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A Joyful Noise

california

The welcome respite of rain

March 12, 2020 by Melodye Shore

Rain’s in the forecast every day this week, spilling over into the next! No big deal in most parts of the country, but it’s a blessing for SoCal residents because it tamps down fears of another drought. Also: Traffic’s lighter, because we sun-lovers don’t venture out as much when it’s wet.

And so it is that I’m curled up in my reading chair, memorized by the percussive sounds of raindrops on our red tile roof. It falls in sheets from the wooly-gray sky, shimmies down my picture window and splashes into my birdbath. My garden is getting a long, deep soaking, and I am filled with a sense of well-being.

It’s as if Mother Nature is sprinkling over all of Creation what we needed most–a quarantine of sorts for world-weary humans, and liquid nourishment for the great outdoors.

Image: “Rain Room” exhibit at LACMA; my silhouette.

Posted in: be still, birdbath, california, weather, writing Tagged: california, coronovirus, drought, LACMA, Rain Room, weather

“Because nature doesn’t know about borders”

November 5, 2016 by Melodye Shore

We should bow deeply before the orchid and the snail and join our palms reverently before the monarch butterfly and the magnolia tree. The feeling of respect for all species will help us recognize the noblest nature in ourselves. –Thích Nhất Hạnh

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Overwintering Monarch Butterflies (Huntington Beach, California)

I’m honored to share with you some wonderful news:

Thanks to my blog entry about Overwintering Monarchs in Orange County, California, I get play a small part in a program designed to raise public awareness about overwintering spots for Monarch butterflies in Mexico!

A team of biologists from Ensenada approached me a while back, asking permission to use the photo I’ve reposted at the top of this page.

We have some pictures and diagrams of the Monarch but we don’t have pictures of the Monarch when they are clustered in the eucalyptus tree. We would like to have this pictures so people have an idea what to look for to find the Overwintering spots…. We applied thru the National Park of Sierra de San Pedro Mártir to get founds from the CONANP (National Commission of Protected Natural Areas) to raise awareness of the status of the Monarch Butterfly in Baja California. We got a [grant] to make a 2 day workshop for 20 people. We are inviting personal from the Natural Protected Areas from Baja California, also representatives of the Nongovernmental Organisations that work with Conservation and Wildlife in the area (Terra Peninsular, Pro Esteros, FASOL, etc). The workshop will be given by my fellow Biologist Ibes Favian Davila and Felipe Leon, who recently attended a Monarch Conservation Conference in Alamo Sonora…

As part of this public awareness project, biologist Saul Riatiga and his colleagues created posters and brochures that 1) distinguish the Monarch from other butterflies; 2) identify native milkweeds; and 3) describe Overwintering spots. These print materials will be shared among conservation groups, and will also be distributed to communities in and around Ensenada.

Triptico 8 .5 x 11.

I was thrilled to see my photograph in this trifold brochure–while  I don’t read Spanish, it speaks to a lifelong wish to make a positive difference in this beautiful world we share.

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I’ve learned so much in the process of becoming a Monarch Waystation, and then witnessing the miracle of metamorphosis in my own backyard! So gratifying, to have my own experiences linked to this larger conservation project!

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I’ve not yet mastered everything there is to know about Monarch Butterflies — not even close! — so I’m excited to see where this international partnership might lead.

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Oh, the places you’ll go…

Dr. Seuss’s words couldn’t be more prescient. This what comes of indulging your curiosity and following your passions, wherever they might lead you. Because, as of my new scientist-friends so wisely said, “Nature doesn’t know about borders.”

 

You can follow this project on Facebook, at Monarchs en la Oeste. Community members will be interacting with scientists, sharing anecdotes and contributing photos to the overall data collection efforts.  

Posted in: Baja California, Butterflies, california, Central Park Library Huntington Beach, Ensenada, eucalyptus grove, eucalyptus trees, Huntington Beach, metamorphosis, Mexico, monarch butterfly, Monarch Waystation, Photography, Thich Nhat Hahn Tagged: Ensenada, Eucalyptus trees, huntington beach, metamorphosis, Mexico, monarch butterfly, Overwintering Monarchs, photography

A special kind of magic

September 27, 2016 by Melodye Shore

I arrived at the beach at mid-tide, because that’s when the harbor seals typically hoist themselves on the rocks. Sometimes, I bring my friends. Sometimes I point them out to tourists. But today, at the mid-point of my friend’s chemotherapy treatments, I went alone.

I wanted to talk with the seals privately, as we’ve done in the past. I felt sure they’d pose for my camera, same as before. I’d send videos to my friend, because the sounds of the ocean are soothing. I’d send snapshots of the seals, as well, because they’re a healing balm for her.

But as luck would have it, “my” typically quiet cove was crawling with tourists. Locals, too, who probably skipped out on work to enjoy the sunny, hot weather. They scrambled over the rocks where the seals usually lounge. They splashed in the tide pools, took business calls at the water’s edge, and snapped endless selfies with squirming, screeching kids.

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I didn’t begrudge them the opportunity to visit this lovely hideaway. Of course not. I don’t expect everyone to approach this outdoor sanctuary with the same reverence that I do. But I confess to a bit of selfishness in wishing I were alone on the beach, for at least a little while.  Seemed to me, this was the only way the harbor seals would make their presence known.

“They don’t always hang out here,” said the tide pool docent, whom I’d never seen before, but with whom I’d shared a brief conversation about starfish and, well, seals. “They have the whole ocean at their disposal,” she said, “not just this one beach.”

“Yeah, I get that,” I said, “But I really think they’ll show up. They always seem to know….”

I watched the incoming waves for the next two hours, but they didn’t pop their heads up, much less come ashore.

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The tide began to surge again, and my parking meter was set to expire. I gathered my belongings, reluctantly so, and left my rocky perch. I was still clinging to the notion that the seals were out there in the surf, but that I’d somehow overlooked them.

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I scrambled across the hot sand, toting my belongings toward the staircase. Stopped. Pivoted. Listened to my intuition, and lifted my camera out of its bag.

I scanned the horizon one more time, index finger on the shutter button. Sure enough: In a peaceful cove, not visible to people scrambling over the rocks…in the water, far removed from the madding crowd…I spied a harbor seal floating past, just as happy as could be.

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He showed up for my friend and for me, I truly believe that. Another gift from the sea, carrying a special kind of magic.

Posted in: beach, california, Gifts from the sea, Goff Beach, goff cove, goff Island cove, Harbor Seals, magic, Nature, Orange County California, September Tagged: california, goff island cove, harbor seals, joy, orange county, seals, tourists

A downside to drones

September 8, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Can we talk about drones for a minute?

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Not FAA regulations and local laws, because those are debated elsewhere–more knowledgeably and objectively than I might. Let’s talk, instead, about the ways in which these sky cameras, built for fun, might negatively affect wildlife habitats and the places we’ve come to know as our private sanctuaries. Not a high-level discussion, but an up-close-and-personal, eyewitness view.

Imagine that you’re enjoying a morning walk on the beach, toes digging into sand, as gentle waves splash ashore.

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Now that the tourists have gone home, the beaches are nearly empty. But look! There’s a trio of seals to keep you company–further out to sea, sunning themselves on Goff Cove Island.

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They’ve come to know and trust you, because you approach them with a quiet reverence…

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…zooming in with your camera but never encroaching on their comfort zone.

They snooze while you’re scrambling over the rocks, investigating the tide pools and snapping photos–ever watchful, but never fearful. You’re buddies now, and they even talk to you.

“What do you see out there?” a newcomer asks.

You point, and then marvel together at their sleek beauty.

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A bull seal reveals itself, watches you watching him. The potential for danger is always near, for both of you. But instinct is a powerful thing. You know you are safe, and so does he.

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You pan your camera across the ocean, sun-kissed waves to sandy shore.  There is no curating to be done here. It’s their habitat, and you are the guest.

The seals doze, perk up now and again, no doubt attuned to sounds your human ears aren’t sensitive enough to hear.

And then, near the very end of your videotaping session, you hear a menacing whine.

The seals are on heightened alert, now.

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A strange beast crests the rocks…bobbing, whirring, careening back and forth in unpredictable patterns. Then it drops, dozens of feet, at high velocity.

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The herd panics. The bull seal gives a signal, and they dive into the water, all four of them, and vanish.

Maybe it’s a stretch to think that drones will eventually stake their claim on everything, within and beyond a human’s reach. Maybe it’s wrong to extrapolate, from my own experience, that we’re edging toward a world in which curiosity outstrips compassion, privacy goes by the wayside, and convenience trumps all. But there’s no doubt in my mind that we should set some ground rules while we can.

UPDATE: This encounter inspired me to take action–one voice of many, writing letters & making calls. In response to  community concerns, Laguna Beach passed into law an ordinance banning drones over city parks, near beaches, and over government buildings! As of 13 July, 2017, “Drone-flying is still allowed over private property and over the ocean, but harassment of marine wildlife will not be tolerated,” Laguna Beach Police Chief Farinella said.

Posted in: beach, california, drones, Flight, Goff Beach, Orange County California, Photography, seals Tagged: beach, Drones, Goff Cove, laguna beach, photography

From Motown to La La Land: Meet American Girl’s newest doll, Melody

August 28, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Meet Melody Ellison, a 9-year-old African-American girl who loves gardening, singing in the church choir, and listening to Motown music. Her story, No Ordinary Sound, is set in 1960s Detroit during the height of the Civil Rights movement. Inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches about equality, American Girl’s newest BeForever™ character picks “Lift Every Voice and Sing” for her very first solo performance. Change is in the air, and when the unspeakable happens in the Deep South, Melody’s voice is silenced.  Can she recover it before her upcoming solo? Enter the book giveaway at the end of this blog post, and be among first to find out!

Most girls choose dolls that look like them. They want dolls that spark their imagination and inspire them in some way. Melody and I aren’t twinsies, but then again, I didn’t look like my beloved clothespin doll (Miss No Name), either. But we share the same name, and our stories are similar. Best of all, Melody Ellison’s built for adventures, just like me.

She arrived in her “meet” dress, accessorized here with a pillbox hat, cat-eye sunglasses, and a patent leather handbag.* Motown all the way, but ready for her adventures in La La Land.

We took a quick tour of my backyard first, because that’s what gardeners do. So flattering, the California sunshine on her beautiful hair and skin!  I tucked some flowers into her handbag and then we headed to the beach.

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Lovely view, don’t you think?

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Melody opted quickly for a more casual look, ditching the handbag and slipping out of her patent leather flats.

#CaliforniaDreaming

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She scrambled up the lifeguard stand…

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…and splashed in frothy waves.**

Salty breezes tousled her hair, and her sunglasses slipped down her nose.

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We explored the tide pools together, collecting sea glass and ocean-smoothed rocks.

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Then we leaned against this outcropping, watching the surfers and listening to the seagulls.

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Melody didn’t bring a beach hat, but she protected her curls with this fetching little number. A passerby pivoted, called over his shoulder: “Hey, isn’t that the doll I saw on the news?  She smiled and waved, like the celebrity she is.

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It was a memorable day, start to finish–lots to write and talk about when we got home!

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We had so much fun on our beach adventure, and I can’t help but think that girls of all ages will fall in love with Melody Ellison.

Kudos to American Girl for designing this beautiful doll, who reflects so well the changing face of history. Author Denise Lewis Patrick should be congratulated, as well, for adding No Ordinary Sound to the growing collection of diverse books.  Melody isn’t just a doll–she’s a phenomenon. In lifting her voice for positive change, she’ll inspire girls of all ages to do the same.

 

*American Girl collaborated with a six-member advisory board that provided input on all aspects of Melody’s appearance and storyline, including her outfits, accessories, hairstyle, historical events and settings.

**Thanks to videos like this one, I knew ahead of time that American Girls don’t like to get drenched. Not to worry, though: If Melody gets water-damaged, the AG hospital can fix her up, good as new.

And now for the book giveaway contest! You have until Labor Day to enter–good luck!

No Ordinary Sound: A Melody Classic Book Giveaway

Posted in: American Girl, beach, california, Denise Lewis Patrick, Detroit, dolls, joyful noise, Lift Every Voice and Sing, Melody, music, Orange County California Tagged: Adventures, American Girl, Detroit, equal rights, laguna beach, Lift Every Voice and Sing, Melody doll, photography

Seals and sea glass, and other gifts from the sea

August 16, 2016 by Melodye Shore

It’s the height of tourist season, but on this cool, damp morning, the beach is almost empty. A marine layer hugs the coastline, blanketing everything in fog. I walk at the water’s edge, soothed by the lullaby of  the drifting tide and a seagull’s muffled cries.

Gentle waves drift ashore–foamy crests on steely-gray water. I contemplate the ebbs and flows of my own life, and pull my loved ones close in my thoughts. It’s a primal urge, I think, this wanting to absorb with all our senses these “gifts from the sea.”

When the fog lifts, I scan the horizon with my camera. Could it be? At the furthest reach of my zoom lens–below the oceanfront mansions with floor-to-ceiling windows and expansive balconies–a herd of seals has taken up temporary residence on the craggy, offshore rocks.

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A seagull flaps its wings frenetically, as if to say to the napping seal, “Wake up, sleepy head!!” But the seal just blinks really slow, rolls away from this annoyance, and goes about the business of being a mammal who loves nothing more than snoozing by the sea.

Meanwhile…another type of drama!

A jogger passes me, circles back to see what I’m filming. “You a tourist?” he asks.

“No…”

I must’ve looked puzzled, because he points to my camera.

“Oh, this. I always take it with me.”

Why? Because you never know when you might come upon a heart-shaped piece of sea glass, nestled into Mother Nature’s jewelry box. And who knows? You might also find yourself at the threshold of something new –deeply satisfying but wholly unexpected.

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For Part II of my video shoot (sounds of the sea, seagulls & seals), click here.

Posted in: aliso creek beach, Anne Murrow Lindbergh, beach, california, Gifts from the sea, Laguna Beach, mindfulness, morning light, musings, Photography, sea glass, seagulls, seals Tagged: aliso creek beach, gifts from the sea, joy, laguna beach, sea glass, seals

A Conversation with Hillary Clinton in Orange County, California

May 28, 2016 by Melodye Shore

We must find a way to talk about politics, Hillary Clinton said in Orange County, California last Monday, without resorting to pettiness and put-downs—standing our ground when necessary, but rising together toward the common good.

Turns out, it’s impossible to keep separate my personal observations and political leanings, but I’ve done my best to share my experiences here in a respectful, inclusive way. I hope you’ll feel equally inspired to meet your preferred candidate in a local venue and to share your stories afterward.

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I carry a clipboard, entrance forms and my camera, wade into the long line at the UFCW Hall in Buena Park, and invite people to share their stories as we wait together for the Secret Service to usher us through the metal detectors.

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Here as elsewhere, Hillary draws a diverse crowd, representing (as Leela Daou so eloquently says), the “millions who were born here and millions who were born elsewhere and made the choice to become American citizens…millions of marginalized people of all ages, genders, ethnicities, abilities, sexual orientations, and religious affiliations who have fought and are still fighting tirelessly to be seen and have their voices heard equally.”

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People from all walks of life have come together for a larger purpose—longtime supporters standing shoulder-to-shoulder with first generation citizens, curious but as-yet-undecided voters, and people who will cast ballots for the very first time in this pivotal election.

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Who says politics can’t be fun?

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This little girl carries with pride her research project on Hillary Clinton, says she hopes to get it autographed.

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“My hat says it all,” this woman says. Same as Erica Jong, she’s impressed by Hillary’s longstanding support of her favorite causes: civil rights, children’s rights, and women’s rights.

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Music pulses through hidden speakers–upbeat tunes from Hillary’s official playlist–as the crowd filters into the Union Hall.

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“I’m going to play my Woman Card, says Jamie Lee Curtis to wild applause, before she delivers a fiery introduction.

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She’s the Most Admired Woman in the World, 20 times over, the first female to run for the highest leadership position in America. But she greets us warmly, quickly shifts the attention to us.

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She leans forward, shakes hands with everyone close and makes eye contact with people in the farthest reaches of the room.

See the blonde head, highlighted by the gold star? That’s me. Soon after that picture was taken by Campaign Staff, I’m nudged even closer to the podium by my thoughtful, ever-so-much taller new friends.

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Secret service rim the stage, rove through the crowd and guard the exits. But absent any teleprompters or talking heads, nothing else stands between the Presidential candidate and us.

I’m not one for taking selfies, but quick, look! A Secret Agent man’s lurking over my right shoulder!

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Hillary’s energy is palpable, electrifying.

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She has a quick wit and an easy laugh, as evidenced by…well, you’ll want to see for yourself. 🙂

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Here, a woman who’s not afraid to show the depth and breadth of her emotions, despite what you might’ve read elsewhere.

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In this intimate moment, Hillary was recalling for us her first visit to Ground Zero, less than a day after the 9/11 terrorist attacks in NYC. You could’ve heard a pin drop in that union hall as she spoke passionately about the need for a steady hand in similar circumstances.

She spoke in glowing terms about the first responders who worked 24-hour shifts, digging through rubble in a desperate hunt for survivors and then trailing their axes through ashes and soot at the end of  the day. In her eyes, you see remembered pain, the untold stories of everything she witnessed. But in the set of her shoulders, you also sense the steely resolve she used to forge ahead, and which she’ll call upon again, as she brings us all together on the road to a better future.

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Hillary shines in these intimate settings, specifically chosen over larger stadiums because they highlight the importance of listening over speaking.

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Presidential candidates, she says, should prove themselves willing and able to:

1) Make positive differences in the lives of all Americans.

2) Keep us safe.

3) Unify our country—its citizens and its elected leaders.

She paints her vision in vivid strokes, and then offers real-life examples that bring home to Orange County the global issues that affect each of us, far beyond the primary season.

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We come away from the event, more committed than ever to work for the ideals she stands for, and to help her take her rightful place in the Oval Office.

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Posted in: Buena Park, california, Erica Jong, Hillary Clinton, Leela Deau, Orange County California, Politics, Presidential Campaign 2016, UFCW Tagged: orange county, politics

Corralling public awareness: Wild Horses SJC

April 13, 2016 by Melodye Shore

I met up with Monique Rae on a drizzly Sunday morning, in nearby San Juan Capistrano.  She was scrambling to put up a tarp over her latest artistic endeavor–a life-sized mustang sculpture, replete with hummingbirds, butterflies, and native plants.

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The overall design suggest Monique’s personal interests, as well as the environment in which she paints. When completed, the sculpture will also bear some resemblance to her mustang, Hawk.

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As we talked, Monique flitted from one penciled sketch to another, dabbing yellow paint on the horse’s tail and splashes of color along its flank.

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Her face was radiant, no doubt a reflection of the happiness that comes of expressing one’s self through art.

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The sky darkened. Fat raindrops slanted through the trees and spattered wet polka-dots onto the empty adirondack chair. But the wild mustang was safely corralled, as were we, inside her impromptu art studio.

Monique was a whir of motion for the entire length of our visit. When she wasn’t painting, she was feeding the hummingbird rescues she’d nestled into a cozy carrier on the front seat of her car. An acknowledged hummingbird rehabilitation expert, she provides nourishment for her babies with syringes that mimic a mama hummingbird’s slender beak.

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Monique, I learned, is one of 10 artists currently lending their time and talents to Wild Horses SJC, which honors San Juan Capistrano’s storied past as a rural equestrian community, while also raising funds for Return to Freedom, a wild mustang sanctuary in Santa Barbara County. Her contribution to San Juan Capistrano’s mustang collection will be featured at the Eco Garden Expo on Los Rios Street, from April 23-24.

The wild mustang is an American icon, symbolizing freedom and untamed beauty.  In broadcasting its plight, we help preserve its habitat and thereby increase its chances for survival. With that in mind, Wild Horses SJC plans to display its equine “herd” around town before auctioning them off. Concurrent with those efforts, project leaders hope to wrangle support for a nation-wide awareness campaign, aptly named Horse of a Different Color.™

Everyday people, doing extraordinary things…this is how change eventually comes.

Posted in: california, Everyday Heroes, Horses of a Different Color, hummingbirds, Monique Rae, Orange County California, San Juan Capistrano, volunteers, Wild Horses SJC Tagged: Change, horses, hummingbird, hummingbird rehabber, hummingbird rescue, joy, Monique Rae, Volunteers

KKK Rally in Anaheim: Where were the helpers?

March 4, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Caution: Graphic descriptions and images.

I participated in a counter-protest for a Ku Klux Klan rally at Pearson Park last weekend, just a few miles from The Happiest Place on Earth. I’d come to help eradicate racism at its roots, armed only with a camera and a hand-lettered protest sign.

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Inspired by Gandalf, the great wizard in Lord of the Rings.

Some reports said the KKK had scheduled their permitted march for 10:00 a.m. The Anaheim police, however, said the rally was scheduled for 1:30.

The counter-protest was equally confusing. Someone suggested we’d be gathering on the corner of Harbor and Sycamore at 9 a.m., but that area was already occupied by Jehovah’s Witnesses.  A nearby display table was blanketed with Watchtowers, free for the taking.

A stone’s throw away, a cluster of men slouched across metal benches, wooden crosses standing sentry as a street preacher read admonitions to them from his Bible. Under the pavilion, his wife spooned shredded meat into bowls; but when counter-protesters wandered into their encampment, she smiled but told them firmly that the food was “just for the men.”

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At long last, I spotted our group. Multi-ethnic and cross-generational, we  stood in a loose-knit circle around a picnic table, scrawling slogans on tag board as we shared condensed versions of our life stories. Olivia, the unofficial, one-woman welcome committee, wore a rainbow flag like a shawl. “I’ve done all the things,” she told us, “incarceration, rehab, you name it.” Now, however, she spends her off-hours tending to the needs of the homeless in the north Orange County area, and shielding the most vulnerable from harassment. “I show up for them,” she said, “because I want to make our community a safe haven for everyone.”

Martin scanned the park’s perimeter as he talked about the punk rock concerts he orchestrated, in order to feed and buy clothes for disadvantaged children in his neighborhood. “This is our home,” he said. “We’ve gotta look out for each other, you know?”

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I’d come to Anaheim that day to confront racism–to link arms with people like Martin and Olivia–good souls who’ve watched it slither through their neighborhoods, who see Donald Trump’s threats as very real, and who worry that their voices are being muted. Those were the words that I carried in my heart to Pearson Park, but they seemed too highbrow for our first meeting. So I told them instead that while I live at a distance, I want to join ranks with them against racism.

“There you go,” Olivia said, “Community means everybody.”

But as it turned out, “community” is a fractured concept when it comes to this kind of battle.  I witnessed an outpouring of generosity from unexpected quarters, but I also experienced deafening silence on the part of those whose microphones have the broadest reach. Violence, too, brought about by self-proclaimed peacekeepers. And as for the police officers–whose primary job is to remain vigilant in its protection of citizens, all of them equally–they didn’t show up at all, until it was almost too late.

As soon as the news broke about the planned KKK rally, I’d contacted every candidate for political office in California District 46 (Anaheim/Santa Ana), including Congresswoman Loretta Sanchez, who is currently running for U.S. Senate. In my emails, website contacts, and tweets, I linked the OC Weekly story that first brought the KKK rally to my attention and asked each candidate if they planned to speak or otherwise respond to community concerns.

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Who knows? Maybe every tweet, email and website message–theirs and mine–got lost in the ether. All I know for sure is that my queries went unanswered.

“I’m not surprised,” said the guy wearing dreads and an InLeague Press t-shirt. “There aren’t any cops here, either.”

Heads nodded. We’d noticed.

He floated a theory: Perhaps the conflicting timelines for the KKK rally were intentional. (See OC Weekly update, here). Maybe the police wanted to dissuade people from also participating in a commemorative march for Ernesto Canepa, an unarmed citizen who was gunned down by a Santa Ana policeman in early 2015. The accused officer was quietly absolved of any charges this past January, and no surprise, the community was angry.  “I mean, just think about it,” he said, before he wandered off to join another group.

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However sketchy the timeline, my best guess is that 75-100 counter-protesters had assembled in the park before lunchtime. The Jehovah’s Witnesses had long since scattered, but the street preacher was heading into overtime. If civic leaders and political candidates were in attendance, they were watching from the margins, blanketed by invisibility cloaks.

It was around 12:30 when the event organizers set up a portable mic. We stood in loose-knit clusters of presumed solidarity. A disembodied voice blasted a call-and-response very similar to this through the loudspeaker:

Any KKK members in our midst?

“No!” The counter-protesters answered.

Any white supremacists?

“Hell, no!”

Well good, because if you’re hiding among us, you’re a chickenshit.

I glanced at my friend Cathy in horror. “That was really, really bad,” I whispered, but when she tried to respond in kind, her voice was muffled by cheering.

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At some point, someone held a cardboard sign aloft and pivoted. I zoomed my lens in his direction. There it was: naked hatred, sketched with a Magic Marker:

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Benny Diaz (President of LULAC-OC) hurried to the microphone. Worry etched into his face, he invoked MLK’s memory and pleaded the case for nonviolent activism.  But by that point, the brewing conflict was stirred and frothed to the point where anger was boiling over.

The larger crowd drifted into smaller, more peaceful alliances: hungry, thirsty, and sweat-soaked; brimming with the optimism that’s born of shared causes, accompanied by an undertow of dread.

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Cathy and I staked out an empty picnic table and talked quietly among ourselves. Self-appointed vanguards kept watch. If you judged by appearances only, you’d be hard-pressed to tell malignant forces from good.

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The street preacher, finished by now with his stemwinder, wandered through the park with a mostly empty box of fundraising chocolates.

“The almond bars are gone, but I still have dark chocolate, crispy milk chocolate…”

I handed him $5.00 for two, and waved away the change.

Just then, a glossy black SUV rounded the corner at Harbor Blvd. As it crawled up Cypress, wary vigilance transformed itself into a kinetic frenzy, and dozens of counter-protesters flooded into the street, pounding on the windshield and obstructing its path. “Come into the park,” they taunted.

In a blur of black shirts, accessorized with KKK-related patches, members of the Klan erupted from the SUV.  When they tugged “White Lives Matter” placards and Confederate flags from the back, the counter-protesters pounced. If they had weapons, I didn’t see them, but someone used a flagpole as a spear.

The counter-protesters, on the other hand, wore no uniforms; nor did they share similar philosophies about peaceful protests. Some watched from a “safe” distance, tagboard signs overhead. Still others jumped right into the fray, pummeling the Klan, faces shielded by masks and bandanas.

While unsung heroes tried desperately to keep both the KKK and counter-protesters at bay, bystanders captured the moment with their cell phones.

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My hands were trembling, but I was there to bear witness. I kept walking toward the action, kept pressing the shutter button.

Anaheim police officers, however, didn’t make their presence known until a Confederate flag was ditched at the curb, the SUV had sped away, and a stabbing victim was writhing in a spreading pool of blood.

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While eyewitness accounts are typically unreliable (and wildly divergent), cameras don’t lie. “I have photographs,” I said to Sergeant Wyatt when the Anaheim police finally arrived on scene. He handed me his card and moved down the street, where wounded counter-protesters were being treated by paramedics and KKK members were being detained for questioning.

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Cypress Street was emptied, save for a handful of gawkers and a smattering of counter-protesters. As Cathy and I made our way back to the grassy park, I spied a baseball cap with blood inside the rim. I tucked it behind my protest sign, safe from prying eyes, and signaled to the cops who straddled the yellow line.

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“I found something that might be important,” I said when an officer sauntered over. He barely glanced at the cap, stifled a yawn. I couldn’t see behind his aviator glasses, but I felt certain that he was staring past me when I talked. When pressed, he jotted down my contact information and asked me a few questions.  He didn’t write anything down. He told me he had a good memory, though, and pointed to the personal camera on his chest. When he looked away, I snapped his picture.

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By that point, the elusive SUV was being searched on a side street, my camera battery was almost out of juice, and the untouched chocolate bars were melting into the bottom of my bag. I was heartsick, and more than ready to leave.

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Community activism has its place, but this had gone horribly awry. I wanted to watch the sunset with my husband, and to see “our” hummingbird tucked safely in her nest, iridescent feathers gleaming in the evening’s last light. I needed to find peace within my own garden.

Even so, I managed a wan smile for the grizzled old man in the leather vest and bandana headband–the counter-protester who shuffled past me in a daze, muttering to no one in particular, “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

Posted in: Anaheim, california, counter-protesters, KKK Rally, Orange County California, Photography Tagged: Anaheim, can i get a witness, hummingbird, Ku Klux Klan, orange county, Pearson Park, photography

Monarch Butterflies are overwintering in Orange County, California

January 4, 2016 by Melodye Shore

When we stopped by last Saturday, Leslie Gibson was pruning her butterfly garden, pausing now and again to introduce her Monarch caterpillars to curious passersby. A former puppeteer and special education teacher, it was this gentle but intrepid woman who led the charge to restore Huntington Beach’s Gibbs Park to its former beauty, and to reimagine it as a Monarch Waystation and overwintering site.

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“Our Monarchs are hanging out in Central Park Library Amphitheater this year,” Leslie told us when we visited. A handful of butterfly scouts hovered around Gibbs Park earlier in the fall, but they found the grove less hospitable than in previous years, given a tree-trimming crew had removed their sheltering branches.

We were glad for Leslie’s tip–happy, too to find ourselves among nature lovers of all ages. Such a rare and magical experience, to see this final stage of a butterfly’s metamorphosis in progress! We raised and answered questions amongst ourselves, and snapped lots of photos. And yes, we were also transformed, each in our own ways, by the miracles we’d witnessed.

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For instance: When Monarchs undergo their egg-to-butterfly metamorphosis someplace West of the Rockies, they tend to overwinter along the California coast. Their migration patterns lead them to standing groves of eucalyptus trees, Monterey pines and cypress. Unless you know where to look, you might not see them–with their colorful orange wings folded inward, they’re well camouflaged by variegated tree bark and pointed leaves. In fact, we served as ad hoc docents on more than one occasion, pointing out the butterfly clusters to those who happened upon the eucalyptus grove during a serendipitous walk through the park.

Overwintering Monarchs are typically sluggish, as you can easily see in the picture below. Their inactivity serves as camouflage in this, more vulnerable state.

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But when the sun comes out, they unfurl their wings and gradually drift away from the cluster, like flower petals in the breeze.

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Subtle flutterings that eventually become a riot of color.

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A magic trick of the highest order, it carries your breath away.

In the lower branches, we saw a handful of butterflies that sported a Monarch Alert tag. Such was the case with this lovely specimen, released just yesterday by a charming little girl for whom raising the Monarch population is an ongoing backyard project.

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Three to five generations of Monarch butterflies are born every spring and summer. Most will survive for just a few weeks. Some of you might remember that I was lucky enough to record this metamorphosis in real time, in my own backyard.

This last generation of 2015 will live upwards of 8 months. They typically mate in early spring, when the life cycle begins anew.

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I’d like to think that “my” Monarchs found themselves among the group that migrates to overwintering sites in California and Mexico. In any case, I feel privileged to have witnessed firsthand this magical phenomenon, nearby and easily accessible!

El Niño’s going to be dropping some serious rain this week, so the Monarchs will probably hunker down. Or hang loose, as some locals might say. (This is Surf City, USA we’re talking about, after all….) I’ll wait out the storms, same as the Monarchs, but when the sun reappears, I’ll make my way back to the eucalyptus groves, and to the Butterfly garden in Gibbs Park. If it’s not too far to travel, I hope see you there!

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Posted in: Butterflies, california, Central Park, Central Park Library Huntington Beach, eucalyptus grove, eucalyptus trees, Gibbs Park, Huntington Beach, metamorphosis, monarch butterfly, Monarch Waystation, mother nature, Orange County California, Photography, Surf City USA Tagged: butterflies, el nino, Eucalyptus trees, Gibbs Park, Leslie Gibson, metamorphosis, monarch butterfly, monarch waystation, orange county, Surf City USA
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