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What to tax?

The other day I heard that Bidden might be proposing a 15% “flat income tax” as a solution to something. I am not quite sure what that would solve, but it got me to wondering about income taxes in general. We seem to have gotten to a situation where the poor pay 10% in Federal income tax, the “middle” pay something like around 50% and the top pay next to nothing (less than 1%). If you break it at 50% of the population, the top 50% pay 97% and the bottom 50% pay 3%. That sounds pretty dramatic, and it sounds like the “rich” are paying for everyone else – except that isn’t how it works. The top 50% also owns far more than 97% of the wealth, and makes more than 90% of the “income” (discussed below).

These numbers are based upon “taxable” income. Sorting out what should be taxable is the key question. If “income” means an increase in net worth, then the very rich do very will. For example, Warren Buffett (worth about $128B) who is of the richest folks pays about 0.02% of his annual increase in wealth in income taxes. He is one of the generous ones. That compares to something like 10% at the bottom and perhaps 40% in the middle.

The reason that the “income” is so much lower than the increase in worth is that most increases are increases in value, but don’t get turned into money very often. If you own a $500,000 home as you main asset, then you are “worth” $500,000. However, if home prices raise 5% a year, then the value of your assets incomes by $25,000 a year – which is not “realized” so there are no taxes against that “income”. If you are lucky and happen to own that land in a prime location, it is possible for the value to double without creating a tax liability until you sell it. At that point in time, the income will be considered capital gains, not “income” – with a tax rate of around 20%, unless you reinvest that money in a way that it stays “hidden” as an investment and not an income. Then there is no tax.

A thing with “rich” people (those who have more than they spend) is that they can choose what “income” that would like – and therefore they can choose how much tax they want to pay. You can just keep the money invested and it just keeps growing without taxes. However, sometimes the income grows in ways that become taxable income even though it is not turned into cash. An example is with using a house as a rental creating income. The part of the rent that exceeds the expenses becomes “income” and is therefore taxable. However, instead of just owning a house for this purposes you create a business (such as a corporation). In that case the corporation would owe any taxes (at a considerably smaller tax rate), but can also do things such as purchase other rental properties – and the “excess” income goes away in business expense – along with income tax. This is a never ending cycle of needing to keep investing in more and more to keep from having taxable income show up. At a certain point that gets overwhelming so you have to start giving it away, of course giving it away to charitable organizations that generate a tax deduction (“write off”). Sometimes you can even give away stuff (perhaps art to an art museum) where you can take a deduction for the value, rather than the initial cost. If you are careful with your purchases you can buy low, give away high and make enough in the tax benefits to avoid paying any taxes – it is not really a donation, it is just another way to make money.

Considering things closer to home. Perhaps a person decides to buy a restaurant to make a living. They have a lot of business expenses such as rent, or a mortgage on the building, all of the equipment and furniture, utilities, labor, etc. Clearly all of those things are not “income”, in fact they are expenses. This person has a gross income based upon their sales receipts, but their net taxable income has very little to do with that number, the part that they can live off of is the difference. It seems reasonable for that difference to be the taxable part. However, if successful this same business starts to be worth much more than the initial value – but that extra part doesn’t get taxed until it is “realized”. It becomes an interesting exercise to determine which part of the money flow is “business expense” and which part is personal income. There are lots of rules about this, generally the smaller the business the easier it is for the IRS to figure out that you didn’t pay tax on the portion of the company car that you used for personal transportation. However, at a certain point the business expenses so overwhelm the personal spending that the “income tax” becomes negligible. That is what results in folks like Warren Buffet from paying any reasonable amount of income tax, he can only personally consume so much stuff – and that is all that he takes out of the business (which is his choice – it is not some sort of natural thing). So income tax becomes trivial. What about corporate taxes?

Corporate taxes are similar in that they only occur when realized, and there are many, many “incentives” that give huge tax breaks when they do become realized. The only reason that they would become realized is to allow the business to get into an entirely different line of business – in which case the new costs aren’t counted as on-going business expenses. One interesting thing in California is known as the “Prop 13” freeze on property tax. The deal is that property taxes are fixed (almost) at what they were when the property was purchased. That means that it increases to the new value when sold, but remains at the low rate compared to the actual value until that time. This is not a big deal with residential property because that “turns” on average about every 3.5 years – resulting in property taxes lagging inflation slightly, but not significantly. However, at the very last minutes (literally) before being voted into law the wording was changed to include business property. The thing with business property is that it seldom gets sold (because that would cause the value to be realized and therefore taxed). Since the property doesn’t get sold, the property tax remains frozen at very low rates relative to inflation. This in turn results in services, such as schools, that depend upon local property taxes go broke. That keeps teacher’s salaries extremely low, driving teachers out of the field. There are many bad results of this law, which was initially passed because people on fixed incomes were losing their homes because of property taxes that tracked the “appraised” value of their homes. The cure was a sensible one of giving them a break during their lives. But the cure brought a very negative impact by stopping the flow of business money to support local services.

So what it the solution? A flat rate won’t help unless it comes with a change in the definition of “income”. As long as people with a lot of money don’t have any income because it is all either eaten up as business expense, or “hidden” in unrealized gains, then they won’t have to pay a flat tax either. A flat tax will increase the taxes on the low income folks from 10% to 15%, won’t do anything for the upper income folks, but might help the middle income people (with their extra money coming from the low income folks). The solution isn’t in adjusting the nominal tax rates, it is in adjusting what gets taxed. What are normally called “loop holes”. It seems like the solution is in taxing based upon value – but even that is a bit questionable since much of what is owned is not actually “owned” it is borrowed. If I “own” a $500,000 home, the reality is that I probably only own $100,000 and owe $400,000. However, I am getting the use of the other $400,000. Would the bank then have to pay taxes on the part that they own? That would cause mortgage rates to skyrocket – forcing huge numbers of people to lose their homes. How about the increase portion? So if the house increases in value by 5% a year, who pays for the tax on the $25,000? Is that the homeowner who really only owns 20% of the property, or the bank? By the way, allowing taxes to follow property values like that puts us right back into the problems that created Prop 13 in the first place.

I don’t have an answer to this, and it appears that I am not alone. What is value? What is income? How do you pay for unrealized increases in value? For example, lets say that your retirement nest-egg is a $5,000,000 investment in securities (stocks and bonds). This should be able to generate about $125,000 a year in increased value at today’s rates (leaving enough in the fund to increase as inflation increases). After income taxes on the part that distributed results in an after tax income of around $70,000/yr. Enough for a nice retirement for most folks. But it also means that you were leaving $125,000 in the fund to grow – as unrealized income. This means that $125,000 of “income” (increase in worth) was tax free. Actually, even the initial tax was smaller than for someone that works for their money because comes out as capital gains (taxed at 20%) instead of regular income (taxed at 45%). All of a sudden your reasonable retirement nest egg that you saved and fought for during your working life puts you into the category of the “rich that abuse taxes”. You are now only paying 10% on your income – income that you did nothing to earn but buy some paper that you never even get to see. You are now paying less (as a percentage) than the poor kid selling hamburgers down the street.

Feeling Hot Energy

This experience was one of my first experiences with something akin to the healing arts. I don’t know if it is actually the first instance of this kind of thing, but it is the first time that I recognized my ability to “feel” energy associated with injuries.  Maybe it was actually a hot spot since it was injured and my hands were sensitive enough to the heat to detect it.  Maybe it was something else.  I have no way of knowing, but I do know it was something that was very strong and very obvious.

It was sometime around 2001.  I was attending a spiritual gathering with some Toltec acquaintances of mine.  It was a group that I didn’t really know very well – although I did know a couple of the folks from previous meetings.  The meeting was in the evening and we had “warmed” up by meditating a bit, saying some prayers, playing drums and other instruments, and generally enjoying ourselves.  The leader had us do some energy exercises.  We paired off in twos.  I was pared with a lady that I slightly knew.  We were asked to sit cross legged on the floor facing each other.  Then both persons were to close their eyes and one would “feel” the energy, or aura, of the other by feeling the space between them and around the other person with their hands.  I was the first to be the “feeler,” she was to be the person who I felt. 

Being basically a non-believer in this kind of weird thing, I found this to be a very unsettling exercise.  I consider myself to be an engineer/physicist and was convinced that there is no energy that can be felt in this way because it didn’t exist.  However, since I had made an agreement with myself to do as asked as long as it isn’t too dangerous, I played along with the game.  I allowed myself to be blindfolded, and reached out with my hands to explore the space between us.  We were positioned so I wouldn’t be able to get closer than about a foot, maybe a bit more, from her with my hands.  For quite some time this went as expected, I waved my hands around and felt nothing.  I didn’t expect anything more and wasn’t disappointed. 

Then I started to notice a warm sensation in the palms of my outstretched hands.  As I moved my hands around I could feel it getting warmer and cooler, depending upon where they were placed.  There was a certain place that they felt very warm.  The feeling was very much like moving my hands toward and away from a hot clothes iron.  In fact, I finally stopped because I was a little worried that it would actually burn me if I got too close. So I just kind of played with the sensation, moving my hands closer and further away from her, and up and down – feeling the boundaries of the heat.

After we were done, we took off our blindfolds and talked to each other about the experience.  She told me that I was hurting her by pressing too hard on her left shoulder/breast area.  She said that I was pushing in and out too hard, and that it felt almost painful, but not quite painful.  Then she said that she had a serious medical problem in that area.  She didn’t say what it was and since she didn’t offer that information, I didn’t ask.  She just said that she had a problem, and that I was pressing the energy in that location and causing significant pressure and warmth to the injured area.

The experience stuck in my mind because it was the first time that I had an independent agreement with the experience of feeling the “energy” of an illness or disease.  I was very sorry that I made her feel uncomfortable; if I had known that I was actually impacting her I would have been much more careful and gentle.  As it was, I had no idea that she would be able to feel what I was doing, more or less that I might make her feel pain or be ill at ease.

I have never seen that lady again since that time.  I have often wondered if by some weird magic that experience might have helped her to heal.  I have had no feedback since then, so as far as I am aware it was just an experience of the two of us feeling some kind of hot, powerful energy.

Gift economy

I am currently reading a book that keeps stopping me in my tracks and causes me to ponder, wonder and imagine another way. The book is called “Braiding Sweetgrass, Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants” by Robin Wall Kimmerer. I am just beginning what promises to be an interesting adventure in reading and have already found that it is making me want to add some thoughts to my blog.

One of the first chapters is called “The Gift of Strawberries”, it talks about the gift that the wild strawberries in her childhood gave her and her relatives. Actually, it is about the idea of an economy based on the idea/culture of gifting rather than selling and purchasing that is the market economy we all live in these days. An example of how this works is that in the traditional native American ways, sweetgrass braids can’t be bought or sold – they can be gathered, braided and given; and they can be accepted as gifts but not “sold” because they don’t actually “belong” to anyone. Wild strawberries are the same, the earth gives strawberries, people pick them for food and/or gifts but nobody “owns” them. Of course there are some people that sell sweetgrass braids, and many that sell strawberries – but those transactions are examples of the market economy, not the native American ways. As Kimmerer says; “In material fact, Strawberries belong only to themselves. The exchange relationships we choose determine whether we share them as a common gift or sell them as a private commodity.” In other words, they begin in “the commons” but if they are turned into a private commodity there are no longer any effective social restraints upon there use or abuse.

There is an odd thing that happens in a gifting economy. For one, you tend to not accept gifts that are too large – it is unseemly to do so, and the burden of reciprocity becomes too great. Once you accept a gift you are no longer “free and clear” – the act of gifting creates ongoing relationships and responsibilities. Therefore, people tend to just accept what they actually need. Anything beyond that goes to someone else. However, in a market economy there are no such inherent limitations. The concept of “ownership” allows for an unlimited exchange (you are free to purchase as much as you can afford), and no reciprocity or responsibility is created – once the transaction is done the exchange is completed. This is very unlike what happens in a gifting economy.

At first I thought that she was describing some sort of Socialism, but as I think about it that is not the case. Socialism implies an organized government to work out the negotiations and trades – but it is still based upon the idea of ownership and a market. Gifting doesn’t have those ties – they are something much closer to our hearts, and much closer to sharing than buying/selling.

Kimmerer acknowledges that we can no longer survive as hunter-gatherers – but asks a question that stopped me in my tracks. She asks if perhaps, even in a market economy, we can behave “as if” the living world were a gift? She describes the market in a small town in the Andes where she lived for a time doing ecological research. I have seen such markets in many places around the world, markets that are full of vendors, produce, goods of all kinds – they appear to be the paradigm of a market based economy – but it isn’t. The vendors are all friends, neighbors, relatives and while money is exchanged, or goods are bartered, there is something else that is important but that has been lost. There is a balance in the “primitive” markets – everyone understands that what is being shared is of themselves and that the real “gift” of their merchandise is a gift from nature.

I was taken by a her statement that, “When all the world is a commodity, how poor we grow. When all the world is a gift in motion, how wealthy we become.” The question that comes to mind is how can we maintain the connections inherent in gifts, while operating with a market based economy that is necessary for our survival in today’s situation? I am asking myself if I treat my work and my efforts are as “gifts” – or are they commodities to be sold and traded to the highest bidder? I think my work has always had a very strong “gift” aspect to it, which is why I try to provide the very best “product” that I can, while minimizing the resources used to achieve that, and by keeping my prices as low as feasible while supporting my employees and family. I hadn’t really thought about it, but there is something of the feeling of “gifting” when I work for others. I think most of us (at least the lucky ones) have that sort of feeling about their business world. However, clearly there are a great many people that do not based decisions upon such insubstantial considerations.

Thanks to the risk takers

Today we are in the middle of the first full blown three day weekend of the pandemic. There have been some small scale tests in the past each of which resulted in large spikes of infections. This time we are testing the effectiveness of the vaccination program on a rather large scale. Watching the news showing packed freeways, airplanes and beaches is rather terrorizing for me. Clearly there is a very big urge for a great many people to once again test their idea that we are finally over the danger of the virus. The ideas of masking, social distancing, and sanitation have clearly gone out the window. In fact, it appears as if people are getting much closer and more tightly packed groups than prior to the pandemic. That is a great thing, the test would not be definitive if they sort of half-hardheartedly kept some of the protocols in place – we wouldn’t know if the test was testing those looser protocols, or if we really are getting beyond the danger.

Now that the initial part of the test have been completed with a great deal of across-country mixing, and a lot of up-close and personal social contact among strangers it is now time for the “rise” stage of the fermentation. We have three weeks to watch and see the shape and size of the new spike that is sure to come. If it is just a minor bump that is easily absorbed by the heath care system it might be a good indicator that we are finally past the worst of it. I think we now have as many “high risk” folks vaccinated as are going to be vaccinated. There are still many in that group who have refused, but as long as they don’t overwhelm the health care system they aren’t important. They will either die or not, as they have so clearly expressed – that is their choice. Perhaps the necessary improvements have been made in the health care system to effectively treat the remainder of the population. We’ll find out about this in a month or so.

So I would like to thank those dedicated risk takers who are so willing to participate in this large test. Without you the rest of us would have a difficult time judging where we stand in the pandemic and the risks that we are all still facing. It is interesting that globally there are a few other large scale tests underway that indicate continued high risks. Currently the ones most in the news are Brazil, India and Japan. They are proven that the virus is still widespread and extremely active. Brazil is an example of a country that just didn’t believe the science so pretty much ignored the protocols. India seems to believe in the science but has been economically and politically unable, or unwilling, to put the necessary precautions in place. I find that Japan is an interesting exception because they were so proud that they immediately accepted the problem, took extreme measures at following the initial protocols and had extremely low infection rates for most of the year of the pandemic. Now Japan is spiking and apparently having an extremely difficult time of it. I don’t understand what happened to change their risk profile so profoundly at this late date.

While it is not particularly “fun” to be in the middle of a giant science experiment, such as is happening this weekend, it is certainly interesting from many points of view.

Rags to Riches

Rags to Riches

Whilst sitting in my hot tub watching the stars early this morning my thoughts turned to multi-billionaires. During the period of covid lockdown my neighbor and I have been trading books about rich, powerful Americans that appear to be doing rather horrible things to our society and often to the economy as well. Examples of folks that have come into our consideration are Richard Sackler of Purdue Pharma that got rich from selling oxycontin and Charles Koch who leveraged a failing oil refinery into a fortune. Other current “rags to riches” stories include Donald Trump, Bill Gates and others. You are free to add your own list of rags to riches examples. People that fit into this mold are a few of the huge farmers in California’s Central Valley and others that how outsized influence due to accumulating vast fortunes from virtual monopolies. There are some interesting things that characterize these folks. All of them started from modest beginnings (some a lot more modest than others), all of them leveraged a good idea (or lucky situation) into something akin to a monopoly, and all of them eventually seem to become convinced that they have “something special” giving them permission to think and act as kings or emperors.

I wonder how this happened. How did these few people acquire such vast fortunes, and the power the power that comes with it? How does that happen? Is it good or bad for the Country, the world or any part of society? If it is a bad thing, can we, or should we, do something to prevent it from occurring? These are the types of questions that come to my mind while “daydreaming” at 4:30am in the rural “wilds” of the Sacramento Valley.

I don’t think that the people who find themselves in the position of being exceedingly rich and powerful have any special “magical” attributes that somehow preordain their rise to wealth and power. I think they are generally just “normal” folks (perhaps very smart normal folks – but more like the top 5% of smart (IQ above 125). The certainly aren’t 170+ IQ super geniuses. There are a LOT of people in their intelligence category – but only a vanishingly small number of us end up being billionaires. In general, it appears that they are pretty “normal” folks that had a good break and then continued to add fuel to the fire, leveraging that good break to finally create situations that are close to being monopolies creating things that people either desperately need, or think they need. Basically, they all create what might be described as an addiction to something that they have a near monopoly on. Oil to fuel motors is one, computers to fuel whatever all of the computers do, social media to fuel our need to be seen and heard, actual narcotics to fuel our addition to narcotics, and “Cuties” to fuel our love for cute little citrus fruits. None of these things were needed before someone “created” a need for them. Someone had an idea that would “stick”, blew fire into the smoldering kindling, and then kept feeding the fire until it turned into a conflagration. They did this in a way that was fast enough, and protected enough by patents, to for them to end up being showered in wealth. These kinds of “beginnings” start all of the time (I would guess many millions of times a year), but only now and then do things come together in ways that allow the fire to explode – I think it is much more a random event than anything else. The very rich people that followed the path from rags to riches found themselves to be riding a perfect wave, they didn’t make the wave but once it was there they got on and held tight.

A little story from my early years might illustrate a bit of this. I was a struggling building contractor, just barely getting along on the meager income I could get from doing one-at-a-time custom jobs for “normal” homeowners, not the rich that can afford to pay for excellent work. In order to make this work I became a part of a small group of like minded friends that shared work and opportunities. This group was made up of a bunch of independent entrepreneurial tradespeople (plumbers, carpenters, painters, drywall folks, dirt movers, roofers, etc). We all belonged to an informal group that shared work because none of us could do everything.

One winter when work was slow because of the weather a bunch of us decided to take an adventure trip to the Mohave Desert in Southern California. I had being going to a very special, very remote, place with my family for many years and I wanted to share the beauty of the desert with my friends from Northwest California that grew up in a world of rain, fog and cold rather than dry, sunny and hot. This turned into far more of an adventure than I had anticipated, but I will leave most of that to another time (perhaps). I want to talk about our first night’s campfire.

I guided our little group to a camping spot that I had used many times in the past. It was located on the edge of some rolling hills to the north, and a vast almost flat alluvial plane stretching off for many miles to the south. This is in the heart of the extremely dry, sparsely vegetated Mohave Desert populated by rattlesnakes, scorpions, desert tortoises, bob cats, coyotes and big horned sheep. (Actually, while it appears almost barren this is a place that is alive with many animals and plants that become very obvious because they stand out in the land of dirt and rocks. When there is an animal there you tend to see it.

As usual, I started to make a little campfire to heat water for coffee and just to create a cheery place for us to gather around and chat about our day and our plans for the next day. However, a friend of mine asked to be the “fire keeper.” He started making a small little fire in the middle of the 2 foot diameter ring of stones my family assembled years ago to contain a small fire and hold a grate to put pots and pans on for cooking. He then went into the desert to gather more firewood for the evening’s fire. As you can probably imagine, that is a bit of a task because there just isn’t much out there in the way of firewood. He brought back some nice, small dead limbs that he found in a nearby dry creek. I settled down to relax, and he went back to get more. He brought another armload and put it on the fire – making the fire too big for the stone ring but still nice and cheery – too big to make s’mores but fine for talking. Then he went to get more firewood, and threw it on the pile. Now the fire was getting pretty big so we all had to move our chairs back to avoid the heat, putting us too far apart to be able to talk easily. Once more my friend vanished and returned with roots of some pretty big plants that he had uprooted to throw onto the fire. By now it had grown from a camp fire to a bonfire. He was unstoppable! Every time the fire got bigger he had an urge to make it even bigger – until he had gathered up all of the loose firewood from a very large area (perhaps a mile in diameter) and had uprooted the bushes and small trees that he could work loose from the ground. By mid-night we were all standing very far back from the roaring fire, and thank God my friend finally wore down (having partaken with a little of the whisky prior to each of his sojourns). By morning the fire had burned down to a pile of smoldering ash, and we no longer had a source of easily obtainable firewood. My guess is that there was no firewood in that area for many years after that – things grow pretty slowly in the desert. We then had to drive to find additional firewood.

He couldn’t seem to help himself. The fire was there, firewood was there, and if you put more on the fire got bigger. It didn’t take very long before he stopped worrying about where the wood was coming from, or what that was doing to the local area then and into the future. Actually, I don’t think he ever bothered with thinking about any of that in the first place. He didn’t even think about what he was setting out to do, which was to make a nice fire to heat coffee and draw in some friendly conversations with his friends. Instead, he went solo into the desert and just kept getting more and more and more until there wasn’t any more to get, and he had run out his ability to continue.

Is this what those ultra-rich “rags to riches” folks do? Is this the same kind of obsession that they get trapped in? And then they get power, get fame, get control. How very “sexy” and thrilling it must be. Unfortunately they also come to believe all of the lies about how wonderful they are, how smart they are, how sexy and viral they are, and they believe that they must have special powers to have succeeded in such a spectacular way. We just have to look at the Sacklers, Kochs, Trumps, and others to see how this infects their minds.

This brings me to the question of: “should we allow this sort of thing to happen?” Perhaps we should find a way for lucky, smart, energetic entrepreneurs to succeed and get very rich – but not “too” rich. Of course I have no idea where the boundary might be between “rich enough” and “too rich”. The idea of tractor pulls comes to mind. For those that are not familiar with this “sport” the game is to pull a heavy sled with some kind of machine (originally a tractor). The sled is rigged up so that it slides easily at first, but the resistance to being pulled by the tractor increases the further it goes, eventually getting so hard to pull that the tractor stops in its tracks. The winner is the one that pulls the sled the furthest. I am thinking of this kind of an idea to allow folks to compete, but not to just run off with the game. Of course, as with most sports of this kind, there is an ever increasing desire to make the tractors even bigger and stronger, requiring bigger and stronger sleds – on into the night. But even with the biggest and the strongest, the sleds are all designed to eventually stop the tractor.

Maybe we need something similar in our economy. Taxes are one way to make the “sled” get harder and harder to pull. Right now we are in a situation where the rich have gotten so much power that they have modified the rules so that the weight of the sled behind their tractors gets smaller as they go along – once you pass a certain threshold taxes decrease rapidly the more their income is. Eventually not only do taxes decrease to zero (or nearly so), but huge “incentives” start going their way so that the government gives them lots of money to make more money. As demonstrated by the Sacklers, it gets to the point that donating money and things to charity, foundations, and museums becomes a very lucrative profit center. All of those great sounding donations aren’t being generous, they are the best way that they have for making high profits (and honor) with that part of their wealth. The fact that those profits come by way of money from the rest of the us taxpayers is not important.

Dream of my Brother Bill

My brother Bill is twelve years older than I am.  That means that by the time I was entering kindergarten, he was out of high school and living on his own.  I didn’t really get to know him very well until after I finished high school.  After high school I went to a local junior college, broke up with my fiancé after a few months, dropped out of college, and went to live with my brother Bill at the tiny town of Elk on the coast in northern California.  That marks the time when I first began to get to know him as a person instead of just someone that I saw at family gatherings.

Bill’s main profession was as a mechanic, specializing in repairing and rebuilding large Caterpillar tractors.  He was also a low bed truck driver moving heavy equipment, small time cattle rancher, fire wood cutter, chief of the local volunteer fire department, doing just about anything that was rough, tough, dirty, hard work.   He seemed to especially like big, old, heavy equipment.  I was always in awe at his amazing skill as a mechanic, especially when working on the more complex items such as transmissions and other gear boxes.  He seemed to understand machines like others understand our best friends. There are many, many stories of exploits with him.  Going on any type of trip with him was bound to become an adventure, which I always found to be great fun.

He lived in an old, big, run-down Victorian style ranch house on the top of Sonoma Mountain, between the Valley of the Moon, and Santa Rosa.  The old place is located on property that was inherited from his wife’s family ranch, in what is now some of the most expensive and sought after areas in the state.  For most of his time living there, it was just beautiful land that was too small to make a living off of, but big enough to hold lots of old tractors, trucks, cars and other broken down vehicles and a few cattle.  For years he ran his tractor repair business on that parcel, accumulating valuable pieces and parts of things that might be useful some day when the right job came along.  In addition to the “good old stuff,” he accumulated scrap iron to be sold as needed in his retirement years – kind of a rusty nest egg.

I tried to visit him as often as I could, watching and talking to him while he worked on old equipment, sitting in their kitchen looking out of the window at the incredible view of the Sonoma Valley with its golden hills and oak trees.  He was a very difficult person to talk to because his pace was hard to match.  I might go to visit him with a question about my car.  I would ask the question in the morning, and if all went well I might get an answer by evening – or maybe the next day.  There was often a very long pause, and several projects, between comments.  I found it to be a pleasant way to spend my time, but it could be frustrating if I actually needed the information in a hurry.  One thing that he almost never talked about was himself.  He would tell tractor and truck stories for hours at a time, and talk about all sorts of adventures that he or others had, but never did you find out much about Bill.

Unfortunately, when he was in his late fifties he had a massive stroke that left him almost dead, much of his body paralyzed, and in extremely poor health.  His nest egg of scrap metal and spare parts immediately lost almost all of its worth because it depended upon his energy and knowledge to recoup the value.  This was especially the case for the tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of gaskets, seals, bearings, shafts, and odds and ends of parts that nobody but he could identify.  They turned from high value parts to scrap in the blink of an eye.

I must confess that I did not visit him as often as I should have during the next years while he lay paralyzed, or finally slumped in a wheel chair.  He could talk a little, but it was even slower and more agonizing than it had been when he was the picture of strength and good health.  I stopped by now and then, but since we really couldn’t talk and I couldn’t think of what to do, I would leave too early.  I know that I could have just hung around and done nothing, which would have been appreciated by him I am sure – but it was just too uncomfortable for me.  It was such a sad thing to see this wasted man who had been so full of energy, life and strength just a short time before. 

One day we got the call that he had died.  I think he died in his sleep, but don’t know that for sure.  At any rate, he died and I wasn’t there – which made me sad, a little guilty feeling.  I should have supported him much more than I did.  A few weeks following his death, his family had a remembrance celebration, inviting a lot of his old time friends to share good yarns and pleasant memories about my brother’s exploits over the years.

Several months after his wake I had my first lucid dream of him.  I found myself sitting with him in the kitchen of his house, chatting and looking out on the hills and the Valley of the Moon.  The house was just like it was in the old days when he first moved into the house with his young family.  There was the big old wood burning cook stove, an old wooden dining room table, and we were sitting, as usual, in old spindle backed dining room chairs.  Bill was in his early to middle thirties, in full health.  He looked splendid, a very handsome, vigorous, strong outdoorsy man – just like I remembered him in those days.

It took me a little while to realize what had happened.  At first I was comfortable, just sitting with my brother, enjoying each others company.  Then it dawned on me that he was dead, and that I was in a dream.  I looked very closely around the room and at him to see if there was anything that would give it away as being a dream, but found nothing – other than the fact that I was sitting talking to my dead brother.  It was perfectly clear, stable, and looked exactly like real life. 

I asked him what he was doing in my dream since he was dead.  He said that he had a desire to talk to me, and that this was the way that he could do it.  This seemed reasonable to me.  I asked him what he was doing now that he was dead.  He said that he was working on the place, fixing it up.  He was repairing fences for his cattle, rebuilding the house, cleaning up the mess and generally doing all the things that he had wanted to do before he died.  I asked him if he was lonely.  He said that it wasn’t lonely at all, that he had his old friends and family around a lot.  He said that he had friends and family that had died, and those that were still alive – so it was a pretty enjoyable time.

We chatted about his experiences of being dead, about his projects and about his family.  Then he asked me to let his family know that he was doing okay, that they shouldn’t worry about him.  We said goodbye to each other, and I woke up.

About a year later he was back.  We were in his kitchen again.  This time I immediately recognized where we were, and that I was in a dream with my brother.  We made our normal small talk and then I asked him what he was doing now.  He said that he was just about finished up with the projects.  He told me that he was fixing things up to welcome our mother and his wife when they died.  He planned on meeting them and welcoming them to the other side. 

We talked some more about nothing much special.  It was odd to be wasting time with small talk, but that seemed to be the thing to do.  For example, I asked him about eating – what did he eat and did he have to eat.  He said that he didn’t have to eat, it didn’t bother him one way or another, but that he did eat because he liked to.  The food was just prepared and on the table, he didn’t have to fix it, so it was easy.  He said that all of the normal things that we do when alive can be done, but don’t need to be done – it is a choice.  For the time being, he was choosing to do them.

We finally ran out of things to talk about, said goodbye again, shook hands and I woke up.  I had, and still have, the feeling that while these were dreams, they were really communications with my brother.  I felt that it was a real, solid, actual person that I was talking to.  Whether he was real or not doesn’t matter much to me, the dreams helped me to have a couple more visits with my brother, and to feel that he was doing well and enjoying himself.  I was most impressed that he came back at the prime of his life, which was a nice touch.

After my mother died a couple of years later, I had one more dream of dead people – my mother.  It was very brief. I had a short visit from her on the night of her death.  She stopped by to let me know that she was gone, but that she was okay.  She said that she was going to stay with Bill for a bit, and that they would then be gone.  She visited my brother Michael at about the same time.  He was driving his car at the time, several hundred miles away.  She visited him to let him know that she had died and was on her way.  No big trauma, just a goodbye visit for both of us.

I have not had any encounters with either of them since that time.  I would kind of like to continue having these types of dreams about them, but it feels like they are no longer available for such nighttime chats.

The “trap” of gender identity

A couple of days ago I received an interesting email from a young (27 years old) woman friend of mine. She mentioned that one of her “projects” during the last year or so was to loosen the bonds of thinking about herself as a young woman, instead learning to think of herself as a human. Her description was, “Recently, I’ve been trying to broaden some of the pre-programmed biases I have about gender roles. Over the last year, I’ve begun slowly to non-identify with my gender. I notice if I just think of myself as “human,” then I have more space in my mind for what kinds of things I allow myself to do, think, how I express myself, etc. I think I’m just trying to not box myself in with labels generally. Just because I’m 27 doesn’t mean I’m “too old” or “too young” for doing certain things. I’m allowed to be a joyous, awe struck playful kid engaged in life when I want to be. I’m also allowed to have a butt-load of wisdom even though I am considered “young.” I don’t need to box myself in to fit a preconceived idea I or others have about what I “should” be doing and behaving. Its a process, of course to slowly question and then unplug from the matrix of my own labels and boxes. But it’s been a fun project.”

Reading her words caused me to stop and think about how I think of myself. Do I mostly identify as “a man?” How much do I adjust myself to align with what a 74 year old man should be like, act like and think like? The gender idea is a bit tricky – it is hard to not box myself in to the role. After all, I am a big, imposing male and have been that way since adolescence. I have a history of doing extremely physical “manly” work, full of strength and vitality. That is not so much what I do now that I am moving into the “golden years” – but it is still how I think of myself. I suppose this is visualizing myself in a masculine wrapper. However, I don’t really think of myself as male or female, I just think of myself as a person. It happens that I am big, strong, with a beard and deep voice – but those aren’t “me”, they are just descriptions of the package. However, as I think back to my 20s I think perhaps I was much more concerned with fitting “the model.” That said, even back at that age I was pretty consistently “marching to my own drummer” – that was something that my family promoted as a good thing. Being a bit eccentric was always acceptable to them (not so much to many of my school mates).

Another birthday

Well, I have now completed my 74th trip around the sun. I find this to be a rather amazing thing. When I was young I was certain that I would die at the age of 50. That might have actually happened if it hadn’t been that modern medicine was there to take care of my failed gall bladder. However, luck was with me and I have been able to enjoy a whole bunch of “bonus” years. Not only that, but I am still doing good – a little stiff and sore, my balance is no longer trustworthy, and my memory seems to do a lot of things on its own. Overall I think I can now be described as “spry” – that terms seems to be reserved for those of a more advanced year (“elderly”). I certainly don’t feel elderly, nor do I feel “spry” – in fact, I feel like I did at 30 (until I actually attempt to do what I am thinking I can do).

Time is really flying by these days. It used to go by pretty fast, but now that they numbers of years left are much less than the number of years before time has definitely compressed. They days don’t seem to go so much faster, or feel much shorter – but the months and the years are certainly compressed. Perhaps this is related to my wandering memory. I find that I am more often wondering just what is going to finally fell me, and when is that going to happen. Not so much worried about when it will happen (curious of course), but worrying about the bigger question of what will lead up to that moment. Will it be quick, or will it be drawn out and painful?

Anyway, here is another year on its way and I am feeling amazingly well. I feel fit (sort of), happy (most of the time), and looking forward to good things to come. Thank you for all of you that have wished me well.

Medical Aid

There have been a number of incidents that I have experienced as a volunteer fireman that feel to be slightly out of the ordinary.  As a volunteer in a very small town, I am expected to be the “first responder” at all sorts of medical aid calls, but have very little training concerning what to do once I get there.  I am far from being a trained medical responder, but still have to fill that role.  For the first few years, automobile accident calls with “injuries” terrified.  As I was getting into my protective clothes at home, and then driving to the fire house, I would think of what I might be facing.  Knowing that I had almost no training, I would think about what it was going to be like to be depended upon to do the right thing to help someone, but not know what to do. I was also afraid that it would be so ugly, and I would be so frightened, that I would unable to function.  My fear was so great that on more than one occasion I found that my car had stopped in the middle of the road and it was almost impossible to make myself continue to the firehouse. 

After a few years of being filled with mind numbing fear each time I heard my portable monitor go “beep beep beep beep beep” for a call, I had a realization that my responsibility wasn’t as great as I had imagined.  After encountering a couple of dead people on these calls, it dawned on me that in almost all cases people would either be dead, or they would not be dead.  If they are dead, then it doesn’t matter any longer.  We take so long to respond (about 6-10 minutes), that they aren’t likely to become dead during the few minutes between when I show up and when an ambulance arrives at the scene.  The realization that I don’t normally have to save lives was a great relief.  My job is to make the scene safe (put out fires, turn off engines, control traffic, etc), help get the injured people out of the vehicles and ready to be put into an ambulance, administer first aid if needed, and help people feel better in their fear and pain.  I can do all of these things.  If someone dies, I feel sorrow – but there isn’t much that I can do about that.

At about the same time that I came to the realization that we don’t save lives, it also became obvious that my main “medical” contribution has to do with helping people with their fear and suffering, and maybe some of the pain.  Pain is hard to do something about because it has to do with nerve impulses.  Suffering, however, seems to be a choice.  I have noticed that a person can be in great pain, but not be suffering if they are in the right mind.  My job is to help them get into that right mind.  I have found that I can help by just being there, being attentive, and touching them.  When I touch a person in these situations, I get the same kind of feeling that I do when I am “healing” someone.  I feel the warmth and feeling of “love” flowing through my body and hands into them.  I don’t tell the fireman, or anyone at the scene, what I am doing – but I feel that I am doing something important.

One example that comes to mind is a late night call that we got to a house trailer where a person was in immense pain because of gall stones.  This wasn’t an accident, but it was similar because it involved so much pain.  When we got there the man was screaming and hollering because of the pain, and was losing his control.  The other firemen just stood and watched, not knowing what to do.  I knelt down beside the patient and held his hand.  I could feel the warmth flowing to him, and within a couple of seconds he quieted down.  I could feel his muscles and everything just kind of relaxing; he could even come up with a bit of a smile and could talk to us. It was obvious to me that my presence was a great soothing thing for him.  Finally the ambulance came and he was able to walk slowly to the ambulance where they administered some drugs that actually helped the pain, rather then just his reaction to it.

In another case we showed up in the middle of a rainy night to an accident where a car had rolled over and the passenger’s arm was ripped off at his shoulder.  My first job was to wade in a nearby creek until I found the missing arm!  I handed the arm over to one of the other firemen, and went to see what I could do to help.  I first went to the side of the person missing the arm, and found that he was close to a state of shock.  That means he was quiet, but in a very dangerous situation.  I held his hand for a few minutes, and the danger seemed to pass.  I then turned my attention to the driver, who was his girl friend. She was really freaking out, she was just going nuts crying, shouting, sobbing while I could see that she was going into shock.  I went up to her and captured her in a big bear hug, wrapping myself around her as much as I could, and just stood there with her for a long time.  She slowly stopped sobbing and shaking, and I could finally feel her body relax.  We just continued to stand in the middle of the road, gently swaying back and forth until she was able to be on her own again.

A couple of months ago we were called out to an accident between a pickup truck and a small sedan.  The lady in the sedan was trapped, and hurt badly.  She clearly had broken legs, and maybe a broken arm.  We used the Jaws of Life and cut her free, sliding her out on a backboard where we could prepare her for transport.  During this time she was screaming at the top of her lungs.  She was by far the noisiest patient that I ever experienced.  When we got her laying down on the ground, her arms slipped and I saw both of her arms flex like a couple of pieces of rubber tubing, they bent in all the wrong places.  When that happened she REALLY let out a holler.  I held on to her hands to keep her arms from flopping about again while others prepared splints, got her connected to the back board, etc.  I found that the only thing that I could do was pour my love through her hands.  She finally became quiet and seemed to relax.  I don’t know if my holding her hands helped, but it at least gave me something to do.

There are many more instances like these where a person was in fear, or in great pain, where my touching them and being there seemed to help.  I think that the presence and touch of another human at those times of need helps immensely.  It might well be that someone just being there is all that was needed. However, it feels to me that there is something more going on, it feels to me like there is loving energy being transferred through my body and into the other person.  It feels wonderful to me, so I look forward to being able to help.  It seems to feel wonderful to them too, but my guess is that they don’t ever think back upon it as anything special. 

I wonder what is going on during these kinds of events.  One thought it is that the presence of a caring person is enough to calm fears and reduce pain.  Another idea is that maybe there is actually some kind of “universal energy” that we can sometimes tap into.  If that is the case, this energy is not obvious or observable by currently available scientific measurements or tests.  From the point of view of a scientist, I have to believe that if anything is actually happening it must be related to mental changes caused with the caring attention of another person.  However, from my experiences of being personally involved, I can state that it feels like there is more than that; it feels like an outside source of energy is involved.  Whatever the truth is, I am convinced that we all have the ability within us to offer great assistance to those in mental or physical pain.  If we can find a way to relax into the drama of the situation we can do much to help reduce another person’s fear and pain in their moments of need.

Time to travel??

Now that the weather has changed, and the CDC has issued what I consider to be extremely confusing and dangerous changes to the masking and social distancing requirements. It is clear that what was intended to be a rather narrow change has turned into something much larger. I don’t know if it is because of this change in “requirements” or just the time of year, but I have noticed an huge spike in the number of folks that I know who are traveling around the country (and around the world). It seems that almost everyone I talk to is heading off on trip, vacation or retreat – or having friends/family come for an extended visit. They are traveling by plane and automobile, but excited about getting to someplace else.

I assume that my friends are not unusual, I suspect this is happening across the country. It looks to me that we are entering a period of “churning”, traveling and mixing up the population of the country, all at a time when the pandemic is very much alive and well, and people are stopping paying attention to any of the safety protocols from the past year. What could possibly go wrong with a thing like this? It feels like a time of extreme danger to me, but clearly it feels like the danger has passed to most people. I sure hope they are correct.