Set

[H2O Man]

If I have a problem, I prefer to think about it while outside. Since I live in a rural area, and consider myself fortunate: I've been able to spend a lot of time walking paths in the woods, visiting a beautiful waterfalls, and sitting out near my pond. Some of that time, I'm by myself; other times, one or more of my dogs accompany me.

I know that many people prefer urban life, which is understandable. People have differences. And many individuals tend to deal with problems differently in their youth, than in their older ages. Some prefer group settings, and others solitude. That's a good thing.

As I walked along a snow-covered path near the creek last week, I was thankful for that opportunity. I have walked that path since long before I bought my house; next month will mark my owning this house longer than anyone else, since it was built in the 1790s. When I bought the place, a neighbor ("Old Fred&quot who lived here in the 1950s would walk that same path with me, and we would talk about local history.

It was twenty years ago that an area newspaper reporter ask me for something to use in her article about religion. I talked to Onondaga Chief Paul Waterman, and he okayed me sharing a poem with the reporter. It's a song, actually, from the Mid-Winter ceremonies. The lyrics speak of snow melting, and tiny streams flowing down the hills, and how that water is medicine.

I can hear the water running under the icy patches along the creek. The creek itself is covered with ice -- including a build-up of large sheets of ice collected below the waterfalls. The sound of a smaller stream meeting the larger creek -- all under ice -- makes beautiful music. Such music is soothing and healing. Medicine for this old man's ears.

I'm reminded that long, long ago, a teenager named Daniel Dickinson worked here, at a "cloth-and-carding factory" at the falls. My 8-year old son found a mill stone there, several inches beneath the soil, the year we moved there. Today, I'm looking for another type of stone: those which withstand the heat of fire, without shattering.

I'm an old man, and I don't know how many more springs I will have the opportunity to walk this lovely path. So I concentrate on enjoying every second of it. I greet the blue jays that sound their warning: "Human alert! Human alert!" And I find the delta, where the stream enters the creek. It is bare of ice, much like in the summer, these "lack-a-wannas" (where two streams meet) will be clear of fog. There is gravel and piles of cobble stones showing. I carry out a number of cobbles, and notice a large sandstone rock -- bigger than a volleyball -- near where a tree was uprooted.

Over the past few days, I've collected all the stones I need. I've also moved enough firewood out to the fire pit near my pond in the past three weeks. I had asked for some help from the young folks who wanted to participate in ceremony. But young folk are always busy, and so it ended up just me doing all the preparation.

There are no coincidences: either everything has meaning, or everything is meanless, despite the values our culture assigns. I value my time alone. I realize that, as I consider my many problems, I alone am responsible for all of my choices -- and the actions that result from those choices. Loneliness, on the other hand, is the dark side of being alone. Both sides weigh heavily.

***** ***** ****** ****** ***** ****** ******* *******

I made the platform and fire from oak, cherry, hemlock, blue spruce, locus, white pine, and hickory. The stones include sandstone, flint, and granite.

The pond is covered with ice. There are small gaps, where the mountain streams flow into the pond. When I move away from the fire, I can hear springs gurgling over.

I fill the bird-feeders my daughters have hung for me, and watch as the chickadees feast. Other small song birds begin to visit the familiar feeders. Chief Waterman instructed me to listen carefully to the tunes of the smallest song birds.

Soon, two friends come from opposite directions. Their work-day is over, and they are happy it is now the weekend. The first brings three gallons of water, one for each of us during ceremony. I've brought 16 gallons of water to pour during ceremony. Although it is chilly out, as the stones are brought into the lodge -- and sage is sprinkled on them -- the red-hot rocks begin to sing.

I am equally happy to conduct ceremony alone, or with others. I know the advantages that groups offer. Yet, as I consider one "problem," I realize that the answer can alone be identified by me, alone. After I reach that answer, I may bring it to other groups of people. But there is no other human being that can influence my final decision. That is up to me to decide.

The ceremony goes well. It is very hot, but not too hot, inside. The third person, here for the first time, volunteers to bring the rocks in for the two last rounds. This is good, because old men like me can grow tired. That's a young man's job.

I've known him less than a year. He is proud to be an atheist, who questions everything. He strikes me as very ethical, even spiritual. I was a little surprised he wanted to be here. Inside the lodge, I told him some things about his childhood that he had forgotten. I'm confident that, in the future, he will help me with stones and fire wood.

***** ***** ****** ***** ****** ***** ****** ******

Tom Libous is the most powerful republican in NYS politics. He has been in the state senate for a long time. The Koch brothers contribute generously to him. He is the lap dog of the local "energy" industry.

In 2010 and 2011, Libous worked with Governor Andrew Cuomo on a plan to make the Southern Tier a sacrifice area for the gas industry. Grass roots opposition put this plan in check. Libous was unwilling to meet with anyone from the pro-environment side, and so in 2012, I engaged in a "hunger strike" until Libous finally met me me.

In the time since then, Libous has been named as a politician seeking to use influence to secure employment for his son, in a federal "mob" trial in NYC. Later, it was reported that Libous lied in telling the state that neither he nor his wife had any financial interest in hydrofracking. In reality, both Senator and Mrs. Libous have significant investments in fracking.

I'm thinking about this, as I walk out to my pond. It's much warmer today; almost 60 degrees, and sunny. I fill the bird-feeders, and within minutes, the chickadees are there. The ice has melted off half of the pond. A million minnows and a number of Koi come to where I've tossed in fish food. There is but one dead fish, exposed by the ice melt. My dog Kelly, who loves the pond, sniffs the dead fish out quickly.

Kelly wades into the water, snatches the fish, and carries it to shore. He acts as if that fish were alive: tossing it with a twist of his head, pouncing upon it, and pawing it with a series of rapid jabs. He is a white dog, with blue spots, and it appears like he is dancing with the dead fish. I'm laughing out loud, and his tail begins wagging faster and faster.

The Koi in the still-cold water are moving in low gear. It appears to be slow-motion. After maybe half-an-hour's feeding, they swim faster. A few break the surface to grab food.

If Tom Libous is re-elected, the water from these tiny streams, creeks, ponds, and waterfalls will be destroyed by the poisons used in hydrofracking. The registered democrats in our region do not get to select who will run against him; each time, they pick someone who has patiently waited their turn to get destroyed by the republican machine.

A fairly wide range of people have asked me to run against Libous. Numerous democrats, members of the democratic left, and even some republicans have told me that they want me to run. The county chairpersons are less encouraging, noting their lack of influence in deciding on the candidate. In my opinion -- and I'm not alone -- the last fellow was channeling the spirit of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.

I'm a tired old man. I'm deemed 100% physically disabled. My physical health has seriously deteriorated since being deemed 100% disabled. I think that my mind is still relatively intact, although others might disagree.

If there was a better person to challenge Libous this year, I would be the very first to support her/him. Gladly. Fully.

But I do not see that person.

I walked in from my pond, and contacted the NYS Democratic Party HQ. I said that I want to be the candidate to challenge Libous. I have 40+ years of grass roots activism for the Democratic Party. I've ran numerous "local" elections in recent years, and have a winning record. I can get the votes of the party, the democratic left, and rational republicans.

I haven't heard back. So I wait, alone ..... but pretty soon, I may ask others to e-mail the Democratic HQ in Albany, to lobby for me.

Thank you,
H2O Man