Rain Perry

Welcome to A Habit of Hope — a weekly practice of optimism and joy. We get inspired, there’s music, and use a set of tools for community and accountability.

Phew — every time I write a new essay, it seems like a year since the last one. Welcome back, and very glad you’re here. I’m very excited to announce that I have a new tool for you at the bottom of the page!

As Federal Government programs are cut, we find ourselves looking to our local communities in whole new ways. The adage “think globally, act locally” becomes not just a rallying cry but a necessity, as we face challenges in public health, food safety, civil rights, national security and much more.

But there is a very real silver lining, believe it or not.

Rebecca Solnit’s A Paradise Built in Hell explores the unanticipated joy and purpose that can come from disasters.

From the publisher: “The most startling thing about disasters is not merely that so many people rise to the occasion, but that they do so with joy. That joy reveals an ordinarily unmet yearning for community, purposefulness, and meaningful work that disaster often provides. A Paradise Built in Hell is an investigation of the moments of altruism, resourcefulness, and generosity that arise amid disaster’s grief and disruption and considers their implications for everyday life. It points to a new vision of what society could become-one that is less authoritarian and fearful, more collaborative and local.”

I have two personal experiences that attest to this: the Thomas Fire, and my diagnosis at age 22 with rheumatoid arthritis. Here’s a piece I wrote a few weeks after the Thomas Fire, where I touch on the fear, loss, unexpected purpose, and sense of community that Solnit is talking about. She’s right — our neighborhood built strong bonds amidst the loss and chaos.

And as to rheumatoid arthritis: it was devastating at age 22, newly married, to suddenly be immobilized and in constant pain — unable get up off the couch without help, bend my fingers, play the guitar.

But, there was good that came from it, to the point that I can honestly say I’d go through it all again. I became more patient with myself in ways that I didn’t know I needed. My husband and I grew closer. And, once I couldn’t play guitar, I was no longer constricted to write what I could play — just what I could think of. (I was never a good guitarist. I was serviceable.)

That was a revelation. I was forced to take a crash course in working with other musicians to realize my vision, instead of just strumming and hoping they’d find a part to add. The ironic truth is that once I couldn’t play, I became a real musician. And once that happened, I found my way to my lifelong musical partner-in-crime, producer Mark Hallman.

One more thing. After ten years of trying all kinds of gnarly protocols that didn’t help, scientists figured out a medication that worked.

Suddenly within a week I was able to do something I hadn’t done in a decade: I wiggled my toes. And I soon gave my kid a piggyback ride for the first time. I even eventually hiked to the top of Half Dome. My fingers are too messed up to ever play guitar, which I will always mourn, but my life is vibrant and full.

Pain and loss are real. Unexpected blessings are too.

When I fear the worst of what’s happening, I’m usually failing to picture any response to it. I’m failing to picture the reality I know from personal experience to be true: Not just bad things come out of left field — good things do too. There can be a paradise built in hell.

So! Back to the point of this essay, back to “think globally, act locally.”

Please allow me introduce you to this week’s Person of the Week, a local hero.

Rodney Fernandez was, as the Santa Paula Times said in his obituary, “a person on the petite side,” but to the farmworkers and ranchers of Ventura County he was a giant. His organization, the nonprofit Cabrillo Economic Development Corp., created nearly 1700 affordable homes for workers, seniors, and low income folks, as well as support like English classes, study centers, childcare facilities, and community gardens.

When he passed away in 2003, his longtime friend and associate Jesse Ornelas said: “When you look at his stature he was just this stick. Rodney couldn’t harm a fly, but his ideas were so bold and he had the ability to carry them out because he had no fear, he was fearless.”

Born in New Mexico, Rodney struggled with asthma his whole life. When he was a kid, his family moved to Eagle Rock in Southern California for his health.

The first in his family to attend a four year college and receive a Master’s Degree, Rodney worked for the Los Angeles Redevelopment Agency before moving to Ventura County in 1973 and getting a job with the Ventura County Human Relations Commission. A dispute between the Saticoy Lemon Association and a group of farmworkers living in the Cabrillo Village labor camp — in what Rodney called “Grapes of Wrath-style housing” — gave him his start in the affordable housing industry.

According to the Santa Paula Times, “even critics of CEDC had to admit that CEDC housing was well managed, attractive and most importantly served an important purpose of providing affordable housing to those that need it most.”

I first met Rodney in the Eighties on a camping trip. I can see the sparkle in his eye, in his black Patagonia vest, in constant motion: fishing, talking politics, or off to the side of camp surreptitiously listening to a Laker game on a transistor radio.

Besides being an interesting person, the reason I introduce you to Rodney is that he was effective. He was relentless. He brought opposing parties (ranchers and farmworkers, for example) to the table to build common cause. Those are skills we’re going to need right now.

And he did it with joy. It’s worth reading his obituary in the Santa Paula Times, as well as his Legacy page, because the love and respect pour out from the community for their small but mighty force of nature.

Rodney Fernandez loved his wife Melinda, he loved fishing, and he loved his job.

Music

I will never forget this one time Rodney got us backstage at a Los Lobos show at the House of Blues in Hollywood. He knew them from Eagle Rock/East LA days, apparently. We were having drinks upstairs and I jokingly mentioned that I dreamed of having David Hidalgo play on one of my records someday.

Next thing I knew, Rodney the wheeler dealer was dragging me to the green room door and knocking. David came to the door and Rodney introduced me and said “she wants you to play on her record!”

David said a friendly hi and something like “okay, well, whatever happens,” and went back in, and Rodney and I went back to the bar. I was mortified, but also so touched. And that right there is Rodney. Everything is worth a try.

Here’s a video from that night.

A Habit of Hope

I am very excited to announce that I just finished creating the tool I’ve been promising — a Habit of Hope Journal! Feel free to download it for your own use in a practice of optimism and joy. And feel free to comment about how it’s going!

Thank you, so much, for subscribing, and please feel free to pass this on. And if you’re interested in my work as a performer and songwriter, come visit my website!

xo Rain