Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

19 April

The Crazy Fuck Moves On…How Zip Is Being Abused. Off To The Mansion For Meditation Class.

by Jon Katz

I’ve been called a “Crazy Fuck” several times in my life, most recently this morning by my wonderful wife Maria, who was laughing when she said it (I think.) I was doing something dumb.

This brought back memories.

The first time I was called that was in Philadelphia when I, as a reporter, set out to cover a race riot in the northern part of the city. My editor warned me not to get too close or far from the police.

I did not, of course, listen. I was young and immortal.

(Photo above Attention animal rights warriors and the Spelling Police: this is a photo of Zip being abused on our farm. You might want to see it; his belly is rubbed in the pasture every morning. He is no Dumb Cat.)

But I had to get closer to understanding what was happening if I was going to write a good story about the ugly and frightening riots.

(More abuse of Zud, or is it Zip?)

I pulled my little old Volkswagen over amid a mob fighting with the police, and I looked in the rearview mirror to see a young man stuffing a Molotov Cocktail into the gasoline latch at the rear of the car.

My editor had warned me not to be alone or get too close to the trouble. As a young and ambitious reporter, that was precisely where I thought I should be.

I jumped out of the car and ran, and the vehicle caught fire and eventually exploded. I was not hurt, and no one came chasing after me. No police officer came running over, either. Nobody likes reporters.

When I hitched a ride back to the paper with my story,  I told my boss what had happened, and he called me a Crazy Fuck, the first time I had heard the phrase but not the last.

How, I wondered, was I going to get around?

He shook his head and said I shouldn’t consider the paper reimbursing the car.

Life goes on, and I go on; I see my life as a distinct series of chapters and passages, and I guess I am still a Crazy Fuck; that might be one of the phases that never goes away or one thing that never goes away.

I did, after all, move up abruptly to live in the country on a farm, even though I had never set foot on one. Lots of people called me names for doing that.

Still, I laughed this morning. Today, the equivalent of that term, I told Maria, is Dementia. People tell me I am brainless and demented when I misspell a cat’s name. The bar for insult is getting lower.

I had to smile when I thought of all the things I’ve been called over the years. I know I am different, which attracts nasty flies and mosquitoes.

I am off to the Mansion Meditation Class. I will see you later.

Windowsill gallery, kitchen, African Violets

Windowsill 2, Kitchen, Calla Lilly, and Wonder Woman.

18 April

Flower Art, Thursday, April 18, 2004. The Beautiful March Of The Misspelled: Calla Lily’s, White Roses, And A Curious Cat

by Jon Katz

This was a landmark day for me. Sue Silverstein wrote her first weekly column for my blog. I’m thrilled she will be a columnist each week, writing about her art, her students, and her unique ideas about teaching and working from the donations she always gets from the Army Of Good. This was a brilliant idea of hers. She is revolutionizing the teaching of art in schools.

Sue is the first writer other than Maria to have a column on my blog; I couldn’t be happier.

I was also thrilled by the Army of Good’s response to the Cambridge Food Pantry and the Children’s Food Drive this week, which ends today and tomorrow. I’m grateful and proud. We sent much-needed food and hoped to continue this good work. Nothing makes me happier than helping feed children whose families are struggling.

For me, that is what it means to be an American, not anger, hatred, and cruelty.

I sat down today with beautiful things whose names I misspelled. I thought it would make a glorious parade, and I was right. Two things seemed to provoke a min-firestone of cruel and foolish messages; they deserved a parade, including Zip, one of the more controversial cats in my life, and in edgy and often hostile America. What could be better than a March Of The Misspelled? See you tomorrow; I hope you enjoy the pictures. I loved making them.

I love Calla’s and, now, White Roses. They are the flower of good and compassion.

I’m happy to explore the idea of flowers as sculptures in their way. I see them in that way.

Thanks for the good words many of you are sending me. It’s not the fault of the flowers or the cat.
I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.

 

This is a flower of sorrow, I think.

This is a flower of grace to me, which most Calla Lily’s are.

 

This is a meditation flower, a deep well.

This is a community of flowers talking to one another.

To me, this is a sculpture, as many flowers are. I’m always looking for that feeling.

Zip is a famous cat because I often confused his name with my dog Bud’s. This outraged many people, who decided I either had Dementia or was just evil. It was good for me. I learned a lot about myself, my Dyslexia, my age, my life, and my humanity beyond my pretty little farm.

It taught me to respect myself, not the opinions of strangers. It was a wakeup in some ways.

I called him Zud just to be safe. He didn’t seem to mind.

I had a tuna fish sandwich for lunch and saved some for Zip for our afternoon meeting. He was pretty happy.

18 April

Thanks For Working Miracles For Children’s Food Week: “Your Army Of Good Is A Blessing To Us…” Compassion And Love Lives, All Over America.

by Jon Katz

What the Army of Good did this week is nothing short of a miracle, one of its high water marks.

I’m struggling with words to describe what I saw today. I hope you can see it and feel it in these pictures. You did it, you and the incredible volunteers at the  Cambridge Food Pantry. They were hauling and unpacking boxes all morning. “We’re all in this together,” said Sue, one of the volunteers.

The photograph above shows the inside of a food backpack for a family of five, which was sent home this afternoon.

(Today’s requests, the two most in-demand that are gone are Peanut Butter and  Ravioli. See below)

The Amazon boxes are still pouring in. The backpack bags belonging to 66 families and 188 children were stuffed to the stretching point. Scott and Sue were tearing boxes up for arts; this after, dozens more kept coming. I had yet to learn how this week was going to turn out. I could not be happier or more grateful.

Scott, a longtime and hard-working volunteer, approached me this morning and said, “Your people are a blessing to us.” So true.

Late this afternoon, a group of 5th graders (not in the pantry program) came from the central school to distribute the bags to the families and children who needed them.

Thanks to your efforts, this children’s food week has been tremendously successful. The volunteers were shocked and happy, knowing these families and their children would eat well tonight and through the weekend. No substitutes were needed today. This is a cause of the heart, the true America revealed.

Sue Preces (a hero at the pantry), a super volunteer, the director of the back program, and a key orderer at the pantry were beaming. She has kept the pantry going in some tough times. They posed, holding up three of the goods that got her today because of you.

The backpacks contained everything one could wish for and asked for, from soup to fruit juice to noodles and Chicken Noodle Soup.

This is the last day of the children’s food campaign, and we can end with a bang:

(Sarah told me today that the pantry is entirely out of two things Chef Boyardee Beef Ravioli, 15 oz. 4 Pack, $3.79, and Skippy Super Chunk Peanut Butter, 16.3 ounce (Pack Of 12), $30.This could be a grand finale for Children’s Food Week At The Cambridge Pantry.)

It was a joy to pack those bags today.  Maria was there also.

Everyone was full of everything wanted and requested, which was unprecedented. What an honor to be there and see the joy, happiness, and smiles. And that’s before the food even gets to the families and kids. While there, the peanut butter and ravioli, two favorites for the children, ran out. See below. They will be preparing a full and rich dinner as I write this. I can’t imagine doing anything more gratifying.

Helping with this food would be an excellent way to end the week, which is already fantastic and beyond anyone’s expectations. But you’ve done more than enough this week if you can’t.

It looked like this when I got there—a glorious sight. The food we sent.

Scott, one of the backbone volunteers of the Cambridge Food Pantry.

 

The breakfast cereal the children wanted arrived in box after box.

So did Campbell’s Noodle Soup, which many families and kids will eat tonight.

This morning, the empty boxes filled up the Pantry’s pantry.

 

Cambridge Pantry Director Sue and Scott Eddy spent hours breaking down boxes and distributing the food.

Volunteer Sue is a bright spot; she works hard, continuously, competently, and cheerfully. The volunteers are a wonderful group; they’ve kept the pantry together for years, good and bad. It is never easy there; the work is never done but desperately needed.

 

This afternoon, two more truckloads of Amazon boxes, one above and one below, arrived at the pantry in two deliveries.

Below, big fat food backpacks were filled with foods for breakfast, dinner, and snacks for kids who like snacks.

Today was one of the most uplifting days of my life. I can’t thank all of you enough. I had a dream that Peanut Butter and Ravioli kicked off the end of a beautiful week.

18 April

Sold, The Meditation Tree Hanging Piece!

by Jon Katz

Maria’s long hanging piece project, the “Meditation Tree” hanging piece, sold almost immediately, as I suspected it would. She worked long and hard on this one. I was happy she sold it, but a part of me was hoping it wouldn’t sell and that I could meditate with it on our living room wall.

She made me a smaller one, and I am grateful and very happy for her. Her heart is in all his work, but this one was special.

She loves the message the buyer sent her, “it’s going to the right place,” she said. Maria took the hanging piece to the Post Office and shipped it out.

18 April

Zip, (AKA Zud) , While I Photograph Flowers. What Is A Happy Cat? Forgiving, But Not Forgetting. You Can’t Love Animals And Hate People

by Jon Katz

He has deinitely landed in exactly the right home for him. He gets adoration and can hunt chipmunks and whatever else he wants to.” – Barbara Mann.

Barbara Mann is an animal lover and blog reader, and I thought her message this morning was right on the money.

I’m not exactly a cat expert, but I’ve lived with Zip for months. He exudes trust, business, affection, and murderous cat skills and has ingratiated himself with every animal on the farm (except Bud, although we haven’t had a chance to find out).

He has three or four good sleeping hideouts, including a heated cat house, and occasionally hunts mice, chipmunks, moles, and birds. Maria spoils him rotten, and so do I.

Bud has everything a cat might want—good food, love, his shots, attention, hunting, brushing (which he needs again), warm places to sleep day and night, dog, sheep, and donkey friends, and even bits of salmon every week or so.

He and Zinnia play in the grass like children in a playground; the donkeys are happy to hang out with him.

He loves to sit on my shoulder and doze, and yesterday, he slept next to me while I photographed a flower on the porch table. At one point, I petted him and said, “I’m glad the animal rights people didn’t get the police to take you away. You seem so happy here, and we are so happy to have you here.” It was a healing and beautiful moment for me.

He is a hellion at times, but one with a big heart.

But the police visit wasn’t really funny. It speaks of the harm well-meaning but poorly informed yet what uninformed but powerful people do all the time in the name of animal rights.

People who know nothing about animals (that would be most of the animal rights people I’ve met) should not be permitted to determine their fates.

That visit, could’ve turned out very differently and has in many places around the country.

Twenty equine vets from all over America have examined the New York Carriage horses and said they are the best cared for horses they have seen; they are healthy, happy, and well protected.

Yet the animal rights movement insists they be sent off to distant sanctuaries that don’t exist because working for people is cruel.

Zip does the same thing they do; he doesn’t sleep in the farmhouse. He could have had the same fate as many horses who lost their jobs, which is important for me to remember. The people who claim to support animal rights wanted to take him away from us—abuse in reverse.

The longer I live with Zip, the angrier I get, and I don’t like or want to be angry. The truth is you can’t hate animals and love people. They go together.

I laughed when the police came and said someone from out of town called them to say I was abusing our cat by not letting him sleep in the house, but in a barn or on the porch.

I thought about it yesterday. It wasn’t funny, and I shouldn’t joke about it. If I hadn’t lived in the country where there is still some sanity about working animals (Zip is our barn cat, rat, and mouse remover service), they might have taken him away, which is a sad thing for him and us.

A California woman who used to give pony rides to children was driven from her work offering rides because one member of a human rights group decided it was cruel.

The police who investigated said the ponies were healthy and well-treated. She was asked to leave the town grounds. She couldn’t take care of the ponies any longer, and they were sold. They are all dead now.

This work with children was her life; she lost it all and her livelihood.

That isn’t funny either.

It reminds me that many of the people who call themselves warriors for animal rights are killing off most domestic working animals and persecuting the people who most often love, work with, and need them.

Those people do not have the resources and soapbox I have; they have no way to fight back. Zip reminds me of what many of them have lost and are losing every day.

We need a new way to think about animals, especially those who have worked with human beings for thousands of years and helped us with farming and building protection and companionship.

Animals just like Zip and working horses. We were invaded by rats and mice, rodents that often spread diseases that kill and sicken animals and people.

We have to keep them working with people who care for them, as we care for Zip, so they can keep a place alongside humans in this greedy and disconnected world.

There is no greater right for animals than the right to survive in our world rather than to be sent off to waste and die in some field or be sent to Mexico and have nails drilled into their heads, or euthanized as happens to so many working horses, as well as ponies, elephants and working dogs that animal rights groups have decided should never be allowed to work with people, so are sent off to die or be killed.

I need to keep pointing this tragedy out to people while there are still animals to live with and work with. At this rate, that will be a short time.

Among other things, Zip will also stand out in my mind as a symbol of why we need working animals and should fight for their right to live their natural lives.

My wish for them is to continue to help people, love them, and live with them.

I can forgive the ignorant and broken woman who called the police to get them to take Zip away. She was not alone.

But I won’t forget her. Zip will remind me.

 

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