Advice From a Friendly Bear” Dr. Lorin Swinehart shares his philosophy

By Dr. Lorin Swinehart

“Some people talk to animals. Not many listen, though. That is the problem.” — Winnie-the-Pooh

It was nearly dark the other night as I enjoyed my evening walk in the complex where our daughter lives in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. As I approached the end of the sidewalk, I encountered a huge, lumbering creature who seemed as interested in his evening prowl as I was in my own. A large black bear was snuffling about in the grass only a few feet from me. I greeted him with, “Good evening, Mr. Bear,” and advised him that it was safe for him to linger a bit and talk with me but to avoid others of my kind, because they cannot be trusted and too often do terrible things. He seemed unimpressed with my words and continued on his way, despite my urging him to come back and stay awhile. I believe that we could have had a mutually rewarding conversation. There was no fear on my part. I love bears. I have been preoccupied with bears much of my life.

I looked behind me to find a young woman, perhaps in her twenties, leading two small dogs. “I just saw a bear,” she said, “How wild is that!”

I responded that my wife and I were former National Park Service rangers and that I love bears.

“Well, he came to the right person then, didn’t he.”

“Yes, I guess he did.”

It was refreshing to find a young person who expressed wonder on such an occasion instead of the usual stock response I receive whenever I mention my wilderness encounters with wolves or bears, “Oh, I would be scared to death.”

Such persons live their lives in accordance with a script composed by others.

Many years ago, when I was very young, I taught in a Bureau of Indian Affairs boarding school on the Navaho Reservation in a place called Tohatchi, New Mexico. That autumn, I met my first wild bears, a pair of big, comical yearlings who were so intent upon gobbling pinion nuts that they were oblivious to my presence. Of course, once they spotted me, they went bouncing off into their forested home with nary a look back.

One night in late winter, I sat around a campfire sharing stories with Indian friends—two Pawnee, one Navaho, one Comanche. The stories they shared ranged from Navaho witches and skin changers to the dread “chi’indi,” that is said to consist of all that is negative about an individual spirit and to forever haunt his place of death, striking terror into the hearts of all who encounter it.

My Navaho friend explained to me that the old, traditional people would never harm or kill a bear under any circumstances, not even if he was tearing down the hogan late on a freezing winter night. The bear, he explained, is man’s brother because he sometimes stands erect on two legs.

Recently, a bear was discovered feeding upon a human carcass in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It was reported that the bear was euthanized by rangers, a euphemism for being shot. There was no explanation offered as to what tragedy caused the unfortunate person to be lying dead along the trail. Still, perhaps killing the bear was a wise decision, given that bears become habituated to certain kinds of food and that perhaps this specimen would have developed a taste for human cadavers.

A neighbor once returned from a hunting trip in the West boasting that he had killed a bear. I never viewed him the same afterward. If my long-ago Navaho friend was correct about the just and proper relationship between humans and bears, perhaps humans who feed upon bear carcasses should be euthanized as well as bears who feed upon human carcasses. One should not with impunity feed upon one’s brother, especially given that on the average there are only two confirmed bear attacks on people each year, mostly a result of human stupidity, while human hunters kill an estimated 33,000 bears annually.

Over the years, I have been blessed again and again by the appearance of one of the Creator’s bears; once in the Everglades, on another occasion in the hills of West Virginia, and years later while serving as a National Park Service ranger in Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park. My only perilous encounter took place along a remote mountain trail in Montana where I incurred the wrath of a mother grizzly with a small cub.

While I gave my ursine friend sound advice the other night, I wonder what counsel he might have shared with me. Some gift shops offer greeting cards and wall hangings with the title “Advice from a Bear.” Such sage advice includes: Live large; climb beyond your limitations; when life gets you down, grin and bear it; eat well, live with the seasons; take time to hibernate; give bear hugs; stay wild; protect your cubs; don’t let anything stand in your way. I wish he had tarried longer so as to share his wisdom with me.

Late at night, I awaken concerned about the friendly bear I met here on the edge of town. My advice to him was correct, to avoid humans, but he seemed unworried about the prospects of meeting others of my kind. There is no food or garbage that might attract bears left out in this particular neighborhood. However, poachers have set cruel leg-hold traps up in the Blue Ridge and elsewhere. Perhaps my ursine friend will confine his browsing to the nearby forests where he will be safe. Perhaps no place is safe. And yet, I take comfort in the knowledge that there will always be wild bears. My hope is that every bear will live a long and carefree life, and that every tree will be a honey tree.

Lorin Swinehart

By Christy Wiseman

We are edging toward the first year in this pandemic and as I mark another birthday, I realize I am edging

towards eternity. It doesn’t scare me, it’s simply another fact amid a myriad of facts. I’m at peace with it.

What has changed is that as I meet old friends on Zoom whose smooth faces have become lined or whose bodies show an abundance of unneeded skin, I realize that what I love in them goes far deeper than appearance, and connecting with them, even in this limited way, or by phone or email is a gift. Hopefully they feel the same about me. In truth, I am just glad to see the familiar faces and to know they are still with us. They are treasured. Those few who have proved toxic are silently wished well as we parted. I’ve learned over the years that boundaries are important.

This pandemic has caused a number of outcomes as we are obliged to keep our distances. This isn’t easy as human beings are comforted by the touch and the nearness of those we love.

In some cases this prescribed closeness to a spouse or partner has clarified those things we loved about the other person. In other cases, what it clarifies is that we have the wrong partner. In all cases, if we are willing, it clarifies to us who we really are and gives us the chance to improve the direction we are heading and the attitudes we are adopting as this silent plague stalks us all.

It reveals our true reality while we still have a chance to modify it.

Am I saying this plague is a good thing? Yes, in some ways adversity can be a positive. It solidifies in us what our true values are and gives us time to correct the course. It teaches us patience and how to enjoy the things which previously had seemed inconsequential or which had gone unnoticed. Each day I give thanks for being allowed another day. A day in which I can notice how incredible nature really is, or in which I can reach out to another shutin and open the door of compassion for their challenges, or simply spend some time with them as we share what is meaningful to us both.

I’m lucky in that I like to quilt and to cook and I love to learn. The Internet provides master classes and YouTube tutorials. We can even order things via the Internet. I recently ordered fish from the Alaska Fish Company. It came with pollock. I had never heard of pollock, but it is a type of cod found in the North Atlantic, so I’m going to try it in a fish soup recipe that my dear friend Linda sent me. She is an excellent cook, so I’ll try this Asian dish with good crusty rolls and maybe share it with a neighbor, with an understanding that future invites, like the sword of Damocles, would be weighed by how he shares his opinion. He doesn’t need to like it, he simply needs to be kind.

I felt myself blessed during this pandemic as my youngest son, Tom, sheltered with me for seven months and I got to know him as a young man of 44 years. He had broken his engagement with his fiancée of nine years and they were both moving on. It was a good thing as they both knew it wasn’t working and they saved themselves a divorce by the break-up.

Still, when any dreams of a future family are put to rest, it is painful. The blessing in all this was that I got to know my son in a way seldom available to parents as a child grows and moves on.

Tom is a positive, generally happy young spirit. He is addicted to golf, like his father and grandfather before him. He doesn’t like the pandemic, and sheltering with his mother for seven months was certainly not on his bucket list, but his kindness and sensitivity to my feelings made it quite comfortable for both of us and when his job opened back up, I was sorry to see him go. He is the epitome of someone who generally lands “butter side up” which gives me confidence in his future. After all, isn’t that the hope of most parents?!

Someday, hopefully soon, this pandemic will be part of our past. While it has claimed so many lives, it has freed others to a more rewarding future, in ways they hadn’t previously imagined.

May this time for you be a time of growth, of clarification, and of solidification of the values that will move you into a rewarding and positive future and may you find serenity in the now.

Christy Wiseman

By Herbert W. Piekow

Most people have heard the rousing anthem of the U.S. Marine Corps and are familiar with the opening stanza, “From the Halls of Montezu-

ma . . .” and, most are familiar with the reference to the Aztec emperor who was defeated by the Spanish invader Cortez, long before there was a United States of America or a U.S. Marine Corps. Few know that this refrain refers to the Battle of Chapultepec Hill where young Mexican military cadets died rather than surrender to the invading American forces. The Battle of Chapultepec Hill was bloody and memorable for both sides. The Marines commemorate their loss of 90 percent of their commissioned and noncommissioned officers with the scarlet “blood stripes” on their dress uniforms. While the Mexicans will never forget the sacrifice of Los Niños Héroes, the young cadets who gave their lives to slow the advance of the superior invading American armed forces.

Los Niños Héroes refers to the Boy Heroes, or the six young cadets who valiantly gave their lives rather than be taken prisoners by the overwhelming and better-equipped American invaders. On September 8, 1847, the Mexican Army lost the Battle of the Red Mill, two miles from Chapultepec Hill, to the superior American Army. The bloodied Mexican soldiers delayed the Americans for a few days, allowing the Mexican General Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana, who was in charge of the forces defending Mexico City to mount a defense of Chapultepec. Chapultepec, which means grasshopper hill in Nahuatl, rises 200 feet above the city´s west side and forms a natural barrier against invaders, is crowned by the Chapultepec Castle. The hill originally rose from the lake where the Aztecs built their capitol. In about 1325, the Aztecs fortified Chapultepec Hill and built both religious and residential edifices. Chapultepec Castle, which, at the time of the American invasion, was the Mexican Military Academy and a coveted prize for the foreign invaders. Dozens of young teenaged cadets were studying there. These young, inexperienced soldiers-in-training were asked to help defend Mexico City and slow the invading American army and, if possible, prevent the capture of Chapultepec. Unfortunately, there were not enough Mexican resources and the American forces greatly outnumbered the Mexican defenders in both military numbers and firepower. After hours of hand-tohand combat it became apparent that the American forces were triumphing. General Nicholas Brazo commanded the Mexican forces at Chapultepec Hill to retreat to safety. However, several young cadets refused to relinquish their posts. The six cadets who ranged in age from 13 to 19 years sacrificed themselves in order to slow the advancement of the Americans. One young cadet wrapped himself in the Mexican flag and flung himself onto the rocks below the castle so that his nation’s flag would not be claimed by the Americans. These Young Heroes have been forever immortalized in Mexican history and lore. Nearly every Mexican city and pueblo honors these six brave boys with a street or monument dedicated to Los Niños Héroes, to remind all Mexicans that heroes are comprised of people who, no matter their age, give everything they have for their ideals and in the defense of the “just cause.” Each of these boys died a hero’s death in defense of their country and to preserve their honor. Mexico will always honor their valor.

At the entrance of Chapultepec Park is an imposing monument of Carrara marble by architect Enrique Aragon and sculptor Ernesto Tamariz commemorating the heroic act of these cadets. On March 5, 1947, U.S. President Harry S. Truman made an unscheduled stop from his Mexico City Tour to pay his respects to these valiant defenders against American aggression. Asked by reporters why he had gone to the monument, Truman replied, “Brave men don’t belong to any one country.”

Herbert W. Piekow

By Mel Goldberg

Chanukah is the Jewish eight-day, wintertime “festival of freedom,” celebrated with the nightly lighting of a ninebranched menorah, special prayers,

and fried foods. The Hebrew word Chanukah means dedication, and is thus named because it celebrates the rededication of the Holy Temple. The Hebrew word is actually pronounced with a guttural, ch sound, cha-nu-kah.

SOME HISTORY

More than 2,000 years ago the land of Israel was part of the Syrian-Greek Empire, dominated by Syrian rulers of the Seleucid dynasty. Antiochus III, the King of Syria who reigned from 222-186 B.C.E., gave the Jews under his rule some freedom. But when Antiochus died, his son Seleucus IV promoted Hellenistic idol-worship in an attempt to unite the people under his rule.

But Yochanan, the High Priest of the Jews, resisted and saw the danger to Judaism by the influence of the Hellenists who accepted idol-worship and the Syrian way of life. Yochanan opposed the Jewish Hellenists who favored the ideal of outward beauty in contrast to Judaism which emphasized truth and moral purity, as commanded by the Torah.

When Antiochus IV ascended to the throne, he suppressed all the Jewish rituals. When Yochanan protested, he was assassinated.

Antiochus IV enacted a series of harsh decrees against the Jews. Jewish worship was forbidden; the scrolls of the law (Torah) were confiscated and burned. Sabbath rest, circumcision, and the dietary laws were prohibited under penalty of death.

Antiochus’s men went from town to town and from village to village to force all inhabitants to worship pagan gods.

A Jewish priest named Mattityahu lived in the remote village of Modiin. When Antiochus’s men arrived in the village, they built an altar in the marketplace and demanded that Mattityahu offer sacrifices to the Greek gods. He refused. When a Jewish Hellenist offered to make a sacrifice at the altar, Mattityahu killed him. Then he and his sons and friends destroyed the altar, killed some of Antiochus’s men, and routed the rest.

Knowing that Antiochus would be enraged, Mattityahu left Modiin and fled, together with his sons and friends, to the hills of Judea where they formed an army determined to destroy pagan altars.

Before his death, Mattityahu called his sons together and urged them to continue and to follow a leader who was called The Maccabee, a word composed of the initial letters of the four Hebrew words Mi Kamocha Ba’eilim Adonai, (who is like God).

Antiochus sent an army to destroy the Maccabees. The army was defeated by the Maccabees, who used guerrilla tactics and swore they would fight to death in defense of their souls and the temple!

When the Maccabees returned to Jerusalem, they entered the temple and cleared it of the idols. They built a new altar, which they dedicated on the twenty-fifth of the month of Kislev, in the year 139 B.C.E. Kislev often occurs in December. This year the twenty-fifth of Kislev falls on December 23.

Because the Syrians had taken the original gold menorah when the temple was destroyed, the Maccabees made a new menorah with nine branches. When they went to light it, they found only a small cruse of pure olive oil bearing the official seal of the High Priest Yochanan. The oil was sufficient to burn only for one day and it took eight days to consecrate olive oil for religious purposes. But the menorah continued to burn for eight days until new oil was consecrated. They took that as a miracle that God still had the people under His protection. In memory of this, the ancient sages appointed these eight days for annual thanksgiving and for lighting candles.

Today, one of the traditions of Chanukah is to give gelt (money) which are usually chocolate coins wrapped in gold-colored foil. One explanation is that the root of the word Chanukah can be connected to the Hebrew word for education, chinuch. Thus, the history behind Chanukah customs is educational. When we give children Chanukah gelt, we are teaching them the history and the importance of freedom.

And the Maccabiah Games, named in honor of the Maccabees, often called the Jewish Olympics, are held in Israel the year following the Olympic Games, and the best Jewish athletes from throughout the world compete.

Mel Goldberg

By Carol L. Bowman

Mexico is the land of reli-

gious celebrations. For the past 500 years, few months have passed without a festival that honors a Catholic Saint or event as loud booms of cajotes explode into the sky to announce the celebration. But this year, 2020, Mexico’s sacred traditions have gone silent, the masses have worshipped in solitude, and depictions of their faith have faded into the air among the droplets of an unseen virus. Plazas, where throngs of the Church’s faithful used to gather, remain empty. Who among us could fathom Day of the Dead or the Passion Play reenactment canceled? No religious observation will be more sorely missed than December 12, the Day of Our Lady, the Virgin of Guadalupe.

To break this silence and fill this void, come with me to Mexico’s holiest shrine, the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe, located in the Tepeyac Hill neighborhood in northern Mexico City to witness this country’s love affair with the Virgin. Let’s revisit December 12th , pre-Co-Vid-19.

Standing on the stone steps at the entrance to this magnificent plaza, called La Villa, I gazed at the throngs descending on this place. Some pushed strollers cradling precious children, others escorted elderly parents in wheelchairs; some struggled with disabilities, others moved easily through the crowd- all flooded up the avenue. Thousands of pilgrims including myself, prepared to spend this special day with the Virgin of Guadalupe. Stoic emotions painted their faces, as faithful souls came to pray to the Patroness of Mexico, their protectorate. For centuries, ‘She’ has been a comfort for Mexican Catholics, converts and even curious non-believers.

The fervor generated for this unusual image of the Virgin Mary surpassed any religious pilgrimage I had ever witnessed, even my visit to Fatima, Portugal on Easter Sunday. Tokens designed to enhance the spiritual interaction for each individual abounded. Women clutched wooden replicas of Our Lady of Guadalupe, men carried three-foot statuettes of the Virgin’s likeness, swathed in palm branches and surrounded with roses; children wore medallions of the Virgin hanging close to their hearts; teenagers held ‘trendy’ battery-operated blinking icons with the golden aura surrounding her image flashing in neon. Young and old proudly donned t-shirts that projected an artist’s interpretation. I felt naked, I came unadorned. I hadn’t anticipated this intense display of passion that resembled a political rally.

It is impossible to understand Mexico and its culture without comprehending the national devotion, veneration and eternal affection of its people for Our Lady of Guadalupe. As a permanent Mexican resident, but a life-long Protestant, even I sensed a connection to Mexico’s sacred Lady. You cannot live here and escape her pull. I felt compelled to travel to Mexico City to witness the largest and most spectacular commemoration of The Day of Our Lady, the Virgin of Guadalupe at the Basilica, even though observances take place in every town and village in the country.

The story has been repeated millions of times. On December 9, 1531, Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzen, an Aztec convert to Catholicism, witnessed an apparition that he believed to be the Virgin Mary in the hills surrounding Mexico City. The vision wore a blue-green mantle, the color reserved for an Aztec divine couple. Spokes of light that resembled maguey cactus spines the Aztec used to make pulque, radiated from her image. Her belt style represented a sign of pregnancy and her skin beamed an olive hue, like that of the native people. She spoke to Juan Diego in Nahuatl language.

She asked Juan Diego to report her revelation to the local Bishop and to request that a shrine in her honor be built on that spot. Archbishop Fray de Zumarraga required proof. On December 12, the Virgin again appeared to Juan Diego. The date coincided with the Feast of Immaculate Conception, the most sacred and celebrated event in the holy calendar for Mexican Catholics.

Following ‘Her’ instructions to provide evidence of her vision, Juan cut a huge bouquet of Castilian roses he found growing in the hills. He filled his apron-like cloak (tilma) with these long stemmed beauties which were not native to Mexico and would never bloom in Mexico City’s winter climate and carried themto the Archbishop. When Juan unfurled his apron to lay the roses at the Father’s feet, the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, framed in gold was miraculously emblazoned in the agave threads of the cloak. The Archbishop authorized the immediate construction of a shrine at the site of the apparition and ordered that the Virgin’s image preserved on the tilma, be protected forever and hung in the shrine as a symbol of ‘Her” miracle. This image of the Virgin Mary, that physically resembled the indigenous and Mestizo cultures of Mexico, would finally bring meaning for the new converts to Catholicism. ‘She’ gave them something to believe in and that belief has intensified over almost 500 years.

Initially, Catholic Church officials questioned the wisdom of allowing the indigenous population to revere the painted image, but the Dominicans argued that the Aztecs’ veneration of the Virgin of Guadalupe provided a lure toward conversion. To them, ‘She’ became the first Mestizo, the first true Mexican who joined Old World Spain and New World reality.

I felt sandwiched among the faithful in the standing-room only crowd inside the New Basilica with a capacity of 50,000. I found myself shuffling on an electric people-mover, passing by that same image of the Virgin of Guadalupe that had appeared on Juan Diego’s cloak. The completely round Basilica provided a perfect view from any point in the building. Protected behind bulletproof glass, the cloth had an enormous Mexican flag draped beneath the vibrant impression. I felt ‘doubt’ dissipate and ‘belief’ fill that void, as this powerful miracle evoked a feeling that this was a Shroud of Turin for the Americas.

The Old Basilica, Templo Expiatorio del Cristo Rey, under construction from 1531 until 1709, held the Virgin’s image until the newest shrine to house Juan Diego’s cloak was completed on October 12, 1976. The New Basilica, considered one of the architectural masterpieces of the world, was designed by Mexican architect, Pedro Ramirez Vasquez, who also built Mexico City’s National Museum of Anthropology. Several events over the years have served to cement the Mexican people’s faith in the Virgin. In 1921, a disgruntled parishioner set off a bomb inside the Old Basilica, causing significant damage to the altar, but the image of the Virgin remained unscathed. In 1791, after an accidental ammonia spill onto the tilma’s canvas, the image apparently repaired itself without external help.

On May 6, 1990, Pope John Paul ll beatified Juan Diego at a mass at the New Basilica. In 1999, he proclaimed the Virgin of Guadalupe to be the Patroness of the Americas and on July 31, 2002, before a crowd of 12 million in the plaza of La Villa, he canonized Juan Diego. ‘Her’ religious miracle was complete.

Carlos Fuentes, noted Mexican novelist said, “You cannot truly be considered Mexican unless you believe in the Virgin of Guadalupe.” I left the Basilica having witnessed that truth. Carol L.

Bowman

By Jackie Kellum

Before you decide to bring another pet into the family, THINK.

During this decision process, you should be realistic regarding your current pet’s ability to adapt to this change. Things you need to consider is your established pet’s age, especially if he is a senior with poor vision or hearing, has difficulty walking, has pain due to age or illness, is medically fragile, or has been alone for a long period of time. If you are dealing with any of these issues, you need to question yourself if this is the right time and thing to do to him. Will your current pet acclimate easily to this change in his life and feel comfortable in his own home? Another question to answer is, Will your establish pet(s) benefit from this new addition?

When you are considering a new possibility, evaluate the personality, energy level, and assertiveness of the potential “new guy” so there is a good match with your other pets. To keep the household peaceful, you must also consider your current responsibilities before taking on new ones. You need to be truthful and realistic with this evaluation. This applies to both cats and dogs.

Another decision factor is knowing if you can handle this situation financially and whether you can make enough time to provide meaningful attention to each pet. Part of this thought process should include, and you have an answer for, what will happen if something “happens?” That is, if you become disabled or when you die. Who will be responsible to take care of your pets in these circumstances? Death is not an “if” circumstance, it is a “when” situation.

If your honest answer is yes, a new addition would be good, you need to make a plan about the introduction of the new pet and not just “wing it.” Also, make sure all pets are current with their vaccinations and parasite prevention. If you have any medical concerns about either pet, have them examined by your veterinarian prior to the introduction. Have reasonable expectations about the new addition’s behavior and reactions to his new housemates. Observe for and have a plan how to deal with territorial behavior, possible food aggression, “marking” in the house that did not occur previously, or jealousy on the part of either the new or established pet. If there are many pets in the house, make the “new guy” introductions one by one in a quiet, calm environment, not a “mass meeting.” This helps the new one from becoming overwhelmed, frightened, or possibly aggressive with this new situation.

Each dog and cat has their own unique natural instincts and behaviors that need to be addressed with introductions. Stay in control of the introductions. Introducing your dog or cat to their new family members in the right way is essential for building positive relationships and safety for all. Properly socializing your dog or cat to other pets means giving them the skills they need to successfully live together and encourages positive interactions. To create a harmonious household you need to guide or teach each pet what to do when they feel overwhelmed, and ensure a safe and calm environment for each pet member. Reward calm behavior by giving positive attention, or possibly a treat. Introducing a new pet mate to an established pet may be less complex if they are the same species (dog-dog, cat-cat) versus dog-cat or catdog. But whatever the circumstances, the success of the introductions and integration requires thought and planning.

Jackie Kellum