Spreading images of Palestine & Israel to the West Coast of the United States—A Travel Journal—8

The method of conferring the precepts is what Tendai called “imposed poison,” which is the active conferring of precepts to unwilling recipients. It benefits recipients by provoking anger in their hearts and minds, eliciting from them verbal abuse as well as aggression with swords, knives, and sticks. This act sows the seed of Buddhahood, which is one of the three benefits of conferring karmic relations: they include sowing the seed of Buddhahood, germination and reaping the fruits of Buddhahood.

…The validity of everything we do can be judged by the trials we face. We are to know that the adversity we encounter substantiates our practice of the Lotus Sutra. Schools and denominations that simply engage in easy and comfortable practices are bound to decline.

—Nichadatsu Fuji (founder of the Buddhist order, Nipponzan Myohoji)

From my journal while on the road, 6 weeks in October and November 2008, Alaska to California and back to Portland Oregon, then home to Cambridge Massachusetts—with 3 new slide shows about Palestine/Israel, “My Trip to Gaza,”, “Bethlehem the Holy,” and “The Hydropolitics of Israel-Palestine.” In early December and again in February 2009 I’ll be touring with these and other shows in the southeast section of the US. You can find more information here.

Juneau Alaska, part 8 (dreams and dream land):

Photos

On a cold, windy, rainy night, back to full bore dreaming, for now:

I was involved in filming an epic like Lord of the Rings. There I was, perched up high on a wall, indoors, as men set up a shot. The shot was intricate, involved swinging. Would I fall from my perch?

Possibly weaving into this, I was walking thru a strange town with someone from out of town, maybe connected with the filmmaking. We attempted crossing an intersection, found that we’d done it several times, once crossing against the light. We wandered into a mid east café, he left before I’d finished. The toilet ran and nearly overflowed.

Queuing for something, I stood behind a cluster of young Black men. Thinking I’d make a joke to show how aware I was of racism I said words to the effect of, No way we white guys can go to the head of the line anymore. One guy recoiled, grabbed me by the shirt collar, stared into my face, and quizzed me. What exactly did you mean by that?

I tried to explain that I was trying to make a joke, it had failed, I admitted that. And then somehow, stupidly, I tried again, failing again. Louise or someone like her later chided me for my denseness.

I was hosting a group of late teens, who’d joined a group I was with for some sort of workshop. We had a problem arranging the chairs in a circle. The new boys were undisciplined, bored by our topic, and brought out food to eat before lunchtime. I strongly requested they put away the food and wait. All was chaos, as often happens in my teaching drs.

Was I continually dreaming last night, only able to remember these few relatively dull dreams? Was I inspired by watching Lord of the Rings, Two Towers, along with the how the film was made film? Does this relate to, or will it eventually influence any of my photo productions?

Linda continues her convalescence with us. She has dietary needs, such as organic food, warmth needs, she asked me this morning to turn up her space heater, social needs, her stories, which are rich and poignant. She told me more about Tenakee Springs, that the school I’d shown my Bethlehem show at might close at end of this year, having only 9 while needing 10 students. 2 or 3 of the kids are imported, not really living there. The kids often come to love island life, reveling in the distinctiveness of their home. During the canning period the island hosted upwards of 1000 people, now it’s about 40 off-season, 50 on.

She went there initially to write, renting a cabin. Her love of place grew, she bought an old, apparently rotten cabin, fixed it, and recently built her new one further out on the pier. She’s done little writing, hopes to get back to this, thinks I might stimulate her by the way I assiduously write.

I jokingly suggested, in line with Elaine’s suggestion that I depart temporarily from my Palestine/Israel path and find another topic, that I tackle Tenakee, maybe live there one full year.

AP showed yesterday the AFSC slide show, Hidden Costs of War. A very good show, to about 15 folks at Northern Light church, same space I’d used, same equipment. The equipment she’d borrowed from D wouldn’t work properly. She asked me for help. I couldn’t do much over the phone, volunteered at her urging to provide the equipment. Riding home after the show, Elaine commented about the irony that AP asked me for help, I acceded, after she’d tried to block the Gaza showing.

Said I, without hesitation, I’m not a vindictive person.

Perhaps that’s true. Tho I certainly often harbor the desire to pay back 1000 fold any hurts I’ve suffered. Such as the recent one thru Juneau Friends.

Elaine and I also agreed that we’re heavily influenced by our mother Pearl; neither of us could recall occasions when she retaliated (unless it was to punish me for my many infractions of decorum), spoke badly of anyone, had not fully loved without qualification the two of us. True agape.

She continues to glow on my horizon, as if a perpetual full moon just lifting up into a lightening sky. Dear mother Pearl, how I love you. I pray you sense that and can witness the lives of your two children.

After the show, Larry handed me $40, a donation for my work. I offered him photos. He’d like the one of what he calls the suffering Madonna; I think that’s the photo of the woman in Gaza with down turned head. And one other of my choosing. Generous fellow, very tuned to Israel-Palestine.

Louise told me in our Sunday phone conversation that Jim Harney decided to end the walk in Providence RI, and remain home to write about global economy and the current financial crisis. His pain and weakness preclude further walking. Now he can slowly expire in the loving arms of Nancy.

My fortune, found in a cookie from Zen restaurant:

You will be traveling to distant lands for business purposes.

A few further musings about Two Towers: for me the most fascinating aspect of the film was the filming, not the film, not the resonances of the film, not its teachings, evocations, inspirations. An ultimate failure? Hardly, since it was such a technical and social achievement. Watching the how it was made film I realized the experience of filming, for the principals, was extraordinary. And this registers in the film. But as an artwork, it needs much more: that enduring glow, that puncturing of the soul that great artists achieve. Absent here.

Once again, back to tour planning, yesterday making calls and emails to prod organizers. Phil in Seattle scolded me for being so late in initiating contact—I can only point to my sister. Others as of this moment have not responded, including Allan in the Bay area. Louise has been terrific, Emily and Dan also. If only I had a few more like that spotted thru the west coast, all the way up to the Yukon.

I manage. Today I hope to return to the shows, revising in accord with the experiences showing them recently.

—October 15, 2008, Wednesday, Juneau

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Spreading images of Palestine & Israel to the West Coast of the United States—A Travel Journal—7

Gandhi’s and King’s successors in the twenty-first century have carried out further experiments in the power of nonviolent truth to achieve justice and peace in every corner of the world—including, in the last two months, Gaza.  The Free Gaza Movement has succeeded in breaking the siege of Gaza by nonviolent direct action.

—Father Miguel d’Escoto Brockmann

Tenakee Springs, Alaska

From my journal while on the road, 6 weeks in October and November 2008, Alaska to California and back to Portland Oregon, then home to Cambridge Massachusetts—with 3 new slide shows about Palestine/Israel, “My Trip to Gaza,”, “Bethlehem the Holy,” and “The Hydropolitics of Israel-Palestine.” In early December and again in February 2009 I’ll be touring with these and other shows in the southeast section of the US. You can find more information here.

Photos

Juneau Alaska, part 7 (Within the family):

First a dream: a ship had caught on fire, I was part of the emergency crew but did little myself, I watched as men battered open a door of part of the ship which was burning, out flew about 10 very red screaming men, nude, who’d been trapped for hrs in the heat. They were saved.

Last night was very cold in the house, mild outside, maybe because Bob had turned down the heat. He’d complained about the high cost of heating oil.

This may be the last night I’m alone on the first floor. Linda is due today or tomorrow. After a discussion between Bob and Elaine I think they’ve decided to house her in the mid room, Eve’s old room, for 10 days or so as she recuperates. A new era will soon unfold in the Schroeder household.

Yesterday morning in Tenakee Springs  I again availed myself of the gift of the bath in the hot spring. As I entered the changing room I noticed a mid age nude man lounging, apparently happily after the bath. I was alone in the water for about 15 minutes when in strolled a younger man, well built, who did not acknowledge me. He concentrated on washing himself, first dousing himself with buckets of healing, cleansing waters, soaping up, first his skin, then his hair, uttering sounds of pleasure, oohs and ahs, and finally dipping briefly into the bath, submerging himself totally while holding his nose. When I saw a break in his total devotion to the ablution, I said, “Good morning.” Without looking at me he replied, “Good morning.” Nothing more.

After throwing more buckets of water on the stairs, chairs, floor, he departed.

The walk with Elaine and the ferry ride, until it darkened (4 to about 8 pm) provided more opportunities for photos—the back of a house filled with junk, thru the outhouse hole onto the beach, the outhouse itself, a “public toilet,” more sky and sun thru clouds, and a single interior shot of the ferry. Nothing of the people riding it, wanting this but not finding a way.

As the ferry docked in Tenakee, extremely slowly, the pilot hanging over a flying bridge to clearly see the relation between looming ferry and relatively fragile dock, I watched in awe: this great weight and bulk, gliding in on water, without brakes. How do the propellers function? Can they be turned to drive the ferry sideways? I’d like to know this.

For most of the ride home I reworked Gaza, finding new images in my stash, adding and deleting notes (one of the most useful features of Keynote, the slide show software I’m using), making the font of the notes consistent, re-arranging some of the slides, and changing a few transitions. I’ve only shown this publicly once, in June to Friends Meeting at Cambridge. How will it go?

I must confess to some envy when I read about films that have created buzz. Constantine’s Sword for one, which plays this weekend at the Nickelodeon in Juneau. We’ll miss it, I’ve heard much about it when in Boston, I intend to see it on DVD thru the library. It deals with anti Semitism among Christians, and James Carroll’s personal odyssey thru Christianity. Will such a buzz ever accompany anything I make and show?

It is the long weekend of autumn, marking the beginning of winter. Some call it Columbus Day weekend, others Indigenous People’s Day. I might refer to this tonight in my intro and in the talk to Quakers.

—October 12, 2008, Sunday, Juneau

A partly cloudy sky this Juneau morning, with clouds lazily drifting past my front window. The cloud shrouds occasionally open to reveal mountaintops with fresh snow. A still mild morning, without dreams to report.

A bipolar experience yesterday: the Juneau Friends Meeting a down and the Gaza show an up. First the Meeting: D had only offered the prospect of a brief informal talk after meeting about Quakers in Israel-Palestine, no photos. No big show. I was prepared, planning it that morning, thinking about it during meeting, fully expecting after the obligatory schmoozing following meeting, someone would say, “Now let’s sit down and hear from Skip about Quakers in Israel-Palestine.”

Didn’t happen. At rise we stood near each other in the sanctuary, L giving a long report about her upcoming trip to Seattle with an elderly friend so that friend could attend a cat show.

We finally got to the reception room and coffee. Then P updated us with news of her young man who’d she’d sort of foster cared many years ago, how he’s been thrown from one agency to another. And did she know of an on line group that might discuss this situation?

And then it was time for me to move over to the Northern Light church for the Gaza show. No discussion with Jun friends. My feeling: revulsion. A vow, for now, to never attend another Juneau meeting unless there are significant changes in personnel and policy.

Elaine reads this as inspired by some Quakers’ distress over any discussion of Israel-Palestine. D couldn’t say, “No Skip, we don’t want to hear about our brothers and sisters in Israel-Palestine, tho they are of our family.” He could say, “Sure,” and then act in opposition. Not exactly living  the Quaker testimony of honesty. I might talk with others in meeting informally, ask their view.

Once again, in my view, the inward trumps the outward; cats and kids rub out Palestine.

Should I write a letter like this to the meeting? I doubt it, maybe to myself, maybe to a few cohorts like Nancy R and Anne. I’d like also to outline the presentation I was planning to make, should another opportunity arise—a meeting which would like to grapple with problems outside its narrow purview.

The Gaza show went splendidly well. Good turnout, some 25; responsive group, most staying thru the 1 hour-20 minute show; generous, raising $140 in donations and sales, about covers my train trip between Oakland and Seattle; decent conversation after. I’ll list some of the questions later; technology worked well; I used all the sections, not jumping, maybe the hospital section needs shortening; reading the D’Escoto quote about nonviolence at the beginning, before the show, also worked; dedication good, but might add a few more details to who Rachel Corrie is in her first appearance in the show; Mona’s titles can’t be seen in the back, Elaine reading them helped, Bob reading Belal and Elaine reading me in our interchange seemed powerful; music is excellent but needs lengthening, it ran out about 2/3 the way; and most importantly I think some of the experiences of Gazans came thru.

I am fulfilling my obligation, trying to fulfill my obligation. I hope my friends stuck in Gaza would be pleased. Don remembered my Hydro show from 2 years ago, how worried I was about the sewage lagoons overflowing. He connected this year’s section about the burst lagoon in Beit Lahiya with that earlier worry and complimented me on follow up.

Elaine introduced me superbly, giving important context for my presentation, namely, the other major social justice photo projects I’ve completed, Wounded Knee, Auschwitz to Hiroshima, Middle Passage, and now—doesn’t it follow?—Palestine/Israel. This is strategic, helps to defuse arguments about me singling out Israel.

Questions raised at the show: history of isolation, rocket attack frequency, why Arab countries don’t give more support, where Gazans are from, secular vs. fundamentalist proportion, how does money enter the Strip, what is happening to unemployed Fatah governmental workers, what commerce, is the show available on DVD (someone asked me this before I’d even finished setting up),

Here’s some of what I was planning for Juneau Friends about Quakers in Israel-Palestine:

Either the frame of testimonies and how they manifest in Israel-Palestine

Or

The introduction of 3 stories, Jean Zaru, Yussef Bashir, and Ibrahem Shatali.

Then not necessarily in this order: context, school, American Friends Service Committee youth program in West Bank and Gaza, AFSC in Israel, history, Friends International Center in Ramallah  and Cathy Bergen, and the Ramallah Friends School.

I’d use some prints (I don’t have many from the school, or do I, at home?) and possibly my website (which also doesn’t have a section on the school). I do have several slide shows.

All this is for the future, since my only opportunity so far was effectively denied.

—October 13, 2008, Monday, Juneau

Dreaming and recalling dreams but on half throttle, not full bore as when I first landed in Juneau. These then: with a group of kids and adults I was making masks. One girl had used a pole to mount a scary-funny mask. I thought this a good idea. I might make a companion pole and mask, carry it in some sort of parade. I couldn’t locate the girl who’d made this.

Secondly, I was telling someone like my mother about missing the last day of classes, all the tests I’d have to make up. The most challenging was math, I hadn’t studied at all for it, yet felt confident I could cram and produce a good grade. This was high school. This person, my mother, not looking like Pearl at all but playing her role, told me that the gym teacher had told her how much athletic prowess I had.

These are just more of the same mundane bland simple dreams, or so they appear. I long for something more profound—to wake me up.

Linda moved in, for 10-14 days, recovering from her car accident, her broken right leg. She laughs well, knows exactly what she needs for her health (organic, low fat, Lindor truffles, etc), talks articulately about her accident, her fears, is constantly on the phone and computer with family and friends, fits right in here, and deftly shifts attention to herself, partly by necessity and design, partly by the fact of her recent experience. Bob and Elaine are generous. I slip in around the edges, doing what I can, like getting the Tylenol.

She told us stories of her schooling, learning square dancing at the behest of one of her grade school teachers, wining competitions, and of her brother, a star trumpet player who broke his hand shortly before a big concert, played magnificently anyway. All this was in the context of meeting old school mates.

Earlier Elaine and I had attended a political fundraiser in a nearby home, for Ethan Berkowitz, running for the US house. If he wins it will shift the traditional Republican dominance of the state slightly or largely to the Democratic Party. We arrived at the end of his talk, he was declaring that Obama probably will lose Alaska but only lose by some 10%, rather than the usual 20-30%. In a conversation with him later he opined that the Democrats are doing so much better in Alaska because of Obama, and not so much from a reaction against Palin, altho there is much anti Palin sentiment, especially among traditional Republicans.

Elaine introduced me to Art Peterson who graduated from Caldwell, our elementary school on Chicago’s South Side, 2 years before me. He claimed to know who I was, knew me as Butch, (a name that disappeared, as I recall, at the age of about 2. Elaine doesn’t ever remember anyone ever calling me this.). He didn’t say in what context he knew me or what he thought of me then. He remembers me as being more bulky than I am now.

We, with Elaine, thought this confluence remarkable. His family remained thru 1970, living across Stony Island Ave on Blackstone St, whereas ours fled black immigration in 1955. He’d gone to Hersh high school, I to Bowen, I didn’t inquire why Hersh. Like me he’d experienced excitement returning to his old home, now lived in by black people.

We discussed Israel-Palestine, after he’d asked me what I did—he’s a retired lawyer, lives long periods in the UK, has a girl friend there, invited me to visit— and he expressed great interest in visiting Israel-Palestine. I gave him some leads, and will send more later by email.

Joining us on this topic was Eric, a lawyer, and Margot, another lawyer. She is incensed by the Palestine/Israel conflict; Eric, who had a Jewish sounding last name, was relatively quiet. When I met Mr. Berkowitz I avoided the temptation to raise the issue with him, altho it might have been an ideal opportunity to do so, to ask a federal candidate, who probably is Jewish, not only what he thinks about Israel-Palestine but how this will play in his campaign. Off the record, so to speak. I hope to track his campaign, and his record if elected.

I’m watching part 2 of The Lord of the Rings, the Two Towers, at the behest of Katy. I find it strewn with corpses, thus violence, pinning its narrative on violence, strife, suffering, battle. Because of this I find it repulsive. However, I don’t have to force myself to watch it since it uses cinematic techniques so cleverly. A smartly made film expressing a stupid and obsolete worldview? One character in particular stands out, the synthesized Gollum, a skulking, nearly naked, skinny, at times slimy, at other times lovable creature who appears to help the 2 lost Hobbits. One of whom carries the magic ring with untold—and unknown to me—powers. Had I read The Lord of the Rings, been up on it as many, knew the stories, I might appreciate the movie more.

The film, in my view, also suffers from overstatement, hyperbole, near histrionics, not so much the acting as the filming. Instance: music, signaling the audience what to feel, worry, fear, elation. A manipulative approach, characteristic of this genre. The love scenes: great close-ups of longing lovers. And the scale, huger than huge, gargantuan, everything: the castles, landscapes, soldiers, weapons, walking trees, the entire kit swollen with excess.

I failed to see the resonances with larger issues, the universal. Two towers = twin towers? Desire and loss? Conflict? Fear? The brush was so broad, the colors used so gaudy, that I was bewildered by the craft, lost the meaning.

I realize I’m in a minority of critics. Checking the Rotten Tomatoes site I find the critics give it a 96% favorable rating.

I’ve commiserated with AR about my Juneau Friends story, she dutifully and wisely responded nearly instantaneously with these remarks:

Much as you are focusing on your work as a photographer.  It’s who you are, as you’ve noted.  So you are giving what you can give to people who will receive. And doing your thing as context and anchor.

On my mind:  Jean Zaru at Sabeel/Michigan used the phrase “Structures of Domination.”  Laying it out more openly than before.  Ilan Pappe talked about how clearly and deliberately the takeover of the land and the driving out of the Palestinian Arabs was planned, planned, planned by the Zionist movers and shakers.  The project simply faltered because the troops ran out of steam, after the first 750,000 had been expelled.  Pappe used the word “crime” and “criminal.”

So this taxes my attempts to think of ways to talk about the situation that may reach new pro-human-rights movers and shakers without totally freaking out Jewish folks, like the Quaker lady you’re working with/around.

I’m rambling.  A sucker for requested personal reflections.  And, Skip, I totally empathize with your frustration and identify with your being in a different place.  My Boulder trip — leaving, being there, returning — makes me see so keenly how travel opens repeatedly the imperative for re-thinking, re-envisioning, as you say, “who you are.”  and “what to do” and “how to connect.”

…Thinking onward, from Jean and Ilan and into your Alaska dilemma, I still believe that the Jewish fear-reflex calls for acknowledging, for stating openly and early, that Jews have suffered fantastically much through history, laying it on even: Christian bloody hands o’er the centuries, scapegoating that naturally is still lurking in some people’s psyches.  The NY Times today has an article about the man who is nationally spreading the false word that Obama is a dangerous Muslim. The guy is an energized paranoiac who lodges endless lawsuits as a way of life and whose verbal hatred of Jews is colorful and shocking and also seemingly endless.  It brings to light again that that anti-semitic mindset, like the anti-black hatred of Obama, –finding “others” to hate and fear–is a dangerous, awful part of the bewildered, chronically frightened human condition.

SO seems to me that just has to be verbalized and lamented and fully acknowledged when one is addressing Jewish Friends.

And surely then there is a segue to the danger to Jews in Israel and even in the US of Israel reacting to that fierce history by seeking relentlessly to crush, to dominate another group of human beings.  People are not crushable.  It’s not working and it’s making enemies for Jews throughout the world and it needs to stop.

And then perhaps then one can show and tell the reality of the domination and misery and resistance.

She closed with a note about her “beloved mate of over 5 decades,” F, she learning to accept foibles. Hers was a long profound letter, I value our correspondence greatly, wish I had the equivalent with a few others, notably X, Y, and Z, and I shall try to reply in kind.

Elaine claimed Congress = the US house, I that Congress = House and Senate. I will send her this:

congress
noun
1 the national legislative body of a country.
• ( Congress) the national legislative body of the U.S., meeting at the Capitol in Washington, DC. It was established by the Constitution of 1787 and is composed of the Senate and the House of Representatives : changes in taxation required the approval of Congress.
• a particular session of the U.S. Congress : the 104th Congress.
2 a formal meeting or series of meetings for discussion between delegates, esp. those from a political party or trade union or from within a particular discipline : an international congress of mathematicians.
3 a society or organization, esp. a political one : the National Congress of American Indians.
4 the action of coming together : sexual congress.

ORIGIN late Middle English (denoting an encounter during battle): from Latin congressus, from congredi ‘meet,’ from con- ‘together’ + gradi ‘walk.’

—October 14, 2008, Tuesday, Juneau

Remarks to commemorate the Second International Day of Nonviolence By Father Miguel d’Escoto Brockmann, President of the UN General Assembly

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Spreading images of Palestine & Israel to the West Coast of the United States—A Travel Journal—6

I’m here for other children.
I’m here because I care.
I’m here because children everywhere are suffering and because forty thousand people die each day from hunger.
I’m here because those people are mostly children.
We have got to understand that the poor are all around us and we are ignoring them.
We have got to understand that these deaths are preventable.
We have got to understand that people in third world countries think and care and smile and cry just like us.
We have got to understand that they dream our dreams and we dream theirs.
We have got to understand that they are us. We are them.
My dream is to stop hunger by the year 2000.
My dream is to give the poor a chance.
My dream is to save the 40,000 people who die each day.
My dream can and will come true if we all look into the future and see the light that shines there.
If we ignore hunger, that light will go out.
If we all help and work together, it will grow and burn free with the potential of tomorrow.

—Rachel Corrie, aged 10, 1990, 5th grade press conference on world hunger

From my journal while on the road, 6 weeks in October and November 2008, Alaska to California and back to Portland Oregon, then home to Cambridge Massachusetts—with 3 new slide shows about Palestine/Israel, “My Trip to Gaza,”, “Bethlehem the Holy,” and “The Hydropolitics of Israel-Palestine.” In early December and again in February 2009 I’ll be touring with these and other shows in the southeast section of the US. You can find more information here.

Photos

Juneau Alaska, part 6 (Tenakee Springs):

These dreams, one very telling about women relations: I was traveling with a dear woman friend, a stand-in for M or F, not looking like either but my feelings the same, and one or two other men. We had stopped for the night in some sort of dull motel. One man and my female cohort were clearly cavorting, they’d agreed to bed down together. I was jealous, found another spot to sleep. While doing this I noticed my hair was ragged, I’d thought to bring along manual clippers, so sleepily I tried to cut my hair—while in bed, making a mess.

The man abruptly decided to leave even tho the hour was late, something like 1 am. He was driving back to his home in a huff. Their relationship was off. I was somewhat relieved, tho still suspicious: is this the sort of woman I wish to be aligned with?

Magically another woman appeared, about the same age, young, attractive, the scene had changed. No longer in the motel we took a walk, and surprising me she began running. I tried to keep up.

And that was a good portion of my dream night, in a 3-room cabin in Tenakee Springs, Alaska, on Chichagof Island. Elaine and Bob rented the cabin, I don’t know the price, Elaine is treating me. It is long, built on stilts, extending over the water. Each room is about 4 meters wide, same dimension long, not winterized. The rooms are paneled with cheap brown fake wood. Floors are similar to linoleum. Kitchen is first, my room second, Bob and Elaine’s room third, and I suppose we could count the rude dark cold back room or shed as a 4th rm. It houses the toilet. Unlike some toilets that dump directly into the drink this one flushes. Most likely the remains end up, raw, also in the ocean.

A porch extends along one side; I peed from it during the night, avoiding either walking thru B-E’s room or walking along the porch and entering the shed for the toilet. A small modern oil stove provides heat. Kitchen sports a microwave, large fridge, small toaster, tiny sink, and enough kitchen gear to make life livable for short periods.

The village itself—in Alaska it’s known a city, a 3rd order city, apparently all settlements are called cities, despite the size—extends along the shore, one narrow road, no cars, lots of 4 wheelers, a few golf carts. There is no wireless Internet, but like in some parts of the world, it’s coming. Walking last night around 9 pm to survey the night scene, I noticed that about 1 in every 10 dwellings had lights burning. Suggesting: few people live here. It is mostly a summer village. [I learned later that people minimize their use of electricity because of the cost—all fuel has to be shipped in.]

The buildings range from those even ruder and cruder than ours, some abandoned and tilting, to elegant virtual palaces high up on stilts or hills. One lodge graces the village, along with a helicopter pad, ferry dock (2 ferries per week, we return in 3 days), Blue Moon café (sporadically open, more about this place later), a bakery and café open only during the summer, general store open a few days weekly in this season, new beautiful school up the hill, serving about 8 students (more about this also), an oil farm also up the hill (in fact, other than the shore, most of this island seems a huge hill or small mountain), a community center-“city” hall combo where I’ll give a slide show tonight about Bethlehem—and arguably the most important feature in Tenakee Springs, the hot springs.

It sits beside the dock, enclosed in a small wooden 2-room building. First room is for changing or more precisely disrobing since clothing is not allowed in the spring’s room. The 2nd room is enveloped in vapor: the springs, a narrow cleft in the rock thru which hot water oozes. Not much water, perhaps about 3 liters per minute, but it flows, from a time long ago perhaps predating Indian use of this spring. Whites have added a 1/3-meter high concrete wall and a series of about 3 steps for those of us who might wish to recline or sit in the soothing, slightly sulfurous liquidy warmth. I sat alone. I imagined the springs of Budapest, in the winter, shared with hundreds including my fellow Auschwitz to Hiroshima pilgrims.

I imagined similar baths in California with Louise, including the spectacular Harbin Hot Springs with its myriad young beautiful shapely naked women (and men) that aroused me almost to the breaking point, and the Boston College sauna with Rob, and the Polish sauna or steam bath with pilgrims, or the Chicago YMCA’s steam room where I first enjoyed hot air and water.

Males bathe separately from females, unlike Harbin, reducing the excitement, adding to the serenity.

I have no idea about the plumbing, whether the flowing waters are direct emanations from the underworld, so called fossil or ancient water, or water draining down to hot regions and bubbling up. I will try to learn about this when I have time.

Trying to photograph all this is a challenge. I doubt I’ll do much. I tried from the ferry; I’ll attempt the springs, guessing that the vapor will ruin photos. I’ll see what develops, if anything. On the ferry, with my beloved wide angle lens, I photographed extensively, exploring the world of wide on this floating platform, noting wave patterns, varying skies, interactions with horizon, the ship itself, its bulbous front wall.

The water story: it comes from wells that each household drills, mildly sulfurous, some springs (potable?), no community piping, nor sewage system, effluent either dropped thru a hole in the out house, or flushed thru a pipe into at least the low tidal area, to be washed away by the tidal cleanser. Very simple, how sustainable I’m not sure, especially if the population swells.

Ah yes, the Blue Moon café. Thinking I might down a hot cup of tea after lunch, I wandered into the café. 3 men and 1 Native woman sat there staring at me as I entered. The rotund dopey looking guy near the door asked me how I was: “cold and wet,” I answered, honestly. He guffawed. “What else is new?” he laughed. And then made some remark about me that elicited more laughter from all. I’d been carrying an umbrella, despite Elaine’s warning that real Alaskans don’t use umbrellas.

Not sure where to sit or who to order from—the place was small, jammed with junk, looked decrepit—the woman finally said, “What can I get you?”

—How about hot tea?

—Sorry, we don’t have any hot water.

No hot water, I thought, what sort of café is this?

—Well then, I exclaimed, I guess I’m going.

More laughter.

—You know, I said, with some bitterness which I later regretted, aiming the barb at the fat fellow by the door, we’d laugh at you too in Cambridge.

And departed.

—October 10, 2008, Friday, in a cabin in Tenakee Springs, with E-B

In a dream I’m with a black activist who knows the region. We’re in his car, with his wife, entering a metro area. I ask where are we? Darfur, he answers. He and I are racing thru the streets, he doing some ritual with food and flowers, offering them to the earth, I have no idea what he is doing, it is some native tradition. We run, both wearing slippers or sandals, his stay on his feet, mine continually slip off.

The 2 shows yesterday in Tenakee—both Bethlehem the Holy, one at the school, the other to the community—went reasonably well, given how young the school kids are. The shortened version, some 40 min, did not seem to bore the kids, all 6 of them, grades 2 thru 9 (several of the olders were absent). One boy in particular, who might have been the problem boy their teacher, Ann, told me about, who might need to be removed from the room if his interest lagged, to draw or engage in some other activity, asked very intelligent questions. He noticed much in the photos that I’d missed, like the cat in the Nabi Musa moon photo. He also told us later when we’d gotten to the topic of World War 2 that some of it occurred around here, and he knew the exact sites—tunnels and fortifications. This amazed others.

I began with brainstorming, words such as Israel and immigrant, already on the board from previous lessons, adding Palestine, Jesus, maybe refugee. I could also have dealt with Jew, Arab, wall, and settlement. Then the show in which I emphasized more personal stories than I’d had in my preview showing, believing that the high school and father talks about dead daughter scenes would be most riveting.

A fairly long, fairly involved, wide-ranging discussion later. I enjoyed this thoroughly, felt on the ball and mark, at my best, appreciative of the opportunity.

The evening show, to the same number of folks, more than I’d expected, fewer than the fellow who helped me set up, Elk expected—he and his wife Maeve thought maybe the storm had stopped some people. “Storm? “I asked, “what storm? “Heavy rains, strong winds, some people living in Tenakee come by boat from their far-flung homes.

The audience, compared with the school group, felt somewhat dead, unresponsive, bored. I used the longer version, incorporating all the discoveries I’d made editing the shorter. I must claim that the sound, relative to what I’ve achieved before, is spectacular. At the last moment I found a way to hook into a professional sound system in the hall, clear sound booming from the two massive speakers at the back of the room. No one commented on the quality of the sound.

To run sound over picture sets I now merge images on one slide, jockey them into position, select animations, try them out, hope they work. From time to time the sound won’t run at all. To rectify this I import one sound file to one slide, and presto, the entire sound track is back. I have no idea why this happens, a bug perhaps in the software, Apple’s Keynote.

The frame of coming to Bethlehem works, I’m convinced. In my intro I mentioned the theme, asked them to imagine the various ways one might come to Bethlehem. Elk said god, close I said. Meave said walk, I congratulated her, right on. She also said drive, fly, etc. My response was You’d be surprised that this might not be as possible as you’d expect.

Elaine—others as well?—were surprised by the Christian exodus info. I even heard one or two gasps when this info rolled out. She thought the non-violent resistance part was especially intriguing. B-E both felt I could omit my remarks about not believing aspects of the Christian tale, like the divinity of Christ, or whether the angels actually appeared in the fields. I need to struggle with this aspect.

Elk came up to me later and said, with an earnest expression, “If I were to make one comment on your show”—I anticipated something like, shorten it—he said, “study about Christ. If you knew Christ as I do you would express no doubts whatsoever. He is the Son of God, he is your savior. You’d have a much more powerful show.”

I’d noticed him looking grim during the show, thinking at first he was bored and sleepy. Luckily he’d volunteered to read the texts, along with Elaine, so I could wake him up by calling on him for specific readings. He suggests an important quality of this show, the Christness of it. E felt there were some conservative Christians in the audience, such as the woman editing the Juneau Catholic parish’s newsletter, and her husband who is an official of the parish. Another couple had visited the region and seemed very attentive to the Christ theme.

At the last minute, seeing we had more than 2 in the audience, I put out a bowl for collection. And then at the end of the discussion I mentioned the option of contributions. Zero. Not a penny. Is this a sign of their feeling concerning the show, or simply the timing and happenstance nature of the request?

So, it’s a show in evolution, as Anna Deavere Smith said about the play, Let Me Down Easy, in evolution. I look forward to more improvement.

Bob & Elaine Schroeder, Skip Schiel

Today I can relax. Another hot bath this morning before it closes to males at 9 am, saunter up and down the road with my camera, even in the windy rain, read, eat, hang with sis and bro in law, maybe hook into internet at the community center.

I’d done this yesterday at the library, and found 2 messages from M. Curious messages, surprising messages. She wrote me about her house woes, that her upstairs neighbors, young men, are loud: parties, drinking, their dog. She’d informed me about some of this earlier, but now the problem is exacerbated. They are so loud at night she cannot sleep, had moved out to friends’ homes to do so. She wrote that she’s been communicating with her landlady who might be able to prod some action, even evict them. At one point M was ready to begin a search for a new home. Very troubling.

In the hot bath yesterday morning with Bob, another gent entered, a little more rotund than Bob and me, white bearded, unsmiling, friendly, knowledgeable. I queried him about the springs. Built during the depression, presumably by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression (the first Great Depression), replacing a wooden hut, not much flow, can be scooped out with a bucket. No parties or other festivities or rituals around the spring. Other springs potable. To drill effectively, one must hit a cleavage in the rock. Plenty of water, never dry. Clean. Some hot, some cold, all artesian. Perhaps all from the same source. No aquifer that he knows of. Hot spring is ancient water (how would he know?).

I invited him to the show, he came. Asked me about water justice in Israel-Palestine.

E suggested I take a year long break from my Palestine/Israel project, tackle another theme, maybe another aspect of social justice, maybe not requiring so much travel, just to gain perspective, and have another show to offer audiences. In part I can test the waters, see if when I’m turned down it’s because of the theme or something else. I like that idea. Here’s what I began thinking about:

Local youth violence, mostly black. The environment, maybe global warming and how the earth is changing. Indians lands, near and far, possibly a return to the Rosebud and Lakota reservations. Prisons. I feel the new theme should be something I can do relatively easily, not needing years of research and contact making. I have much invested in Israel-Palestine and do not intend to let this drift off.

Ah, what I’d most like to tackle is civility in the Low Countries and Scandinavia. However, imagine what this would entail in research, contacts, travel. Is there some smaller theme related to this larger theme?

Another thought: my relations with women. How would I deal with this photographically? And why would anyone care? How could I universalize it? Of course, write a story, fictionalize it. But then…

Or something with water. Or trees. Or public access.

I’ll let this simmer awhile, hope what cooks up will be appropriate.

—October 11, 2008, Saturday, in a cabin in Tenakee Springs, with E-B, during a storm

Ferry coming in

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