no running water or electricity, with their first dog, Spike.
I remember our first Christmas and New Year together,
as if it were yesterday. I remember Helen’s laughter, sparkling
like water in the sunlight.
We were living in a trailer.
We had to walk down a plankway to get
to water, because of the mud.
There was a communal water facility
about 500 yards from the trailer, and the
trailers were all packed tightly together.
We loved it there, there was hardly
room to turn around, but it was our home,
a palace to us. I had two jobs, and got up
every morning at 3 a.m., and Helen worked in
the school library, so it was rare that we had
an evening together.
Our Christmas dinner was a box of macaroni and
cheese, which cost 19 cents and we cooked it on a
hot plate, and we laughed and told stories all
night long.
We had no room for decorations, but we had
a tiny Christmas tree, and Helen baked cookies
and hung them on the tree.
Helen gave me a hammer for Christmas,
and I still have it.
I bought her a dress which
I could not afford.
We sang Christmas carols together,
and we especially loved Jingle Bells
because it was so cheerful.
On New Year’s eve, we went out for a drive
and a truck backed into us,
and we never went out on New Year’s Eve again
after that.
But I will always remember that first Christmas, the
tiny tree, the macaroni and cheese, the tiny trailer that was
our first home, singing and laughing, always laughing.
I think it was one of the happiest Christmases of my life.
Power of a Dog: Keeping Love Alive
Posted At: Sunday, December 28, 2008 5:34 PM | Posted By: Jon Katz
December 28, 2008 – I often think – and write – that we are putting too much on our dogs, emotionalizing them and personifying them past the point of all reason. I took a long photo-walk in the woods with Lenore today (my dogs have three distinct roles. Rose works, Izzy does hospice work and shadows me around my world, Lenore is the Hound of Love) and while I fussed unsuccessfully over a shot, she sat down, happy to keep me company, always staying close, never distracing me or causing any trouble.
I swear she has entered the artist’s spirit, respecting the work. I am grateful to Lenore. She kept love alive for me when I most needed it, and keeps it alive still. I look at her and smile, and my heart lifts. That is about the greatest gift one creature can do for another. She is always content to be near me and reminds me of what is important in life.
Get up early, catch the rays at Bedlam Farm
Posted At: Sunday, December 28, 2008 12:12 PM | Posted By: Jon Katz
Getting up at sunrise is usually worth it, if you take photos.
