By Bob Gaydos

The rare black squirrel.

The last time I saw a black squirrel (which is actually the first time I ever saw a black squirrel), was just about a year ago. Well, I just saw another one, this time much closer to home.

These are one-in-10,000 animals in their species and are regarded in many cultures as magic or wise, in others as an omen of trust, preparation and foresight.

All that collecting of nuts before the winter comes (as it does to the mid-Hudson area of New York), I’m guessing.

Combining the squirrel’s magical powers and nut-collecting nature, last fall I went looking to connect the magical dots and collect other nuts.

I found JD Vance. He was on TV bragging about how he and Trump had made up a story about Haitians in   Springfield, Ohio, stealing and eating their neighbors’ cats and dogs. Bragging.

The story naturally created an atmosphere of fear and tension in Springfield, with all kinds of accusations being tossed about, meetings canceled, bomb threats made to hospitals, schools, even City Hall.

Vance said they did it because people were ignoring the message Trump and Vance were offering as candidates for president and vice president of the United States. Basically, that immigrants were doing awful things here in America and had to be gotten rid of.

Apparently it worked. No dogs or cats were actually ever eaten in Springfield, Ohio, but Trump and Vance were elected and you know the rest.

And both are still nuts.

This past Saturday, when some 7 million Americans (or more) were peacefully gathering in the streets of towns and cities across the country, our dynamic leadership duo came up with a brilliant idea to have the US Navy fire live missiles from the Pacific Ocean over highways into California to land at Camp Pendleton, a Marine training base, supposedly to commemorate the 250th anniversary of the US Marines. Which, by the way, was not last Saturday.

Trump did not close any highways as a safety precaution for the firing of the missiles, which was actually a heavy-handed, obvious attempt to try to frighten any people planning to participate in No Kings demonstrations in California.

California Gov. Gavin Newsom, being of sound mind, shut down a 17-mile portion of the usually busy highway over which the missiles were scheduled to be fired.

The only ones who would be present on the highway in mid-afternoon (Pacific Time) with the missiles flying overhead would be Vance  and his motorcade, since he was to offer some words of congratulations to the Marines.

Well, as fate and black squirrels would have it, one of the live missiles exploded prematurely, raining down shrapnel on the vehicles in Vance’s motorcade. The California Highway Patrol reported that one of its vehicles was hit by the shrapnel.

I feel compelled to note that I saw the squirrel (a young one I think) on the East Coast at pretty much the same time the missiles were flying on the West Coast. I also have a witness who was with me in the car at the time.

The message here? Pay attention when you see a black squirrel to what else is going on around you.

Also, Donald Trump and JD Vance are frightened, soulless creatures who have no business being anywhere near the ultimate seat of power in this country and will do anything to remain there.

The peaceful No Kings Day gatherings demonstrated that more Americans are finally starting to connect the dots. Meanwhile, I’m going to keep my eye out for that black squirrel that moved into my neighborhood.

                               Friday, Nov. 8, 2024

By Bob Gaydos

     I saw a shooting star last night. Spoiler alert: Yes, this is going to be one of those “synchronicity strikes again, isn’t that something and it can only be a good sign” columns. 

     To start with, I’ve never seen a shooting star before. The only reason I saw this one is that Prince, our resident beagle/Australian shepherd mix decided he needed to take one more trip outside around midnight. Since he was already over his usual daily allotment of such outings, this was rare.

   We walked outside, I looked up at the sky, and said to myself, Wow, that is spectacular, referring to all the stars visible. When you live in the country, the lights of so-called civilization don’t interfere. Then I looked off to to my right, to the east, and sonofagun: shooting star. Cool.

     Of course, when I came back inside, I immediately posted my experience on Facebook. A good omen, I called it. 

     But of course, I checked with a reliable source. The Farmers Almanac told me: “With many people of all cultures looking to the heavens for signs, symbols, and answers for eons, it is no surprise that shooting star superstitions exist. The most prevalent superstition is that it is good luck to wish upon a star.  …

    “In the second century, the Greek astronomer Ptolemy hypothesized that they were a result of the gods peering down from heaven, having parted the heavens to do so and therefore dislodging a star in the process. Because a shooting star was a tangible symbol of the gods looking down at that moment, it was believed that a wish or request made upon seeing the star was more likely to be heard and granted. …

    “In the 1830s, the idea of wishing upon stars became even more prominent in modern beliefs. Seeing a meteor was believed to be a sign of promise, luck, and good fortune.”

      Looking for a second source, I turned to current science. Google AI told me this: “Some believe that seeing a shooting star is a sign of good fortune or luck. An old superstition suggests that wishing upon a shooting star will grant your wish.”

      Well, one man’s superstition is another man’s omen. And what some call coincidence, others see as synchronicity. It is all connected. One need only pay attention.

      Friends, trying to be helpful, pointed out to me that what I had seen was actually a meteor, part of a meteor shower expected last night. And scientists point out that if I were to go outside and lie down on my back and stare up at the sky for 15 minutes on a dark night, I might well see a dozen “shooting stars.“

     But I didn’t. I went out on this particular night, looked to my right (to the East, the good luck direction) and saw something I had never seen before, even out here in the country. It was like that black squirrel I wrote about a while back. Apparently, just not as rare.

      Anyway, I had a couple of wishes. I made them. I guess you’re supposed to keep the wishes secret so as not to jinx them. I will say that one of them concerned a legendary New York City baseball team located in the Bronx and a stroke of fortune that might befall them concerning another kind of shooting star if they look to the right.

    The other wish was political in nature. Any regular reader of my column could probably look to the right and voice some version of it. In fact, go ahead and do it on my star.

     Meteor, shmeteor, who am I to argue with Ptolemy?

    The gods are with us.

rjgaydos@gmail.com

By Bob Gaydos

Do you believe in omens?

I believe in omens.

Not the dire, gloom-and-doom omens of Greek tragedy. It’s not that I dismiss the existence of negative omens out of hand, or that I think bad things don’t happen, but rather that I choose to focus my energies on what I perceive to be good omens.

For example, while lying in the grass a few days ago, staring skyward and having a relaxed conversation with a friend on a beautiful, warm, spring afternoon, I found my attention slowly shift to a winged object flying low in the sky right towards us. As it got closer I could make out the distinctive white head. “That’s an eagle!” I exclaimed.

Indeed it was. And it kept flying with a slow, deliberate stretching of its wings right over us and on past the tree line where it was no longer visible. A youngish bald eagle, and an eagle with a purpose.

A positive omen for sure. After all, it was an eagle, not a turkey vulture.

The trick with omens, of course, is making the connection between them and real life. What did this omen mean to me beyond the fact that I would definitely buy a ticket for the New York Lottery’s Megamillions drawing?

For one thing, it got me thinking about a similar encounter I had had a couple of years ago when a coyote casually trotted in front of my car as I was sitting reading on a quiet country road. No fanfare, no fuss. Right by me and off into a cornfield, out of sight, but not out of mind. I wrote about the coyote and the fact that it got me to thinking about some positive events that had recently occurred in my life that would normally escape notice. It change my outlook, my focus, my day.

So, too, with the eagle and I think the connection is, literally, the connection, between eagle and man, coyote and man, nature and man. We humans have a way of acting as if the planet is our personal plaything, to lord over and do as we will with all other living creatures. So we revere eagles and protect them because someone decided they were noble looking and worthy of being our national symbol, whereas coyotes are … not.

As a result of this human arrogance, we have polluted the atmosphere of the planet, added all manner of chemicals to our natural food supply, and destroyed the natural habitat of countless species of animals (and eliminated many species as a result), all in the name of progress. This arrogance has spread, perhaps unavoidably, into our relationships with each other. How far is it, after all, from treating animals with casual indifference or callous disregard to treating human beings the same way. We call it politics and it is the shame of our nation today.

The eagle tells me this is wrong. Majestic in its slow, deliberate flight, it says to me, “You may think you’re in charge, but don’t get too comfortable. We share this tiny planet and you almost drove me out of existence for no good reason.”

And we continue to do so, willy nilly melting the polar icecaps, committing genocide on species of animals, loading up our food supply with chemicals and altering the very genetic makeup of the food so that more can be grown faster in less space and less cost, to the considerable profit of chemical companies that now call themselves food companies. All of this is connected, the eagle reminds me, but most of us are too busy arguing over things that have nothing to do with the future welfare of the planet and its inhabitants.

For me, that means my recent writing about the revived interest in slaughtering horses, the mass murder of honey bees, the resistance to labeling food that has been genetically modified has not been a trivial pursuit. It means that expressing concern over the infusion of chemicals in our food, the resistance of those in power to honestly discussing these topics and their loyalty to powerful corporations that seek to control the planet by modifying it in any way possible to suit their own needs, is not a departure from writing about the “important” stuff, i.e. politics. Instead, the eagle tells me, it means I am finally writing about the stuff that really matters.

In case you’re wondering, here’s a small sampling: the elimination of all orangutans (our closest cousins) on the planet; the poaching of elephants for their tusks; the same threat to rhinos; the labeling of horsemeat and other animal byproducts as beef; and “no-kill” animal shelters that kill. There’s more: the belief by the Nestle CEO that humans have no intrinsic “right” to water; the power of such companies as Monsanto, Nestle, Bayer and others to buy politicians to write laws that protect the companies from having to reveal what they are doing to the food they sell. And let‘s not forget efforts by those in power to silence the voices that raise alarms on these issues.

It is all connected. We are all connected. What happens in Sumatra or the Amazon matters in Manhattan and Paris. We humans should be working together to preserve and protect our home instead of bickering over personal ideologies, which won’t matter much when the ice caps melt, the other species are gone and we have no one to look at but ourselves.

That’s what the eagle, flying low and with a purpose, tells me. Focus on the important stuff. Be positive in approaching life. It’s a beautiful world; enjoy it. And keep buying lottery tickets. (I had a Megamillions number worth $2. It’s a start.)

bob@zestoforange.com