Dangerous Caves Teenagers died of carbon monoxi...

Dangerous Caves



Teenagers died of carbon monoxide poisoning in bluff caves down the street from my house.



And I was just thinking about these caves last week. From what I hear, every teenager and his kid sister that grows up in Saint Paul spends a little time peeking in a cave. It would be impossible not to, I'd think. This is a godawful sad story. City mothers and fathers keep talking about sealing off the caves. They've been boarding them up for years and it's never worked. I can't blame the kids for being curious...Why am I babbling?



Here is a city. Here is part of its history, these man made and not so man made hollows and deeps carved in the bluffs, obscured by roads above, by the very grid of streets and lots and survey markers, stop lights and Dairy Queens. The news: the Apprentice, American Idol, Michael Jackson, Kobe Bryant, and of course, Iraq. We are a species which evolved in a specific context. Depending on where one draws the line, our minds and emotions are a process over a million years old. For all but ten thousand of those years, natural selection operated on us in a context of selecting for traits--both physical and mental--which increased fitness in an environment of grasslands, forest edges, rocks and sun and rivers. No bridges, no dams, no hydroponic produce, no freeways and commutes, school busses, and no T.V.



Why are we surprised when kids want to explore caves? There's a confused avatar in every one of us wondering why all the skills and thoughts, loves and dreams which got us through the last million years are no longer relevant. One could argue that good sense, certainly selected for in any environment, should have told these teenagers to listen to the advice of their elders and stay the fuck out of the caves. The advice come down on a ratty sign--we get a lot of exposure to signs. We haven't exactly learned that it is worthwhile to trust our 'elders'. Sign your draft card, it's good for you--take a DDT shower, it's harmless--there are WMD in Iraq, that's why we have to bomb the shit out of it--See what I mean?



Here a natural inclination toward curiosity and wonder. Here a society which practically ignores the existence of nature, and demonstrates daily through distribution of resources that its priorities are anywhere but in the respect for and appreciation of the natural. I know most of the kids who wander down to the river, or to the caves, or just away, do so to drink and get laid, but once again we're talking about natural impulses. The attempt by all things paternal to pretend that there's a 'good' and a 'bad' and that if we all just said 'No,' and 'Abstain, abstain,'--Well this is all just a crock of shit, isn't it? Wouldn't it make more sense to consider the context in which we evolved? To set aside horseshit moral judgments which split souls and fill people with guilt and shame leading to perverted behavior, set aside the hateful, puritanical desire to control life, and at least acknowledge reality--wouldn't it make sense to educate kids about nature and their place in it?



Yeah, I know this was about caves. It was the city's reaction to this incident which set me off. Board them up and tell kids, "No." It's just like our government refusing to contribute our share to U.N. family planning efforts because those efforts include education about and distribution of birth control. To me, it's the same as refusing to teach sex education in schools, pretending that sex doesn't exist, that if we don't talk about it, nothing bad will happen. That everyone has his or her secrets, but a Slut is the one who gets caught, or pregnant. The city wants to board up the caves and basically pretend they don't exist. Tragic when teenagers die, but people always say, "They shouldn't have been there--didn't they see the caves were posted?" The cave in question was probably man made, as settlers often carved homes and warehouses out of the bluff, but they've become naturalized in many ways, being of living stone and no longer having a function for man. The impetus to explore them surely is natural. Whenever there is a tragedy such as this, I can't help but think the truly sad thing is that the kids knew so little about caves--or river currents, or riptides, or mountain lions, or lightning--that they had no idea how to survive. Then, instead of realizing that we should be curious about such things, that it's in our nature to be, instead of teaching our children what plants are poisonous, or taking them to the river to learn its ways, we sign them up for pre-school and hockey camp. Sunday School may be great for passing on one's mythology, but it is not a fucking substitution for sex ed. Not teaching a child about the beauty and danger of the natural world--without moral judgment--is like living in a house and not knowing where is the gas shut-off, the circuit breakers, the water main. Saying that sex education encourages immoral behavior is as silly as saying that teaching a child not to stick a fork in a socket is morally wrong, then branding the kid that gets zapped a loose little slut and blaming him or her.



So, was all this about caves, or morality? One could say I should organize my thoughts before sharing them, and one would be right, but I have to go pack and figure out those things I have to do before I go. The things I'll regret if I forget. Stand in a room and see my dad in these familiar things, smell him in his drawers, hear him in loose floorboards and querulous pipes.

Back to Saint Paul This Thursday coming. And w...

Back to Saint Paul



This Thursday coming. And what will I find? Will the cat be the same color, will she have two tails, will all my friends be in the psych ward or in jail? Looking forward and afraid too, it's been nine weeks of tremendous strangeness. Bound to have an effect.



Setting a date and busy all of a sudden. Trying to beat the lightening right now, beat the rain, with lace whipping at my face and silver undersides of new leaves gesturing in metalanguage that every sentence I write is true.



Thursday I'll be going. Nine weeks is a long time. The first month with Larry feels like another country, another language, another body. Long time to be away from Mary, from my cutting board and Mr. Clean and my mop and knives. Be fun to have certain things again, put up some fresh pictures, plant fragrant green things.



Rather than writing, I have a lot to do. Still shredding and crushing and sorting. Trying to empty drawers, prevent for my mother nasty surprises. Trying to save those things that ought to be saved, that come a gently sad day might be looked at and a man or a marriage a young love remembered with just enough gladness not to be killing.



Of course, at the moment there's the commode, the Isosource, the walker, the shower chair. I had suggested the day after he died calling a charity and having them pick up all these things, and chestnut loafers besides. But, there were other plans and other minds and so a day before I leave I'm making sure these things are gone, one way or the other. A truly practical family would save a shower chair, a walker, knowing that a time will come for another of us but...we are not a practical family and some practicality is just too cold, even for me. Though if I had a shed, and a place where they'd never be seen....I did offer to sell them as they're all perfectly good, but when you've watched your husband or your father going completely to hell, falling to pieces, there's just things you can't stand to look at again, or think about.



I believe in ritual. I believe in transformation. If I had an open field, I'd burn all of this, plastic and fumes notwithstanding. Still would make more sense to me to have a charity come get these things and put them to use. Something like that, I'm walking them over to the nursing home and that will be that.



Fuck, I have a lot to think about, going back to Saint Paul. Strange feeling of being nineteen again, having been at home for so long, with the season breathing on me and days without timecards. An opportunity then, I hope to see what change brings.

Three Question Meme Found at Snowball, who fou...

Three Question Meme



Found at Snowball, who found it at the Mommy Blog...I shouldn't get myself into this. I didn't know memes, as such, existed until recently and now I'm a fool for them. And, thanks to aethele, I now know how to use trackback. Seems a bit of fun.



Quote from the original post:



I want everyone who reads this to ask me three questions, no more no less. Ask me anything you want. Then I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (myself included) to ask you anything. (Do a trackback ping so that I know you copied it.)



And that's that.