When Trickster Comes

I managed to get all my things taken care of and made my plane on time. Let me tell you, Pan does not follow linear time. How could he, a childlike spirit of the wind? Nevertheless, I uprooted myself, traded my tiger's petals for wings and flew into the great white cold.

I wish I could have recorded the take off from San Francisco. I had a single seat next to a window in a tiny plane taking off from SFO. We took off heading north from the east side (bay side) of the peninsula, and made one big U-turn around the city until we were headed south on the ocean side. San Francisco is really quite small in comparison to other cities, so contained by water. And green! We have so many parks, green peaks too steep for development. I saw Dolores Park and Sutro Heights from the air--and no one could miss the large strip that is Golden Gate Park. I fell in love with the city all over again. In comparison, Orange County was a large urban sprawl that created a uniform grid over the ground, all varying tones of grey; grey houses, grey-blue pools, black-grey parking lots, green-grey ballparks.

Growing up in Illinois, all cold was the same. It came from outside during the winter and from the inside during the summer. One was infinitely more pleasant than the other, but invariably, the extreme between hot and cold created a tension where neither place--inside or out--was entirely comfortable. When I moved to San Francisco, all extremes seemed to disappear and there were just various shades of warmth or coolness, which changed based on season, time of day and location within the city. San Fran, and really, the whole bay area are full of microclimates.

December in San Francisco is not very cold, between high 30's at the lowest and upper 50s at the high end. But whatever the temperature, it is the same inside and outside. In fact, there is no guarantee that inside will be warmer at all. In the mission, where I work, the bindery can be colder if the sun is warming the air outside. So if it is cold, you layer on the clothing and everyone in the city dresses like we are camping. (On a side note, people in suits look ridiculous going camping.)

When I flew back, the airplane was that usual edge of chill that wasn't enough for my coat, but still penetrated my sweater. A now familiar feeling. When I left the plane, I was struck by how warm it was inside. It was so warm, and just before running outside, we bundle up all that warmness in the layers of coat, scarf, gloves, hat. You can't really run in this slippery mess of nearly-shoveled sidewalk. You shuffle in quick and cautious movements, using streetlights to spot gleaming patches of ice. The cold attacks our weak spot--the vulnerable bear face. People with glasses shield their eyes only temporarily, and must deal with blinding glass fog when we step inside.

The ride back was odd. It was winter when I left, winter when I came back. Everything was so familiar, open wide and welcoming me home like no time had passed at all. Was I expecting a round peg in a square hole sort of feeling, perhaps? Eva and grandpa didn't recognize me when I came in, got real close before Eva realized she was looking in the wrong direction and her sister was on her right. Ha. She has lost weight too and we shared that knowing, silent smile of congratulations.

So, I've arrived here, spent a few nights on a couch, ran around outside in the cold and immersed back into consumerist society with Target shopping experience. I took over the grocery shopping so I could buy organic and was met with resistance on both their part and mine. Prices out here are very different, conventional food plentiful and cheap, and organic food presented as a pricey and elitist option. Consumers are given only a partial picture, heavily propagandized by advertising--and frugal, grounded folk like my family are rightly skeptical of it. They are not given all the facts, only a few that presents a dualistic picture with snoppish arguments that appeal to materialistic tendencies, not grounded in reality, with real facts that acknowledge both advantages and trade-offs to a change in agricultural industry (or non-industry as the case may be.) It will become my task to give them better information to choose.

Last night during a chili dinner, Joan and grandpa laughed about how silly global warming was, when clearly this winter has been much colder than the last. "We've had hot summers and cold ones. Cold winters and warm ones. It's just the cycle of things." Coming from my grandma.

There is so much work to do, but I don't want to come off as preachy to them. That will only serve to turn them off. People in the midwest, perhaps unconsciously; feel that part of their midwestern identity grounds them with the earth. So many of us have agricultural backgrounds, or ancestors and ancestor stories that ground us in these plains. A modern thread of tradition that holds strong like spider silk against assault. We don't like to be told what is best for us from someone outside. Ideas that come through must sneak in through the unconscious. They take hold and suddenly people don't even know what is good for them. Like the way midwesterns eat--we eat "traditional" family food, which would have been good hearty, protein & carb-rich meals if we all worked on the farms or in factories all day. But now we've changed how we live and work and don't understand why the diet that was good for our forefathers isn't good for us. Or maybe they have explained it, but done it in such a condescending way that it does no good. Or the quiet observations are stated, and lost in the mess of contradictory messages of Supersize! Supervalue! Biggie size it! Get more, save more!

Good Goddess, no wonder our psyches are so fucked up.