The past always sneaks up on you...

Here it is, the last post of the year--- and how good it feels! What better way to honor it than looking to the animals that have built the rich cultural history that we have here in Texas? I'm just waiting until next semester when I have to take Texas History, and I'm going to be reminded once again about cattle being "king" in the minds and hearts of the early settlers of Texas... as if I need to be reminded.
I grew up in a house in which agriculture and a livelihood of producing a product that nourished people was considered the pinnacle of good service work. And the cow was revered. Above all others. Just ask my mom, who was told, an hour into labor that she would have to wait to be driven to the hospital because Dad was busy delivering a breached calf in one of his first-calf heifers. Yeah! Remember, that was my entire existence, and as it was also my whole community's, that life was something that I was trying to separate myself as I ran off to Austin. Austin--the little, liberal oasis in Conservative Texas. But not only that, it has provided me with a haven to really understand what it means NOT to be around animals. And it's been an eye-opening experience.

Why must they make Bevo so strange-looking?

  So, I suppose that I could extrapolate on the meaning of being a longhorn and all the values possessed that these writers have really paralleled with our lives as college students: our "freedom," being both a "drifter" and "persistent returner" to our native grounds where with our "strong attachments to our accustomed home" we will probably some day (I'm sure the university hopes) to bestow our benevolent kindness and assumed wealth some day, after we've gone out into the world and done our "changing of the world." We, the "outlaws" or "gentle, most persistent returners." (434)  What was it they referred to longhorns as?  I believe the description was that we possess: "reputations in fierce, hardy, persistent, resourceful, daring efforts to maintain freedom. They refused to be 'dumb driven cattle' Unlike the orthodox ox, they knew not their masters and would not be led to the slaughter block. Instead of being outside the law, they followed the law of the wild, the stark give-me-liberty-or-give-me-death law against tyranny." (443) How do you look at yourself?

Pure poetry in motion. Is there anything more beautiful?

I think I might consider myself a little bit of both. And did anybody else read this and just wish that Aggies would read it? I mean, I know that's really unimportant in the grand scheme of what we needed to learn in this class, but then again, I feel like a few of my pre-vet friends need to reflect upon what culture they're buying into.
That being said, I felt like for my last entry, I should reflect on something that I might bring to the table that I don't think anybody else has had the distinct "pleasure" of experiencing: that is, "country life."  Some of it, you may have to experience to really get it, but try your imagination, and let's see if I can do this justice:

The historian must have the perspective of imagination in order to arrive at truth, but he cannot, like the novelist, discard those facts that 'fail to comply with the logic of his character.' Only stubborn facts in human history can explain the arrival of mustang horses upon the land where, in association with mustang men, they ran their course of freedom. (458)

So, Windthorst, TX--- an agricultural community in every sense of the word. I had classmates who were literally consummate cowboys. That was their job title on their tax returns: cowboy. And reading these articles today, it's a mindset. It is literally the center of your physical universe in which everything evolves: ideas of masculinity, virtue, worth, expectations of an individual. I'm not kidding. Life off of the land--- simple, rugged, "survivor-y"--- that is idolized. And from an outsider's perspective, I'm sure it almost seems a bit ridiculous or overplayed (and perhaps it is to some people who pretend or think that they are "cowboys," but they're really not, and believe me, I've met a huge amount of those in my life!), but if that's your reality, there is nothing more serious.

And maybe that's a good thing. I don't know. My dad has always spoken of our first horse as his favorite. As he says: "She's part quarter horse, part Arabian, part mustang. She's got the hybrid vigor thing going for her. Not only that, but she's completely self-sufficient. She doesn't need us. She's a survivor. Not everyone in the world is like that. That's to be admired." And I agree with him. So, perhaps that's why I get defensive about people who misconstrue what it is to be one of these people. I've heard people call those I love (who I think are wonderful human beings) uneducated brutes, bent on violence and exploitation of animals. Harsh, folks, right?!?!? You have to understand the mindset of people who share their lives with stock animals--- day in and day out: it's not an easy life. You endure the same elements the animals do. You get kicked and stomped and pushed and squished on a fairly regular basis, and you don't complain about it. You never eat before they do. Their happiness comes right up their with your own, because that is your livelihood, and that is your family. Now, this is where these articles come along, and I think it's important mentioning:

I cannot tell of these outlaws properly without telling of the brush itself and of the men and horses that the brush and the brush cattle molded... they belonged to a different species... The Longhorns of the brush, instead of being modified by men, bent men to their own ways.(449)

Then... Cleburne in the late 1800's.

Now... annual Ft. Worth stockyards drive.
Behold the power reversal! We spend so much time talking about how humans have meddled in animals' lives and changed them forever. And of course, that's true! But recognize how we have changed, as well. It is a symbiotic ecosystem, and we all make changes to our everyday life because we rely on the things all of us give one another. Perhaps that is why we can respect the "outlaw" longhorns (though all the longhorns I've ever met are actually very docile. It's the Herefords/Black Baldies and Brown Swiss you have to watch out for) and the mustangs especially. Out of all the animals we deliberately have made integral parts of our lives, we respect that they still test us, even if we try to constrain them for it. It's a complicated relationship. 

My alma mater. Midwestern State University, which changed from the Indians a few years to stay "PC" with the NCAA. Interestingly enough, since they're on good terms with the Kiowa, Apache, and Comanche nations, they have a special fund from student organizations that goes towards trying to donate to the mustang run over farther in the West that sends mustangs to slaughter. Look into projects like that if you're interested. It's a sad business. 

And so it is true that the people of Texas (and the people of my community especially) really did develop a very unique psyche that is all our own. Every time I've gone abroad, when I say I'm from Texas, people know where that is. (And then they ask me if I ride horses to school and why I don't have an accent and where my boots and hat are). I'll admit that I own a pair of cowboy boots (very well-worn in, I might add, because I only use them when I'm home to do what they were intended for.) I'm pretentious like that. And yes, I have a Western hat. Furthermore, the angrier I get, the more I'm around my folks, or the more "uninhibited" I am, the further my accent descends into "Daisy Duke-dom."And yes, I do use the word y'all like there is no tomorrow. Then again, that's not to say that that represents all of us by any means. Some of us have no more connection to agricultural production that they do aeronautical engineering (and the terminology/lingo is just as foreign to them).... And now I  feel like I'm on a diatribe, which was in no way my intent.

Sometimes I just feel bad for Bevo. And I have to wonder how much experience these young gentlemen had beforehand with dealing with bovine. I am sometimes curious how that gets decided.... I'm just saying. 

The point is:
People will find their "herd." That goes even for the non-conformist, "outlaw" types. Let me explain. A) Cows are individuals like people, and some of us will want different things for ourselves, just like the animals in these stories do. B) There's a reason I ended up where I am. Part of it was choice. Another part pure dumb luck. And the last part, the fact that having the experience that I have had here at UT is unlike anything I would have had anywhere else, and thus has gone leaps and bounds in shaping me. I think that all of us should remember that despite the great attributes of the symbolism of "Texas Longhorns or Mustangs" should remember the fact that defining all you are by that can be dangerous, and just plain incorrect. Because after all, isn't part of being "free" mean being free from any pigeon-holed ideas of you, as well?

No one who conceives him as only a potential servant to man can apprehend the mustang. (462)

"However supplanted or however disparaged by evolving standards and generation, he will remain the bedrock on which the history of the cow country of America is founded. In picturesqueness and romantic realism his name is destined for remembrance as long as the memory of man travels back to those pristine times when waters ran clear, when free grass waved a carpet over the face of the earth. (433)

It's all so idealistic--- for better or worse. 

Just look at how we advertise ourselves!!!!

Oh, and P.S. As one last note, as a historian and anthropologist, I couldn't help but feel like this would be something that I would have to bring up to my students if I was teaching Texas history and the importance of the open plain grazers who funded this state's development. Anybody else how much Spanish was used? Anybody? Anybody? Yeah. That's because the origin of this state is proud to have Mexican roots--- as it should be. When you imagine big ranchers and cowboys in that idyllic way that people are so fond of, 80% of those people are vaqueros... i.e.... not so pigmentally-challenged, y'all. They have some flavor to them. So, as my own address to the cultural diversity that this university is so adamant to aspire to, be aware of our past and what an integral part of this state our Mexican nationals have had (and I would say even to this day). Trust me. Drive into rural Texas. Anywhere. If you go on a ranch or dairy, I promise you that you are going to run into Guatemalan, Honduran, Mexican, Dominican... even Brazilian immigrants out working in the pens and pastures. My best friends growing up, and the reason I learned Spanish after all, are the Colchado's, who pretty much kept my family's business running for a large portion of my life. I just tend to think people only think of "white Texas" when they are thinking of these cattle drives and ranchers, which has always been a soapbox I get up on. End rant.

Compassion--- the East and the Beast (even though I really don't like that term)

Jai guru Beatles om... 

This is a little something how my last several hours have gone:

Me: Really? Really? That Bump is a sneaky guy--- having us read all of this on compassion and non-violence and world acceptance and inner-peace.

My roommate: What are you muttering about over there?

Me: Nothing--- just the irony of the world. Of course we would save this reading until the end of the semester, when we probably all need it most, because honestly I can say that out of my entire life, notwithstanding the big ticket items like when I found out there were famine and genocide in the world, have I ever felt so little inner peace and compassion in my own personal life... and having to read Fanon's Wretched of the Earth yesterday for Western Civ. didn't help at all. I believe the direct quote of what we talked about this morning was: “Violence is man re-creating himself.” (Fanon) ... Yeah. I had almost been convinced that no political system worked (capitalism, fascism, communism, nothing) because something about human nature kept making us want things beyond what we already wanted, and there was no way we were ever going to let ourselves be happy. And now I get a little dose of what I used to think about the world, about spirit and body being connected and about having peace in life even despite all these other ideas. I think I'm even more confused now than I was before. 

Roommate: You're just getting pulled in all kinds of directions, aren't you? That Bump--- he's a wily one. 

Me: I know, right?  That's what I said. But at the end of the day, I think I'd rather shave my head and join a Buddhist monastery than buy into a system that makes me do things I don't believe in. I'd be the person putting flowers in the end of rifles or laying down in front of the people with clubs to get beat down. I guess you don't really last that long that way either, huh? 

 Roommate: Well I support you either way, but don't pull the Sinead O'Connor, please. You have a weird shaped head. But I will give you this---- you do look good in orange. And as for the rest of it... I guess that is the price you pay for being the one who believes in non-violence in a world that doesn't believe it is possible. 

Now fast-forward to think about all the things going on in the world today, and all the ways we think about ourselves in that world: Syria, Tunisia, Egypt, Lybia, Yemen... and I could go on. Think of all the people who have direct violence as something they see in their everyday lives. (And I don't just mean like what we do to ourselves where we watch violent tv shows... or the news... with some kind of weird fascination.) Think about the kinds of people who put their own body on the line for an ideal, or on another level, for their neighbor, or even some person a hundred miles away who they have never met. To some of us, it seems unfathomable.

A protester placed a flower in the barrel of a gun during a demonstration outside the headquarters of ousted Tunisian President Zine al-Abedine Ben Ali’s Constitutional Democratic Rally Party in Tunis, Tunisia, Thursday.

But I'd like to take that one step further, and focus on the fundamental and simple ideals of Eastern traditions of Jainism, Taoism, Confucianism, etc., for those of us who are lucky and blessed enough to be able to not be in the midst of this violence--- those of us lucky enough to not really have to put our ideals (or our lives) on the line, and who don't have to make the decision of non-violence in the face of violence. We have that luxury. Be aware of that.
So, here are our fundamental truths, right, which are so designed to give us some wiggle-room (much appreciated). And now I'm talking about ahimsa, here, for all intents and purposes... ":

This and the Golden Rule, the only 2 passages of the Bible
I don't have a problem with.

"1. Do not kill. Do not let others kill. Find whatever means possible to protect life.
2. Always speak truthfully and constructively. Resist injustice even if it may threaten your own safety.
3.Make every effort to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, big or small, peacefully and by consensus.
4. Do not make the accumulation of wealth an aim of your life. Live simply and share time, energy, and material resources with those who are in need.
5. There is no absolute truth. No doctrine, theory, or ideology is perfect.
6. Practice nonattachment to views. Remain open to recieve others' viewpoints. Do not force others to adopt your views.
7. Do not lose awareness of the existence of suffering in the world. Find ways to be with those who are suffering.
8. Do not maintain anger and hatred. As soon as they arise, concentrate on your breathing to see their nature." (336)
Even if we're all willing to admit that absolute ahimsa isn't possible, we should still strive towards increased peace, right? Rights?
Think of those people in the world that you may not know. (And those animals you don't know, either, that are just as much a part of the ecosystem, of nature, of life energy and universal energy.) What about them, right?

Or.... on the other hand, those who would rather set their own bodies on fire than do so to their neighbors... I don't necessarily advocate this, because this is violence to self, but needless to say, the graphicness and power of self-immolation, as it is designed to do, certainly make us feel compassion, and certainly those who endure it are capable of both feeling and completely displacing their pain. 

Journalist Malcolm Browne's photograph of Thích Quảng Đức during his self-immolation to protest persecution of Buddhists in Vietnam in 1963. It is widely regarded as an act of compassion, and he is widely regarded as a bodhisattva. Compassion (form Latin: "co-suffering") is a virtue--- one in which the emotional capacities of empathy and sympathy (for the suffering of others) are regarded as a part of love itself, and a cornerstone of greater social interconnectedness and humanism--- foundational to the highest principles in philosophy, society, and personhood." (319)
Can we Westerners even begin to fathom this? I'd like to think so. 

"For the most part, the worldviews associated with the Western Abrahamic traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam have created a dominantly human-focused morality. Because these worldviews are largely anthropocentric, nature is viewed as being of secondary importance." (324)

When Christian/Islamic symbolism meets ahimsa. 

While in "The East Asian traditions of Confucianism and Taoism... there is a cosmology of continuity of creation stressing the dynamic movements of nature through the seasons and the agricultural cycles, with a basis for appreciating the profound interconnection of matter and spirit. To be in harmony with nature and with other humans while being attentive to the movements of the Tao (Way) is the aim of personal cultivation." (325)

Just think about it. I'm not saying you absolutely have to do anything, but if you're one of those people who read the I Ching or the Tao... or even just today's readings, and had trouble even knowing where to begin to understand, then A) spend some time in reflection and take it slow and break it down. It's going to take some suspended disbelief, an open-mind, and a new way of thinking. It's good for you. And B) Come talk to me. I won't pretend to be any kind of expert (or even the least bit knowledgeable), but it'd be a dang good, thought-provoking conversation, and we could all use a few more of those in our lives. 

Even with all this, I tend to be the idealist who thinks that love is the answer to anything, pure, unadulterated, blind, without questions or desire love. I think the Beatles were right. All you need IS love... and the strength to take a beating when nobody is willing to listen to you. 

Honey

Why didn’t they come home? Where are they?

The little one--- he would come back for me, wouldn’t he? Last time we were playing, he put his forehead right up against mine and looked me right in the eyes.  That’s a promise. He’s mine, and I’m his. No questions asked. Nothing could make him leave me here. But what if…  No, I can’t think like that. They wouldn’t leave me. I haven’t done anything wrong. I mean, there was that one time last week when I couldn’t make it outside, and she yelled at me. Oh, I hid behind that big loud machine all night. I didn’t even come out to eat. But then she came and pulled me out by the collar. And I’ve been outside since. But that can’t be it, can it?

…….

Where did they go?

……..

I’ve now worn a path in the cool grass along the fence-line with the countless times I’ve ambled its distance. Oh, if I could only get to the other side of these walls. The grass is getting higher with no loud machine to come back here and eat it up. The days are getting warmer. I can’t spend all my time running back and forth out here under the sun. I’ll have to dig out some place for myself in the shade, I think. But then what? The sun has come and gone at least ten times since I saw them last. My bowl is empty, and those loud beatles have made it their home now, crawling around in there. What dregs of food that might have been left have been carried away by the fire ants. And last time that I checked, my puddle in the corner of the yard that I dug up is almost empty of water. I know I said that even if I got hungry, I wouldn’t let myself worry, but I really don’t know what I can do now. I’ll just curl up at the back door. I’ll wait. They’ll be back. They always come back.

…….

Maybe if I howl just a little bit louder-- -a little louder--- someone will hear me. Somebody. Anybody. Please.

…….

I can hear a rustling in the tall weeds peeking over the fence. Something is scratching at the walls. Maybe they hear me. What is that? It must just be the wind. Nobody’s out here at this time of day. It’s too hot. I’ll go back to the shade now. It’s so hot.

…….

There it is again. More sounds. And this time I can hear voices. There’s a little one. And she’s yelling. Who is she yelling at? I better go investigate. It could be them. Maybe they’re home. Or maybe it’s like last year, at the hottest part of the year when they were gone for that long time, and they had that nice lady come by to see me. Maybe that’s it.  I’m scratching, but nothing is happening. Maybe if I just make a little more stir, push a little bit harder, I can make some space here. There it is. Just a little more. No, it’s no use. There’s hard stone here. Wait! Don’t go!  

…….

They’re back today. And there are more of them. I can’t protect the house by myself. Wait. I hear a man and a woman--- and that same little one from before. What are they doing on my family’s land? I can’t let this happen. They made it inside. And they’re carrying something. It looks like there’s a long stick or something. But I can smell food. Oh, it smells so good. But no… I can’t. They’re trying to hurt me. I just know it. It’s a trick. I can tell. Look, he’s trying to get closer and closer to me. And he’s got whatever that is that he’s carrying. You can’t trust them. It doesn’t matter how close he gets, he’s not going to get me.

…..

No. No. What are you doing? Let go! You’re hurting me. Stop it. Stop it.

….

My neck--- how hard did it jerk when I was fighting him off. They pulled me from under the big stone. Where are they taking me? How did this happen? I can hear the loud roaring sound all around me. I’m bouncing around, but I can’t see anything. But I can feel something pressing in on me on every side. And I can still hear the voices above the roaring. They’ve got me all wrapped up in something. It’s hard to breathe, but maybe if I just lay still and catch my breath. There’s nothing I can do about it now. And there’s food in here with me. I just can’t eat it right now, no matter how hungry my stomach is telling me I am. I’ll just wait and see what’s happening.

…..

Their voices are low and calm, and their touch is soft. Oh, and that aroma. Maybe I should eat something now. Just in case. I’ll test them first—make sure they’re not just trying to take it away. They’re leaving it. That only means they have something to do to me tonight.

……

And I’m in the roaring thing again. More voices. New ones. Two women. And I’m in the air again. Why do they have to put me in this tiny thing? But I smell the grass again. It’s a little different than my grass. Not so tall. It doesn’t smell like me. But I can change that. Just let me out.

……

I still wonder where the little one is. They never came for me. At least, not as far as I know. But I am with these girls now, and they are nice enough. They feed me every morning. They brush me, now that I’m getting all itchy in the heat. We go to the lake, where they let me chase the ducks (I suppose they know I mean them no harm). And I lay at their feet at night. It’s actually kind of nice. I haven’t had to worry about the heat or getting food or water. Security. Safety. Normalcy. Maybe even love. But I just can’t help but feel like it’s not permanent--- like they’re giving me this love as a test. They look me in the eyes, but their eyes have goodbyes in them. At least this time I get a goodbye.  I won’t think about it too much. I have today. And today is good.

Eyes of honey and a demeanor to match --- there is nothing but warmth and sweetness from this girl, despite her recent circumstances. This lovely 3 year-old German shepherd mix, Honey as we like to call her, was abandoned in her backyard with nothing but a couple of empty bowls for these past sweltering weeks in the North Texas heat. The family who found her in the abandoned backyard says they don’t know how long she was out there fending for herself.

Despite all that, however, it would seem she has a lot of love to give, and has found it in her heart to trust again. And she’s thriving in her new foster home. She has put the weight she lost back on, and has cleaned up quite nicely with a trip to the groomers. Her foster mum reports that she hasn’t had a single accident since she has been home. She sleeps soundly at night, cuddled up at the foot of the bed, though she has slept just as soundly outside on their camping trips. She is good with other pets--- cats and dogs alike. She does have that guard dog instinct, though, and though she walks well on the leash, she does tend to “herd” the foster homes’ children. Otherwise, they have described here as “an absolute joy” to take out for a jog. If you can find it in your heart to give this sweet girl a second chance and let her know that she won’t have to ever worry about fending for herself ever again, come see her at Wichita P.A.W.S. She’ll steal your heart. After all:

"Life is a mosaic of pleasure and pain--- grief is an interval between two moments of joy... You have no rose without a thorn; the diligent picker will avoid the pricks and gather the flower. There is no bee without the sting; cleverness consists in gathering the honey nevertheless." Sri Sai Baba said that, but we here at P.A.W.S. know that you could use a little Honey in your life as well. She has already experienced a bit of the grief and pain. It's time for her to get to see what pleasure and joy are like, too, don't you think?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQC8Pgg_vN

It is amazing, the profoundly powerful effect this one single dog has had on the lives of those who have come together to find her a new home. We have all come together through this shared experience. I mean, it seems almost felicitous, really, how her life has taken such a turn in a few short weeks, since being removed by the Pallino family from her backyard in Electra, TX, thin and covered in ticks. It is as if the pieces just fell together, and I count it as a distinct blessing that nothing short of Fate sanctioned that it was the place, the time, and the circumstances that she should come into my life to touch my heart.

For, as I see it, being assigned the task of getting to know any of these furry beings this class has had the privilege to spend a few moments with is an opportunity to get to know someone new. If I would have gone to any other shelter, it wouldn’t have been Honey that I met. Any other weekend, and I never would have gotten to know this beautiful, old soul, her foster family, or any of the new volunteers at P.A.W.S. Around Wichita Falls who went the extra mile to go find her in that backyard.  Serendipity--- that is what it is, and for me, it means more than words can express that I feel like I have been even a small part in any of these individuals’ (man, woman, child, or dog’s) lives.

Yet, it has been a winding journey coming to this realization, because I like so many, often get so wrapped up in my own mind. I forget to marvel at the diversity in the world and appreciate how so many lives intersect, though we all may be so different. So, while I pondered how I would fulfill my obligation to summing up an entire life into a short 300 words that I could sell to someone, I had to admit that 300 words could never be enough to encapsulate what it meant to actually be, say my rabbit, or my friend’s goat, or any of the thousands upon thousands of dogs and cats that go through the sometimes traumatic procedure of going from one home to another. It is overwhelming to think just what it means to try to speak for someone who has no human voice of their own, to capture the best of who they are so that the rest of the world can know that. Every dog I went to visit, I would get to know a little bit: their color, their demeanor, their reactive behaviors to certain things, etc. But in the end, even those types of things, I knew, did not define them. Where I had once looked at every animal as one that I could take home and live happily ever after with, I started to understand that someone else might be a better home than mine. Even if I was an idealist, it was wrong to make all animals out to be alike. It made me think. Each experience is different. Some of the dogs and cats I met at TLAC were better off for being taken from their situation. On the other hand, some were given up with many tears and goodbyes.  Some had been abused. Some had met apartment codes and prejudice to breed. Some were scared. Some were angry. Some were bored out of their minds. Some seemed as if they have lost hope. However, it only took one look into their eyes to feel something inexplicable--- and probably permanent. My mind would go blank, and all I was aware of was that moment and that being in front of me, and with every fiber of my being, for that one brief second, it was if the world I lived in was all at once, both infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, and more purposeful.  I knew that it didn’t necessarily matter if I knew their past, but if I had any say about their future, I could hope with all my heart and mind that someone would come by and make the connection that I had--- just that moment when your eyes lock with another’s and the world stops, and you just know them, without really knowing how. And that is what I had to convey with words---- certainly no easy feat.

But as time ticked away, and I had the pleasure/weight on me of knowing so many dogs and cats that needed homes that I could help out, I felt paralyzed and a bit overwhelmed. How could I pick just one?  I couldn’t deem one more worthy than another. And where was I most needed? So, instead of writing ads, I campaigned on my own, and started taking friends and co-workers to TLAC to see the dogs and cats for themselves, hoping they would understand what I had just realized, and maybe with a little luck, meet their future “forever someone.”  Yet, in the meantime, I had not fulfilled my scholarly duty to a bio.

 And that is when Honey came into my life—or perhaps I came into hers. It was pure chance. Because, as it happened, I went home for Easter on a whim. Moreover, it just so happened that a family friend is dating a young woman who volunteers for a non-profit rescue in my hometown, and knowing that I was looking to adopt a dog in the fall, she asked me if I would like to go out and meet a young German shepherd they had taken in a few weeks ago after lunch. And the rest, as they say, is history. My entire family brought colored eggs and doggie treats out to the foster family’s house to wish Ms. Honey a happy Easter, and I watched as my nieces piled on the floor with her.  From the first moment I met her, I saw her sweetness and how she was an old, gentle soul. The first thing she did was come and put her forehead against mine, like she was transferring her thoughts straight into my head.  It was as if I had found a friend. What is more, she was a part of this strange, mixed family of strangers, rolling over to beg for her belly to be rubbed by me, giving kisses to all who would sit still long enough to let her, hiding behind my nieces while they snuck her treats. By the end of the evening, even the Pallino family came by to check on Honey. Honey single-handedly had brought three families together, and even I could honor the power in that.

And then I had my story. What is more--- I had an entire support network that would advocate for her when I came back to Austin. It took a few choice calls to old connections at petfinder.com, and I had an ad ready to post, and a first-hand account that I could share with any interested adopters, since I was a contact on her referral ad. All in all, I had to come to terms with myself as much as I did with Honey’s situation. While I might feel hopeful right now for her future in finding a home, I know that I might be sad if I don’t get to see her again. Who knows? Maybe she won’t even remember me. Her life will go on, as will mine. She will meet more humans. I will meet more dogs. But honestly, for that day, she was a major part of my life, and what is more meaningful than those who come in and touch your life? How powerful is it that you can question how you look at the world, and actually feel like you made a connection to someone, even without words? Honey is unfettered by her past. As it would seem, she was happy with life, right then, right in that moment, and those who were there were accepted--- no questions asked. I only hope that she can bring that sentiment to the next home she blesses with her presence, as she did mine…. 

Now if we could only get my niece to quit begging to bring her home.  

Word Count: 2, 836

Oh, and P.S. My ad is being reviewed by my old boss, who has now opened her own sanctuary back home, AKA,  P.A.W.S. around Wichita Falls, to put this little girl up on petfinder.com. So it should be up in 1-2 days. I'll post it up as soon as they ok it through the organization. Please come meet her. Add a little sweetness to your life. 

In a world of my own...

There'd be new birds
Lots of nice and friendly
How-do'ya do birds
Everyone would have
A dozen blue birds
Within that world of my own... Disney's Alice in Wonderland

What would you have in a world of your own? Purun Bhagat describes his as something of a "dream of peace and quiet--- the long, white dusty Indian road, printed all over with bare feet, the incessant, slow-moving traffic, and the sharp-smelling wood smoke curling up under the fig-trees in the twilight, where the wayfarers sit at their evening meal." (299) Sounds idyllic. Others describe it by names:Arcadia, Eden, Elysian Fields, Erewhon, the Garden of Eden, Xanadu, Nirvana, Heaven, the promised land, and so many more. Mine looks a little something like this, just maybe more sun:

And the desert wild became a garden mild... (287)

     

And perhaps in a perfect, utopian society you, too could have a dozen blue birds to sing to you in your "Wonderland" or you could be a holy ascetic helper-to-all in rural India, (I don't know), but it's interesting to look at things in a bit more abstract kind of a way. Consider what Virgil, Blake, and the Purun Bhagat had to say about being on "the way into the heart of things, back to the place whence his [and all of our souls] had come." (303) Just think about it. And this does not just go for our relationships with people, or animals, or even ourselves, but is a much more pervasive philosophy. We all seem to think that in our personal lives, living by our own mores and values, that we could live at peace with things and overcome our dominating, violent human tendencies. Right? We'd love all around us--- friend, neighbor, foe--- without question, because this would be a world of understanding, compassion, generosity, and maybe even abundance. We wouldn't have to worry about competition or scarcity. And after all, isn't it these things in society, compounded with long-standing social acceptance of prejudices and patriarchy and antagonism  that are the impetus of our bad behavior? If mean, we could all be Gandhi, Mother Teresa, or a converted Apostle Saul/Paul, right? (Well, except for the girls for the monk part, which is a whole other can of worms.)  I mean... you could do worse than these type of role models, right?

I just remember going to a rally in Washington, D.C. back in high school, when I was younger and idealistic, and I met two very interesting men: Patrick and Peter. They were Fransiscan monks, who similar to Purun Gharat had forsaken worldly possessions and adopted a kind of overarching, well, love and appreciation are the only words I can come up with that seems to fit, for everything they attested that God had made. Now, Catholic, Christian, Muslim, Zoroastrian, Protestant--- I don't care what you are, you would respect these men. Here's why: they did things like taking the only meal that was given to them that day and giving it to a homeless man we passed on the street, getting an injured rat off of the subway tracks to bring to a shelter, and giving me the heavy wool garment (the only thing they really wear) to cover myself up with when I was freezing my bum off waiting for the aforementioned subway in the snow. I only wish I acted upon such selfless tendencies as they. 

He had used his wealth and his power for what he knew both to be worth;... he had seen men and cities far and near, and men and cities had stood up and honoured him. Now he would let those things go, as a man drops the cloak he no longer needs... All that life was ended; he bore it no more ill-will or good-will than a man bears to a colourless dream... And so long as there is a morsel to divide in India, neither priest nor beggar starves. (298)

Patrick and Peter

Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go [and] sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come [and] follow me. (Matthew 19:21)

Yet...

And though I bestow all my goods to feed [the poor], and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity [or in newer translations, love], it profiteth me nothing.1Corinthinans 13:3

We must rapidly begin the shift from a "thing-oriented" society to a "person-oriented" society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered. (- Martin Luther King, Jr.)

I would even say that we could extend that beyond a "person-oriented" society, to a "being-oriented" society-- no disrespect to Dr. King. My point is that it's about love, people. It's about charity. Because not all of us can escape to a place of solitude and quiet, (though we can create some peace and simplicity in our lives: http://zenhabits.net/simple-living-manifesto-72-ideas-to-simplify-your-life/ ) we have to change our behavior. Like Gandhi said, be the change you wish to see in the world. Furthermore, we could be talking about anything here: gender, race, religion, species, ideologies, job, looks--- you name it.

And doesn't this say a little something more about what is involved in this process, as well. There is certainly this very obvious natural undertones to most writers and poets of this genre talking about utopia and grace and forgiveness and all of those other New Age-y, warm fuzzy things that I talk about all the time. These types of thinkers appreciate veneration of that which is naturally productive and at peace: plants, animals, silence, space, humans (maybe less so, but possible), and most of all transcending the material world. I love this idea. I mean, I'm in the middle of cleaning out my entire closet and room right now to donate all of my things, and I've never felt so liberated. Speaking of which, the Austin Women's Clothing Swap is this Saturday: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=242667362168&ref=nf Please consider attending.

Values: Abundance, Acceptance, Community, Fun, Generosity, Integrity, Sustainability... Plus, any clothes that are unusable still get used because they donate them to TLAC and a few other area shelters to fill pet beds and help keep the puppies and kit-tens warm in the winter. It's just a thought. 

But as I was saying, "Earth, people, and food were all one." (299) It's not about taming the world around us, which seems to be such the focus of how we resolve problems. River in the way: dam it up. Hill in the way: bulldoze it down. I'm not saying that making changes to the environment and earth are evil, and I'm certainly not hating on technology. I know that I benefit from (and maybe even rely on) air conditioning and refrigeration with the best of them. I won't deny that. I just feel like there are times when it is not necessary for humans to flex the power of their resources. Just because you can doesn't mean you should.

For one, we have very little over control over a lot of things, and it's absurd to think we do. So, we don't have to fear the earth's retaliation towards us. I mean, if anything, the past few hurricanes/ tsunamis here in the states, in Chile, in Japan, in New Zealand... they should all in a way prove that we're not in control of our entire environment, and that we should be thankful for what we do have to work with.

"He believed that all things were one big Miracle...that there was nothing great and nothing little in this world." (302-303) Green fields and happy groves, Where flocks have took delight,
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing, And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom, And each sleeping bosom. (286)
"Smelling to his [the lion's] prey; But their fears allay
When he licks their hands, and silent by them stands." (290)

Didn't Disney teach you anything about appreciating your life, the animals around you, and the unfathomable gift it is just to be alive and to get to experience and appreciate the richness and wonder of it all? 

Welcome to the Jungle...

And this is where it gets dicey...

I preface this by saying that all opinions here in which I question tenets of faith are just that-- musings. I question with respect and a desire to be at peace with and reconcile what has been told to me my whole life and what I think. 

The last sacrifice? Or are we still killing today?

So, we live in the U.S., right--- a country based on Protestant Christian ideals? So it should only make sense that as much as we question economic ideals and virtues, we should look at why we perpetuate some religious ideals the way we do. I mean, there's a lot of comparisons that can be made between the separate creation stories and falls from grace in Jungle Book, the Bible, and Milton's Paradise Lost. But I grew up in a town where the whole "subdue it; and have dominion over... every living thing that moveth upon the earth" (224) is taken very seriously. And I've heard my fair share of arguments that it's human right because of Adam and Abel and how we've fallen into a violent, ruinous nature. I think we take for granted the interpretations and translations, as well as actual words that are expressed within the pages of the bible. I mean, isn't Eden expressed as a peaceful, coexisting, abundant world in which everything comes from the same dust of the earth and eats of the same fruits and plants.
But I apologize to anyone who believes otherwise, but I've never been a fan of the idea of a vengeful, vindictive God who is perpetually punishing all of us, and banishing us. More than that, I probably can't jump on the idea that we are stuck in the Old Testament, in which we're doomed to this idea of domination and inherent sin. Sorry. I just have a hard time with that. I, more or less, if I am going to translate Christian literature, would have to look at the New Testament and depictions of Christ as the end of this. In that case, violence is wrong and is to be overcome (of man or animal). So no more killing each other. No more need for sacrificing. None of it.

To kill Man is always, shameful. The Law says so. (264) "The river is to drink, and not to defile. None but the Lame Tiger would so have boasted of his right at this season when --- when we suffer together-- Man and Jungle People alike." (264)

"I am the same cocoanut all naked." (263) "I wanna be
like you. I wanna walk like you. Talk like you, too."

I think of it in the whole baptismal type of way. Then again, the bible is rife with symbolism, and those symbols, too, can have multiple meanings. In that case, we are all in some state of Eden... even if it's Earth... in which we are alike and suffer (or celebrate, if you'd like to explain it that way) the same existence, and share the same sorrows and pains.
If I take some of the rhetoric of the bible and Kipling, we put it like this. Compare these:
Revenge- forgiveness
Shame- pride
Isn't pride the source of sin. I think the Italian thinker quoted Aristotle in  his oration on the fall of Adam and Eve, when he said that. These are all such negative emotions that we should be avoiding, right? The revenge as well as both the shame and pride. Rather, we refer to the things in the Old Testament that represented the ideals that kept Adam and Eve in peace before the fall: doing what they were "commanded" to.
"God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it." (225) "be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it" "Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in  which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat." (224)
So, we would avoid meat and be facilitators of life and growth and regeneration on earth. End of rant. There's probably too much I could say about this.
And please read this, because it's a little bit kooky and interesting and gives another perspective on humans.
http://www.astrodynamics.net/Articles/Cycles/Age%20of%20Aquarius.htm

Is this what it would look like forever? Yay! We could all be nudists and happy. Sounds like a plan to me. 

Black Beauty 29-49

Now, having read Black Beauty in its entirety, I still have a few thoughts on my mind. I mean, we're left with all being well and good in the world here, ultimately, right? 

My ladies have promised that I shall never be sold, and so I have nothing to fear; and here my story ends. My troubles are all over, and I am at home; and often before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my old friends under the apple-trees.  (Ch. 49)

But you have to wonder about the rest of the horses who may not have had such a great fate, who would be sold, who might have cruel owners--- or who may not have as much of a natural inclination as Black Beauty to be content with their lot in life. Now we can argue back and forth about whether a horse's life is better in the wild or in captivity, and whether this individual horse or that individual horse "has been bred" without the ability to survive without human help. Ulitmately, I think those arguments are a little too broad, really. I've known many animals that can survive on instincts without human intervention (even if that is not necessarily for very long). And I know animals that if you left them to their own devices, they'd be fine. Yes, it is a difficult, strenuous, and predator-filled world out there--- for all of us. It usually takes some re-introduction and time to get to that point. My point here, though, is that we cannot control everything in nature, (i.e. where they'd be if they were'nt with us. So, if somebody were, say, trying to save the ex-pet bunnies that unwitting owners let out into the wild when they got tired of them, the answer would probably not be to trap all their natural predators, the coyotes-- you know? It would be to make sure that the environment out there were as hospitable as possible. And if you run across that rabbit, and it doesn't look as healthy and happy as you would expect it to (which is relative, right!), then you help make sure it has food and water (maybe by putting some out yourself) and make sure that you're not responsible for any pets that might attack it. But enought about that extended metaphor. I don't think Sewell was even mentioning that really, except maybe vaguely.But she did seem to stress the whole "Good Samaritan" idea of civic duty and action.

The Good Samaritan, and the donkey in the background. Perhaps he hangs his head because he does not get the same sympathy and kindness.

Many folks would have ridden by and said it was not their business to interfere. Now I say that with cruelty and oppression it is everybody’s business to interfere when they see it; you did right, my boy. (Ch. 20)

Furthermore, it's not just the big gestures (like not blatantly beating your dog or using painful methods of forcing them to do things they wouldn't naturally do) but also the small ones (like giving nice feed, or simply considering that they might have feelings that deserve consideration, and acting accordingly) that matter. 
             This actually made me think about my lapses in sympathy, and maybe where they stem from. I mean, I'll most likely never be a lobbyist in D.C. for anti-vivisection or a senator that someday passes the bill outlawing factory farming, but that only means that I need to be that more aware of how I treat animals in my everyday life. It's a taste of self-reflection that helps keep all of us in tune with how our actions affect others. Plus, as some like to argue, awareness and thoughts don't always make a difference in the immediate lives of some animals. (So those of you who feel bad about puppies being in animal shelters, take the hour or so it takes to go and pet them and love on them. And those who don't like the fact that somebody might mistreat their dog, then tell them. Do something about it if you feel something.) Anyway... I've been thinking about Blue (from Am I Blue?) and Black Beauty here for the past few days, and reflecting on my childhood, when I remember I used to say, you know, if I ever had a horse in my life, I wouldn't make them suffer and they would feel free, and we'd just be friends--- me and my imaginary horse. I thought they were the most regal, strong, enduring animal there ever was.

And then I got one. 

         And she had a ton of personality and independence. She was just downright bossy and dominant. So I would get frustrated when she would do things like push me around or walk a completely different direction from where we were supposed to be going. After a long day in the 100 degree weather, I would be tired, grumpy, and just wanting to go home, but I couldn't  do that until we had washed her down and put her in the paddock. So I would get all kinds of irritated when she wouldn't let me put the halter back on and take her back. I'd cuss her out under my breath. I'd pull a little harder than I normally would on her lead rope as soon as I'd caught her. (I hate to admit.) I'd just generally be grumpy.... and then I would feel bad about it. It was like a power struggle in my brain that I just automatically thought I was supposed to win. At that point, horses no longer symbolized all that was good and powerful and enduring or regal. At that moment, they were forces to be reckoned with, who didn't have a way of communicating with me that she was hot and tired and grumpy, too. It was only sometimes that I would think about that and commiserate, and we always took the trip back home slower and easier, and usually then, I'd share the apples and celery from my packed snacks and we'd walk back to the house without a halter or anything.

What is this horse thinking?

          There were times when I hadn't really thought of it from her perspective. Then again, if she had been a different horse, maybe doing what I had wanted would have been the thing that made her happy. I don't know. We all know those people who seem to have no will of their own because they are always trying to do what others expect of them and what others want---  and they seem to be just peachy. Do we consider them enslaved... if it is their choice? Because they're human? Isnt' that speciesist? Or is it just the fact that we know that they have a choice that is the issue. If we could just separate the animals that want to live their lives in human homes and lives, helping do their part to create things in the world that better human lives (and in turn, hopefully theirs) from the animals that don't want to be part of any of this--- the world would be a much easier place. And then we could go about enforcing some kind of agreement as to what responsible pet-coexistence (not ownership) would be, in which we were held to a standard in which we were kind and considerate, and didn't react with violence towards animal behavior. That's not possible, though, right now.
            With that in mind, I have one more question: Do the same qualities that make a good horse, or a good dog, etc.---- make a good human? Remember how Black Beauty talked about how his mother had taught him that no matter what, he should be nice and obliging and accommodating. (The war horse would follow his rider into battle, figuratively speaking, without question. Black Beauty always tried to do the best at whatever his job, no matter how painful, without a fuss.) 

I saw a great deal of trouble among the horses in London, and much of it might have been prevented by a little common sense. We horses do not mind hard work if we are treated reasonably (Ch 41)

I have heard men say that seeing is believing; but I should say that feeling is believing; for much as I had seen before, I never knew till now the utter misery of a cab-horse's life...Skinner... was hard on the men, and the men were hard on the horses. In this place we had no Sunday rest, and it was in the heat of summer... He had a cruel whip with something so sharp at the end that it sometimes drew blood, and he would even whip me under the belly, and flip the lash out at my head. Indignities like these took the heart out of me terribly, but still I did my best and never hung back; for, as poor Ginger said, it was no use; men are the strongest. (Chapter 47) 

  It is the humans, then, on the other end of this spectrum, who didn't possess those qualities of common sense, compassion, and kindness, that Sewell seems to laud in this work. Is that then, where speciesism and racism are born, from lack of these characteristics and ignorance? 

Tom: What is this man thinking? Either of them.

I mean, we could compare Black Beauty with Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin (and yes, beyond the fact that they both have "black" protagonists). They have their fair number of parallels.  They are both pleasers and go out of their way not to rock the boat. Moreover, they also embody other traits that the reader will later use to compare other characters to. They have a certain beauty or "good look" in their eyes or face, while Sewell and Stowe very frequently have "bad" characters manifest in less appealing physical descriptions. The eponymous characters each take their hand at saving others' lives. Both Black Beauty and Tom are somewhat seen as long-suffering, noble heroes at the hands of people with more power, but less compassion than they. Throughout their respective books, far from allowing themselves to be completely exploited, they in whatever methods they can, hold up for their beliefs (and for this, they are grudgingly admired, even by what we would consider "enemies" or human antagonists). And as a last point, they have certain friendships with children, which would argue that a lot of the cruel behavior towards others of adults may be learned rather than born into them. The Johns, the George Shelby's, and the Ava's, then, of the literary world might prove that it has more to do with a perpetuation of these behaviors rather than an inherent thing. 

But how should one know what is dangerous and what is not, if one is never allowed to get used to anything? I am never afraid of what I know.(Chapter 29)

I think, though, that I do have a point to make about this that makes it all seem convoluted. The name of Uncle Tom should represent something good in popular culture, then, shouldn't it? Well, for a time it did. But in more recent years, the term Uncle Tom has become an epithet directed towards African-Americans who are accused of selling out to whites. It seems so counter-intuitive. Consider how we look at animals that give into what we want them to. Do their fellow animals disparage them? Do we disparage them for not fighting back harder? Or in a way that we understand? Maybe if my horse had kicked me back in the days when I would be grumpy with her I would have consI just thought it was an interesting thought to consider. Tell me what you think. 

Black Beauty 1-28

My horse at home on "the farm."

Black Beauty lets us see a little of the intricacies of being a horse bred for work; of being overworked, of drunk and/or abusive owners or trainers, broken families, having one's life risked for trivial affairs, and certainly about what it means to be communicated with but not understood. So, if I had to think back on all of my experience with "work animals" as we call them here, it would be a very long and complicated tale, as well. I've known companions of police dogs, police horses, honest-to-goodness cowboys and the horses that they still depend on in their ranches (remember that I'm from the legitimate "country"), carriage horses here in Austin, etc., and as Black Beauty mentions, I have my mixed views of how they are treated. For there truly are:

" a great many kinds of men; there are good thoughtful men... , that any horse may be proud to serve; and there are bad, cruel men, who never ought to have a horse or dog to call their own. Besides, there are a great many foolish men, vain, ignorant, and careless, who never trouble themselves to think; these spoil more horses than all, just for want of sense; they don't mean it, but they do it for all that..." (Chapter 3)

Some people really seem to get it. Some just don't, even though they may or may not understand or even sympathize with what their non-human companions might be enduring. I mean, I, at home, even, still get into arguments with my dad because my horses don't "earn their keep," as he calls it because they're not being used for what he calls "their job" anymore. He's like York, he:

 might have known, and very likely did know, how that rein harassed me;
but I suppose he took it as a matter of course that it could not be helped;
at any rate, nothing was done to relieve me. (Chapter 23)

Well, that might not be the truth. Now that they have worked together more, they are certainly friends, and he definitely puts their welfare above their practical use. Of course, he is also the same man who told me that I would never get to ride them because they were "work" horses, and I didn't know how to use the saddle and the touch of the bit correctly (i.e. aggressively enough). He ate his words when, by the end of 3 or 4 months, Dixie would meet me 2 miles away from my house at the bus stop every day at 3:30, stand by the fence to wait for me to climb up, and then walk me to the house without a halter or a bit or a stitch of saddle in side. She would slow down or speed up in response to my shifting weight or turn at just the slightest pressure at the touch of her neck. I mean, it is amazing how much of a dialogue you can have if you just try things until you understand each other. I think Black Beauty may have even made that point. I've always like to think that we keep things natural on our property as far as my girls are concerned, then. If it can be done without gadgets, and with body language, so much the better. Even though, apparently not being profitable or productive is a sin in an industrial/ work-ethic driven home (like most of the Western world).

In fact, I was reminded so much of the various relationship humans and animals can have. I think about my brother's big rottweiler who can be so big and powerful and rambunctious when they're wrestling on the floor, but when he is around my niece, he is the most gentle creature in the world. He watches every move he makes and just quietly and gently approaches her so that she can grab onto his nose or tail (or whatever is within reach). And gracious knows that she doesn't communicate in the conventional form of English either.

And animals talk back to us, don't they:

Boys," said he, shaking his mane, "are quite different; they must be broken in as we were broken in when we were colts, and just be taught what's what... Boys, you see, think a horse or pony is like a steam-engine or a thrashing-machine, and can go on as long and as fast as they please; they never think that a pony can get tired, or have any feelings; so as the one who was whipping me could not understand I just rose up on my hind legs and let him slip off behind -- that was all. He mounted me again, and I did the same. Then the other boy got up, and as soon as he began to use his stick I laid him on the grass, and so on, till they were able to understand -- that was all. They are not bad boys; they don't wish to be cruel. I like them very well; but you see I had to give them a lesson."

Now, I don't know if this is how animals really think. Even Black Beauty seems so very human to me that I have a hard time suspending my disbelief. However, it would certainly seem that Anna Sewell spent her fair share of time watching horse mannerisms and thinking about what caused their behavior. She certainly must have considered what it might be like to be separated at the whim of someone else and, ultimately, to live your whole life in service, and that reflection is far more than a lot of us do... at least as adults. If we see a carriage horse in Austin scared from a car passing too closely, we say "poor horse" and keep on walking or driving away, without much thought of how we would be affected. And as kids, we probably (at least hopefully) did our fair share of exploring our imagination and growling or pouncing on people.

Sorry men. My roommate made me add it.

Heaven knows my sister would make my brother eat dog food off of the floor and he would obediently comply, and I spent my fair share of time out on my hands and knees in the grass because I was "a bison, Mommy, look!" right before I would go wallow in the dirt like I had seen them do in the Wichita Mountains just a few days before. Then there's always my middle brother who made my other brother rope him and calf-tie him because he wanted to know what it really felt like. The consensus: it hurt like the dickens! But I feel like somewhere along the way we become overly-intellectual or too caught up in knowing how to survive in "the real world" to care about those things anymore. Come on. There has to be at least one or two (or more) people out there who have read Black Beauty, set it down, and said, "so what! I get it. And..." And it doesn't just stop at animals. We stop caring, or thinking it matters how really anyone else truly looks at the world (because how could we ever know? We're not them. Or even worse, we think it doesn't matter as long as we can still get what we want from them.) 

Now then, this is something that I could not quite understand: how did Black Beauty become such a success? It changed laws. It apparently changed minds and hearts as well. How? Certainly, I would put it in the same vein (as far as design and "in-depthness" goes, as, say, Frederick Douglass's slave narrative, which it reminded me a lot of, actually). But I'm trying to come up with something that would be a comparable today to see how it fares in the market and I can't think of anything contemporary. Are we just not as moved by sympathetic tales anymore, and so we've moved away from them? Do we just feel like it's been done before and has somehow lost its power? Have we, as a society changed? I don't know.Why hasn't there been a writer to come along and provoke so much sentiment that laws get changed for us?

It's worth thinking about.