A Clean Sweep

I propose a new political plan, one that will ensure that congress functions as it should. It's called Leave Every Congressperson Behind. It's very simple; when at the polls, always vote for the new candidate. Vote out the old.

In Washington today, there is an endemic problem caused by buddy systems, exclusive clubs, ingrown party affiliation, misguided oaths and loyalties, pork barrel politics, greed and yes, money, either too little or too much. These perpetual sores are not so likely to afflict a first time, single term congressperson.

How necessary is experience in congress today, really? Does the value of experience offset the harm done by block political voting, intimidation from power groups, leverage from lobbyists, or intimidation from political party leaders? I think not.

To those who would argue that the systems in Congress and in Washington, the codes and codicils, the processes and procedures are too complex for the initiate, I say, simplify them. After all, complexity breeds fraud. My congressperson should question the status quo, should test the old assumptions, and should ask the stupid questions.

I want a congressperson who is fired up to solve problems, ready to take a fresh look at issues, one who wants to safeguard democracy and to help the American people, an idealist. I want a representative who always has his/her constituents in mind, regardless of their rank or class.

I do not want to be represented by an individual who no longer remembers those inaugural ideals, who has learned the insider game, who treads water, who has succumbed to excuses and believes that some things are just not possible. I do not want a representative who has been bent and battered by the pounding surf of political pressures and corrupted and minimized by the erosion of short cuts and temptations over multiple terms. I do not want my congressperson to hide in a crowd.

I want a representative who is a Washington outsider, because I am a Washington outsider. I want my representative to be an American first, a citizen of my state second, and a resident of Washington D.C. last and least. I want a representative who views the work of a congressperson as a job, a mandate, a responsibility, and an obligation. I want a congressperson who does not adjourn for vacations or leave on holiday until the work is done. I expect the same of myself. I want a congressperson who will discuss issues with his/her colleagues on both sides of the aisle and continue to search for resolutions until they are found.

I do not want a congressperson who allows his/her political party loyalty to supersede the needs of the people. Ever.

I want a first time, single term representative, one who has not had the chance to learn 'who's who, 'how things work', or 'who to please'.

Where will I find this individual, this paragon of democratic idealism and virtue?
Not in the rolls of incumbency. Vote out the old, vote in the new. Leave every current congressperson behind and bring in a whole new crop. Let's restore to the American people a fully functional United States Congress.

All Those Little Things...

Palm Springs, California, is delightful in early fall. Yes, it is pitilessly hot, but the nights and early mornings are cool and the air is crystal clear. The mountains leap forward as if sculpted in bas relief. Until this year, that is.
This year was hot as always, but it was humid and cloudy, the air thick. The mountains hid behind haze, sometimes until late afternoon. Exercising outdoors produced gallons of sweat.
One morning we awoke to a peculiar smell, somewhat like sulfur. At first we thought something was wrong in our condo, then blamed it on nearby construction or a local industrial spill. But as we went about our day we found the smell everywhere. It lasted the entire day and it was there when we went to bed.
The next day it was gone. A news report explained why.
Fifty miles to the southeast of Palm Springs lies the Salton Sea,  a huge body of water created long ago, drained, and then recreated by the Colorado River overloading an ill-considered aqueduct into the region during the flood of 1905, since then shrunk to its current dimensions. It lies in the Salton Sink which is 225 feet below sea level. Depending upon rainfall and agricultural run-off, the Sea averages 15 miles by 35 miles with a maximum depth of 16 feet. With the alkaline nature of the desert floor here, the salinity of the lake, while less than the Great Salt Lake, is greater than the Pacific Ocean and is increasing by  one percent annually.
The Salton Sea originally was the product of the delta building of the Colorado River. The silt it deposited over three million years created a dam that prevented the Sea of Cortez from flowing on up the southern end of the Imperial Valley. The Salton Sea has always changed character from a fresh water lake to a salt sea depending upon the tug and pull of the fresh water rivers feeding it versus evaporative loss from the desert sun. An interesting side note is that the Sea lies over the San Andreas Fault and computer models have demonstrated that the deviatoric stress from water infill contributes to a vulnerability to earthquakes, the area (and consequently Los Angeles) is currently in risk of a magnitude 7 or 8 event.  
The news report we heard that day explained the odor as the smell of decay of the thousands of dead fish and other marine organisms lining the shore of the Salton Sea. Changing weather patterns and increasing salinity of the water over the past years have combined to produce this circumstance and deliver the unpleasant aroma to Palm Springs.
When I learned this, I was again struck by the myriad of little changes that must inevitably occur as a result of man's interaction with nature and an accelerated global climate change. Not that I condemn man's participation, on the contrary I see it as inevitable. We might possibly have delayed these changes by a few thousand years , perhaps by deciding not to participate in the Industrial Revolution, or by making a much more concerted effort to stop releasing bio-carbons into the atmosphere once we realized the harm we were doing. But inevitably with the march of time and the growth of the human population and the consequent clearing of vegetation, the growing consumption and polluting of water despite our best efforts, the increasing methane release from increased bovine population to feed the population, all the things that humans do to survive, the effect would eventually be the same.
Consider the animals. Left to their own devices, they balance their own populations. They do not invent machines to improve their lives. The vegetation they consume they replenish by pruning or by carrying seeds from place to place. They do not, they can not harm their world. Which organism, then, is alien to this planet, do you suppose?

Here in our Beautiful Valley

Here in our beautiful Santa Ynez Valley there are opportunities that  I must imagine are unavailable to any other community in this state, perhaps even the country.  To begin, we have the opportunity to hear music groups in concert that we have wanted to experience but for which tickets were always difficult to acquire or the venue not intimate enough to be enjoyable and at an inconvenient distance. Here in Northern Santa Barbara County we attend many such concerts, at the Chumash Casino and at local churches and at the missions. I have a taste for fresh beers and with five breweries within a dozen miles and even more within an hour's drive I am easily able to satisfied that thirst. I need hardly mention the wine, of course, for we are surrounded by the grape and may choose among hundreds of tasting rooms specializing in dozens of varietals. Nor do I need mention the cuisine in the valley, as famous as it is exceptional, from Irish Pub to Danish Pancakes to storied steakhouses like the Hitching Post I & II.
The beaches, all within easy reach, from Pismo to Oceano to Jamala, are as beautiful as any in the world, yet often almost empty. Or go to the mountains, the Santa Ynez range which marches into the sea, and hike the mountain trails in the Los Padres National Forest and the San Rafael Wilderness. Fancy boating? Drop your canoe into Lake Chumash, its startling blue waters outlined by white powdery cliffs, tucked away in a mountain valley, or kayak the challenging Pacific coast guarded by intimidating cliffs and pockmarked by unexpected tiny coves, or explore the offshore Channel Islands National Park by paddle.
Birdwatchers can ogle the Least Tern and the Snowy Plover, biologists hunt for the Red-Legged frog, and botanists draw the endangered La Graciosa thistle. The fresh produce of our valleys pours in to the local Farmer's markets, the fresh beef comes directly from the hillsides to the groceries and the restaurants, and everywhere are the flowers, the roses that punctuate the vineyard trestles, the multitude of colorful gardens brightening every home, the flowering bushes along the highways, the wildflowers that spatter points of color on the hills every spring.
Like the flowers, there is in the valley a colorful variety of people, of ethnicities with still-thriving cultures that have continued from their advent here, the Chumash Tribe of Native Americans, the Spanish and the Mexicans of the Ranchos, the Danish Colonists of Solvang, the American business men, horse and cattle breeders, and retirees, and the newer Mexican immigrant populations, each offering a piece of that which makes their culture special, the casinos and horsemanship and movie stars and windmills and baked goods and tacos and tri-tip steak, all part of an amazing kaleidoscope of possibilities woven together into the multi-textured fabric of this valley.
And from all this diversity comes a rich history. History that is alive in the golden hills and in the towns and under the live oaks. History that can still be seen wherever you look for here everything that was still is, the traces of  roads, the old pueblos, the narrow gauge railway bed, the train depots, the stage stops, the hotels, the Spanish Missions, the flour mills, the long horn cattle,  the ancient stands of mission cactus along the El Camino Real. Each has a story to tell if it can be extracted.
But why wax so rhapsodic about the this place now, and here? Because I have just come from another unexpected experience in this unexpected place. Through our membership in the Santa Ynez Valley Historical Museum, a resource for the history buff that I have yet to fully explore, we were made aware of a special offering, the Santa Ynez Valley Horse Ranch Tour.  We have experienced the Behind The Garden Gate tour in past years, and fully enjoyed it, feeling we had received even more than advertised. We saw the Horse Ranch tour as an opportunity not to be missed. And so it was.
Choreographed tighter than a Radio City Music Hall performance (we were chastised for being late to the first venue) four shifts of car caravans were orchestrated to four different venues in the valley, four very special venues. The first stop for caravan 'C' was Magali Farm (and why is it that owners of these fine horse ranches call them farms?).  Here some of the finest horses are bred from especially fine former racing stallions content now to relax and mingle with the ladies and sip drinks with little umbrellas. We were introduced to jockey Jerry Lambert, who won three Hollywood Gold Cup races in a row, and Giacomo, the winner of the 2005 Kentucky Derby. As we gazed at this magnificent animal we were told we were looking at horseflesh worth upward of 35 million dollars. He looks every bit of that, and is even more impressive close up. After a tour of the barn and a chance to rub the muzzles of several other very accomplished horses, we were sent along (precisely on time) to our next stop, Intrepid Farm.
This is the home of the Morgan Horse. Owner Art Perry met us in his bejeweled show costume, worth the trip all by itself. He explained that his horses were all away preparing for a show (choreographed sigh), but…but…he had a special treat in store for us. He then introduced Frenchwoman Claire Buschy Anderson who instructed us in the art of riding side saddle with elegant demonstrations and a short history of the side saddle delivered with her charming accent. When she had finished, Mr. Perry invited us to visit his private museum, a trove of such treasures as mechanical banks, wood carvings, weather vanes,  rare paintings, photos and drawings, as well as all the awards collected by the Intrepid Morgan horses. There among the exhibits we found the costume worn by Elvis in "Love Me Tender" and the travel performance outfits of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans (none of which could hold a candle to Mr. Perry's splendorous togs).
The third stop for caravan 'C' was at the Alamo Pintado Equine Clinic,  a remarkable horse hospital equipped better than many human hospitals. With the ability to accommodate 70 plus horses the Equine Clinic has the capability to take traditional and digital X-rays, do an ultra sound,  bone scan, cat scan, MRI, or fluoroscopy. There is a hyperbaric chamber (horse sized!), an aqua tread, a recovery pool, and even an equine ambulance capable of transporting four horses. Our team of three guides took time from their busy schedules to offer expert commentary on the equipment and the facilities, even finessing us around a foaling emergency that arrived while we were there. Then promptly at the prescribed time our caravan departed for our final stop, the Om El Arab International Arabian horse breeding farm.
At Om El Arab (meaning "Mother of all Arabians") we could pretend as we sat in our ring-side seats drinking cold beverages that we were among the rich and famous (and royalty) who come from around the world to view and purchase these exquisite animals. We listened to owner Sigi Siller describe each horse as her daughter Janina Merz presented, one by one, some of the most magnificent animals we've ever seen. Perhaps we should have realized that our breath would soon be taken away when we were informed at the outset that the origins of the breeding of the 'Mother of all Arabians', Estopa, and her son El Shaklan have enjoyed unparalleled influence in the Arabian breeding world.  But first came the colts, beautiful free spirited little ones to whom we were introduced in the inside ring, where buyers may sit in comfortable sofas in air conditioning and watch the horses presented there through a picture window! Fortunately, we were permitted into the ring itself with the horses.
Then it was back to the outside ring and into our ring-side chairs. We viewed a series of mares and stallions, the first a mare ridden stylistically (and nervously) by an employee. But the remaining mares and stallions were led to the ring and then un-haltered, allowed then to run free so that we might observe the true, unfettered spirit of this remarkable horse, each more beautiful than the last, the narrow face and black eyes and muzzle, the erect head and curled up tail, the particular coughing snort when exhilarated, the long legs that float above the ground.  We were entranced.
But even then we were not fully prepared for W.H. Justice. Before his appearance, Sigi told us her experience in meeting this horse, when she cried openly at his beauty. We understand.  First some background. W.H. Justice is owned by Equid Systems Ltd., and is in America on lease to Aljassimya Farm and sent from there to stand for one year at Om El Arab International. Thus our good fortune to see him.  By coming to Om El Arab, W.H. Justice is in a sense returning, for he is the great grandson  of El Shaklan. Emma Maxwell has written "W.H. Justice has changed the face of the Arabian show horse," as she herself says, a pretty tall statement. But his looks, his charm, his awards, and his progeny support this statement, and then some. We were treated to his charm. He was led into the ring, head erect, precise, obedient. His halter was removed. At that moment his spirit was unleashed and around the arena he flashed, nimble, powerful, light on his feet, joyous and, let there be no doubt, the ultimate prima donna. Sigi told us that as the last group of the day we were the only ones privileged to see him. To W.H. Justice, that was an injustice, for he had simmered in his stall watching other stallions grab the limelight all day long. Now was his moment, and he made his feelings very clear to his handler and Sigi by a series of full-out runs toward them at the fence, only to pull up at the very last second and shower them with dirt.  Having vented, he next put nose to ground and sniffed like an alpha wolf, scenting the animals that had preceded him and then very carefully urinating on those spots.  That accomplished, he set about putting on a show to put all the other horses to shame, with runs around the ring, quick agile turns and spins, his challenging huff growing with each leg. And so he entertained and entranced us as time flew by until finally he was taken from us. We were all under his spell.    
And so ended a truly remarkable day in the Santa Ynez Valley, and again I ask, where else in the world could we have experienced such an afternoon?