Huston David born
March 14, 2013
Through last night, Lisa was troubled by what she thought were the same old Braxton-Hicks contractions. I drew her a warm bath this morning around 6:30 to try to help ease the pressure, as she insisted that these were high contractions to encourage the baby to drop and were non-progressive. After making everyone breakfast, as I do every day, Lisa sent me off to work, despite the discomfort she was feeling. At 11:30 she called me back home, even though we both thought this might be a dry run, because it would be a good opportunity to really finish getting ready. At some point while I was on my way, she sensed a change in intensity and alerted our most excellent midwives. I was on the scene by 11:50. I began madly moving stuff to try to clear the space in which we had intended to set up the birth tub, until her water broke at 12:15 and we abandoned the idea that there would be time for the tub. She climbed into the dry bath tub and at 12:20 allowed as how the baby's head was about to appear. I climbed in to the dry tub too. Sure enough, Huston David's head was soon resting in my hands, his position a bit anterior. I made sure the cord was not around his neck and asked if Lisa thought she might breathe regularly and give a bit of a push. She thought not, but did anyway. Between 1 and 2 minutes later 8lbs 14oz and 21.5" of Huston wriggled out and immediately voiced doubts about the quality of his treatment thus far. I held him on my chest while I looked to see if there might be any things amiss and visible only from my vantage and, finding none, delivered Huston to his Mama's warm embrace. I then called our midwife, Dana, who asked several questions, directed me to put a sterile pad between Lisa and the tub in order to receive the placenta, and congratulated us thoroughly before returning to her driving. The Dana and Claudette Team arrived very quickly, I cut the cord, together we took care of all related business, and before long we were weighing, measuring, trimming nails (long!), admiring curly black hair (lots!), introducing Rosalie to her little brother, and cuddling. More to come on this page, when the opportunity presents itself.
Thanks SO much to all those who brought us food. It made all the difference!
Fr Mar 15 Albee-Goods' chicken, mash and salad
Sa 16 Cathy and Meagan Travlos' black bean chili with corn bread
Su 17 Christina Kellogg
Mo 18 Jodi GillWe 20 Feder-Black Family 10am Mediterranean food
Su 24 Leslie Zeitler's fab chicken soup
Wounded Knee Dec 28 1890
122 years ago today, on December 28,1890, Chief Spotted Elk was deathly sick with pneumonia.. His band of Lakota set off in the snow from Cheyenne River to seek shelter with Red Cloud at Pine Ridge reservation. Big Foot’s band was intercepted by Major Samuel Whitside and a battalion of the Seventh Cavalry and escorted five miles to Wounded Knee Creek. That evening, Colonel James Forsyth arrived to take command and ordered his guards to place four rapid-fire Hotchkiss guns(cannon) in position under cover of darkness around the camp. The soldiers numbered around 500—the Indians, 350.- all but 120 were women and children. The soldiers had orders to escort them to the railroad for transport to Omaha, and to disarm them before proceeding. A shot was fired at the end of the disarmament. 1 soldier claimed that the medicine man's Ghost Dancing & throwing dust into the air caused the attack, while others blamed a deaf Lakota, Black Coyote. As the cannons began firing into the camp, many of the unarmed men, women and children ran for cover in a ravine only to be cut down in a brutal cross fire. At the end, 300 Sioux lay dead. Official reports listed the number killed at 90 warriors and 210 women and children. Army losses numbered 25 dead and 39 wounded, mostly by their own troops. Forsyth was later charged with The Killing of Innocents, but was exonerated and promoted. 22 of the soldiers that day were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor... -
"I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes young. I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. My people's dream died there. It was a beautiful dream... the nation's hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead." -Black Elk (1863-1950); Oglala Holy man
By: Wyatt Allen Brewer
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Great article. I can say that for my son Aikido worked wonders.
--Michaele Dphrepaulezz.....2012-12-27 00:40:15 +0000
Michaele's son, Imad, was my student in the Aikido of Berkeley children's program, and then came back to AiBerk to be Kayla Sensei's uchi deshi as an adult.
--Brandon WilliamsCraig.....2012-12-27 02:43:49 +0000
Additional materials which might be of interest to you are behind any of the links with which the article above begins.
--Brandon WilliamsCraig.....2012-12-27 03:00:45 +0000
I'm working on expressing something difficult. I've participated with glee in every contemporary form of worship from returning to Latin mass and being a professional cantor for Roman Catholic churches to praise choruses, social justice demonstrations at General Conference, and liturgical dance. Lisa and I just walked out of First United Methodist Church Medford's Christmas Eve gathering.
I went there last with my mother, Paula Craig, in 2006. The service was not earth shattering but it was warm and worshipful, candlelit, and a reminder of the light that comes even to the unremarkable, like us. Since then, in the name of being "a church for people who have given up on church", they have given up on church. The black-suited pastor with the rock star mic in his ear greets everyone, and the atmosphere is convivial, but they have installed a coffee bar where an altar used to be. Their half page glossy brochure that has taken the place of an order of service makes its first priority to draw your attention to "the coffee shop that is on the stage", and let you know of the opportunity to get your fix "during the service at our marsh-mallow break" that is the howdy session where a Passing of the Peace might once have been.
They promise that in this church you don't "have to check your brain at the door", but they have lobotomized everything within reach. Without so much as an opening prayer or invocation, All were directed to rise only to face a video screen for a canned, brief Message of Hope (?) from a slick production company who hired an African-American voice-over actor to deliver a folksy message but dared not show his person, or any other person for that matter. We sat to read and sing carol lyrics off the screen, a large bell choir rang pop arrangements of two familiar songs and, by the marsh-mellow break, we were ready to flee. We asked each other if we might ought to stay for the sermon, assuming their might be one, either out of loyalty or morbid fascination, but the allure had worn off before the questions were fully uttered.
Into the much more numinous night we went, full of disbelief, rather than the reverse, and disappointment. No sense of the special clung to this informal hob-nob, no honor for or adoration of deity, whatever that might mean to anybody, and almost no sense of participating in a religious ceremony at all existed to suggest a connection with mystery or hope in the midst of darkness. Even writing this necessary critical cry in the wilderness seems dry, dead, and unsatisfying because giving up on church leaves no sacred space for holding suffering. Does The Church, in all its mysterious experiments, in the midst of a next reformation, have no use for depth anymore now that The Screen replaces The Cross? Must all need for worship be given up in the hope that folks starving for the comfort of Love in their life will bring their tithes in exchange for a shallow, grab-and-go, cheerful, hang-out? God Become Flesh is not a marsh-mellow. Woe.
--Brandon WilliamsCraig.....2012-12-25 08:41:24 +0000
My new article, entitled Bluevolution, is now available in the Journal of Archetypal Studies v2 Towards Beginnings: Images of End. The writing on this site (behind the link above) is based on that article released Dec 2012 but continues to expand and develop on Culturesmith beyond what appeared for publication. Please consider supporting our work and purchasing the journal in its entirety by clicking the image here.
Renzo Morgan David Keepin - New Nephew
Saturday, December 08, 2012
Thursday, December 06, 2012
Welcome to our new baby!
Renzo Morgan David Keepin
was born at home,
8:42 am on December 1st, 2012.
22 1/2 inches long.
Labor was 13 hours. The end of the birth was challenging, as this boy was definitely our biggest at birth with a 13 1/2" head and a 14" chest - once he was out though, he nursed right away and is very robust and healthy.
The other boys are very excited and enjoying their littlest brother very much.
The origins of his name are:
an Italian name referencing the laurel tree
and a Japanese name meaning lotus and third son.
We are also using Ren for his short name,
which is a Welsh name meaning raven.
So, we are a happy full household!
Love from the boys,
Val, Eli, and Ren.
The Habit - a predictable travesty
What is the difference between exploitation of a beautiful gift of the imagination, that should motivate a tsunami of negative fan reaction, and acceptable commercialization that carries a rich idea forward while generating enterprise sustainability funds at the same time so that more development is possible?
Rosie psychological fashionista
Just in case there was any doubt that Rosie is my daughter.