Squirrely

The actual definition of squirrely is "eccentric or flighty."  I hesitated about using that as a title due to the definition, yet it's true about my enjoyment of and eccentricity about squirrels (and/or chipmunks), which started with I'm reasonably sure the Chip & Dale cartoons:

and the Beatrix Potter books

Believing that owning squirrels would be as entertaining and easy as a Chip & Dale cartoon and as delightful as a Beatrix Potter story, I entertained the idea of being a squirrel trainer at the age of five (I also thought about being a crow trainer, but that's another story), but the squirrels were not open to that notion at all, so I gave up, but never really lost my love of squirrelania:

As you might guess, people have given me squirrel things over the years. I've actually been pretty good about not letting this get out of control and just kept a few.

Even though I desired a career as a squirrel trainer early in life, I know the damage they can cause and have decided they can remain wild and not be trained by me.  However, I have enjoyed feeding them.  In fact, some of my squirrel "charges" became quite tight jacketed and sleek (meaning chunky & plump) under the fine peanut diet to which they were exposed.  Some of the squirrels even took peanuts from my fingers, at which point my friends teased me by calling me Snow White (I should look and sing so well!). 

Right now, I live in an apartment in an urban area heavily populated by bold and daring squirrels who run on the super squirrel speedway (power lines).  I thoroughly enjoy this, of course, but on occasion it is sad, such as a couple of weeks ago when one squirrel literally went up in smoke when he fell into a transformer.  There was a huge boom and cloud of grey-blue smoke.  It was startling and powerful enough that I was surprised to find the power had not cut out.  I was really rather upset the rest of the day over that squirrel's demise.

 

And that's the end of my squirrely story.  I'm glad these wild critters are a part of my urban life, a little flash of motion up a tree or on the power lines, that surprise during walks.  They're a bit of comic relief and joy that eases things up when the going gets tough in the adult world. 

Thinking Global and Local

While I get ready to watch the Hope for Haiti Now earthquake telethon this evening, I'm really moved by another example of American generosity. Proud is probably an understatement about what I felt for a local fundraising effort, Songs for Haiti, here in Portland, Oregon that occurred last night when local musicians raised $150,000 in a more or less impromptu benefit concert.

The pictures and video of people suffering in Haiti have torn me up (particularly those images of people getting sutured with no anesthetic or a mother falling apart hearing her child's limb has to be amputated), and I've donated money to the effort as well, so I'm definitely not one of those people who automatically say we need to attend to our own first and foremost. As one of the world's leaders, we do have to think globally, and we do need to care for those in dire need around the world and let them know they've not been forsaken, just as President Obama said, and I think Haiti is starting to realize that now.

Over the past few days, I've been brought back from the global to the local by the fact that the Assistance League of Portland Children's Dental Clinic, a facility that provides dental care to low-income children, may shut down due to lack of funding. It's a common enough story these days, but just as I've given and thought about Haiti the last week, I'm going to find a way to donate to the Children's Dental Clinic and support their efforts to regroup and get new funding. The services they provide are essential to children's health, but also to their self esteem. I do plan to contact Dr. Kurt Ferre, board president of Assistance League of Portland, to see how to donate money. I will keep you posted if I find a way to donate money, and I hope you will find a way to help all our neighbors locally and globally.

Haitian Pain

When I worked with neurosurgeons, I listened once when a halo brace was removed from a child's head/neck/shoulder area. Halo brace frames and wires are literally screwed into the head and neck to maintain correct position and alignment during the healing process. Even with local anesthesia, the child was terrified and in pain, and the screams were heart wrenching. The young patient later walked out and all was well, but I've never forgotten that experience.

Today, while watching events unfold in Haiti, and watching childrens and adults being sutured without the use of anesthesia or even correct sanitary measures, I was reminded of the halo removal experience. Removing a halo brace is a positive event, meaning the patient is healed and ready to move on with further treatment or simply with their life, but it is a difficult experience. We can only hope that someday soon the Haitian people will be able to move forward from what is certainly far more than a "difficult experience." In the meantime to help, I've given money and will continue to do so with the hope that Haiti will be able to move forward to a brighter future. As President Obama said, "you will not be forsaken." Let's not forget that promise.