“Ishi Means Man”

Ishi “died of tuberculosis in 1916,” Thomas Merton writes, “after four and a half years among white men.” For the hundredth anniversary of Ishi’s death, Paulist Press has reprinted a small compilation of essays, written toward the end of Merton’s life, exploring the spiritual lives of the indigenous peoples of the West.

Merton, the influential Catholic writer, who died in 1968, entered a Trappist monastery in Kentucky in 1941. According to the Thomas Merton Center he became an activist in the civil rights and peace movements of the Sixties, drawing “severe criticism, from Catholics and non-Catholics alike, who assailed his political writings as unbecoming of a monk.”

“Ishi Means Man” ($9.95 in paperback from Paulist Press; also for Amazon Kindle) features a short introduction by Dorothy Day, who co-founded the Catholic Worker newspaper in 1933 to promote her radical economic ideas. Some of the essays were originally published in Day’s newspaper, as was the title piece.

Merton’s reflections on Ishi are shaped by Theodora Kroeber’s “Ishi In Two Worlds: A Biography Of The Last Wild Indian In North America,” published in 1964. “The Yana Indians,” he writes, “(including the Yahi or Mill Creeks) lived around the foothills of Mount Lassen, east of the Sacramento River. Their country came within a few miles of Vina where the Trappist monastery in California stands today.”

Merton sees Ishi’s story as a “parable.” Facing attacks, Ishi’s people retreated into the hills. “The Yahi remnant (and that phrase takes on haunting biblical resonances) systematically learned to live as invisible and unknown.”

Writing during the throes of the Vietnam conflict, Merton contrasts “the spectacle of our own country with its incomparable technological power, its unequalled material strength, its psychic turmoil, its moral confusion, and its profound heritage of guilt…. What is most significant is that Vietnam seems to have become an extension of our old western frontier, complete with enemies of another ‘inferior’ race.”

Ishi never revealed his actual name. “In the end, no one ever found out a single name of the vanished community. Not even Ishi’s. For Ishi simply means MAN.”

If Merton co-opted Ishi for his own political agenda, readers may still find his words worth pondering.

For the sake of the wolves

The indefatigable Dick Cory, former science and math teacher, Nebraska native, and passionate Chicoan, has created a love story for a wolf. This is wolf OR-7, so named by Oregon Fish and Wildlife biologists who used a GPS collar to track the animal over his 3000-mile trek from Oregon to California and back again. Given the name “Journey” in a contest, the wolf attracted worldwide attention, especially when it strayed into our neck of the woods.

Cory imagines diary entries made by the gray wolf in a whimsical book for kids of all ages, complete with colorful maps and wolf images. The book is called “Journey The Lonely Wolf: The Travels Of OR-7” ($15 in paperback, self-published; available at Made in Chico or from the author at ubangarang@yahoo.com, with a donation made to Teichert Ponds Foundation for each book sold).

“Finding food is not my problem,” Journey writes. “Finding a she wolf mate is. I have heard that I’m the first wolf to be seen in California in one hundred years. Still I have hopes.” The entries end in 2014, three years after Journey started his travels, with his mate Wanderlust raising three pups. All is well, at least for now.

Sentiment is never far from Cory’s pen. A second recently published book, “Days Of Love Songs And Roses” ($30 in paperback), pairs lyrics to some of Cory’s favorite romantic songs with pictures of colorful roses, courtesy of the Butte Rose Society. “You Are My Sunshine” (1933) features the dark orange rose, symbolic of enthusiasm and desire. The Beatles even get in, with “And I Love Her” (1964), paired with the red rose of love.

In a third book, “Dust!” ($20 in paperback), Cory assembles seventy-three short reflections on just about everything, from the Teichert Pond Project to puppy love, from manners and dress codes to “lessons I remember.” Writing on this side of 80 years, Cory notes that dust has always been with him, from cement dust when he worked concrete, to chalk dust when, as a teacher, he went for the abstract.

And found his voice.

Women of mud and manure

Gail Jenner is no stranger to Chico. She graduated from Chico State University “but we are still in Etna (five generations on the ranch now).” In her latest book she’s an editor, collecting dozens of short reminiscences from ranch and farm women and contributing four essays herself.

“Ankle High And Knee Deep: Women Reflect On Western Rural Life” ($16.95 in paperback from TwoDot; also for Amazon Kindle) features contributions from both new and established writers, grouped into such categories as “horse sense” and “lessons.” Jenner notes that “this is not a faith-based book, but this collection of essays does underscore traditional values while providing an ofttimes humorous look at life spent at the wrong end of a tractor, cow, or horse.”

Among Jenner’s lessons: “Don’t hold onto trouble; you’ve got to spread the manure around to make it effective fertilizer.” Those who live on the land, and from the land, can’t help reflecting. “Maybe,” she says, “that’s why farmers eventually become philosophers.”

Chico contributor Laurel Hill-Ward remembers “Mom Was A Beekeeper.” “When Mom got a call from the school, she’d drop everything and head to the rescue of one of her seven children.” She was unmistakable in her “men’s khaki Dickies” and “men’s size ten high-top Redwing boots,” an outfit designed “to keep bees from crawling up her pant legs.”

Madeleine DeAndreis-Ayers knows “Why Liberals Shouldn’t Own Chickens.” “What the liberal eventually learns after he recycles all the self-help books he has read is that a rooster will always be a rooster.” That means “he will always sexually assault every hen within reach and in full view of everyone, including the children who are being raised without television because of the media’s gratuitous sex and violence.” In the end, the liberal will discover that the ax that chops wood “has another use.”

Funny, poignant, telling. As Jenner writes in “Doing What Comes Naturally,” “Deep character is what is cultivated when you have to rely on the seasons and weather--and hope.”

The author was interviewed by Nancy Wiegman of KCHO’s Nancy’s Bookshelf, and the archive is here: http://bit.ly/1EyyIXH.

Chico writer finds humor in family life

Eric Miller writes that “I’m trapped in a household full of estrogen. My wife and two teenage daughters live in a world that revolves in ways that confuse me; their orbits befuddle mine.” He also admits he’s “a dreadful handyman, terrible mechanic, and a has-been athlete with tired lungs and weak knees.” In other words, this all makes for rich rewards in the things-didn’t-quite-go-as-expected category. Miller’s way of conveying life’s little oopsies had this reader laughing out loud.

These episodes find their home in “Etc. Guy: Let Me Tell You A Story” ($9.95 in paperback from CreateSpace; also for Amazon Kindle), a collection of North State Voices columns from this newspaper as well as personal blog posts (etcguy.com) and more.

Divided into 8 sections, the book presents essays on hanging the family flat-screen TV, joining one’s parents on a bucket-list trip, looking back at 1963 (“I became cordless fifty years ago when Dad snipped my umbilical cord”), and being a field hockey dad (“The girls hadn’t broken a sweat. The game was scoreless, but the parents needed a break—and an oxygen bar with a masseuse”).

The final section is about the “Humor Project,” featuring thumbnail remarks on great humor writers (including Dave Barry, who once said: “Camping is nature’s way of promoting the motel business”). There are also two extended interviews, one with Biff America (Jeffrey Bergeron, a Colorado humorist) and Patrick McManus, longtime humor columnist for Field & Stream and Outdoor Life.

“My wife and I,” Miller writes (his wife is known only as “Hun” in these pages), “parent two daughters. We enjoy watching these future taxpayers gain their independence.” Miller puts “Kate” and “Maggie” to work. “Free labor is a rite of passage for kids and a gold mine for parents. The challenge is getting kids to do what you want.”

Therein lies a tale. Many of them.

Miller will be reading from his book, and signing copies, at Lyon Books in Chico Wednesday, May 28 at 7:00 p.m.

Dick Cory on "fiscal cliffs" and thunderstorms

"Much negotiation lies ahead before middle ground can be found," writes Chicoan Dick Cory in his new book, "Down To Earth" ($20 in paperback from the author--write to ubangarang@yahoo.com; also available at Made In Chico). Maybe Congressional seating ought to be rearranged. "Opposing parties should be seated next to one another. ... We must talk with each other rather than at one another. ... Let's make sure 'down to earth' progress is reached before we go over a fiscal cliff or another election occurs. That's my two cents worth. You decide if it's worth a plug nickel."

The retired teacher brings his small-town Nebraska heritage to bear on a multitude of observations. These reflections, the sixth collection of essays since he began writing more than a decade ago, consider "culture and environment" (Cory has been deeply involved in a group considering the disposition of Chico's Teichert Ponds); education ("I am a teacher!"); family ("life hasn't been without pitfalls, but it has never been pitiful"); and "nostalgia and wit" (whatever happened to the Chico "Community Bench" project?).

Cory writes that if he taught English instead of science he would use a thunderstorm as a way of teaching composition. "If you are lucky enough to live on the plains, you are able to watch as the storm approaches along a squall line. This is a slow moving curtain of water flowing from clouds at the front of a storm. Call this the topic sentence. As this shower line reaches you, the precipitation increases, barometric pressure drops, and lightning flashes and thunder courses the sky. This shows the brilliance of the storm and your paragraph. A funnel cloud, called a tornado or cyclone, adds exclamation to your paragraph!"

There are poignant moments, too, as Cory adjusts to life without his wife, Jan, who died in 2012 "the day after our twenty-six wedding anniversary. She was a pillar of strength and love."

The book contains daydreams, letters to the editor, sometimes crotchety observations, and a lot of "chewing the fat" (the term "in America may have arisen from having to chew salt port or fatback when food supplies were low").

As for Cory's views? "You may disagree, but remember I'm only shooting the breeze, gabbing, and chewing the fat."

Dave Kilbourne, between the covers

The same guy who opened up Pyromania Tallow Works in Chico way back in the last millennium, the same guy who became the Executive Director of the Downtown Chico Business Association, the same guy who wrote a Northstate Voices column in this newspaper for a year, this same guy has crammed as many of his (more or less) true stories as possible into a volume with the unlikely title of "Miss Gladys and the Pit Bull Barracuda and Other Amazing True Stories of Human Adventure" ($14.95 in paperback from Flying Pig Press, www.flyingpigpress.net).

Kilbourne owes his inspiration to his jobs (Forest Service Lookout Tower Operator, Wrangler of Rattlesnakes, school psychologist); his "eccentric" father (Chamber of Commerce leader and pyramidologist); his saintly mother ("Gladys" of the title) and Great American brother (Dixon Roy Kilbourne); his daughter Savannah ("Miss Awesome Face," "the finest daughter in all the land"); and his love of brew--so much so that his "16-Step Method for Writing a Simple Story" mentions the Sierra Nevada Taproom ("The Church of the Holy Nectar") at least seven times. He's a proud graduate of Beer Camp #69. He writes his stuff near the pizza oven.

Kilbourne will be signing copies of his book Tuesday, August 14 at 7:00 p.m. at Lyon Books in Chico. Look for a forthcoming interview by Nancy Wiegman of Nancy's Bookshelf on KCHO (Northstate Public Radio, 91.1 FM); the archive is found at kchofm.podbean.com.

The author is enamored with contraptions, like "Uncle Bubba's Electronified Pork-Pulling Machine, a Modern Miracle!" or the "Porkgasmic Belly Rotator." (His fixation on pigs comes from his early "farmer boy" days. He referred to his pet pig, Barker, as "Little Mr. Pulled Pork Sandwich.") The book contains historical photographs to prove everything, though the story about the farmer's wife and her own appropriation of the "Hog Joy" unit is told with, shall we say, a sense of delicate restraint.

As a bonus, the reader is graced with the recipe for "Rice Orgy Parisienne." A guy gets hungry up there is the Timber Mountain lookout, and if you're spotting lightning strikes you don't have time to be picky: Three pounds of rice, melted cheddar, six cans of tuna covered with French dressing. Kilbourne does nothing by half measures in this laugh-out-loud collection.

Local essayist on roads taken and not taken

"I was a senior in high school," writes Daniel Thomas, "when Dwight Eisenhower was elected to a second term, the musical Carousel was playing at local theatres, the stock market had surpassed 500 for the first time, and Elvis Presley was singing 'Heartbreak Hotel.' It was also the year my dad asked me if I would be interested in becoming a full partner in his neighborhood grocery store, Tommy's Superette."

Taylor said no because he wanted to teach. "Looking back," he says, "I suppose that it was jut as well that I was ignorant of the struggles my parents were having, or I might never have left Willows."

"Wanderings: Book Five In A Series Of Essays" ($9.95 in paperback from Stansbury Publishing) presents brief reflections on some of things that happened next, including an Army stint in Germany. Thomas' previous books ("Essays From The Ten," "Evening Country," "100 Miles," and "Pastiche: An Essayist In Search Of A Theme") have looked outward. "Wanderings" looks back and takes stock.

It was a circuitous route to a career as a teacher and high school principal, winding through marriages and divorces, Amtrack travels ("an opiate separating me from a reality that I chose to ignore"), bouts with the bottle and ill health, and feelings of worthlessness and loneliness.

Yet resilience pervades these essays, especially in a piece called "Hey, He's Seventy!!" "As my life continues to unfold," Taylor writes, "I find myself focusing more on what is good and less and less about my setbacks. I had my first heart attack when I was forty-seven and retired from my professional life much earlier than most. I consider myself fortunate that, by moving away from what was a hectic, demanding lifestyle, I was able to 'reboot' my goals in life." Though increasingly suspicious of those who "gain immense power however and wherever fear is pedaled for their own aggrandizement," he can still pause to celebrate a rainy Valentine's Day with his wife, Marilyn, at Broadway Heights.

He ends with questions: "Who called me to be seduced by ambition?" "Who called me to discover the gift of adversity?" "Who calls me now that I, a season older, want far more than to silently expire from the starvation of an undernourished soul?"

Holiday cheer - Aylworth is here!

Roger Aylworth is the contact-wearing, keen-of-hearing, direction-challenged, sentimental, long-time ER reporter married four decades to the saintly Susan. For many years his weekly humor column, filled with family foibles and gentle wit, has graced this paper, and now, for the holidays, there's a new collection of favorites.

"Senior Showers" ($16.95 in paperback from Delphi Books) gathers 99 columns, most from mid-2006 to mid-2010, arranged in broad categories like "on growing older," "computers and other mechanical carnage," "on being, or being with, Roger," and "widgets and grandwidgets." Here are true tales of the couple's seven children, their spouses, and most especially the grandkids on visits to Casa Aylworth (here's looking at you, 2-year-old Caleb!).

Aylworth will be reading from and signing copies of his new collection at Lyon Books in Chico this Thursday, December 8 at 7:00 p.m.

The book starts with the title essay, and Aylworth explains that he's not "advocating a group lathering" but rather something akin to wedding showers only on the other end of life. "I can see the invitation that would summon those who love me to my senior shower: 'Roger has registered at the "Golden Years Adult Care facility" where you can sign up to cover as many months of residency as you wish. An account has also been set up at Dr. Krutch Walker's hip replacement clinic for gifts of any size!'"

More practically, Aylworth details the effort required to put together the clan gathering called Aylapalooza III. It's expensive to find housing for nearly three dozen family members. "While as a group we might have filet mignon tastes," he notes, "we tend to have a Spam budget." Speaking of kids, Aylworth provides some helpful suggestions on creating "homegrown mythology": "My dear bride, the saintly Susan, and I told our seven widgets that the belly button was the place where the screw went in that holds on your posterior."

Here are manly-man stories (don't mess with "MAH TRUCK"!), the death of a washing machine ("It toils not," says Susan, "neither does it spin"), and sage advice: "Best way to plan for golden years: Ask kids for gold." And "Roger's words of wisdom" at the end includes an observation from son Paul: "There is always one more idiot than you planned for."

Mud-lover Dick Cory muddles through

Chicoan Dick Cory is a man of the sod. The theme runs from "Six Boys and a Bag of Dirt" (essays about growing up in small-town Nebraska) to his latest compilation, "Seeking Common Ground" (self-published paperback; write the author at ubangarang@yahoo.com to order). Cory writes that the title conveys "multiple meanings and connections to earth. My books promote the value of dirt. We all have a stake in protecting this common ground."

But, as the author makes clear, that doesn't mean everyone has to agree. "Seeking Common Ground" is dedicated to long-time writing teacher Hannie Voyles, whose poem, "Contradiction," celebrates the energy produced when "We meet and merge, / and counter and clash." In seventy-six chapters, Cory takes some decidedly strong views, from the importance of unions to his wish not to be cremated or buried but to be turned into soap slurry and purified at a water treatment plant. (Ever the punster, he calls this "a slurry with a fringe on top.")

Cory will be signing copies of his books this Saturday from 1:00 - 4:00 p.m. at Made in Chico, 127 W. Third Street.

The chapters include several short stories (a sexy murder mystery and a steamy gym workout among them) and ruminations on the importance of one's conversational community. For Cory, that means the R.O.D.E.O. club ("Retired Old Duffers Eating Out"). "Our former professions, political and religious views, and lifetime experiences cover the full spectrum. We agree and disagree with equal passion." Other essays opine about the demise of bumpers (replaced by plastic that breaks at a mere nudge) and the difference between care giving and "caretaking." Some of the reflections are somber, some more light hearted (Cory is a notorious prankster).

He claims to have been the first to use "reality check" back in 1976 or so. And "it may be dum (mud spelled backwards), but I love mud" (except for "mud slinging by rivals with muddled-minds" who "seek to muddy the waters of progress").

Cory's generation came after "the Greatest Generation" and "carries no moniker. . . . All of our experiences (including six-man football), work ethic and job stability are recorded in our brain. This legacy must be shared with our descendants if they are to profit from our successes and failures."

Chico's "Professor of Pun-ology" goes MAD

As millions of movie-goers have donned funny glasses to see what some have said is a Depplorable remake of Alice in Wonderland, interest in the original has also been rekindled. Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass," though full of linguistic antics and absurd characters, also hold up a mirror to human folly in our own world.

In a bit of pre-planned serendipity, a new collection of essays uses the Alice books as a springboard to take up such issues as feminism, procrastination, logic, appearance and reality, memory and identity. There's nothing stodgy here, though. The writing is breezy and full of references to the likes of Abbott and Costello and Plato; Keith Richards and Richard Rorty; Kant and Kafka.

"Alice in Wonderland and Philosophy: Curiouser and Curiouser" ($17.95 in paperback from Wiley), edited by Richard Brian Davis, is part of the extensive "Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series." The book is not connected to Carroll or to the film, but it's a fitting companion to both.

Chief among the essays is "Nuclear Strategists in Wonderland" by Ron Hirschbein, semi-retired from Chico State University's philosophy department, dubbed by one writer (me) as the "Professor of Pun-ology." This is vintage Hirschbein at his most playful as he deconstructs the Cold War policy of "Mutual Assured Destruction" (MAD) that has governed the nuclear age. (One gets the impression that some of the participants were a bit into the vintage themselves, if you know what I mean.)

Hirschbein takes the reader into the world of nuclear strategists. "They call their make-believe stories 'scenarios'--it gives them gravitas. Lewis Carroll wrote a similar genre of literary nonsense--but he realized what he was doing." Here is a world of "Nuclear Jabberwocky" in which "the United States didn't drop atomic bombs on Japan; it used two devices--Fat Man and Little Boy--to end the war. (These names sound like hamburger combos at Big Boy; not weapons of mass destruction.)" It is a world in which civilian deaths are "collateral damage" and missiles are called "Peacekeepers."

Though Hirschbein is far from neutral, his railing against obfuscation can be appreciated by most readers. When the railing gives way, it's then we're most likely to fall down the rabbit hole.