“I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and willingly accepts the penalty by staying in jail to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the very highest respect for the law.”

—Martin Luther King, Jr.

These last couple weeks have been full of emotion for our little town of Arcata and our small Humboldt County. Emotions are high. Opinions are loud. Anger and rage run through our bodies like the winter Trinity River—fast, dangerous, loud, and frothy.

Since October 7th, we’ve had an onslaught of news and media projecting horrific images across our screens—hostages taken, slaughtered bodies lying near escaping vehicles, homes and concrete buildings demolished, children with missing limbs and life slumped against busted walls, hospitals bombed and people displaced and starved and dying. Trauma isn’t a word big enough to encapsulate what we’ve seen, much less knowing our country is supplying the ammunition—our tax dollars funding death.

What do we do with this? How should we respond? Prayer, posts, pennies, protests…

I wrote about protests when George Floyd was murdered. Folx were angry and frustrated at how protestors behaved. Why can’t they do it peacefully? they asked. Why do they need to loot or riot? they wondered. Why can’t they ask nicely? they pondered.

A parable: A teenager had his own room in his parent’s house. He was responsible for the state of his room, but rarely took care of it because he didn’t mind the mess. It didn’t bother him. His parents would ask him to clean it up because the smells were starting to seep through the door. He said it was fine with him and they shouldn’t worry. It’s his room. They told him nicely. They reminded him kindly. He brought more food in, plates stacked with rotten, moldy garbage. He began turning his underwear inside out instead of washing anything. He sat on a pile of wrappers, clothing, empty cans of sticky soda while playing his Xbox, oblivious that the smells became toxic. They nudged him and handed garbage bags and asked if they could at least remove the old dishes. He slammed the door and cursed their request. They had enough. They marched into the room, grabbed the Xbox, went to the open hallway window, and threw it out. As it smashed into a thousand pieces, they wondered if their reaction might have been too much. But maybe now their teenager might listen, might change, might see how serious his behavior, or lack of behavior, affects people other than himself. Maybe now he’ll listen and respond.

Oh, I know this parable doesn’t perfectly represent what’s going on with students across our country, but they’ve posted and prayed and given and now they needed to protest. They couldn’t help it. It grew from the depths of their being. Listen to their hearts for a moment, and you’ll hear a longing for justice, a longing for things to be made right, a longing for death to cease and peace to prevail. (I recognize there are also violent words spewed towards perceived enemies in some hearts as well).

Listen.

This is a word I am stuck on.

We rarely listen to each other, do we? We come with assumptions and accusations like bricks in our hands, building walls between each other. 

What would you hear if you approached the other person with curiosity and willingness to listen? To understand?

You might hear the student stuck on campus, imprisoned in their dorm and needing a police escort to move around. You might hear about needing to get into specific buildings to access their important research, hoping disrupted time between checks didn’t destroy months of experiments. You might listen to their deep sadness and frustration because they didn’t get a graduation ceremony from high school, they didn’t get to move freely on campus their first year of college, and now they might not get a graduation ceremony again. 

You might hear the campus electrician, maintenance worker, groundskeeper, plumber who feels betrayed by the protestors who left an enormous mess behind. You might listen and hear about their long days, their stressed feelings, their bodies on high alert as they carefully moved around their blockaded campus. You might listen to both their relief that no one was hurt and their irritation of having to cleanup the mess. 

You might hear the faculty who are scrambling to help students finish out their semester, searching for spaces to meet—garages, coffee shops, churches, Zoom, and living rooms. You might listen to their anguish over these complexities with supporting protesting efforts, caring for other uninvolved students, modifying finals, seeking peace, devastated from Palestinian death, demanding the return of hostages, making dinner for their family, showing up at the ballet recital for their daughter, going through a divorce, and still having to walk the administration’s line despite a seemingly uninvolved president. 

I wonder what we might hear if we approached each other with compassion and curiosity—if we began to listen. 

Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” 

Peacemakers aren’t there to keep the peace by towing the line and avoiding conflict. They place themselves between the conflict, using their bodies and words as healing balms of truth. They go to the center of unrest, where the battle seethes and enemies spew prideful hate towards each other, and model another way forward—“hands up, don’t shoot,” they say. Peacemakers bravely root themselves in the chaotic fray until someone stops and settles down long enough to listen.

Brian McLaren writes in We Make the Road By Walking, “Since the beginning, Jesus has taught that the nonviolent will inherit the Earth. Violence cannot defeat violence. Hate cannot defeat hate. Fear cannot defeat fear. Domination cannot defeat domination. God’s way is different. God must achieve victory through defeat, glory through shame, strength through weakness, leadership through servanthood, and life through death… In God’s name Jesus will undergo violence, and in doing so, he will overcome it.”

You might read these words and believe I’m not speaking strongly enough against Hamas, or Israel, or the students, or the administration, or President Biden, or the massive killing of innocent Palestinian people. I know I’m not. But I would love to listen and hear your heart and work for a new way forward. I believe it’s possible. I hope it’s possible. Maybe it starts this way: find someone who thinks differently from you, get a cup of coffee and listen.

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Bethany Cseh is a pastor at Arcata United Methodist Church and Catalyst Church. 

Last week, I was back in jail. For years — decades! — I was a regular member of a small group of guys who facilitated weekly silent meditation sessions at the Humboldt County Correctional Facility. I wrote about it here. Awhile back, I became an emeritus member, so to speak, to be called upon at the last minute when one of the remaining four regulars was unable to make it. Last week was one of those times. Out of nine “brothers” who had signed up, just four attended, three of whom had never meditated previously. Which got me thinking about an article I’d written long ago about my take on meditation and how, in my mind, a book title from the 1990s by Zen master Seung Sahn sums it up: Only Don’t Know.

F.W.I.W. here’s my article:

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My instructions to first-time meditators are becoming more and more minimalist. These days, it’s something like, “Sit quietly and notice what’s going on.” It used to take longer — when I was a meditation instructor at a Zen community in Mountain View, I would spend 30-40 minutes telling newbies how to sit, how to breathe, how to bow — not to mention how to enter and leave the zendo, how to ask a question, and (talk about setting them up!) what to expect.

Part of my “quickie” approach these days is dictated by logistics. At the jail where three of us local “zennies” take turns leading a men’s meditation program, we are almost always with inmates who have never meditated before, and we have limited time. I want to give them a taste right now of the essence of meditation. And when I’m leading our local weekly evening meditation group, new folks always seem to walk in as I’m about to ring the bell, so it’s a quick “Welcome … shoes off, please … chair or cushion? … so OK, why don’t you just sit and notice what’s going on for the next 30 minutes … thank you.”

That’s it? What about eyes open? 45-degree head tilt? Cosmic mudra, thumbs just barely touching? Spine as straight as the proverbial tower of gold coins? Tongue on roof of mouth? Breath awareness? Counting? Attention on the hara? Letting thoughts through without stopping for a chat?

All this is fine to experiment with once someone’s made the decision to practice, but for first-timers? I prefer giving them a big field to play in by following my core belief about meditation, that there’s no way to do it wrong — as opposed to just about everything else in my life! There’s often this underlying editorial commentary, along the lines of “Hey, good job, Barry … uh-oh, you really screwed up there … man, you’re doing well … oh god, the day’s gone and I’ve done nothing!” Meditation, on the other hand, comes and goes, the antidote to goal-oriented existence: I meditate because I meditate, and for the most part, I don’t try to improve it or tinker with it. It is what it is.

My problem with detailed meditation instructions is that by their very nature, instructions imply there are good ways and bad ways to do something. They say, This is what you should be doing, this is right, this is wrong. Instructions set up goals, just like in “real” life.

I wonder if this is why so many people try meditation once and quit, feeling they’ve somehow failed? At my old community, we estimated that out of five or six people who came the first time to the instruction session (followed by a sit), we saw just one of those folks again. For the vast majority, that one time was enough. How many times have I heard something like “Yeah, I tried meditation once, but it didn’t work for me … I just couldn’t do it right … My mind wouldn’t calm down”?

If a newcomer does have questions or concerns, I encourage them to try it first and to ask their questions after. Someone sitting for the first time can learn more about meditation in thirty real-time minutes than any amount of instruction can teach them.

Because meditation isn’t about following a set of directions down a mental highway: it’s an off-road adventure.

PREVIOUSLY: Director of the ACLU of Northern California Issues Statement on Campus Protests, Urges CPH Admin to Refrain from Involving Law Enforcement

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The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) of Northern California and the First Amendment Coalition today sent a letter to Cal Poly Humboldt President Tom Jackson expressing concern about the university’s decision to impose a campus-wide closure in response to the recent pro-Palestine demonstration.

The letter – written by ACLU Senior Staff Attorney Chessie Thatcher and First Amendment Coalition Legal Director David Loy – questions the constitutionality of the ongoing “hard closure” and asserts that the university has an obligation to “maintain spaces on its campus that constitute a designated public forum,” such as the UC Quad.

“We believe that the university’s policy limiting public access — and especially press access — is constitutionally suspect,” the letter states. “We recognize that this closure has been asserted in response to the recent civil unrest and involvement of law enforcement at Cal Poly Humboldt, but it is precisely in these moments that reporting by a free press is essential. We urge you, in the strongest possible terms, to lift this campus-wide closure.”

The letter notes that the ongoing campus closure “does not appear to fall within its Campus Closure Policy,” which only applies when “an emergency or unplanned event occurs that threatens the safety of persons or property.”

“Whatever may have happened previously, it is difficult to see how any such emergency currently exists that could justify the complete closure of the entire campus, including its designated public forum spaces,” the letter continues. “That clean-up work might be more expedient without observation does not provide a basis to exclude observers. And the university is ‘not free to foreclose expressive activity in public areas on mere speculation about danger.’”

The letter also calls out the university’s “severe restrictions” on press access to campus. The new rules, imposed earlier this week, require members of the media to email in advance their “press credentials” or “authorization from your news outlet” to gain access to campus.

“California law does not require that a reporter be on assignment from a particular news organization to gain press access,” the letter states. “Nor does the law necessarily require reporters to provide identification or contact information for themselves or others.”

Read the letter in full here.

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California’s system of awarding water rights is anachronistic and out of touch with modern needs. Yet, we are still bound by it. The Humboldt Bay Municipal Water District is navigating these challenges. The District once provided a lot of water to the pulp mills of Humboldt Bay. When these shuttered, the District faced a challenge: without putting that water to “beneficial use,” the District could lose its water right. (And in the worst case scenario, some big water user could put their straw into our river and slurp that water away, like is done in the Trinity and Eel Rivers.)

Now the District is proposing a new in-stream flow dedication to protect that water right. District Board Director Michelle Fuller joins the show to discuss the process to dedicate an in-stream flow right.

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The meeting of the grids. In red: The “Waterfront” grid. In blue: The newer, or “North-South” grid.

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One of the first things I noticed about Eureka when I moved to Humboldt County in 1979 was that my sense of direction, usually good, experienced problems when I visited. The part of town that was letters and numbers was okay: When I drove into town on 101 from my home in Westhaven, the first light was W, and the alphabet went backwards as I passed through. 101 was Fourth Street (or was it Fifth?) The lowest-numbered streets were to my right, in Old Town, and they got bigger as you headed away from the bay. So far, so good.

After that, things became less organized. For example, the numbered streets stopped before even reaching 20. After that, one entered a funhouse of alternative geography: Del Norte Street was followed by Sonoma Street, which was followed by Humboldt Street … And then there were the boulevards. Why did so many of them sound the same? Was Harris the one that went by General Hospital? No, that’s Harrison. Harris is the one you can use to bypass downtown if you come the back way from Bayside, and don’t miss the turns, and know it becomes one-way so you have to turn down “I” Street, also one-way. Then prepare to merge left so you can turn onto Henderson, which will take you to 101 … which is now called Broadway. Going home, you can take Henderson, too, but only for a block to the top of the hill. Oops! You wanted Harris!

But that’s all part of the fun of learning a new place – most towns have their tricky bits. As the years passed, I learned my way around — even knew to call Buhne “BOON-er” Street. But I still noticed some intriguing oddities: Why is there that jog in H and I when you pass through town? Why does the alphabet on some cross streets go A, B, C, Lowell, William, D, E? And is it “William,” or “Williams”? The street signs literally go back and forth almost every intersection …

To solve a mystery, start with what intrigues you, and begin looking for clues. With matters of geography, my favorite sources are maps, so I started with the earliest maps I could find. As Eureka was settled from the water, it made sense that its earliest maps were actually charts. The one above, from 1858, shows the town at its beginning — a row of blocks facing the Bay radiating off 2nd Street, which connects to the trail heading south to Bucksport and beyond. The streets perpendicular to 2nd, today’s E, F, G, H, and I, have already initiated the grid that will dominate Eureka — 60-foot streets dividing 240-foot-square blocks. Most importantly, it shows 2nd Street aligned to run parallel to the Bayfront, which here has a bearing 10 degrees south of due West. Therefore, the perpendicular alphabet streets are oriented 10 degrees east of due south.

This orderly grid of right-angled streets — oriented to a shoreline running 10 degrees “off-plumb” —  became the framework of Eureka’s early development. An 1870 map (below) shows dwellings scattered along its thoroughfares as far south as the future intersections of 13th and J and 11th and E Streets. Old Town’s blocks are solid with businesses, and houses stretch eastward along 3rd and 4th Streets all the way to Myrtle Avenue.

But the 1870 map also shows the first sign of a different plan. On the southwest edge of town, surrounded by trees on 3 sides, is a tiny grid, centered at what will become Washington and B Streets. This is the first developed portion of “Clark’s Addition,” platted in 1866 by Eureka landowner Jonathan Clark. Though he kept the city’s template of 60-foot streets and 240-foot-square blocks, Clark made one crucial change — he tilted the axis of his grid 10 degrees west, bringing it into alignment with the cardinal points of the compass. By the time Jonathan and his son William finished subdividing the Clark acreage, over 150 new blocks had been added to Eureka — all with a true North-South-East-West orientation.

After 1870 the original Bayfront Grid grew a bit further south and east, but by 1900, the compass had won — the original pattern was entirely surrounded by tracts oriented to True North. And so it has remained to the present day. Wabash Avenue marks the original grid’s southern frontier from C to its end at H, with its invisible presence continuing east, creating the mid-block jogs in both I and J Streets at that point where Wabash would cross them if it ran that far. At K Street, 15th becomes the boundary, except for a small part of the “Weeks Addition” east of Cooper Gulch, where the tract line runs through the blocks between 15th and 16th before ending at West.

But where the Bayfront and True North grids have their most interesting interaction is in the part of town I call “The Wedge.”

“The Wedge.”

At 8th Street, C and D Streets are separated by a standard Eureka 240-foot-square block. But as C begins its Clark-ordained 180-degree-due-south trajectory, it immediately begins diverging from D, its old-school-10-degrees-east-of-south neighbor. A half-mile later at Wabash, the two streets are more than 700 feet apart. This creates room for an extra 2-and-then-some blocks of grid — as well as the need for two new streets to divide them. So the special “Eureka alphabet” is created — sing along, now! “A, B, C, Lowell, William, D … E, F, G … ”

The Wedge is also home to the town’s most interesting street-and-alley configurations, bred by its odd shape and having been platted by several different owners. Its housing stock reflects the full range of Eureka’s diversity, with particular strength in the late Victorian and early Craftsman eras. While Hillsdale Street may be its most renowned thoroughfare, the entire neighborhood and the blocks surrounding it are filled with “gifts to the street” both architectural and horticultural. As a final treat for the historically minded, it’s also an area rich in curb stamps, showing both original street names and creative interpretations of familiar favorites. 

And now to our final mystery: Is it William or Williams? All the old maps agree on “William,” as does Google Maps and Eureka’s GIS, but “the word on the street” is literally split down the middle — of the eighteen street signs within the city limits, there are nine with each spelling.

And the winner is … “William!” Local historian Bob Libershal cites Blue Lake archivist Susie Baker Fountain as reporting that the street was named for Jonathan Clark’s son (or brother) William.

But those “Old Ways” officially end at the city limits. The appropriately variate end to our story lies a half-mile or so south of there. In the unincorporated community of Rosewood, a two-block stretch of The Street with Two Names is consistently signed and Officially Known by the County of Humboldt as … Williams.

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The story above was originally printed in the Fall 2020 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.

Nicky (Nick) Albert, son of Nicandro (Nick) and Virginia Albert, was born on May 18, 1950, in Carmel. He was the second of eight children and their oldest son. Nick attended grade school in Monterey and graduated from Monterey High School in 1968 and Monterey Community College in 1970.

In the summer of 1968 Nick met the love of his life, Patricia Ann Harwood, while working at Yellowstone National Park. Nick and Patricia married on June 22, 1970 and had four daughters.

Nick attended California State University, Sacramento, graduating in 1972. Nick and Patricia lived throughout the Northern California area, including the cities of Sacramento, Monterey, San Francisco and Arcata, before building their dream home in Freshwater in 2010.

Nick was known for his devotion to his family, his loyalty to friends, and dedication to his job as a fish and game warden throughout the Humboldt County area. He was a devoted member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Nick lived a life filled with love, adventure, and unwavering dedication to his family and community. A captivating storyteller, drawing from his experiences in the field and his family life, Nick brought joy and laughter to those who knew him. Even in his last days, he enjoyed hearing those stories from friends and family. Nick was never afraid to stand up for what was right and could be counted on to defend others when needed.

On Saturday, April 13, 2024, Nick passed away due to complications related to ALS, leaving behind a profound legacy of love, service, and an unwavering spirit. Though gone, he will forever be remembered by his loving wife, Patricia, his four daughters, and his extensive family and community. A true hero, Nick’s impact will continue to be felt by all who were fortunate enough to know him.

Nick was preceded in death by his parents, Nick and Virginia Albert, and his sister, Robin Cazaux. He is survived and forever remembered by his wife, Patricia, their daughters, Michelle Caisse (David), Jennifer Fritzsche (Karl), Kristen Hodges (Charles), and Nicole Taylor (Robbie), his sisters Valerie Szody (David) and Jill Barnes (Verdis), his brothers Marc (Debbie), Matthew (Jeri), Barry (Mary), Adam (Diane), brother-in-law David Harwood (Barbara), and his uncle Dan (Joann) Albert. Nick is also survived by his 9 grandchildren, Isabelle, Koen, Jonas, Addyson, Fisher, Willow, Olive, Nicky, and June and many nieces, nephews and cousins. A memorial service will be held at 1 p.m. July 12, 2024 at 2351 Freshwater Rd, Eureka.

In lieu of flowers the family requests donations be made to the ALS Association at als.org.

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The obituary above was submitted on behalf of Nick Albert’s loved ones. The Lost Coast Outpost runs obituaries of Humboldt County residents at no charge. See guidelines here.

Press release from the Humboldt Local Agency Formation Commission:

The Humboldt Local Agency Formation Commission (LAFCo) invites interested persons to apply for the position of regular public member on the Commission. The regular public member fully participates in the discussion and deliberation at LAFCo meetings and votes on all items put before the commission. LAFCo meetings are held at least six times per year on the third Wednesday of odd-numbered months at the City of Eureka Council Chambers. The four-year term for the regular public member runs through June 30, 2028.

LAFCo is an independent agency created in each county by the California State Legislature in 1963. LAFCo is responsible for facilitating changes in local governmental structure and boundaries that fosters orderly growth and development, promotes the efficient delivery of services, and encourages the preservation of open space and agricultural lands. LAFCo meets these objectives by regulating the boundaries of cities and special districts and conducting municipal service reviews and other special studies.

Humboldt LAFCo is composed of seven (7) voting members, including two county supervisorial members appointed by the Humboldt County Board of Supervisors, two city council members appointed by the Mayors of the seven incorporated cities, two special district members appointed by the independent special districts, and one public member appointed by full commission. There is also one alternate for each category.

Requirements: Applicants must be residents of Humboldt County, be able to regularly attend LAFCo meetings, have a general understanding of LAFCo functions and authorities, and cannot be officers or employees of a local public agency or a member of a public board, commission, or committee that has the authority to make advisory or final decisions on matters relating to land use or the provision of services. Public members are considered public officials and are required to file a standard annual financial disclosure statement with the California Fair Political Practices Commission.

Please note the regular public member position will remain open until filled. Qualifying candidates may be considered for appointment at the LAFCo meeting on July 17, 2024. Please submit a completed application by June 14, 2024 at 5:00 p.m. for consideration at this meeting. Applications may be submitted by email at info@humboldtlafco.org or by mail to LAFCo 670 9th Street, Suite 202, Arcata, CA 95521. To download an application form and for more information about Humboldt LAFCo, please visit our website at www.humboldtlafco.org, or contact the LAFCo office at 707-445-7508.