Road Trip Retrospective: 2012 Was All About the Colors

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Posted on February 17, 2021 by gretchenwing

Welcome back to NOT-Road Trip I, a wistful review of the past 10 years of criss-crossing this great continent in Feb-March. Looking back at photos from 2012 is like seeing broad stripes of color on a blanket.

BLUE and WHITE. We started in Yellowstone as a special Valentine’s Day gift to ourselves. Thanks to a kind of bus on skis, and our own snowshoes, we penetrated deep into a park otherwise closed to traffic…the human kind.

You can bet this has become one of our favorite photos of ourselves.

The Mate wondering where he put his hat & gloves.

BROWN and OLIVE. Needing some warmth, we headed straight down through Utah to Arizona.

Ahhhh….yes. We felt just like that flower.

One of the most accessible national parks is Petrified Forest–right off I-40. Since winter storms were threatening, we opted for the ease of a ride-through, and kept on our way.

What, you assumed “forest” meant vertical? Show some respect for your elders!

RED. After holing up in Albuquerque for a bit, we headed sadly for Texas, knowing that the Panhandle is one of the dullest parts of a state which guards its scenery pretty closely. But following our noses to a small green blob on our map, we discovered Palo Duro State Park–amazingly, the second-largest canyon in the US, and one that we nor anyone we knew had heard of.

WHITE and BLUE again (warm shades). Another brand-new discovery for us (though much better-known): Florida’s National Seashore, where we camped and rode our bikes, in awe of the ivory sand.

I used to think these kinds of photos were doctored.

This might even be whiter than ivory. More like snow, I think.

Having crossed the country at top speed, outrunning storms, we found ourselves with a full extra week in Florida, which we spent bopping from one gorgeous state park to another.

Can’t remember which one this is. We visited several springs, equally bewitching.

We did also ride our bikes through the Everglades and visited friends in the Keys, but frankly, I found the environmental degradation there more depressing than inspiring, so I won’t revisit those places here.

BROWN & GREEN (wet version). Okeefenokee! Need I say more?

We took a boat tour with a very knowledgable young park ranger.

Since Georgia’s wild places have such great names, we also joined some friends in paddling the Ogeechee River.

“And there’s something ’bout the Southland in the springtime…” –Indigo Girls

Back at my parents’ farm once more–don’t forget, dear readers, that NC in March is always the apex of our Road Trips–Son Two joined us again from college, for Tarheel basketball, great BBQ, and cuddles with Stevie, World’s Cutest Ass.

The goat’s pretty cute too, but she’s no Stevie.

SILVER. Unlike the previous year, winter weather precluded heading very far north, so we made the Big Left Turn and headed west through the middle of the country, taking one touristy, cultural stop–unusual for us.

…because the bike path through St. Louis SUCKED.

Up at the top of the Arch. The Mate refused to join me, and when the tiny elevator got briefly stuck, I understood his claustrophobia.

BROWN & BLACK. Astonishingly, while Flagstaff got a foot of snow, just north of there, we found Estes Park, Colorado, on the edge of Rocky Mountain N.P., nearly snow-free.

You would not believe how many rocks there look like Jabba the Hutt.

The “Black” comes from another new find (to us): Colorado’s Black Canyon of the Gunnison. It was too snowy to hike down, so we snowshoed along the rim.

Closest thing to Mordor I’ve seen in the States.

RED again. First, we camped in the lovely & accessible Colorado National Monument outside Grand Junction.

Another one of those, “Why haven’t we heard of this place?” places.

To this day, this remains our only sighting of desert bighorns–right across the road!

You guys aren’t even trying to act rare.

Of course the ultimate RED is found in Moab, UT, jumping-off spot for three major national parks.

There, we began what has remained a tradition of joining our Adventure Buddies Tom & Kate for, well…

…adventure. (Canyonlands NP, where we actually took a jeep tour. The guide assured us this photo was a requirement.)

COLOR US HAPPY. Back home in Washington, we managed to meet both our sons on break from college, and celebrated with sushi at Fujiya, our favorite restaurant in the world.

So that’s Road Trip II–colorful, warm, and now folded in the closet of memory. Catch you next time for RT III–thanks for traveling with me!

Politics as Usual? The Shocking Cameraderie of the Washington State Legislature

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Posted on January 23, 2021 by gretchenwing

Excatly two weeks and one day after THIS…

(Image by Tyler Merbler, courtesy Wikimedia Commons)

…I was scheduled to testify at a hearing on a bill in the legislature of my state, The Other Washington.

THIS place: Olympia, WA. (Image by MathTeacherGuy, courtesy Creative Commons)

Of course, what with COVID, the hearing wasn’t in Olympia, but on Zoom, along with gazillion other meetings. (Just curious: what do we do when Zoom fills up? A good koan for medition.)

The bill in question was HB 1090, which aims to ban all for-profit, privately-run prisons in Washington State by 2025. Having been involved for a couple of years in the campaign to close the Northwest Detention Center in Tacoma–packed to an inhuman degree with detained immigrants–I had signed up to give my two cents’ worth on why for-profit prisons are a terrible idea.

The NWDC. (photo by Eldan, courtesy Creative Commons)

When I Zoomed in at 1:30, House Public Safety Committee Chair Roger Goodman was announcing the lineup for the 2-hour session. It sounded ambitious. First up: amendments on two different bills: one restricting police car chases, one banning no-knock warrants. Then came public comment on two other bills: one refining the definition of hate crime, the other allowing survivors of sexual assault improved access to the progress of their cases and better overall care. Finally, at the end: “my” bill, 1090.

Oooookay, I thought. Maybe I’ll go make a cup of tea and check back in an hour.

But before I wandered away, something caught my attention. The same something that has probably caught all of America’s attention beginning this past Wednesday, Inauguration Day. That something was…civility.

A minority Republican on the committee–a beefy White guy in a Statue of Liberty necktie–was making an argument about an amendment on the car-chase bill. Talking about the Democratic sponsor of the bill, I heard him say, “…though I love and respect him as a person…” Then the Democratic Chair was allaying the Republican’s fears. And then they thanked each other.

Wait. Wait. No snark, no snarling? I barely recognize this tone…like a Golden Oldie playing softly in the background. Mesmerizing.

So I stayed right where I was. I watched that same burly Republican Representative have another of his amendments voted down–he wanted to allow the police broader scope to continue with no-knock warrants (like the one that killed Breonna Taylor in 2020). Still: no rancor, no posturing. Just–“just!”–courtesy.

I watched prosecutors and brave victims of hate crimes testify in favor of HB 1071, which refines the definition of a hate crime to reflect the reality of what people are facing. I watched legislators from both parties thank the participants with zero grandstanding or finger-pointing.

I watched the Republican and Democratic co-sponsors of the Sexual Assault Rights Bill (HB 1109–described as a model for the nation!) sing each other’s praises for the hard road they’ve traveled together since, apparently, 2015. I watched Rep. Burly Republican tear up as he articulated his concerns about sexual assault victims.

They’re all so respectful! So pleasant! I wanted to run into that Zoom room and hug the entire committee.

By the time they got to the private prisons bill, of course, they were out of time. Only a couple of the dozens of folks signed up to speak got to do so.

Did I mind? Not one bit. That two hours of civil civic discourse was as encouraging as a COVID shot. I felt unexpectedly innoculated against political cynicism.

“Well, sure,” my Mate said when I told him about it, “that’s Washington State for you.” I think he meant, y’know, we’re practically Canadians. But no: our governor’s mansion was also attacked on January 6. We’re every bit as vulnerable to the political virus as any other state.

So…feeling pessimistic about political polarization? Depressed at the divide? Take two of these and call me in the morning–“these” being a couple of the most rivetingly boring hours ever, listening to politicians act like grownups together.

Yes, It’s a Promo. That Does Happen Here Occasionally.

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Posted on January 20, 2021 by gretchenwing

This Friday, Jan. 22 @ 5:30 PCT (that’s 8:30 Eastern), please join me via Zoom for a reading from my YA novel Altitude. Authors Kip Greenthal and Laurie Parker will follow. Thanks to Nikyta Palmisani for organizing this event, “Hygge in the Heart”! See you there in your little Zoom square!

https://urldefense.com/v3/__https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https*3A*2F*2Fus02web.zoom.us*2Fj*2F85228057303*3Fpwd*3DQS9rVkQ4LzNiL1cwdEZBRzg4MkY0dz09*26fbclid*3DIwAR3FC2p9UsPlFAQBRvzdO3GSN6ay… See More

The Next Right Thing

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Posted on January 15, 2021 by gretchenwing

If you’re new to this blog, you might not know that I created it with little enthusiasm back, oh, nine years ago, when the People Who Know Such Things convinced me that I, as an Author, needed a Platform.

Then a funny thing happened. I started to enjoy blogging. Especially since “Wing’s World” has remained fairly untethered to theme. What’s not to love when you can blog one week about kale salad, and the next about how many times you’ve run around Planet Earth? As a writer, I did try to steer clear of two topics: writing about writing—boooooring—and politics: divisive.

Then an unfunny thing happened: the last four years. And I’ve found myself increasingly drawn toward topics of justice that need addressing, and increasingly uncomfortable blogging with my usual whimsy. While I appreciate lightheartedness in the writing of others, for myself it feels too much like fiddling while Rome burns.

But who needs more blog posts about everything that’s dire? And so I respond with…silence. My posting has gone from a robust twice-weekly clip to weekly…to biweekly…to whenever the hell I feel like it. And I haven’t felt like it.

(photo by rbaez, courtesy Wikimedia Commons)

Can I get an “Amen”?

Then on a walk the other day, doing my Mary-Oliver-best to let the wild wind and whitecaps and dripping mosses capture all of me, I thought back to a podcast I’d just heard, which reminded me of a hackneyed but super useful concept I learned back in the 90’s. That concept: the Circle of Control from good ol’ Stephen Covey—remember the 7 Habits guy?

EVERYONE should be able to relate to this. Life feeling out of control? Too much, too fast, too hard? Well…what are you in charge of? Eating a healthy breakfast? Reading a book to a child? Do that. Start there.

Now that I think about it, it’s quite similar, in fact, to the Serenity Prayer. Probably smarter people than I have already noted this.

You know: this. (image courtesy Etsy.com)

Anyway, that podcast which started this train of thought? An episode of NPR’s Invisibilia featured an extraordinary woman in Scotland, Joy Milne, who discovered she has the superpower of being able to smell diseases in people. Terminal diseases. Which means she can meet someone and know how close to death they may be—even if they don’t know it themselves. Which means she can, in a way, see the future…without being able to control it.

Talk about “too much”!

Along her journey of discovery—that is, science discovering this woman and putting her power to use—Joy befriended another woman, suffering from Parkinson’s, whose mantra for living with her disease seems to be actually defeating it. This woman says that, in the face of terminal out-of-controlness, she simply tries to “do the next right thing.”

I like that phrase even better than “Circle of Control.” It’s more humble, more tender, more…real.

Throughout most of 2020 (or COVIDCOVID if you prefer), my “next right things” included working on my book, and working to help save America from Donald Trump. [Pictured: my phonebank tallies. Including the calls for the Georgia runoff (which already feels like a year ago), I made approximately 3,000 calls.]

Since that time, conditions in our country and our world feel more out of control than ever–all the more so from having spun away just in the budding of hope. My back pain is not improving. And my writing project is stalled (yes, I WILL write about that when I am able).

In short, I need some new, modest enterprises to function as Serenity Prayer. So here are three:

–a local online tutoring project for kids in our community

–a phone-calling and letter-writing campaign to shut down private prisons in Washington State

–training our new big, overly-enthusiastic dog

Are these projects blogworthy? We’ll see. Of course they’re wildly divergent in scope and tenor. But they do have one thing in common: for me, in 2021’s crazy start, they all feel like the next right thing.

And what is yours? Please share.

Granola For Christmas: You’re Welcome

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Posted on December 10, 2017 by gretchenwing

Would you like me to solve all your holiday gifting issues in two words?

Homemade granola.

THIS stuff.

Okay, the average child or teen might not thrill to that. But I guarantee you anyone from college-age on up will say one of the following to you:

“This is great! I get so overwhelmed with sweet stuff over the holidays, it’s nice to have something healthy.”

“I grab a handful on my way out the door to work.”

“I keep it in my desk at work. I have to hide it from my co-workers.”

“I keep it in my freezer. I have to hide it from my housemates.”

“We eat it on everything. I don’t have time to make it, and the good stuff is so expensive.”

“What do you put in yours? Can I have the recipe?”

“What a great idea. I’m doing this next year.”

That last one? Maybe by the time you’re done reading, you’ll be saying that yourself. But why wait? There’s still time THIS year.

The VERY best thing about granola (and face it, there are no bad things, unless you burn it…oh, and I hate getting sesame seeds stuck between my teeth) is that it is ridiculously flexible. There are very, VERY few rules to granola. So think of this as less of a “recipe” and more of a guideline.

I start with 8 cups of plain rolled oats (NOT instant) and 6 cups of assorted nuts & seeds. Usually I opt for equal amounts of pecans and almonds (whole), walnuts (rough-chopped), pumpkin seeds (pepitos) and sunflower seeds. I’ve also used unsweetened coconut, cashews (the Mate doesn’t like ’em), and hazelnuts (sometimes hard to come by), and sesame seeds. (Got real tired of those little boogers.)

“There’s too many nuts in my granola”….said NO ONE EVER.

Mix all that dry stuff in a giant bowl. If you’re on a budget or don’t adore nuts, use less! Or fewer. Or both.

You also have choices in your oil & your sweetener. You want one cup of each, but which kind? Honey’s the classic; it makes a stickier, clumpier granola. Maple syrup has that wonderful maple flavor & aroma, plus it’s easier to clean the pan afterward, but if you like clumps, don’t use maple. (Also, it’s pricier.) Sometimes I’ll go half-and-half, depending on what I have.

If you like a bit of salt flavor in your granola, I’d recommend one full cup of olive oil–it gives it that nice, savory nuttiness. If you don’t care, and want to go a little cheaper, use a cup of canola. Often, again, I’ll go half-and-half. (I was once gifted granola made with butter, and it was delicious…but I don’t know how long it would keep.)

Heat your cup of oil & cup of sweet stuff in the microwave for a minute or so, enough to make it nice & liquidy. Then add a couple of Tablespoons of vanilla. (Mmm…your house will smell like cookies.)

Mix your wet thoroughly into your dry. Then add whatever spices you like. These days I’ve been using about a tablespoon each of cardamom and cinnamon. Salt? Totally depends on taste. I think I probably add about a Tablespoon. Maybe more. I like salt.

Mix thoroughly & spread EVENLY into two large pans. Notice mine are two different materials, so they bake differently. (Try not to have your layer of granola thicker than one inch if possible.) I usually start one on the lower rack of the oven, then switch.

All tucked in & ready to bake!

What temperature? How long? That TOTALLY depends on your oven and the size of your pans. But I go 375 degrees for 10 minutes, stir, switch racks, another 10, stir, and then…bake till done!

Getting toasty on the bottom–time to stir. But I do like a little variegation in mine.

Wait, though–what about the raisins? Hmph. Me, I don’t care for raisins. I respect their longevity in Anglo cooking (“plum pudding” = raisins, people). I thank them for their long service. And…I don’t put ’em in my granola. Instead I use 2-3 cups mixed sultanas (GOLDEN raisins–whole different beast!), cranberries (YUM) and/or whatever signature flavor I think the person I’m gifting will enjoy. Candied ginger. Dried cherries or blueberries. Chopped dried apricots. Etc. (I wish my favorite, dried mango, worked, but I’ve found it too dry.)

Sultanas, yes. Raisins, no. But that’s just me.

Let the granola cool before mixing in the fruit. If you’ve used honey, stir the granola a bit as it’s cooling so it won’t stick as much. And–duh–let the granola cool thoroughly before bagging it. This recipe makes two huge bags, or three less-huge.Well-sealed, it keeps for weeks, or longer in the freezer.

Play around with your own varieties and let me know, okay? You’re welcome, and (as all your giftees will say) thank you!

On Moviemaking, Motherhood, and Making a Difference

Posted on February 12, 2026 by gretchenwing

No, this post isn’t about Zohran Mamdani. (Well, maybe a little.) I’ll skip straight to the moral of the story: if your adult offspring sends you a link, read ALL of it before reacting.

That said, sometimes reactions can lead somewhere positive. Let me explain that statement…and also, for those of you who don’t follow my blog, why I’m sending this to you.

Don’t be like me. Read on for explanation…

Son Two, Casey, has only dipped his toes into filmmaking. But (as he acknowledges) he’s dipped his toes into many things, so when he told us he was filming a promo for his feature, my thought was, Way to be creative–go get ’em, kid.

Then came the fundraising link for Anyone But Linda. I immediately clicked on the video–Hey, that’s my boy! And then came…

Wait. You’re raising money for a movie, now? When it feels like all hands on deck to keep folks in Minneapolis fed and housed, under the ICE/CBP siege?

Wait. If folks donate to you, what are they not going to donate to?

Wait. You’re a healthy millennial with more resources than many. You’re putting your time and energy into a movie? What about more hands-on action, like when you were helping detainees released from the ICE facility in Tacoma?

Such were my maternal reactions. Followed by…

I should be telling my son how proud I am. I should be contributing to his project. How can I tell him about my misgivings without damaging our relationship?

So I wrote Son Two a long letter, giving each of my concerns its own thoughtful, loving (I hoped) paragraph. I put it in an email, then reread it several times before hitting Send. My stomach hurt.

It helps that we’ve always had a great relationship. This pic’s a dozen years old, but the feeling remains.

Turns out I could’ve saved myself the gut-wrench. Not only did Casey write back with an equally long and heartfelt letter, not only did he suggest we talk that night, but when we did…

…he pointed out that the fundraising link contained the answers to ALL my concerns. In my haste to watch (and react to) the video, I had missed everything underneath. Like the mission statement:

“Given the state of the world, it’s no wonder so many have given up on politics. Hope is in short supply. This film is meant to reignite the flame of belief, not in unfair systems, but in the unique power of individuals to stand up to them – with a tickle, a wink, and a gentle nudging of the heart.” [emphasis mine]

And the synopsis:

“Linda Santori has been in office FOREVER and, like the rest of the establishment, she is totally out of touch with working class people. Or so says Suresh Palavairayan, the young progressive running to challenge her. The campaign is a long-shot…but Cole has a plan.

Adrift in his mid-20s, in an unfulfilling job and a relationship that’s lost its spark, Cole is searching for purpose. His social media addiction keeps him overly informed – and borderline depressed. Suresh’s firebrand rhetoric is just the push he has been needing, that sends him stumbling into a zany plan of action:

To open the path for new leadership, he will jump-scare the aging Congresswoman so badly that she decides to retire.

It barely makes sense and is hardly likely to succeed, but in this impulsive scheme Cole finds what he has been needing to believe in himself, in democracy, and the power that we each have to make a difference.” [emphasis mine]

This was exactly the passionate purpose I was wondering about. It’s no secret that Gen Z is likely to be the difference-maker in the elections of 2026 and 2028. Someone has to reach out to those dispirited Americans. Do I have any ideas how to? No…but Son Two does.

The rest of the fundraising site (which I’d missed) even answered my main question (above).

“Politics today are depressing. Social media bombards us with endless catastrophe and crisis; each one complex, urgent, and overwhelming. We feel powerless as individuals and our elected representatives can’t, or won’t, take meaningful action.

Yet across the country there are dozens of young progressive candidates challenging establishment politicians with grassroots campaigns. Up against corporate money, the key to their success has been thousands of individuals volunteering to canvass and phone-bank. These candidates are our hope for change and these volunteers are proof that each one of us can play a role in making that hope a reality.

We desperately need a story of politics that is uplifting. And relatable. And funny enough to make you remember it’s not all doom and gloom out there. Anybody But Linda is the political story that nudges you to find your purpose, even if it seems impractical.

With a small cast and few shooting locations, this feature film is designed to be produced like a short. This allows for a speedy timeline (shooting end of March) so that the film’s release will coincide with political primaries in June ahead of the midyear elections. The vision is to host community screenings that allow folks to come together in dialogue about the social and political themes of the film, and galvanize civic participation. It also means getting scrappy with the budgeting, so every dollar counts!

The production itself is an homage to grassroots organizing, with many people volunteering their valuable time and skills in support of a greater mission. Funds raised allow us to compensate our actors, crew, and host locations.” [emphasis mine]

The more I ponder the questions raised by the promo of Anyone But Linda, the more I find myself thinking, Maybe this story does have to do with Zohran Mamdani. Finding power, hope, purpose…in politics? Yes to that. This little movie, when made, won’t detract from anyone giving of themselves to help the next Mamdani, or the citizens of Minneapolis. This little movie can remind folks why they want to do just that.

Now that you know all this, please–enjoy the promo! And consider helping the project. (I did. Then I gave again to a church in Minneapolis and a mutual aid there. Hope and purpose, both.)

“Loving Forward”: Why America Needs Rev. Dr. William Barber Now…and So Do I

Posted on January 18, 2026 by gretchenwing

Do you recognize this man?

Rev. Dr. William Barber [photo courtesy Wikimedia]

If we were back in my childhood of the 1960s-70s, all watching the same 3 or 4 channels, everyone would know this preacher. Everyone would have seen him preaching, heard him cajoling or roaring from the pulpit. Though his accent is eastern Carolina, not Atlanta, we would have known him the way we knew that other Rev. Dr., the one whose birthday is now a federal holiday.

But we’re all in our separate media silos now; separate channels, separate apps. Rev. Barber is back on the east coast (managing to pastor a congregation at Yale even while doing all this political work), and here on the west, I RARELY meet anyone who’s heard of him.

I’m trying to change that.

One of my very earliest memories is of the civil rights movement in my hometown of Durham, NC: holding hands and swaying in a demonstration, singing “We Shall Overcome.” I learned later that Duke students and faculty–including my dad–came out in support of Duke’s all-Black custodians, probably 1965.

Without going into detail, suffice to say the civil rights movement was a big part of my family. My dad’s arrest at a sit-in led to a Supreme Court case, Klopfer v. N.C., which set the precedent that the right to speedy trial applies to the states. 50 years later, my dad was thrilled to get arrested again…following Reverend Barber. (You can read about that here.)

Out here in the Pacific Northwest, all that history feels remote. Or it did until Trump, the Supreme Court and Project 2025 started attacking voting rights again. Now here we are, right back in the mid-60s, fighting to maintain what we thought we’d won.

The only difference? “We” is more than Black Americans now. “We” is we.

If you find yourself thinking, “We sure could use Dr. King now,” then

a) you’re not alone, and

b) meet Rev. Barber.

State troopers watch as marchers cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge over the Alabama River in Selma, Alabama as part of a civil rights march on March 9. Two days before troopers used excessive force driving marchers back across the bridge, killing one protester. [Courtesy Legal Defense Fund]

This February, Rev. Barber’s group, Repairers of the Breach, will be leading a march modeled on the famous Selma to Montgomery March of 1965. They’ll start in Wilson, NC on Feb. 11 and walk almost 50 miles (15 miles/day), finishing in Raleigh on Valentines Day. How I wish I could be there! I can’t…but I plan to support the march financially. And I plan to tell everyone I can about it.

Starting here. Because, who knows? Maybe you can be there. Maybe you can be part of that history.

Can you? And if not…can you send this post to someone who might be able to join, or support the marchers?

And if you do that, will you tell me about it?

PS: For more information, or to contact Rev. Barber & the Repairers of the Breach directly, click here.

One Question for the Tuned-out Loved One in Your Family

Posted on January 11, 2026 by gretchenwing

“I’ve tuned out,” your adult son, your cousin, your sister-in-law tells you. “Politics is too f**cked up for me bother. And there’s nothing I can do anyway.”

I hope the first thing you do is to support your loved one for prioritizing self-care. But then I have a question for you to ask them.

What does the word “harvest” mean to you?

Wild blueberries? (Yes, this photo’s OLD. My knees don’t let me sit that way these days.)

That question popped into my mind last night while reading Joyce Vance’s Civil Discourse on Substack. She was asking legal expert Marc Elias (a lawyer who’s argued before the Supreme Court five times and counting) about what voters should be concerned about in 2026. Marc’s answer jolted me:

“According to Democracy Docket’s case tracker, there are about 170 active voting and election cases nationwide. Unfortunately, the majority of those cases (roughly 55%) are anti-voting cases that seek to make it harder to vote…”

Wait–who are these Bad Guys trying to keep Americans from voting? Will the feds crack down on them?

Nope. The Feds ARE the Bad Guys now. Says Marc:

“…One of the most important new developments this year is the Trump DOJ’s emergence as one of the most prolific sources of anti-voting litigation. In less than a year, the Department of Justice has filed 25 anti-voting lawsuits. While pro-democracy attorneys often found ourselves allied with the DOJ in the past, we are now forced to oppose them to prevent the federal government from trampling on voting rights.”

Joyce and Marc talking [Courtesy Civil Discourse]

“Okay, Gretchen,” you say, “What does this have to do with harvesting?”

Glad you asked. Because here’s the part that made me realize, even someone’s apolitical son, cousin or sister-in-law might want to know this.

When Joyce asked Marc how our federal government is going about the nitty-gritty of voter suppression, here’s what he told her:

“Trump’s Department of Justice is seeking a comprehensive database of sensitive personal information on virtually every person who might vote in 2026 and 2028. This includes names, addresses, Social Security numbers and dates of birth. In some states, it includes a voter’s race. In most places, it includes party registration, which elections a person has voted in, the method of voting they used, and whether they have moved.“

In other words: they’re harvesting our data. ALL of it. Not this kind of harvest…

…but this:

Marc Elias goes on:

“Never before has the federal government sought all this information from nearly every state. Never before has the DOJ sued more than 20 states (most of which lean Democratic) to obtain it...We are seeing the weaponization of federal power against American voters, and I think this voter data collection effort by Trump’s DOJ could become the major story of the 2026 election cycle.”

So, ask your disaffected son, your cousin, your sister-in-law: “Is that what ‘harvest’ means to you? Are you comfortable with your own government harvesting your voting data in order to keep themselves in power?”

If their answer is No…maybe suggest they look into Civil Discourse, or any other site that relies on lawyers, teachers and historians.

If YOU want to know more, join Substack and tune in to Joyce’s upcoming conversation with Marc, January 15th @ noon EST, where they will dive further into the questions of what’s going on with the data harvest, and what we can do about it.

They may not appreciate the question. But politics is choosing them, regardless of whether they choose politics. And as Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.“

And as Joyce Vance says, “We’re in this together.” Let’s try to keep the conversation going.

No Name, No Number, No Publication Outlet: My Cousin Puts her Father’s Auschwitz Survival Story on Kindle

Posted on December 20, 2025 by gretchenwing

Fifteen years ago, I interviewed my LA-based cousin, Susi Kaminski Klein, about her experiences as a child survivor of the Holocaust. Over the course of four days, hanging out here on Lopez Island and visiting beautiful Victoria, BC, I recorded Susi narrating her story.

Susi & I taking a break from history in Butchart Gardens, 2010

Nine years ago, I blogged about Susi’s story as depicted in Jewish Journal of 2016. You can read that here.

Five years ago, with some urging, and a TON of formatting, research and illustration help from my cousin Helen (Susi’s daughter), we turned those notes into a book.

Helen should’ve gotten co-author billing!

But the lede I’m burying here is this: COUSIN HELEN WAS WAYYYY AHEAD OF ME! In 2011, four years earlier, she had already published the story of her father, Fred Klein. Here it is:

Something you have to understand: back then, self-publishing was HARD WORK. I’ll get to that part in a moment.

What I wanted to know was how Helen’s experience interviewing her father compared to mine, interviewing her mother, and…well, I’ll let Helen tell it. Cuz?

“This will be a short and possibly unexpected answer. I never interviewed my father to capture his story. My father started writing his book, believe it or not in 1997! He went through a number of iterations. During the process he found several people who were willing to edit his work and give him ideas on organization, grammar, etc. I was not involved in that process at all.”

Well, that tracks. Susi had separated and Fred by the time we met, so I never got to meet Fred. From what I’ve learned, I think he must have been an impressive man. Maybe daunting to interview? Not really, Helen said, but…

“I think I would have found it extremely challenging to interview my father. Not because he would not be willing but it is such a vast subject, I would really have had to figure out where to begin, how to organize and structure the questions etc. so honestly I am grateful my father wrote his story on his own and got some guidance from others on organization and structure.”

Keep in mind, my cousin’s working full-time during this entire period. When I interviewed Susi, I had just left my teaching job, so I had the time I needed to organize her story after capturing it on tape.

Also…as Fred Klein’s book cover intimates: he survived Auschwitz. While Susi’s story was horrific and traumatic, including her father being sent to the concentration camp Theresienstadt…it did not involve Auschwitz.

Full disclosure, I’m only partway through No Name, No Number, which is written as a mix of personal account and history lesson. History, I think, is more and more necessary these days when precious little Holocaust history is taught. But personal stories are the most poignant.

Here’s an excerpt from Ch. 7, where, in 1941, still living “freely” in Prague, teenage Fred is forced to labor on a collective farm. I have bolded sentences that especially capture the personal reality of the horror.

“For me, the worst part about the camp was the strenuous physical effort required. I was in extremely bad shape, not accustomed to the job, never having learned to push myself. Sometimes the grueling twelve-hour workday seemed like hell to me. I thought I would never last through them. I had to shovel some three hundred times earth up to a little metal wagon. Sometimes I had to carry very long tree-trunks with a fellow forced laborer. Most of my fellow inmates were in better shape than me and enjoyed teasing me. They had me carry the thick end of the tree-trunks which was so heavy that I almost collapsed, whereas the other fellow had it easy. Had I been in better shape, the work would have been exhausting, but tolerable.”

Fred as a still very young man, after the war, now living in Argentina

Here’s another excerpt, from Ch. 11, where in 1944, 22 year-old Fred is unloaded at the dreaded camp. Notice the detail in the middle of the passage:

“I jumped out of the cattle car. Barracks, barracks, barbed wire, gleaming lights. SS men with police dogs, wielding whips. Pajama-clad figures – kapos – and other prisoners, something I had never seen before. This place was cold, frightening, there was nothing soft to humanize it. I stared briefly at the hellish scene, and then I took off my glasses. Shouting and shoving, the kapos and prisoners herded us into rows five men deep and made us stand still. The dogs of the SS were poised to attack us. Somehow the pajama-clad prisoners got us moving forward in a single file.”

“I took off my glasses.” To me that act says, I will not look at this. I will get through it.

Fred with baby Helen in Buenos Aires, 1958

So, Helen– your dad wrote out his own book. Why was it not published right away?

“What I can tell you is that my father tried very, very hard to get his book published. He wrote lots of letters to a variety of publishers, but none of them seemed interested. I don’t even know if he ever got answers.”

It’s painful to reflect on this answer. There are so many Holocaust stories. The simple truth– that the sheer quantity of such traumatic stories affects their “marketability”–hurts my stomach.

Helen finishes:

“He finally gave up looking for a publisher, and sadly resorted to literally going to Kinkos, making copies of his book, getting the books comb-bound, and then trying to distribute his book that way.”

Ouch. But then here comes my cousin, to ease her father’s pathway:

“Originally, I published my father’s book in 2007 using Blurb.com. That process was long and tedious, but I pushed through it as I really, really wanted to get it done while my father was alive. Little did I know back in 2007, when I completed the publishing on Blurb, that my father would live to 100, something I am ever so grateful for!”

Which brings us back to this moment. Blurb.com no longer exists. Fred Klein passed away in 2022 (at the age of 100, as Helen said). But thanks to his daughter, Fred’s story lives on…easily available on Kindle! Click here to download and read No Name, No Number, for free.

I would like to thank my cousin Helen for her perseverance (not to mention all the photos!)…and my cousin Susi for hers. They are both role models for me.

And, in this season of deepest darkness, please say an extra prayer for the Fred Kleins of the world. May their stories find resonance.

May their stories become, some day…rare.

Ford Owner? You Can’t AfFORD to Look Away Right Now

Posted on December 7, 2025 by gretchenwing

Dear Ford CEO Jim Farley,

My name is Ol’ Blue. I’m a 2003 Ford Explorer.

In case you were wondering about my name…

I’ve asked one of my humans to write this letter for me, as writing is a challenge–me being an SUV and all. After what happened in the Oval Office on December 4, my humans wanted me to tell you they’ll “never buy another Ford!” But I just wanted to ask you, CEO Jim Farley…

How are you OK with your President standing right in front of you to say this about some of his fellow humans ? Some of whom might even work for you?

“The Somalians should be out of here. They have destroyed our country.”

Or this:

“Most of those people” — meaning the Somali immigrants — “have destroyed Minnesota” and made it a “hellhole.”

Or this, about a woman who moved all the way to America from across the sea, got so much education and respect that she was elected by other Americans to represent them in their Congress:

Congresswoman Ilhan Omar “shouldn’t be allowed to be a congresswoman…and she should be thrown the hell out of our country.”

Omar “should not be — and her friends shouldn’t be allowed — frankly, they shouldn’t even be allowed to be congresspeople, okay? They shouldn’t even be allowed to be congresspeople because they don’t represent the interests of our country.”

You were right there, CEO Jim Farley of Ford Motor Company, MY company. My humans saw your picture. You are #14–not real visible in this shot, but don’t worry: it’s you. You were all nodding and laughing as the President said horrible, dangerous things about his fellow American humans. Things that could get them attacked–maybe even run into by SUVs like me. You should know that, Mr. Jim Farley.

(Picture ID’s by “Carlg1000” on BlueSky, as shared by Helen Kennedy on BlueSky)

You should have spoken up, Mr. Jim Farley. Said SOMETHING. You’re not an elected official. You’re a guy who makes cars. But you you just laughed and nodded away.

So you agree with the President, Mr. Jim Farley, CEO of Ford? You think Somali immigrants are “garbage”?

Do you have the guts to admit that to all the people who drive Fords like me?

Or do you just hope Ford drivers like my humans don’t notice?

[Note from Ol’ Blue’s human, Gretchen: Please share this photo as widely as possible. And if you have any connection to any of the other humans shown here cheerfully standing by for the President’s evil, racist rant–if they are your representative!–PLEASE call them on it. Literally.]

[As Joyce Vance says, “We’re all in this together.”]

Democracy Is Not a Spectator Sport: More Than a T-shirt Slogan

Posted on November 16, 2025 by gretchenwing

(Though it is a really good T-shirt slogan.)

This was my birthday present to myself, fresh from my Virginia-canvassing-and-family trip, and amped up–only a week later–by democracy’s powerful showing in the November 4 elections.

Notice I didn’t say Democrats (though they did well, and I’m glad). Nine months in to this presidency, people on all sides of politics–including no politics at all!–are starting to coalesce around the basic idea that things should work. And democracy, as Churchill famously said in 1947, is “the worst form of Government…except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.…” [ellipses added for emphasis]

In other words, for things to work (fairness, food, airplanes–that sorta thing), we need democracy. And when you look at election results more focused on immediate outcome than on party, here are some promising signs:

Maine anti-mail voting measure loses
Progressive DAs in Philly and NYC win
Colorado funds free school meals and SNAP support with taxes on the rich
Detroit elects first woman mayor
Cincinnati rejects JD Vance’s brother after endorsement
GOP Redistricting in Kansas failed
Charlotte approves transit tax
Maine passes gun control
Turnout in blue district US House election in Texas higher than 2024 Pres (thanks to Common Power for this compilation)

See what I mean? I have a lot of company in thinking, the IDEA of democracy is having a moment right now. And for democracy to work, we need all hands on deck.

“Wait a minute,” I can hear you saying. “I loathe phone-banking, and I’m donating all I can to things like food banks and my church. And now you want me to do take on ‘democracy’ too? I am SO not that person.”

Au contraire. I maintain that if you are looking out for vulnerable people; if you are protecting green spaces or animals; if you are reading to kids, or making art to share, or donating to organizations that multiply those values, you ARE a democracy standard-bearer.

I mean–don’t forget (or underestimate!) voting! Do all you can to keep your loved ones from feeling that voting’s not worth it. Point them to this book if they need a little inspiration…

I’m giving this book to everyone who’ll take it!

On my walk today I stopped to make a roadside bouquet. November in Washington State = pretty limited wildflowers. But the low-rent, multicolor assemblage I collected reminded me, there’s so many ways to be a flower!

You can be bright, demure, prickly, robust, delicate, complex or simple–and you can still call it democracy. Just do SOMETHING, keep doing it, and keep talking about it.

As Joyce Vance says, we’re in this together. And as Gretchen Wing says, “For things to work, we need democracy.”

What are some of your ways of participating? Anything new, anything especially challenging or rewarding, or both? Please share as many as you feel like.

My Democracy Anti-Panic Medicine: Read Joyce, Read Joyce, You Have No Choice/But to Carry On

Posted on October 31, 2025 by gretchenwing

Not that Joyce. Nothing against Dubliners or Ulysses; I just don’t think they’ll help get you through another week of our current presidency. I mean Joyce Vance, author of this book that was waiting for me, hot off its October 21st release, when I got home from my canvassing trip this week:

To judge a book by its cover, this one looks boring. To me, though, it looks like mental health. I thought I’d take a minute to explain why.

I’ve written in some detail about Common Power, the Seattle-based organization I’ve been teaming up with since 2019 to phone-bank and canvass in “red” or “purple” states.

In 2022 and 2024, I canvassed in my home State of North Carolina, where my folks still live. This year Virginia has some important elections, so I went there (visits to sister & niece a bonus).

Part of Team Fredericksburg on the canvass trail

Between doors (we knocked on about 2,000 during the days I participated in Fredericksburg, then Richmond), I split my awe between the lovely big deciduous trees of the east…

…and creative Halloween decorations.

But the best part of CP work, to me, isn’t actually the conversations on voters’ doorsteps (though those can be quite moving). It’s the TEAMWORK, the FELLOWSHIP.

especially at a dumpling restaurant at the end of a long day

Which brings me back to Joyce’s book, whose opening line is, “Could I have picked a worse time to write a book about saving democracy?”

My answer is: no, this is EXACTLY the right time. Because now more than ever, we need to know we “have friends everywhere” (as they say on Andor), and we need to get our hands on some how-to.

However, if podcasts are what your life has room for, Joyce is all over that landscape. I first discovered her via Substack, where her Civil Discourse unpacks the week’s latest legal WTF?!! as only a former U.S. Attorney (and current law professor) can. Each post ends with, “We’re all in this together.”

Or you might just as easily find her on the brilliant panel-pod, Sisters in Law…

…or untangling legal threads with her former U.S. Attorney boss Preet Bharara. I recommend ALL these pods as a way to feel a little more on top of things…a little more prepared for what’s coming, because–

“Hold UP, Gretchen,” I hear you say. “What makes you think I want MORE civics in my life? Don’t you understand what the news is DOING to me??“

Oh, I do. It was doing the same to me, before I found my people in Common Power, and now–with the magic of podcasts–people like Joyce Vance.

[Shoutout to another GREAT, whom you might already have discovered: historian Heather Cox Richardson.]

While I’m only halfway through Vance’s book, I’m happy to report that the final chapter–titled We Are the Cavalry–is chock-full of options for resistance, participation, finding community, pointing yourself towards hope…or, as one heading puts it, “Understand That Protecting Democracy Comes in a Lot of Flavors.” (146)

This is Fredericksburg’s Rappahannock River at sunset. Not a flavor; it just looks like one, eh?

In this moment when the bad guys want us to despair and give up, Vance offers this uplifting reminder:

“Although we may be on our own, we are not all alone. We truly are in this together. We have one another, a community of like-minded people across the country who care about democracy. That may seem to be a slender thread, but it’s how we, like others who have faced similar challenges in the past, are going to get through this.

So, gather your resources and take courage.” (138)

Joyce’s chickens also make appearances on her Substack, so I’ll close with this:

Do yourself a favor: Read Joyce. [Support her by clicking here to buy her book!] You will feel empowered–because, as she says, we’re all in this together.

The Tail That Wagged the Dog of our BC Trip: UBC in Vancouver

Posted on October 12, 2025 by gretchenwing

No, The Mate and I were not touring a college campus in a fit of nostalgia for our parenting days. We had someone to visit.

No, Oliver–Ollie to his friends, which we now are!–did not invite us to Vancouver. But Ollie’s “dad”, a former student of The Mate’s, now practically family–just took an important job @ UBC. Apart from all the other good reasons to, um, get away to Canada just now…we couldn’t WAIT to come visit and see firsthand the new Canadian life of our friends.

But of course we HAD to wait. Bust in on a newly-hired student dean in the first week of his new job? Eh…we’ll go visit Bella Coola and Vancouver Island and come back, OK?

So we did that (see 2 previous posts). Now: UBC.

Thanks to their University connections (and their small apartment), our friends housed us in UBC’s own on-campus hotel.

View of campus, from up on the 8th floor!

In case you don’t know–as I did not–UBC is ENORMOUS. 60,000 undergrads, 30,000 grads. A beautiful tapestry of (mostly youthful) humanity to walk through every morning. We only had two days, but I made the most of it, re-visiting two sites I’d spent time in, lo, nearly 30 years ago, when I took our small kids up to Vancouver for a visit.

I well remembered their famous Anthropology Museum…

A wry note: on a nearby trashcan I found these words spray-painted: “Land Back!”

Back then, since my kids’ museum stamina lasted barely an hour (and frankly, that’s about all I can usually manage before sloowwwwing dowwwwwnnn), we went outside to explore. Found a mysterious staircase disappearing down the side of a forested bluff.

“Ooh, where does this lead?” It led to a nude beach–right on the edge of campus! I was so impressed by that, I had to see if the place was still there.

Of course, being brand-new British Columbians, our friends were as eager to explore Vancouver’s environs as we were. So we planned a half-day trip up the road to the town of Squamish, which is halfway between the city and the Whistler ski area. But that description doesn’t do the place justice.

Hopefully this does. The parking lot just shows how integrated this mountain is to the town.

We didn’t do much there–just ate lunch, took a walk to the base of the inlet…

Mountain. Construction lot. Inlet. Y’know, just regular town stuff.

…remembering to turn around occasionally to appreciate the town’s background:

…and noticing inviting little quirks, like this sign:

Don’t know if this will be the death of that cute little town or just its next iteration, but I do have to note the presence of an ENORMOUS development of apartments (or condos?) just getting going, behind this pretty mural…

CanNOT blame anyone who wants to live here!

Back in Vancouver, we spent one last evening with our friends, feeling SUCH gratitude for being able to sip from their overflowing, British Columbian cup.

Yeah, Ollie, you kind of are. But I feel like I should close this final B.C. post with something a little more…conclusive-feeling, eh?

So that’s it for BC, this time around! The Mate & I are applying for Nexus, though, so we can travel back & forth more often to see ~~Ollie~~ our friends.

Next up: join me for (click here) another stint of purple-state canvassing with Common Power!

Disappearing Waterfalls and September Blackberries on Vancouver (“The Other Big Island”) Island

Posted on October 3, 2025 by gretchenwing

You’re halfway up Vancouver Island. You only have a few days before heading back to the mainland–not enough time to get out to the Wild West Coast, nor down to Victoria. Where do you go?

This is Englishman Falls Provincial Park, just a hop & skip off the main highway between Campbell River and Nanaimo. And yes, that disappearing waterfall is even more insane in real life. Here’s what it looks like face-on:

…and from the top, just above the drop:

Who, me? Just a boring old clear Canadian river…

That little park was one of several blips on the map of east-central Vancouver Island that, in classic Canadian fashion, fail to call attention to themselves…until you are standing there with your jaw a-drop.

Campbell River–the actual river for which the town is named–is dammed, but not only does it offer the salmon a big side-channel to bypass the dam, it provides guardians for those fish on their passage:

Not as good as a wild, free river–but way better than nothing

Further inland, Strathcona Provincial Park certainly shows up on the map, but this little waterfall? We only found it when directed there by a volunteer docent we happened to meet.

No one else was around. Just me and that pool.

We’d intended to camp in Strathcona, but the weather went sideways. No problem backpacking in the rain, but wet car camping? That just feels stupid. So we got in a short hike…

(I can just imagine that trail repair crew going, “Eh…good enough! Let ’em climb.”)

(forcing myself to resist the biggest Chicken-of-the-Woods mushrooms I’ve ever seen!)

…and rode our bikes along the 14-mile long (and unfortunately-named) Buttle Lake…

…before heading back to Campbell River, where we’d scored one of those cheap hotel deals at a NOT-cheap hotel, Painter’s Lodge.

as seen from the lodge’s dock, at very low tide

On that dock we found this map–WONDERFULLY helpful for orienting ourselves in BC’s bewildering array of islands:

Not our usual type of stay, but we took full advantage. Especially because the part we stayed in seemed to be a mashup of our last name & our favorite BC island:

Of course the rain stopped when we got there. But then it came back. Phew.

Luckily for us, they let us cook our cheeseburgers out in the patio area!

“This counts as camping, right?” (Quadra Island in the background)

Our last day, after those amazing Englishman Falls, we found a very cool bike path–along the highway, yes, but screened by bushes & trees, with plenty of curves and hills giving it a very adventurous feel.

Some of those bushes had blackberries on them, and I was shocked at how sweet they still were, in September! So: lunch.

Peanut Butter, Honey & Blackberry Sammy!

Our final night on the Big Island (move over, Hawai’i–actually, never mind, you’re already pretty far over) we spent in Nanaimo, in order to catch our ferry next morning. I walked all over, discovering the best kind of quirks, like this Flower Wall:

Just an apartment building, far as I could tell

Along with flowers, Nanaimo boasted its own poster-of-random affirmations, because I found a number of these type of signs, here and there:

Next week, the exciting BC conclusion: University of! Thanks for riding along.

(Re)Discovering BC’s Discovery Islands: Quirky Quadra, Cordial Cortes

Posted on September 26, 2025 by gretchenwing

Actually, Cortes Islanders would probably prefer that “quirky” label, while we found Quadrans (Quadrants?) plenty cordial. Either way, both islands, between BC’s mainland and big Vancouver Island, became big highlights of our British Columbia wanderings in 2018, and we were overjoyed to wander back.

With a week to spend, between our Bella Coola adventures and our visit with our friends in Vancouver, we headed over to Horseshoe Bay for the big ferry to Nanaimo. BC ferries are SO nice. And, unlike Washington State’s they run on time. And they actually run! (#ferryEnvy).

In Horseshoe Bay I was thrilled to see a healthy batch of young purple sea stars.

Since these critters have been suffering through a terrible die-off in the Salish Sea, I was super encouraged by these guys.

…and super thrilled by these Horseshoe Bay treats: seriously the best doughnut I’ve ever eaten!

After our 90-minute ride to Nanaimo, we drove a couple of hours north to Campbell River for groceries, then a much shorter crossing on a much smaller boat to Quadra Island. The We-Wai-Kai Campsite there is run by the First Nations People of the same name. Pleasant place, and pleasantly close to Rebecca Spit, a Provincial Park perfect for short bike rides and strolling.

Why do we call long, skinny points of land “spits”? Anyone?

Much of Quadra, we came to remember, is a bit steep for biking, at least for a couple whose combined age is edging close to 143 years. Since we’d be passing back from Quadra automatically on our return from Cortes…

(Courtesy Wikimedia) Ferry goes: Vancouver Is. to Quadra, then from the opposite side of QI to Cortes

…we put a pin on some hikes for our return , and headed over to our old Cordial friend…

On this 40-minute ride (reminiscent of our Lopez Island commute), we were treated to a pair of humpback whales. (Too far for good photos, but great views through binoculars.)

For our picnic lunch, we defaulted back to Manson’s Landing, remembered from 7 years ago.

Such healthy-looking tidal creatures! No sea stars…

…but I’ll settle for sand dollars. Worth every sand penny.

This trip, instead of springing for the extraordinary, but expensive Hollyhock Retreat Center, The Mate and I stayed in a modest motel with a kitchen. It was a stone’s throw from a set of community trails we’d missed last time…

…not to mention an enormous, clear lake, shallow & warm enough for real swimming.

That huge log and those background cliffs, speak of Cortes’ drama. But its Friday Market, complete with music, homemade treats and upcycled clothing, speaks of its community. “Cordial” indeed. I didn’t want to interrupt the vibe by taking photos.

Next day, The Mate and I went for a hike to immerse ourselves in more natural drama. Not only did we find that same “saltwaterfall” that astounded me in 2018…

…we found purple sea stars! So many healthy specimens!

Recovering from Pisaster Disaster (#LatinNamePun)

Returning to Quadra–the ferry workers kindly squeeeeeezed us onto the boat–

…we determined to find an extra-special way to spend the day, because it was our wedding anniversary.

First we found a fairly level hike to a lake; later, we drove to a deserted cove for another picnic. I could write a whole blog post about Peanut Butter & Honey sandwiches…