When Wolves help kids (right here in LA)

I wrote this to support the program as it was looking forward to a chance at a grant from Mazda/NBC, but I evidently tried to submit it for review shortly after they closed the submissions. Rather than just slide it into a folder, I thought I would add it here and possibly deliver a message to a possible set of eyes that may feel the compulsion to help out as well, in any capacity.

As a photographer and artist by trade, I have long come to realize I will never be “wealthy.” That is defined by the fact that here will be no homes on the ocean with sweeping views that I have dreamed of nor will I fall asleep to the rhythmic lullaby of waves gentle lapping the shoreline.

 

But defining the term “wealthy” and the currency used to gain it, has taken on a completely different meaning lately in my life. The experiences I get to live out on a weekly basis whether it be to traveling to a distant shore, getting inside looks into the lives of celebrities, sport stars and all the common families that help build this country is something I was hoping to do when I retired from my 9-5, suit and tie gig.

 

The currency I was going to save in order to do all of this was based on years of saving and sacrificing what’s left of my youth. For the record I am in my 50’s and consider myself as youthful, if not more so than most 25 year olds. But I know my clock is moving so much faster.

 

The past ten years has blessed me with the chances and recourses to do something I knew I was here to ultimately do; give back. There are a few causes I like to donate my time and services to. One of which is the Wolf Connection (WC), in Acton California.

 

Here, the combination of love and thoughtful direction towards the misunderstood diverge in a perfect symphony of altruism. Abandoned, mistreated and often abused wolves are joined here with their human counterparts and where true healing and hope begin to take root.

 

I have been on hikes through the hot, dusty and steep hills with the leaders of this unique pack, accompanied by select wolves and the at risk kids, who at first often maintain a cool and at arms length disposition. As a photographer watching everything, including the attitudes and body language through my lens, it becomes apparent to me very quickly who is taking this serious and those who choose to keep their protective walls up. However, that will eventually change and that’s where the wolves themselves make their mark along with the stories told by the WC pack members themselves.

 

While the wolves can’t talk directly to them, the level of communication is undeniable. Concepts such as trust, humility, confidence and family will be introduced in simple terms to each child that’s willing to listen.

 

At times I walk with the kids to hear the conversations and a gain sense of their understanding of these new concepts. Last hike I heard terms “I can’t” or I’ll never” referring to their idea they can ever break away form the bad neighborhoods they live in or the broken family they come from.

 

The Wolf Connection offers a place they can learn to understand how to build the foundation for these foreign concepts and hope; strength and a plan to climb out the dark hole they currently find themselves in. The wolves themselves keep a healthy distance to those who aren’t ready to humble themselves by breaking down the rough exterior and walls. It’s when the kids earn their trust when the magic happens. A kinship in the purest and most primal form has planted its first seed and the foundation for a new understanding of how they value themselves as worthy recipients that will translate to the outside world they return to at the end of the day.

 

The idea is the new value they have in themselves keeps them away from the constant street fights, drugs and misleading fraternities within a gang. The very idea of hope is taught here. The direction it takes to be involved so the chance to climb up the ladder and out of their situation, school family and those in the community who are true leaders will appeal to them.

 

Like with wolves in the wild, it’s all about surviving and being associated with the right pack. And like these wolves here, abused and left behind, the hopes for second chances are realized. To move forward, forgiveness, humility and a solid plan path their new road from Acton to Watts.

 

By the end of the hikes, I have often witnessed the “I Cant’ attitude change to many questions of how they can, and this step to these kids is invaluable as the seed has now been planted. The program last several weeks to properly water and feed these them so the roots can spread in an otherwise barren pot. The impact to each kid cannot be measured, as its impact on the community they live in eventually will.

 

If kids who leaned towards the idea of the easy dollar or sense of community through crime and civil disobedience can be show the road to a more fulfilling life, the community itself is exponentially healed. These kids cannot only be the students, but more importantly the teachers. How does one put a value on that that is not understated?

 

In life every thing boils down to currency. In my case, my currency is the gift of trust I ultimately get from many of these kids. To have a child who has literally been left behind by their community, friends and even family ask advise from me or want to bounce an idea of me makes me a very wealthy man. I am honored to contribute to such a program.

 

As for the currency and what it means to (WC), the motor that drives the operation is not cheap. Housing, feeding, caring and medicine for the wolves is expensive. The manpower it takes to maintain the acreage and support the programs for the kids and is paid in US dollars. A donation from Mazda/NBC of this amount is a game changer would help level the playing field for so many more who can’t see that they can also be “wealthy” too.

 

Insignificant; or NOT

From a scribbling I put together a few yrs back with a few small changes. But the spirit of thankfulness, perspective and inspiration remains. I thank God every day for the gifts I have to use at my disposal and why perspective, inspiration and gratitude will always be a theme that dominates my writing.

Like most of my longer training rides on the bike, the goals are simple. Ride until eventually my body learns to the art of minimizing my muscles demands for oxygen to metabolize an increase in blood lactate and increase overall aerobic thresholds. Usually my journey begins with pain in the legs but usually ends up taxing everything from between one ear to the next and back. Tonight’s ride should be no exception.

As turmoil has been a steady companion of late I guess I should have known better. After 2 hours plus of burning the quads with several climbs, I suddenly noticed one of my favorite things in life. The sky was turning all shades of red and blue and the South Bay was preparing for a spectacular show as the sun fell behind the sea. I glided to the end of Hermosa Beach pier and just sat there in a now cold sweat, watching the sky and the water try to outdo each other as if it were a duel of master painters. It was chilly and I was wearing nothing more than swim-bike shots, lycra form fitting vest and arm warmers. But the cold never affected me as I stared at the show like a kid at a first circus waiting for the next thing to happen.

Then the inevitable began to happen….I began to think…Shit; too late now as this ball had already started to roll. For those who can’t sleep at night due to a restless mind know what I am talking about. I stared deep into and beyond the swirls of color mixing the waters currents and then upwards beyond the colors of the sky until the colors were all but gone. Suddenly I could see a star shining over the horizon and it did not appear to be a planet. My astrology is lacking so I can’t tell which star it was, but it caused me to do what most of us have done one time or another; feel really, really small..

I began to think about time and space and my place in it. And in the end how do my problems even matter? How could they? But to me they freeze me in my tracks; every time.

A “first down” in football is ten yards. It takes light to travel that far in about 30 nano-seconds and light can go 300 million yards (or 30 million first downs) in ONE second.

The same little beam of misguided light would take 1 1/4 seconds to get to the moon and to the sun (which is BTW 109 times the size of the Earth) and would take little Mr light beam 8 minutes to arrive.. Hang with me, there is a point.

Jupiter is further out and would take 40 light-minutes to feel the love and Pluto is a whopping 5 ½ hours away for the train to reach its station and far too many first downs for me to figure out.

Now for the amazing part.. That twinkling and insignificant wobble in the sky is no less than 4 ½ years away for that wayward beam of light to arrive. Beyond that, my head just really begins to hurt. It must be from slamming it into that brick wall they built at the very end of the Universe back when the UFO’s also build the Pyramids of Ghiza. It’s enough to imagine our little hub of insignificance in all of this expanse too large to wrap my mind fully around.

But if I were to try…..

The nearest cluster of Galaxy (the Virgo Cluster~only remembered because I am one) is
50 million light years away and to totally blow the top of your head off, the visible edge of the universe is 13,700,000,000 (yes, billion) light years away. Or as Cal Sagan would have said “beillionn.”

So back to our little flickering and dim light in an otherwise endless forest full of Sequoia Christmas trees we have to ask ourselves the same question. Do we count? Do we matter at all in the end?

From events unfolding form warring nations, all the way down to even the little kid crying because Santa’s gift this year wasn’t what was wished for and everything else in between, it’s just a pimple on a pimples ass in the end of a flea no less. That is if fleas actually could get a pimple of course. One day it will be dead silent here and really dark and cold. Somewhere zillions of first downs away and even more zillions of years something will be crawling out of the mud to choke on it’s first breath. Or two overzealous leaf bearing zealots will hook it up again,…But life will come to be. Somewhere out there..

Whatever happens, will they eventually stand at the end of a pier one year and look out to the sky and begin to feel just as small and even insignificant?

As I turned my bike around to ride several, but not too many first downs back to my home, a father and son ( I presumed he was his son) approached me for a picture. I said sure and suggested we use the faded light of the ocean for the background as I reached for the camera. The father said no, it was his son who wanted the picture with me. I just stood there and didn’t know what to say. I was sure they thought I was someone else. It’s happened plenty of times before. So I kept on saying nothing and smiled for the photo with my arm around the kid.

The smile on the teen aged kid was enough to answer my question with out a word being spoken. I was not about to discourage that amazing smile.

Hell yes, I mattered, I mumbled to myself under my breath.. Or at least the guy they thought I was did…It really didn’t matter. I connected with someone the very second I asked this silent question and it was evident.

If this was not significant in any big pictures and about my place in it, then what does that say about me?

I glided back down the pier with my bike toward home.

He glided back down the pier in his wheelchair..