You’re Getting Sleepy, Your Eyes Are Getting Heavy

When you’re told someone you love has cancer, it hits like a hypnotist casting a scary spell over you, “You’re getting sleepy, your eyes are getting heavy.”  Before long you’re jumping through all sorts of hoops to deal with the cancer and it scares you.  In that first two weeks after Nance was diagnosed we were pretty down and struggling until one day we just said, “Enough” there’s no point getting all bent out of shape thinking about death.  It doesn’t help and it isn’t what’s going to happen!”

Then a few days go by, then a few weeks and Nancy feels better, looks like herself (except for hair)  feels strong, eyes are clear, her body is healthy, and we say she just has cancer and it’s going away.Nance had her third chemo infusion this past Thursday.  She was pretty wound up yesterday but started crashing in earnest last night.  We still went for a six mile walk this afternoon and now she is asleep on the couch.  I expect her to be down like this for today and tomorrow and then should start coming back to normal.  In tends to two weeks they will do a scan of things and decide how to proceed with surgery.  She’s a tough little bugger and all indications are that she is doing great, in fact, so much so that the biggest concern, which was a mass in the tissue around her heart, did not even show up on the last CT scan.  Miracle?  Sure, why not, but how about Nancy is strong and healthy and either that mass was never there or decided to cut and run under the barrage of health Nance has thrown at it.  And by barrage I mean mushroom tinctures, chemo concoctions, vitamins, food, exercise, water, prayer, tao, meditation, chants, rituals, songs, and the powerful force of love and healing that has come her way through all of you.  

The hypnotist has started looking around for another sap to go under the spell.I cannot begin to thank you all for the support you’ve given to Nance.  It is what carries us forward.  

Thanks again for all the kindness.   Joey and Nancy

Wiggy Meet Nancy ?

One of the fine perks of getting a cancer diagnosis is the free wig store. There’s a lot of kindness even if the wigs aren’t exactly what you have in mind.
Who needs a wig with a head so fine?
Here she is with the wig you can’t get at the wig store!

A great week. It’s funny how you go through so many steps and realizations along this path. It hits like a ton of bricks but soon you realize it’s no different than anything else in life so you tighten your boot laces and start hiking. With each step you get stronger.

Each day we walk in the woods, breathe the air, see the mountains and take notice of the subtle change of the seasons. On some days a raven soars above, Flickers call out and dive down into the protection of the trees, or a hawk takes notice of two humans churning up the road from high above.

Head down or head up makes all the difference.


The Peace of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry

(This makes me think of Nance)

Nancy’s Totem Bird

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Three Quotes, One Hero, Two Fools, and A Test for Exceptionalism.

This piece first appeared in The Chronicle, 12/27/21

“Waist Deep in the big muddy, and the big fool says to push on.”  Pete Seeger

The Fool referred to in the above lyric was President Lyndon Baines Johnson, who, despite sober assessments (The Pentagon Papers) that the war in Vietnam was unwinnable, continued escalating a conflict that eventually cost 66,000 Americans (and close to a million Vietnamese) their deaths between 1964-1968.  Johnson’s leadership failure cost him his Presidency, which seems like a small price to pay weighed against the cost to those who lost a child, a spouse, a father or a mother in a senseless war.

Two of my favorite quotes about human beings come from the late great basketball coach John Wooden, whose UCLA teams dominated college basketball during the Sixties.  Wooden was always more than a coach, being equal parts coach, preacher and philosopher.

Wooden quote 1: “Be more concerned with your character than your reputation because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.

Wooden’s words augmented Seeger’s.  Two weeks before Christmas, we are “Waist deep again in the big {viral} muddy,” but this time the muddy isn’t the rice paddies or jungles in Southeast Asia, but a preventable disease ravaging every community in the world.  Like Johnson, against all rationale and scientific advice, our President has ignored any attempt to control the spread of the disease.  He doesn’t even mention that 3000 Americans are now dying each day from a pandemic he made worse by denying it was a problem and refusing to take measures to control its spread.  While the President tunes up his golf swing as the death toll in America alone is approaching an astounding 300,000 lives! 

This brings to mind a second Wooden quote, “Whatever you do in life, surround yourself with smart people who’ll argue with you.”

Whether you like the President or not is irrelevant, but my God, you have to listen to others who know more than you do. That the President politicized a disease appalls me, and that so many of his supporters did not grasp that they could like the President but not agree with him about the virus concerns me. 

The same goes for the Governor of California and the Mayor of San Francisco.  Those two hypocrites ignored their advisories and availed themselves of family gatherings and fine French meals.  Decades ago, I swore off membership in any political party when I realized neither had the monopoly on truth.  Has our leadership served us well?  Let the chips fall where they may. I think not.

It didn’t have to be this way.  In the early 1980s, as the first signs of the HIV epidemic began to surface during Ronald Reagan’s Presidency, C. Everett Koop,

a deeply conservative and Republican man, thought by his critics too conservative to protect the nation’s health, was the United States Surgeon General.  In stark contrast to his moral pre-disposition, Koop did battle with the socially conservative politics of the Reagan Administration by taking action to slow the spread of AIDS in the United States.  At the time, those who wrongly branded the affliction a “Gay Man’s Disease”

dangerously said that AIDS was God’s punishment for living sinful lives.  Koop, though likely not one to be comfortable with Gay Men’s lifestyles and under tremendous pressure not to take effective action, let medical science and intellectually honest guide his response to the disease that today is known as HIV.  Koop did not succumb to callous prejudice or political favor, and he saved tens, if not hundreds of thousands of lives by doing his job to protect the American People.   Take that, Mr. President, Governor Newsom, and Mayor Breed! 

 As for those who believe the Pandemic is a conspiratorial hoax, all I can say is, “Please take your place at the back of the vaccine line.”

As for our own, Governor Brown, I’ve heard more than a few shots directed at her, but I applaud the Governor’s steadfastness. It is not politically easy to shut down a state, and there is terrible hardship when you close schools, businesses and churches.  We want to blame the messenger, Governor Brown, but perhaps the better response should be “Thanks,” because we’ve been fortunate so far that Oregon’s Covid-19 infection rates have been lower than most other states.  More Oregonians will survive to tell the tale.  Amen.

Risk is part of life, and it isn’t for me to tell you how to live, but I believe it makes sense to keep your guard up.  And seriously, people, all we’re talking about is a mask, some hand sanitizer, and keeping away from larger groups.  It isn’t that much to ask.  I encourage all to stay vigilant and protect themselves and others.  Even with an effective vaccine, it will take a while to stop the virus, so unless you meet the standards identified below for “Exceptionalism,” I encourage all to keep the mask on, mingle less, and maintain all possible safeguards.   You may be young and healthy, but your grandmother isn’t. 

You Are Exceptional if you can:

Jump up in the air and not come down.

Walk on water.

Deposit your body waste with no smell.

CA 125

Concerning this brief update, CA 125 is not a state highway in California.

Super Nanky started the day jacked on steroids in preparation for seven hours at the JUICE BAR (The funny thing is that she doesn’t realize she is flying even as the wind swirls around her.) If she gets any more jacked up she might surpass Barry Bond’s MLB home run record!

Off we went and Nance dug in for seven hours! While there, she made new friends and they gave her a graph of her CA 125 levels, which I won’t bother explaining in detail but is a measure of whether “Chucky” is advancing or retreating. Chucky and friends are definitely showing their displeasure with THE JUICE, as not only did she “flatten the curve” but has a steeply pitched line indicating the bad juju us in retreat. This is good news.

We remain overwhelmed by the kindness and support of all of you whose gifts, thoughts, food, calls, emails and prayers keep Nancy on the path.

Thank you.

PS: I’ll be throwing a piece on the blog tomorrow that doesn’t have to do with Nancy. Feel free to skip it if you wish.

Nothing Compares To You

Nance had a great week. Lots of meditation walks in the woods and feeling like herself. Next week is the second round of Juice Bar (AKA, chemotherapy) so there are lots of appointments and dodging around all the Covid precautions. Thank you to all the kind friends who have shared thoughts, visits, walks, food and various other healing gifts and wishes. With no prompting, Nancy received seven various butterfly images and has adopted that as the transformation metaphor-Chucky is going to have to find another cocoon. (And, if you don’t know the CD in the picture by Sinead O’Connor, give it a listen.)

The World of Nancy

Hi. If you’re signing up to get updates about Nancy you are at the right place. We will post things when something significant happens like Nancy hopped on a plane for Zanzibar or is selling prunes at the infusion center. Feel free to add your encouraging words.

The World’s Second Oldest Profession

The World’s Second Oldest Profession


Gossip may not be the “world’s oldest profession,” but it may be the second. I’m sure there was a source in the Garden of Eden who broke the story about Eve and the apple. I’m thinking it was the snake (#Eve). We, the public, “love us some dirt” but usually dirt about others. People have long been interested in the doings of their neighbors, but injecting one’s self into the public realm is a recent phenomenon.


Traditionally, those of us living a less public or celebrated existence were content to keep to ourselves. Privacy was valued and important, if not sacred. That has changed, and people today are more inclined to share the details of their private lives. Social media websites are the most visited websites in the world. I recently watched a Ted Talk by a speaker who argued that privacy is an outdated and useless concept. What we know about other people’s lives and the penetration into the private details of someone’s, thoughts, speech, actions, and tastes has never been so vast.


For people in high profile occupations like entertainment, politics, sports, and certain businesses, the rules have always been different. Public figures have long been the subject of fascination to the public, and the price of celebrity has been less privacy. For the media who cover public figures, what to share and what not to share is not so simple, because even if one media outlet sets a high standard for what they will or won’t use (All The News That’s Fit To Print) there is always another one with a lower bar (Inquiring Minds Want To Know). When, by chance, the mainstream media passes on something you can be certain social media will not, but it is safe to say that for most media, ignoring what the public clamors for is suicide.


A long understood part of this reality is that businesses and public figures manipulate how the public perceives them. Strategically releasing information about one’s self is called Publicity, and armies of careers are built to do it.  It is understandable that public figures fade into obscurity if they don’t manage their brands across traditional and social media platforms, but why do people who were once anonymous feel the urge to share intimate details of their lives? How have we gone from being individual creatures, to herd members, to citizens of societies, to consumers, and now to being brands? The compulsion to place oneself in the public eye has expanded into the lives of almost everyone. Managing one’s brand seems to be just another way of saying, Look at Me!


I value solitude and the quiet of my own thoughts. (#Curmudgeon) I enjoy walking places in the world by myself, and being disconnected from the herd. In a world of Google Earth and expanding surveillance in every dimension of life, I value being invisible and anonymous. I don’t know feel the urge to share whom I love, how I worship, what I eat, where I travel, and what I support with everyone. But, to be clear, privacy and secrecy are not the same. If you damage or manipulate others while concealing your misdeeds behind a veil of privacy, that is secrecy and I think the role of responsible media is to protect others from the abuses of power and privilege.




Ten years ago I opened a Facebook account to market a novel I wrote. I regretted it immediately, especially when I discovered how much other people used Facebook to expose things about themselves that didn’t interest me. Within a year, I had enough and shut it down. I thought I had killed it off only to find out that it was actually sitting dormant for years. Discovering that, I killed it off forever, (#Delusion) with a great sense of satisfaction, but it was no simple task requiring garlic, mirrors, sunshine, wolf bane and a crucifix, (“Die Dracula, die!”)


I have no interest in the private lives of others, but am realistic enough to understand that my opinion is irrelevant. I know I’m the Luddite stubbornly refusing to use the new fangled automobile in the early 1900’s, or the telephone in the 1930’s. I understand the modern world cares not one iota about what I do, and I understand there are many uses of social media that bind people together in joyful ways. I think it’s great when Facebook ties together families and keeps people connected, but it doesn’t change my sense that we’ve evolved into chattering narcissists validating our lives by broadcasting unnecessary and private details.


It saddens me that fewer people experience the sanctuary of anonymity.


Years ago (#Rantingoldman) I read that privacy is the respectful act of ignoring the details of another person’s life that do not pertain to you. That is a mouth full for sure, but the point is, we can choose what we respond to and we can cultivate respect for other’s privacy. That I know something about you does not make it mine to share. I think we are diminished when we believe the private details of other’s lives belong to us. I think it cheapens us, and shifts our focus from the common good to the common bad.


(#Genieoutofthebottle) I think privacy is both a human right and need disappearing through careless acts of self-revelation and commercial exploitation. Further, in a the world information tracking by companies like Facebook, Instagram, Google, and Amazon, where your absence reveals you as much as your presence, there simply is no place to hide anymore in a garden laden with apples and filled with snakes.



If you need to reach me, I cannot be reached at #joeyrantings.

Zucchini Races and The United States Constitution

We Hold These Truths to be Self Evident

The inspiration for this piece came while checking out at the Creswell Bi-Mart last week.   There was an older man without a facemask on, bellowing his displeasure at Governor Brown’s requiring citizens to wear facemasks in hard-hit Oregon counties. He said the “The whole thing is BS and unconstitutional: to anyone who cared to listen.   My first impulse was wanting to retrieve the copy of the Constitution and Declaration of Independence I carry in my car. The second, gentler impulse not to react, prevailed, and I thought that this poor man was struggling with the Coronavirus pandemic the same as all of us.

This piece is my third impulse.

Zucchini Races and The United States Constitution

Three summers ago, I sat in my friend, Scott’s booth at the San Juan County Fair in Friday Harbor, Washington. The fair is full of produce displays, horse shows, animal judging, cotton candy, chicken races, and the biggest draw of all, at five o’clock every night, The Zucchini 500, a side by side downhill drag race by “driverless cars” made from, what else: Zucchinis. And, though kids dominate the entrants, many adults enter cars and take the competition very seriously, with a few engineers perfecting innovative designs throughout the year to become the Zucchini 500 Champion.

There are two classes of cars: stock; cars whose main body is a full zucchini, and custom; cars that have some form of zucchini worked into the construction. Being fast is one goal, with friction-reducing wheels and aerodynamic designs dominating. But fun is also good, especially with MC Scott presiding like Don Rickles at a comedy roast. I entered a car one year that ran down the ramp for about six feet and then stopped; flat out stopped. Instantly, Scott branded that The Blum Line, and for the next few days, the main goal for all racers was to surpass The Blum Line.


Each day, Scott and Lynnette “Zucchini Queen” staff the “Zucchini 500” booth, checking in entries for the evening’s race. Scott Bell, commercial painter, musician, and elder statesman of all things San Juan Island. He isn’t the mayor of Friday Harbor and doesn’t hold political office, but he is a central figure in the island community. He might as well be the King for all the people he knows and the history of San Juan Island that he possesses.


Scott and I met while waiting for the ferry forty years ago when he played in the legendary rock and roll band, The Ducks, whose motto was, “Making The Easy Impossible.”   We struck up a conversation about the guitars we were carrying and have been friends ever since. When she met me for the first time, one of his bandmates said, “I heard Scott likes you, and Scott doesn’t like anyone.” Forty years later, whenever we get together, the conversation goes in a lot of directions. Scott can talk; Lord have mercy, Scott can talk about anything and everything. His persona is a bit of a tough guy. Still, in truth, he is loving and sympathetic, especially with young people, so all day, race entrants and other friends stop by the booth to say hi, share some stories, and register their car for the evening race.


And so it was, we stat talking when a kind of shy man in his late twenties stopped into the booth holding handful of campaign leaflets and handed one to each of us. We each took the leaflets politely, and a quick read of the bullet points warned us that Christianity and gun ownership were under attack! I asked the young candidate for County Commissioner if he might tell me specific examples of where Christianity was under attack. The aspiring politician begged off and said, “Hey, I’m just here for the fair. I don’t want to talk about politics.” I said, “Apparently, that’s not accurate because you handed me your campaign leaflet?” I continued, might you tell me exactly where Christianity is under attack?” but once again, the young did not want to “get bogged down in specifics.” So, I said, “Okay, let’s move on from that,” said I, “What about gun ownership? I know there is a lot of talk about gun rights, but, to the best of my knowledge, not a single gun has been taken away from anybody; pretty much, ever, so might you give examples of where gun rights have been taken away?” Again, the candidate for County Commissioner said he just wanted to enjoy the fair.”


At this point, I noticed Scott was uncharacteristically silent as I pressed asked the hopeful candidate, “Have you read the United States Constitution and the Declaration of Independence?” To this, he timidly replied, “Well, parts of it” and me, being the teacherly type, said, “Well, it’s your lucky day because I have a copy of both the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence in my car, (It’s true, and yes, I know that makes me weird). I’d be happy to go get them, and we can have a look together.” This was too much for the future head of state, and he begged off one last time, saying he was just out for a little fun.

And I said, “Yes, me too, then said what I have many times to other friends and family when they bemoan something is unconstitutional or that some member of government should do this or that, “Look, I don’t know exactly why you’re running for office. I don’t know if you believe in Communism or Capitalism, but I do know this, “If you want to represent the people of this county, state, or nation in any capacity, you should read and understand the rules by which we are governed. You need to know the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and every amendment to it, because holding office is a responsibility and a privilege. I think you shouldn’t have that privilege until you’ve at least read the foundational documents that form our laws and customs.” The poor kid was flustered, but he did agree to read the documents, and we amicably shook hands before he left the booth.


When he left, Scott finally broke his silence. “You know, you were right to challenge him that way, and you were fair, but if you knew that poor kid, you would have let it go. It turns out that the kid has had a rough go of it in life, and his chances of actually getting elected were pretty slim (He did not win). And I felt like had I known more about him I might have been more gentle, but I stand by what I said: The Declaration of Independence and The Constitution are the bedrock upon which the United States was formed and exists today. Both documents are remarkable for their philosophical and pragmatic depth, and they should be read and understood by every citizen. New citizens to the US have to pass a test on it before they get their citizenship, but unfortunately, those of us born here get citizenship without having to show their knowledge of the documents. In theory, we all take a government class in high school, but most of us don’t remember much from that.


And for anyone who wants copies of either or both documents, I’ll be happy to provide you them, and we could even meet for coffee and discuss them, but one caveat, “No cherry-picking!” You can’t just pick the parts you like and throw out the rest. And if you do that and decide to run for office, I’ll be happy to write some speeches for you, but honestly, if you read the two documents, you won’t need me. In my spare time, I can get back to designing a custom zucchini car that will spare me from the comedic tongue of the awesome Scott Bell if I can finally surpass The Blum Line.



A Cup of Joe for Joey

Five months into the dramatic shift in daily life and one of the things that help me is an occasional cup of coffee. I’m sure you understand: life is often about simple pleasures.

I’ve previously confessed in this space to binge-watching too many television shows since things went all “Corona.” But, I did not confess another fact about my world of addiction. Coffee. Some, who know me, understand that I love coffee but it doesn’t always love me back. At various times, more than a few local coffee shops were under direction not to serve me coffee. It’s usually done politely by the barista asking, “Is that okay? Or, are you sure? Or, don’t you mean decaf; are you allowed to have regular coffee?” Lest you think I become a raving sociopath while “under the influence” let me explain.

For the entirety of my life, I have seldom had more than one cup of coffee in a day, and, I have seldom drunk coffee every day as many do. Normally, I have one cup every few days, early in the morning, and then I get A LOT done for the rest of the day. I can bang out the crossword puzzle or nail Jeopardy questions as if a superhero! I talk a lot, but that’s not so unusual, and if no one is around I don’t talk but work hard and focused at one thing after another. This is good for a writer, a builder, and a gardener. So far so good, until sixteen hours later, I cannot sleep, my muscles get tight and painful, and the jitters set in. One Cup, sixteen hours later!

coffeeA Cup of Joe

If I drink coffee on consecutive days, by the third day the boom book starts going away, less gets done, and all that chatty, creative energy transforms into a Zombie land depression. My energy flags, my speech slurs, my body hurts to the point that walking stairs is difficult and my neck gets so tight I want to snap it off. I begin to organize my world in a bout of OCD, and honestly, I just get weird.   And yet, all day, all I think about is getting that next cup the following morning. Though my addictions are legal, relatively safe, cheap, and benign, they are still addictions.

From Wikipedia.

Caffeine can have both positive and negative health effects. Some people experience sleep disruption or anxiety if they consume caffeine, but others show little disturbance. Caffeine can produce a mild form of drug dependence associated with withdrawal symptoms such as sleepiness, headache, and irritability when an individual stops using caffeine after repeated daily intake.

Crater LakeCrater Lake

I recall well the two best cups of coffee in my life.  In August of 1974, driving with friends from San Francisco to my home in Tumwater, Washington, we detoured to Crater Lake.  We arrived at the rim at midnight with a few blankets and no camping gear or warm clothing. The temperature was 31degrees, so we retreated down to a campsite and went to sleep. At four o’clock in the morning, it started raining, so we piled back into the 1974 Pontiac Catalina and set off.  It would be fifteen years before I saw Crater Lake in the daytime. We headed downhill with the heater cranked on high. An hour later we stopped for breakfast at a café, and when they poured the coffee into the restaurant ceramic cups, it was heavenly:  to that point in my life, the best coffee ever.  It was probably Boyd’s or Folgers but I didn’t care: “any port in a storm.”

CafeA Port in a Storm

The next great cup of coffee would come under different circumstances, but oddly similar. Nancy and I were in Europe in 1988 for the first time and traveling by train from Barcelona to Rome. Sharing our cabin was a young Argentinean whom we befriended and spent much of the overnight trip talking with instead of sleeping. Arriving in Rome, early the next morning, the Argentinian, a well-versed traveler, said, “Let’s get a coffee,” and we stepped into the bustling coffee line where a veritable phalanx of baristas stood cranking out shots of espresso. The Argentinian said, “Be sure to order two so you don’t have to wait in line again.” This we did and enjoyed the coffee agreeing that it was the best EVER!

RomeRome Termini Train Station Cafe

If you think this piece is simply the rationalizing of a drug addict (it is), let me say that coffee is not simply a drug experience, but more an aesthetic ritual I enjoy sharing with others. The other day, one of the Oregon Department of Forestry fire patrol crews stopped by to say hi, and with respect and appreciation for how hard they work and the service they perform, I made them a cup of coffee. They had heard about my coffee ritual and before preparing it, I explained my process in a step-by-step fashion. A few minutes later, they joyfully received the brew.

In pandemics as in life, it is the little things that sustain us. Amen.

Uncle Joey’s Obsessive Compulsive Perfect Cup of Coffee

  • Prepare a Clean work area
  • Layout your required teaspoons, cream, sugar, coffee, cups, pitchers, and whatever device you use.
  • Use good coffee (this is dependent on individual taste)
  • Make certain that nothing hot: water, cream, coffee ever meets a cold surface. Pre heat everything
  • Make the coffee strong. One tablespoon per six ounces is a joke; double it!
  • Never allow the coffee to cool, and only add hot milk or cream which has been heated to “The Natas” point, which for those who don’t speak Spanish, is when heated milk forms a very thin layer of skin on the surface seconds prior to boiling.
  • Blend the milk, cream, half and half together with the hot coffee and if you’re like me, add sugar. In my novel, Bedtime Stories, Philosopher Mechanic, Fish, says to the protagonist, Jake, “Black coffee is just a drug, but if you add cream and sugar, it is three drugs!”
  • And last, perhaps the most important step of all in the ritual: serve the coffee in a perfect cup to yourself or your guest who is “ready to receive it.” Receive means, calm, and ready to taste and appreciate the coffee instead of just banging it down.
  • Savor the first sip and each additional sip