politics or personality

 I have grown a little weary of the political campaign. My question now is , is it politics or personalities ?  I know the two are forever linked and have always been so. It is just with these " protests " going on at Trump rallies I began to wonder. Are those folks protesting Trumps politics or his person ? I can't remember a time when this happened. Our voices are supposed to heard at the polls. Politics have never been known for politeness but rioting ? Oh, there have been scuffles at the conventions. The thing there is it was infighting between the delegates. They were passionate about their candidate. What are these protesters passionate about ? Hating Donald Trump ? Regardless of your feelings attempting to interfere with the process and deny Trump his " freedom " to speak is decidedly un-American.
 Now I haven't paid close attention to the news reports about this because I have grown weary. I did here Donald talking about getting to his rally by taking a back route. In his typical bombastic ways he said it felt like crossing the border ! That's what he does however to raise the ire of some and gain further support from others.  The Donald is tapping into the suppressed thoughts and feelings of many people. I'm not saying it is right but I am saying it is working, so far. The proof is in these protests. People are afraid he will receive the nomination and seek to prevent that from happening. The answer is a simple one, don't vote for him ! It doesn't matter if he received the nomination or not if you don't vote for him !
 It is unfortunate that this election cycle is boiling down not to real issues but personalities. You have Hillary, a woman. We should elect the first woman president because we elected our first African-American one. Yeah, that's the thinking here, just elect someone to be the first to show how progressive, open minded and inclusive our party is. Doesn't matter if the person is actually qualified or trustworthy. Or we could just elect a man that says what a lot of people think. Doesn't matter if it is logical, possible or humanitarian. It is really just all about us, right ? The Democrats just want to elect the first and the Republicans don't like the guy that is winning their primaries. The Republicans are trying to figure out what to do about that. Other candidates are trying to tag-team against Trump, an unprecedented maneuver.
 It will be an interesting march to November. There is a great deal at stake, more than many people realize. It is my thinking that we have allowed things to go on too long. There has been little to no oversight on what the government is doing for too long. We the people, have become complacent. We have been seduced with handouts and liberal policy agendas. No accountability and reduced sentences for crimes committed.  It's been too easy for too long. Time to make the tough choices and stand up. I don't mean throwing a tantrum because you don't get your way. You don't get to impose your will with threats of violence. As for the protests at Trump rallies in California I did notice one thing. There were plenty of Mexican flags there but no American ones. Since when do we allow foreign nationals, or at the very least those indicating they support a foreign nation, to disrupt our political process ? Also, do they not realize that by doing so they reinforce and strengthen the resolve of those supporting Trump !  They are proving exactly what he says.
 I have cast my ballot in the primary. I will listen to the campaign as it progresses. Right now I'm not too excited about any one candidate. I voted to deny the nomination to a certain candidate, that is what the primary is for right ? Ideally it would be to lend support to the one you want to win but this election is upside down. I just hope I don't have to do the same in November, vote to aid someone in a loss. I'll start listening again soon. I hope I hear something positive. It ain't looking good.

Goose wings

 Grandma had a coal stove. That is what I called it but it really was a cook stove. You could burn wood or coal in that big old cast iron thing. It wasn't very ornate and sat tucked in the corner of the kitchen. Next to that sat the kindling box. When I was small I would play with those sticks of wood and build all sorts of things. Grandma didn't mind at all, go right ahead and make all the mess you want. My Mom wasn't as always as thrilled about it. I spent many hours playing close to the warmth of that stove. I can not remember a time when it wasn't lit. Grandma cooked her meals on it, baked cakes and pastries in the oven and heated the house with that stove. It was vital.  As with most older homes there was no heating system upstairs and Grandmas bedroom was off the parlor downstairs. She did have a kerosene heater in that parlor but it was seldom used. Only in the coldest weather would that be lit. Grandma was leery of that contraption and with good cause. A tank holding five gallons of kerosene fed that heater. Every once in a while you could hear the " glug, glug " of it going down. Removing and refilling that tank was pretty tricky business.
 Growing up I didn't give much thought to Granma having that kitchen stove, Grandpa had one too. I figured all old folks did. I found it interesting how you could open those lids and see the fire inside. It had a shaker for the coal. Grab that handle and just shake it back and forth. The burnt coal will drop through the grating and keep the coals burning. Of course it worked with wood too. The chimney damper was set with a small counterweight and on windy days you could watch it open and close. The stove pipe when into the wall and was surrounded by a decorative ring. The chimney was inside the wall and was the same one the kerosene heater used in the parlor. All fascinating stuff to a small kid.
 In Grandmas back yard there was the wood pile. Schencks fuel would deliver the wood. The logs were cut to length but not split. The axe was stuck in the chopping block and I watched Grandma spilt many a log. It was an impressive sight. That little old lady would grab that ax with one arm. Wrapping her arm around the handle she would raise that ax and strike a log. The log seemed to explode into pieces. She repeated that process until she had an armload. I would carry them into the house and put them in the woodbox. Later, as we kids got older, we would do that task for her. She was well into her sixties before that happened though. Tough old lady there. She had a large coal bin attached to the rear of the house as well. I can remember the coal man, Percy Schenck filling that up. What a noise and a lot of dust. I always wanted to fill the coal bucket. I'd be a mess before that was over but I was " helping " grandma.
 When I was small there was one chore that I ran away from. When grandma decided to clean out that stove, I was outta there. I didn't mind the dust and dirt but when she swept out that firebox she used a goose wing ! Yes, it was an old goose wing and as a child it scared the crap out of me. I just didn't like that thing at all and of course Grandma had to tease me with it. She would pretend to hit me with it and laugh when I ran. I'm telling you I was just creeped out ! I was told that goose wings made great wisk brooms and dusters. When Grandma told me she used the down off that goose to make a blanket I just about died ! Little did I know that goose down comforters are highly prized. OMG, she ripped that gooses wings off whole ! And then she stuffed her blankets with his feathers. I had seen her use an ax and didn't want any part of that. Dang, life was violent back then. And the kids nowadays get offended by name calling. Yeah, I'd say we have softened up a bit.
 Grandmas kitchen was a wonderful place. What I wouldn't give to sit there and have a cup of coffee with Grandma, NaNa, as I her. She made the most delicious pastry imaginable. The percolator was always on and there was always something happening. Life centered around that kitchen. She raised ten children there. I can still picture the way it looked to this day. That's probably because it never changed. Same colors and everything in the same place. Very comforting.

making the rounds

 When I was a kid one of the things to do was, "make the rounds. " At least that is what my little group called it. We all have our own little sayings to convey ideas or activities. This making the rounds meant going in and out of almost every store in town. It was possible back in the day, to go in the front door and out the back of the majority of the stores. So that is what we did. In the front door of say, Whites Pharmacy, where I would say hello to my Aunt, and out the back. In the back of Marley's stationery, through that crowded little walkway, and into the store. Check out the pens, tablets and other stuff and out the front. And so it went up and down Newton Lane and Main street. It was a good way to kill an hour or so. The shop owners never complained about it and would greet us more often than not.
 It was in days gone by that it was possible. There was no great concern about us coming and going. Oh we bought stuff once in a while , a candy bar or baseball cards, but they weren't making much off of us. Nothing suspicious about kids going in and out the stores ! They knew who we were and who are parents were. There were, of course, stores that we spent more time in than others. Tony's sporting goods over on Newtown was a great hang out. Mr. Cangelosi (sp) didn't mind and Edgy Simmons worked there. Both were great guys. We would stop in to " check the lumber " ( baseball bats ) and try on the gloves. Same bats and gloves all summer but we kept up to date on that. The toy store over on main was a good place also. The owner there, whose name escapes me at the moment, wasn't quite as thrilled to have us there, but didn't kick us out. We could stop in to the Newspaper Company and see Mr. Barnes. He lost one leg in the war, nice guy. You could get a job putting the Sunday papers together from him.
 There were times when four of us would be together and making the rounds. We would sit on a bench on main street and play a little game. One person would take their bat and tap the ground. It was a signal. Say two taps meant to cross your legs. Specifically your right leg over your left. We would be sitting there, both feet on the ground, tap,tap, all four of us in unison cross our right leg over our left. We would get stares ! We had a series of these maneuvers to amuse ourselves. Hopefully it amused some others that caught the act. It was all a part of " making the rounds. "  I think about those days on occasion and smile. It was a good childhood. I guess our group was a little different. We didn't get into much activity of a questionable nature. That came later on. Later when we should have known better. But that is another story altogether. No, when I was sixteen or so you might find me sitting on a bench on Main street drinking a can of V-8. The big can. Might have purchased some candy, like  now and later. I'd offer one to my friends saying, you can have one now or wait and have it later. Might get Good and Plenty and yes they were good, and we had plenty.
 It was a nice way to spend a few hours, making the rounds. You would see folks and say hi, being sociable and all. You caught up on the latest happenings. In East Hampton that usually wasn't much. Involved some city folks most of the time. They were always doing something silly or stupid. Back then I could pretty much tell you what stores had what. There were those we never went in of course. They sold girls stuff and we wanted no part of that. That was in a time when " intimates " weren't displayed in the windows ! And we didn't want to see that stuff either. That is what the Sears catalogue was for. The things that a young man wanted were kept behind the counter then too. Had to ask the druggist for them. Was quite shocking when they first appeared in a display rack right there on the sales floor ! Trojans ? Oh my. The guys I knew carried one, in their wallet, for years. You know, just in case. Had more of a chance of going to the moon. So we made the rounds and it was " our town. " That was the real purpose in that exercise. We weren't really aware of that but that is what it was. It was our town and we could come and go as we pleased. As they would say today, it was empowering. We were empowered before we even heard the word ! Maybe that is what the kids today are missing. Get out in the real world, talk to real people and make the rounds.

The dump

 I remember going to the dump. That's what we called it because you went there to dump your unwanted items in a big hole in the ground. As a kid, it was a fascinating place. You could wander around there and find all kinds of good stuff. It was free for the taking. No regulations about that, help yourself. No one was getting sued if you fell in the hole or got hurt. You were responsible for yourself !
 Dad would borrow his brothers four wheel drive International pick up truck and away we would go. After dumping the trash he would sometimes drive down into that hole. Then he would attempt to drive up the side. What fun that was, felt like the truck was going to flip over backwards. I loved it. That was all long before mud bogging and off-roading came into being. Shoot we were off the road most of the time, even when it was the road ! Four wheel drive wasn't a common thing back then, too expensive.
 There were other things to do at the dump. You could shoot rats. Get your 22 and sit on the tailgate. Wasn't anything wrong with that. It was a good distraction. Of course you didn't shoot when folks were around, hold your fire. We had common sense like that, nobody got shot. And don't shoot at other stuff like birds, glass, or aerosol cans. Some fun I'll tell ya. Do not shoot at the gulls ! The gulls are protected and you will get fined or go to jail. Those scavengers keep things cleaned up, leave them alone.
 There was money to be made too. I would bring home discarded lawnmowers. Get a few of them and you can assemble one. Sold them for fifteen bucks. You could take the wire out of washing machines and such. Strip that wire and sell it to the junkman. You could just burn the isolation off back then. No one was worried about carcinogens in the smoke. We didn't breathe it ! In fact, we tried to avoid it because that crap will choke you. It was the immediate effect that we were concerned with. Lumber and all manner of construction materials was available. Why you could get enough stuff there to build a really cool " fort. " I had wall to wall carpeting in mine and a sink.
 The dump was really a big recycling center before we thought of recycling. It was like going to a giant craft store in a way. If you needed something you could probably find it there. Sure it was used but sometimes that stuff was really good. Those rich folks would throw out all kinds of stuff. I got a riding lawnmower from there and it was only missing third gear, other than that, it was awesome. Cut the grass in second gear for years. The dump was a treasure hunt. We went every Saturday. Trash pick up was for folks in town or those with money to throw away. Why would you pay ? Just ride over to the dump and throw it in the hole.
 It has been said that all good things must end. I guess that is true. The days of the dump are long gone now. I loved going to the dump. I would go there even when I didn't have anything to throw away. It was an educational place as well. Saw things there I had never seen before. I wonder what would remain if they dug up that ground today ? What treasure from the past might still be there. After fifty years or so I guess there wouldn't be much of value to find. Some old metal pieces and some plastic. Oh, and rat skeletons.

In the details

 In working on the family tree I am sometimes surprised. The surprise comes not from discoveries, but from what I didn't realize. What I mean is, I knew some of those folks, quite well, but wasn't aware of the relationships. I think a lot of children are like that. We know that person is our cousin but we sometimes do not understand why. This becomes especially true when the cousins or whatever are more distant. I was looking at a picture of my Aunt Minnie. That is how I knew her but in reality she was a great aunt. Sister to my grandfather. That never dawned on me until I started this genealogy stuff. Well, Grandfather Reichart was long since passed when I was child and seldom spoken of. Aunt Minnie was around and my Dad would go to visit with her. She didn't seem to be much older than him. Of course when you're a kid all adults are pretty old. And there was Aunt Lina. She had been married to Grandfather Reichart after his first wife, Grandmother Clara died. There are others I could mention but the point is, I wasn't paying attention. I'm certain Mom and Dad told me all this stuff at one time or another. It was, after all, common knowledge to them. Now, a couple generations down the road that knowledge is becoming uncommon. So uncommon as to become a hobby. Isn't that a bit ironic ? My hobby is my ancestors memories.
 Having been raised in a small close knit town there were many relationships. My Mom was one of ten children. Her Dad was one of six. How many direct relatives I had living, in town, when I was growing up had to be a large number. One Uncle of mine had ten kids of his own. I have yet to get an accurate count of the number of first cousins I have. It can get very confusing, very fast. I don't think this is unusual though. There were many I never met. You have to factor in personal relationships that your parents had or maintained. It is those folks that we interact with as children. The two Aunts, sisters to my Mom, that she visited most often did not have children. The others I know little about. They certainly had kids though, I discovered that in my searches. Why didn't I know ? Seems strange to me now but never gave it a thought growing up. That is the personal relationship factor.
 I have often thought there is so much more I could have known if I had only asked. Those folks were a wealth of family information. I wasn't interested then and not paying attention. I wonder though how much would have been shared. Would you tell those " family secrets " to your brother or sisters children ? The secrets I'm thinking about are not necessarily bad things, just explanations. Things like, why don't you hang out together ? Meaning your parents and their siblings. Maybe some relatives of yours are a bit, shall we say eccentric. Could you be objective in telling those things ? I know that I was subject to gossip and innuendo concerning some of my relatives, being told to avoid them. Mom and Dad didn't approve of them. Was it truth or just a perception ?
 The more genealogy I do the more I want to know the story. That is the interesting part, trying to figure out the story. Some of it will never be told and lost to time. I guess in some ways that may be a good thing. Mom always says, never speak ill of the dead. Is telling the truth speaking ill ? I would have to say no, although it can be hurtful to others. I can understand the logic behind it. No sense upsetting anyone for things we can't change. All those folks are not just names, they were real live folks. The how and why of things is what interests me most. Unfortunately a great deal will be left to speculation. I hesitate to form a story based on speculation. Finding facts to support the story is always a challenge. Facts are facts, but the interpretation of those facts is always subjective. Much depends upon time, place and circumstance. We are quick to record our accomplishments and just as quick to bury our mistakes. First thing is, figure out the relationships of the players. Only then can you begin to understand the game. I have found it adds depth. Those " old folks " had feelings just like you. Their past influenced their future. That hasn't changed just because their future is our past. Our challenge is to see the whole picture. It's a big canvas. It's all in the details.

a good talking too

 There is a trend for tiny houses nowadays. I think it would be quite nice to own one. I have never been one to want a whole lot, like a big house and all that, although I wouldn't have objected either. But now I am beginning to understand and embrace this minimalist  view of things. I have begun to clear out the clutter myself. Now I was raised by a generation that didn't throw out or waste many things. You never know when or what you might need. I see now a lot of it was done for convenience sake. Saved a trip to the store and could be had without delay. As far as those tiny houses go I think they are cool but probably inconvenient too. Like living in a camper you have to constantly change the configuration to suit. I would think that could get tedious. So I don't really want the tiniest house, just a small cottage will do. Getting rid of the clutter is another thing altogether and one I have begun to embrace. Material and emotional clutter is what I'm talking about.
 I am not a hoarder but do tend to collect junk. I don't throw much away and so it accumulates. The longer I have it the stronger the attachment seems to grow. It is almost like I know I'm going to need it and only need to wait a little longer. When that time comes I will have been justified in keeping it. Patience I call it, being patient. I guess it is more procrastination than patience. I am becoming determined to change that, but it makes me nervous. What if I need that next week or next year ? I'd have to buy it and who knows if you could even find it. I'd better hold onto that. That's the conversation in my head. How to know when enough is enough ? There are times when I am bi-polar and start just throwing stuff out ! Doesn't happen often but I can feel it coming on. Time to unclutter things a bit. Back to basics. On the other hand I do like to accessorize my life. Some do that with clothes or jewelry, I do it with junk. No more ! I'm cleaning house.
 I also have some emotional clutter to dispose of. Finding a resolution to certain issues will not be easy. Just letting it go isn't always an option. There are things I 'm not alone in holding on too. Then a mutual agreement must be reached. I'm ready to let it go but is the other person ? That is a case of patience and not procrastination. Then I get annoyed by the other persons' procrastination. What are you waiting for ? It is no longer baggage I am willing to carry and I grow weary. No time like the present.
 The truth is I am trying to motivate myself to get started. I have been putting this off for a while now. I have run out of excuses and need to get it done. It is not a task I relish. That is what this writing is all about this morning. I'm trying to talk myself into action !  That is what is required, a good talking too.  The problem is I have reached a point where I won't allow that to happen, at least not from others. I just won't tolerate it ! Stubborn ? Not on your life, I'm certain I know best. I don't need anybody to tell me anything ! And so the task falls to me alone, I have to give myself a good talking too ! Well isn't that always the way ? If you want anything done you have to do it yourself. The older I get the more I see the truth in that statement. I had best get started.

Framed memories

 I have many pictures hung upon my walls. There are predominately pictures of my ancestors interspaced with my descendants. Mostly located in the corner above my computer desk they surround me daily. There are days when I barely notice them and other times they speak to me. Some of the folks in those pictures I never knew, having passed long before my time. Their faces stare at me with questions. There are times when I answer. The majority of those photographs are captured memories. Those memories are framed, I give them meaning. Each one is a journey back in time. The closest we have to time travel. It is an emotional smorgasbord. Everything from the melancholy of a lost brother to the pride of a grandfather. Fond memories of days gone by and reminders, so many reminders.
 I began to write about this this morning because one picture in particular spoke to me. This picture has a haunting quality to it. I don't know if it is just the play of shadow and shade or the memories it invokes. I would guess it is a combination of both. To someone else I'm certain this shot would be considered of poor quality. It was taken with a cell phone camera. The details are a little blurry and the lighting poor. The memories however are sharp and clear. Funny thing is, I wasn't there when it was taken. Just why does that picture seems a little haunted ? I'm thinking because it holds so much loneliness. You see it was taken of my sister in law sitting on the steps on her Uncle Georges' place. He lived and died in that row house on Webster Street. The story is a long one , so here is the synopsis. He purchased this home right after WW2 and lived there with his parents. Yes, he served in the war despite what we would consider today having a disability. I'm not certain what the malady was called but it affected his bones. One leg was severly bowed but it never seem to impede him. He never married and took care of his Mom. For at least twenty years he was legally blind, almost crippled and still lived alone in that house. It must have been an extremely lonely existence. He never let on if it was though. He was the personification of perseverance. In the end, he fell down the stairs in that home and that is where he was found.
 When that picture was taken Uncle George had already been laid to rest. He is lonely no more. I see the door closed and know that he isn't home. That home has been sold now and everything of Uncle Georges divided up and disposed off. Joan, my sister in law, sits on those steps in that picture. It was she and her husband that took care of Uncle George for years. She took him to the doctors and to the store. The last ten years or so she went shopping for him, fulfilling his orders. She was his lifeline. Now I see her on those steps knowing her job is done. I think perhaps that is what the haunting is, a memory of loneliness. Does that make any sense ? That is what I see in that picture, loneliness. I don't believe Uncle George ever despaired in that loneliness or felt regret. He was just waiting. Funny the things a picture will make you think of. Framed memories have no limits. Ironic, isn't it ?

belonging

 Having joined the Navy following high school I have been somewhat of a traveling man. I have many memories of being here and there. I'm not complaining about that but I do find it different somehow. You could say my roots have been stretched. Eventually they reached Greensboro, Maryland and have taken root once again. Having lived here for twenty five years or so I am starting to settle in. I've been here long enough to watch her grow. I saw the addition of the second traffic light and the appearance of a neon sign on Sunset Ave. That was when a bar and restaurant opened up. I was afraid we would see a proliferation of that, but it didn't happen. The place closed down and the building sits empty once again. I remember when we had a pet store on Main street, now long closed. I've seen the drug store move from one building to another. That spelled the end of the hardware store. That is what I'm talking about here, memories. I've been here long enough to have witnessed history taking place. I can't say that about the other places I lived over the years. I wasn't there long enough for that to happen. All I have from those years are snippets in time. Just isolated incidents and faded pictures. The things we remember are either dramatic or things ingrained over time. I have found it is the little ingrained things that touch our heartstrings the most. Familiarity is a comfort.
 There have been a number of songs written about this. All those songs speak to what I am thinking about. A place of belonging. I believe it is an inherent need to belong that brings these feelings to the surface. We all need to be part of something. That is why we take such pride in those that came before us. We call it heritage. I was born into a small community. We were like a family in a number of ways. We knew family names and connections. The churches we attended had been attended by our ancestors, The school was the same building Mom and Dad had attended. We knew all the best spots for everything. Yes, it was an intimacy we enjoyed without the realization of why. That is what I call ingrained. Separated from that, it become obvious.
 These little connections can be established elsewhere. Maybe it isn't in the first person but it is close. I drive by the Methodist church where my grandchildren attended pre-school. I go by the high school my boys graduated from, now attended by my grandson. Over on Main street is the house I rented when I first arrived in Greensboro. I've been here for weddings and for funerals. The faces, if not the names, I see daily are familiar. I'll never know the place intimately, that takes a lifetime. The best I can hope for is a feeling of belonging here. I'm not certain that will ever happen. I have written about this before and it does nag at me. It is not a desire to return " home " that nags. That place only exists in memory and I carry that memory with me. Just what it is eludes me. Perhaps it is up to me, to allow that to happen. Is it a matter of acceptance ? Yes, I suppose it is. Seems like a surrender to me though. I don't want to surrender to time. I guess none of us what that but it is inevitable. Time and change. Politicians speak of it and preachers preach about it. Our mirrors tell the truth of it. If you spend all your time looking back you can't see what is ahead. The secret may be to live in anticipation. Our future is built upon the past. Each moment is another chance to add to that. Just keep building. We belong here until called away. That is a lesson hard learned. I'm still struggling with it. Here isn't a physical place, here is just a moment in time. I belong here.

A mutual memory

 It happened again this very morning. I turned on my computer and received a notification from Google +. A gentleman, somewhere out there in this cyber world had read a blog posting of mine and left a comment. Whenever that happens I am a little amazed. To me it is rather like a stranger pulling my book off a library shelf. Out of millions of books this man read mine ! What struck me this morning was this " book " was put on the shelf back in 2010. It has proven to be my most popular work as far as that goes. I wonder how folks find this ? It's quite a flattering thing really.
 Thinking about that it is proof of how whatever we put on the internet stays there. I get those postings every once in a while asking me to repost to show how far a message travels. Sometimes they just ask for a like, you know the type, to educate young people about the dangers and pitfalls. A lot of adults would be wise to heed that as well. I make a conscious effort to not post things I don't want shared with the world. Not being what you would call proficient in computer skills I'm sure I have made mistakes. I mean, I'm betting private messaging isn't really private at all if you know what to do. The only thing I have shared that way might hurt someone's feelings if they saw it, but wouldn't embarrass or hurt me in any way. I'm not sharing anything inappropriate only insensitive.
 In this election cycle I haven't heard any candidates using this for an advantage. I'm certain all the camps are scouring the social media networks for anything they can find though. Do these folks have Facebook, twitter and Snapchat ? I'm betting they do but must be very careful about what they post. If I where running for office they would have a field day with my blog postings and everyday comments I leave. I can only imagine. I expect some out there have already formed quite the opinion about who or what I am. I am fortunate that the majority of my readers I consider friends, and so spare my feelings. Should anyone decide to attack I've certainly provided the ammunition. I have been attacked a few times but they were just minor skirmishes. They were of no consequence whatsoever. Some of that I attribute to maturity on my part and some I solicited and so deserved it. Yeah, sometimes I make comments just to receive a reaction. I'm bad like that.
 Now this posting that keeps surfacing is nothing more than a memory of mine. Obviously it is a mutual memory because so many have related to it. Were Norman Rockwell alive it would make a great poster or cover for the Saturday Evening Post. Rockwell was a painter and illustrator. What I have in mind would be an illustration. The " Dugan " man delivering those fine baked goods to grandmas house. The iconic truck in the background and he carrying his tray of wares. Just the mental picture takes me back to 1959 or so.
 Yes, it is nothing more than whimsy. Something I remember from my childhood and posted to the internet. It has resided there for almost six years and is still being discovered. If it were something of a more sensational manner it would have gone viral ! Viral, as in infection. I'm not certain I want to be a virus. A mild cold perhaps, but a virus ? Going viral can be a good thing. It can bring wealth and notoriety. A virus will run its' course and be gone. It may be cured, defeated by man, or it may kill you ! Now a cold always comes back and is resistant to treatment. I guess I'm more like that. I'm persistent. I can be annoying but at least I'm familiar. No one welcomes a cold though. Bottom line is, I'm still around. Hey, not all viruses are bad. Some are quite helpful in fact. I'm one of them.  Yeah, that's what I will go with. Remember anything you post can become a virus. Be sure it is something you want everyone to have before sharing. Sometimes it is best to just cover your mouth ! Or hold those fingers still.
  

Mystery of creation

  I have never thought of myself as an artist. Artists paint pictures don't they ? Oh, there are many other types of artists, I know that, but I don't fit into any of those categories. The case could be made that any creation of man is art. The defining factor would have to be the appreciation of that art. When it is admired and understood by others to the point that it is desired, that is art. Well, it is recognized as art. Anything less than that is just a creation. New creations sometimes become art and then become refined. Why the new is recognized is the mystery of creation. Consider something as simple as Andy Warhol painting his Campbell soup can. I still don't get why that is so valuable, I don't understand the art. Good visual presentation of the object but nothing beyond that. I can admire it but don't understand it. Picasso is credited with " inventing " cubism. For reasons that are mysterious to me, it became popular, desired and appreciated as an entire new field of art. I wouldn't give you a dime for it on its' own merits. I wonder though if that is a learned thing, or something taught. What I mean is we have to learn to appreciate things from our own experiences. Enjoyment is a personal thing. Can we be taught to enjoy something ? We are certainly subject to influence. Being told that something is wonderful, great, or genius by people we admire would have an impact. I just wonder if the pretense of understanding is employed in these things. I'm supposed to believe that Picasso was a genius painter, everybody knows that, so I agree. That isn't the way I am however, I will tell you, unapologetically, I don't like his paintings. I would rather have a Rockwell. He is an artist though, I wouldn't deny that.
 Thinking about this I wonder what art I possess. I believe we all have art within us, the ability to create. Unfortunately for most of us we try more to imitate an accepted art form than create a new one. The real question is, is that a conscious effort ? Did Picasso set out to invent cubism ? I rather doubt that. That he suffered from some mental illness is without question. Did it stem from that ? That is a mystery, the mystery of creation. I would think one has to be confident enough to just display their art. A willingness to present your creation for critics ?  We all know the " masters " and it doesn't hurt so much when we fall short of that mark. The casual remark, I'm no Rembrandt, signifies you are aware of your abilities. But to present a completely unique art and have it rejected opens one up to an entirely different reaction, ridicule. Ridicule is a dismissive action. Strangely, a great deal of this " art " isn't appreciated until after the death of the one who created it. It is the, you don't know what you have until it is gone syndrome. Is it only then that others gain an understanding of that art ? How can that be ? A mysterious thing indeed.
 I am not trained in any one particular art. I have no degree in literature, science or any other discipline. I create whatever I create using whatever knowledge and experience I have. Some of this has to be inherent. You can't learn to be Picasso or play the guitar like Eric Clapton. That is what I mean about inherent abilities. Where that ability may come from is another mystery. God given is the usual explanation. Each of us are unique and so should our art be also. We are all artists. What we create defines our lives. It isn't always visible to us in our lifetime. What follows lies in darkness, yet we talk of seeing the light. The light is understanding. Mysterious ? It has all been explained, you just have to believe in it. Like art.

miracle or memory ?

 Since I began writing this blog it has become increasingly apparent I don't have that many memories to share. There just isn't that many memorable moments. I wonder what that says about me ? I will say you must pay attention to that sentence. Memories to share, the key being share. Does the number of memories you are willing to share speak to your character ? I would have to say on some level it must. Full disclosure can only be accomplished by those without fault. I'm certainly not among that group. There is plenty I would just as soon forget. I haven't forgotten though and that is a good thing. The question is in the sharing. On the other side of that coin, sharing the mundane is also not very flattering. It is the exciting things in life that we remember the most. The truth is, we remember in moments. The details leading up to that moment or what happened following it may be lost. Those details may also be edited over time. Indeed, our lives are no more than a moment in time. Will that moment be memorable ? In the final analysis I believe it is what everyone wishes for, to be remembered.
 I do believe that everyone has a story to tell. It is just that for many of us we feel the story has already been told. That is to say, nothing new here. I don't believe that personally. Every life is unique and tells a unique story. We have all been told that many times over. It is somehow a need for each man to be unique. We don't want to be like everyone else.  The solitary crusader is the hero ! No one remembers the armies, just the soldier. Our memories are the battles we have won, when we felt triumphant. Accomplishments achieved. I 'm thinking that because of the scarcity of sharable memories my story isn't going to be an adventure. I'm not much for drama. Mystery ? Not much mysterious about me, I'm fairly transparent. Not difficult to figure me out. Some would find me comedic and I can see that. I don't like it much though, I want to be taken seriously. And so, what kind of story will it be ? Should our story end with a cliffhanger ? That would certainly hold some interest, at least for a while. But a cliffhanger with no final explanation is also frustrating. I'm not coming back to finish the story. No, my story must include the resolution. What is that final statement ? Why will the story be remembered ?
 The bigger question here is, can we create a memory ? I think the answer is no. We may create a sensation, by a sensational act, whether good or bad, but that is not a memory. The formation of a memory is an almost miraculous event. No one can say exactly how that happens. Why do we remember what to others would be insignificant ? Memories are not intentional things. They just happen. True memories are far more than recalling an event. Memories are emotions. The repeating of a moment. They are the closet thing man has to time travel. Thing is we can only travel one at a time. Being only one, we are unique ! There lies the answer. We need only find the memory. Many of the greatest stories end with the hero walking into the sunset. I like that ending. The hero is remembered for the life he lived, his deeds are secondary to the story. It is the validation of a life well lived. It explains it all. Well, except for one big question. Are we all a miracle, or a memory ? We have been given the life, what we do with it creates the memory.

social consequence

 Yesterday I wrote about the sliding scale of money and its' value. I chose the title " old money " and it proved to be misleading. I was aware of the implication of that title but felt it appropriate anyway. I was pleased to receive a few comments and a small discussion ensued. That is always pleasing to any author, to have his or her topic given attention. Everyone agrees that the " old " money people were a different group altogether. I am among those that agree. I feel it is just a reflection of society in general. A few generations back those with " money " where expected to be cultured and display the proper proprieties at all times. Correct manners and a certain controlled , although somewhat aloof demeanor, was common. Polite, but distant from the " common " folks. The commoners were there to serve the needs of the wealthy. Everyone knew their place. Now our " moneyed elite " act like uncultured slobs and the common folk are getting " uppity. "
 If you think about this it runs parallel to the way children are being raised today. In my day, Dad and Mom were the boss. You were dependent upon them and you were taught to appreciate that. They were a bit " above " you, as any adult was, and remained a bit aloof . They could be approached with your needs or problems but you were not on their level. You certainly didn't get as familiar with them as calling them by name ! No, it was Mom and Dad. Mister or Miss was the proper way to address any adult encountered. When dealing with the rich folks we didn't call them by their first name either. That would just be a little disrespectful. It was an establishment of social position. Oh those rich folks could appear to us as pretentious, and that was an annoyance. It was tolerated however, as long as that respect was maintained. That is the tolerance we were taught, tolerance accompanied by respect. Each group was dependent upon the other. Many children today are taught intolerance as a virtue. They are " standing up for a cause " or part of a movement. They often speak of respect but do not understand it. Respect isn't getting your way. Respect isn't everyone agreeing with you. Respect isn't fearing you. Respect is a mutual understanding, not a grudge. You can't begrudge another their position in life and respect them at the same time.
 The " old " money folks knew and understood this relationship. Respect was given and respect was earned. This " new " money is a different breed altogether. They believe their money is their entitlement. It is that wealth that separates them from everyone else. They are like undisciplined children. Reprisal for them lies only in litigation. That wasn't so fifty years ago or so. The social consequences of inappropriate behavior was just as great. Those consequences occurred inside their circles and could spell disaster. No amount of money could negate that. Enough money can cancel litigation. You can buy your way out.
 It is this social consequence that maintained order. It is that way with children and with society. The more we attempt to remove all social consequence from our action the more chaos will ensue. Now we speak of prejudice, bigotry and social injustice as the enemy. These must be eliminated from society. Yes, I agree wholeheartedly that they must. It is only with mutual respect however that it can be accomplished. You can not litigate respect ! If we continue to " reward " socially inappropriate behaviors and provide justification for those behaviors through litigation, the society will collapse. In the preamble to the constitution two statements explain this, " to secure the blessings of liberty " and "ordain " such. From whom the " blessing " may come is self evident, in my opinion, and the use of the word " ordain " verifies that. You could say the refusal to comply would result in the ultimate social consequence, banishment.

Old money

 Remember when your Grandma gave you two dollars ? That was a lot of money back then. You hear about it all the time, how much a dollar used to be worth. It is true, the buying power of a dollar bill certainly has changed since we were children. If you are twenty or so you know what I mean. If you have reached my age, it is downright shocking. How can that happen ? A candy bar goes from a nickel to 95 cents ! And to make matters worse, the candy bar is even smaller. Therein lies the problem, I remember all too well what used to be.
 Now I would like to explain to some of these younger folks about this stuff.  When Grandpa, or any other " mature " citizen gives a monetary gift the value of that gift must be prorated. If you are say ten years old, ten dollars ought to do it. You see, when I was ten, ten dollars was a lot of money. For a ten year old it will always be so in my mind. So it is not that Grandpa is cheap is just that you are receiving 1963 money. Understand what I mean ? When I was fifteen I got a hundred dollar bill, for Christmas, from a wealthy aunt. It was extraordinary ! Even my parents were jealous of that. That was in 1968. Today you would be receiving six hundred and sixty six dollars. The point being that is how I view this dollar thing. All of us old people do. It is not my fault the buying power hasn't endured.
 That may be one of the reasons I hate giving gift cards. The monetary value is right there. No mistaking what it is. If I purchase something you don't know if I got it on clearance or some special deal. Hey, not that I have done it but it could be a regift ! It is not that we senior folks aren't aware of the changing value of a dollar, we are keenly aware, but we have gained an understanding. You can do with a lot less than you think. It is wisdom we wish to pass on. When we gift you with handmade items we do that to show true value. It is a gift of time, my time, and I don't have a lot of it ! Time is money ! Money may change in value but time is a constant. The less you have of it the more valuable it becomes. Supply and demand kids, supply and demand.
 I have never been one to crave money. I have " made " it because it is necessary. I like money, don't misunderstand me, I like it a lot. It is not something I hoard.. It comes and goes. Wish more of it had hung around though. I am simply astounded sometimes at the cost of things. I have a flip phone, good enough for me and all I need. The grandkids have I phone 6 something or other and when I saw the cost of that I almost fainted. OMG, for a phone ? For a kid ? When I was their age the closet thing I had to a phone was two tin cans and a string ! Got walkie-talkies for Christmas once. For what those phones cost I could have bought the phone company.
 The point I am trying to make here is simple. It is all relative. If I give you twenty bucks that is a days work. I remember when a hundred a week, take home pay, was pretty darn good. Of course I remember getting paid, in cash, with your withholdings written on the envelope. A few folks, rich ones or wanna bes' , had a credit card. Diners Club and American Express where the bomb. Before that it was only the oil companies that issued them much. Cash was king. Old folks give old money is the lesson here. Old money is better. That's my explanation and I'm sticking with it.   

Legends endure

 This morning I will complete a thought that began two days ago. I had written that our final chapters will be written in memories. Yesterday I continued to write about that but didn't feel as though I had satisfied myself with my interpretation of that statement. This morning I think the answer has been staring me in the face. Our final chapters will indeed be written in memories, other peoples' memories.
 It something I have said on numerous occasions, we are never gone as long as our name is spoken. It is a phrase I offer as comfort to those that grieve. I do believe we should speak of the deceased, and often. My Mother always says, do not speak ill of the dead, its' bad luck. Superstition ? No, I think it is good advice, age old wisdom at its' finest. Speak only of the dead in a kind fashion, as you should when they are here among us. Their voices may have been silenced in death but not the memory they left behind. Enjoy the good and learn from the bad. I don't want to be forgotten. That is what that sentence is trying to convey. I don't want the story to end. Immortality on this earth is achieved only in the memory of others. It is that desire that must be reconciled with our physical mortality.
 We should strive to leave behind our memory, not our material things. Oh, some material things may serve as reminders, old photographs, letters written or gifts given, but how enduring are those things ? By the third generation most of those things are just curiosities. They may spark an interest in a person to learn more, to attempt to recover some information. The information they seek is a memory, one repeated. So how to create a lasting memory is the challenge we all face. It is something that is easily confused with a legacy. We hear much about leaving our legacy but few understand what that is. A legacy is money or property. That is all it is, although able to be enjoyed in the present by those that inherit that legacy. I would hope to be remembered for more than that. Wealth and property may scream success but the sweetest words are spoken in whispers. I'm thinking more of a legend than a legacy. Legends lives forever, but legacy fades away. Even the poorest among us can create a legend. Legends do rely upon others for life, that is true, and it is that I am considering. Are legends born or created ? That is the central question here. Legends are born in memory is my thought. It is our lives that create that memory. Strive not to be remembered for what you left behind, but for what was promised with your life. Be memorable for being you. Legends endure because of their deeds, not their value. The simplest of gestures may be remembered the longest. Be kind.   

grown up ?

 In the blog I wrote the yesterday I said, our final chapters will be written in memory. That thought has lingered and I find in it a bit of melancholy. Is that what old age is supposed to be ? I don't think so, but many elders I meet seem to reside in that place. Some are angry, some are just what I would call resigned. All share their memories. They speak of what used to be. I often find myself doing the same and so can empathize. There is a certain sadness in the telling. It is also a comfort, at least it is to me. For in telling the stories we relive the moment. The sadness is in knowing those moments lie in the past and are not likely to be found in the future. Our future is uncertain and unknown to us. Gone is the confidence of youth, that we will live forever. It has been replaced with that resignation, the certainty of our own mortality. Our memory is a comfort, a reassurance of a life lived.
 I'm thinking that thought has more to do with the realization of my mortality than actual memories. I don't know when that happened, that realization. I don't believe it had anything to do with others passing, for that happened to them. I am still here and alive. But somewhere along this journey I have come to understand and accept that reality. I will also become nothing more than a memory. Does that mean I have reached adulthood ? Am I now " grown up ? " I do think you have to reach a certain maturity before you can understand that. It is not a matter of age but of experience. For some that experience is gained early on and for others it may never happen. Perhaps that is why some live in memory and others just continue to make them. I think I would prefer the later but that has been compromised by life. I'll blame it on my sentimental nature. The lesson was learned but I don't recall the teaching. I have never faced a life threatening diagnosis or survived a serious accident, no close calls with death. I can understand an awakening of awareness should that happen, but with me it has been a subtle experience. The truth of the situation is not lost upon me. I feel no fear for that eventuality, only a sadness. I think I'll cry at my own funeral. I believe I'll rejoice after its' over and that is as it should be.
 Those words will stay with me for a while, "our final chapters will be written in memory," as I contemplate their meaning. Could be they are nothing more than a random thought and not a part of anything. It is also just as likely that they are telling me something. I believe in talking to myself, half the time I'm the only one listening ! I don't always listen either. But that is another thing entirely. I hope you readers find something in this ramblin' to think about. If you want to share what you think those words may mean feel free to do so. In fact I welcome that.  

proud or reminded

 My wife was cleaning out the closet, you know how you do, and in the back corner was an old picture frame with cracked glass. In this frame was my certificate from having transited the Suez canal on Jan 16,1991. That was, of course back in my Navy days. I was aboard the USS Nitro AE-23, affectionately called The Duke of Earl. I wasn't overly fond of this boat but that's another story entirely. Her homeport was Earle, New Jersey. That explains that. Earle is also the home of one of the worlds longest " finger " piers. That pier juts out nearly three miles. Ammo ships tie up there, at a safe distance from the population of New Jersey ! Comforting thought isn't it ? But all that is an aside. What I am getting to in this essay is what happened to me. I looked at the date on that certificate and realized that it happened twenty five years ago ! Yes, you read that correctly, twenty five years ago ! I admit it doesn't seem like yesterday but still, surely it was only a few years ago. Did the math again and yup, twenty five years ! What's that, a silver anniversary. I know I have gray hair, didn't need that reminder.
 I did go to Walmart and purchase a new frame. I hung that certificate in the hallway and figure to enjoy it for a while. I was thinking about the other certificates I have that are not displayed either. I have one for being a " Plank Owner " on the USS Yellowstone AD-41, I crossed the Artic circle on board USS Pawcatuck AO-108 and crossed the Equator on board Yellowstone. Perhaps I will locate them and display them. I was thinking that after I am gone they will mean little to anyone else. I can't see my sons or grandchildren wanting to display those things. Hopefully they will save them, but they do take up a lot of wall space. I mean , here it is twenty five years later and I am just now taking an interest in them. Well, I must have been interested at one time , I did frame it. Funny how that is.
 I have known people that hung those certificates immediately and displayed all their " accomplishments " proudly in their homes. I saw that as advertising and usually didn't do it. Thought that way about getting tattoos as well. No US Navy tats or ship names and such for me. While active in the Navy I was inactive in the displaying of such. Now decades after the fact I feel comfortable displaying that stuff. I guess that is what aging does for you, you begin to display your memories. The question is do you display those memories out of pride, or to serve as reminders ? I had almost forgotten about those certificates. That is why it was in the back corner of the closet, tucked way and neglected. Sorry treatment for a memory ! Truth is it was just something I did. I was there and participated. How many thousands, millions even, have done the same I wouldn't hazard a guess. Does that lower the value ? I used to think so but now I'm not so sure. Often the most interesting part of anything is the back story. I think that may be true with most folks we meet as well. At least the " senior " folk among us. That is if we " seniors " are willing to share the story.
 In the displaying of memories the observer often provides the story. That is, when you look at a certificate or picture you immediately start forming a story to fit it. That is a natural reaction. If I am not there to tell you of my passage across the artic circle you will still envision what that was like. You form a mental picture. Photographs are often mysteries as they may not hold any clues. Unless explained they become almost fictional. I'm no fictional character. So I'm thinking now I need to display those things and tell the stories. The final chapters in our lives will be written in memories. When should we start writing ? Guess that depends on just how much of the story you are willing to tell.
 

is it finished

 I am sometimes inspired to write poetry. I have done that since I was a child. When I was a younger man I didn't tell too many people about that because I would get teased. Poetry writing is not a real mans' vocation. I found the ladies liked it and would attempt to use that knowledge to my advantage. Yes, I'm a sensitive and compassionate man. Of course a man has needs. LOL, I admit to limited success in those endeavors but not without a victory or two. Other than being used for that nefarious purpose my poetry was seldom shared. Since being on Facebook and having reached an age where I am confident in my masculinity, I share it often. In the past I seldom did rewrites to my poems. Now I find myself revisiting them and making revisions. I feel a bit of guilt in doing so but with no reason why. They are my thoughts, my choice of words and I am certainly free to modify them how I see fit. Still, the feeling nags at me that I shouldn't do that. You can't plagiarize yourself, can you ? Now that's a silly thought.
 I wonder if the great poets do that. Do they start out with a complete thought or does the thought develop in the writing. With me the thought is usually a complete thought before I put pen to paper or lately, fingers to the keyboard. I am inspired and the thought just flows out. I do seem to be stuck with a certain style. I have never studied poetry and the various styles. As a result my poetry comes from the untrained mind. At first I was just attracted to the way you could make words rhyme. With my poems I try to express feelings. I never listen to this so called " rap " music but I guess it is a form of poetry. I hear it is supposed to contain a message. Eighteen expletives in one verse is more than I can stand so I mostly ignore it. I hear there are Christian rappers too ! Whatever brings you closer to the truth is alright I guess. Just not my thing.
 In the writing of poetry or prose what credentials are required ? I would say only the ability to express yourself in a unique way. Some would use shock value to accomplish that end. That is what I think Rap music is all about. I have always had an appreciation for the more subtle approach. I prefer  to think about what is being said. Good poetry contains mysteries in the words, is my thought. My goal is to convey a feeling or a thought. I could look at my past compositions as outlines. I don't believe I have ever spent more than a hour or so writing any one of them. Do any of you ever rewrite your poems ? How long should it take ? I can understand the time it may take to write a book. There are many thoughts in one book but I think a poem should only convey a single thought at a time. A poem is a bullet but a book is a bomb ! What do you think ? Rewrites or not ? Is a rewrite just being lazy ? A rehashing of the same thought ? If I forgot what I wrote, and then write it again, is that plagiarizing ? What I am asking is, once I sign the poem, is it finished ?

the value of reward

 There are times when I feel like I am not contributing. No, the truth is there are times when I feel like my contribution is not wanted or appreciated. I'm sure we all feel that way on occasion. They say the best way to deal with any problem is to first acknowledge that problem. I would say the first step is to ask yourself, is this a problem ? It's a problem if it bothers you, or begins to affect your relationship with others. Well it becomes a problem if allowed to develop. As I said, I think we all have those thoughts and feelings at some point. And so I find myself looking for a distraction. It has always been so with me. Perhaps that is why I have such varied interests and have never " specialized " in any one area. That is to say, fashioned a career. Or perhaps it is because I have never been willing to put all the eggs in one basket. I hate to fail.
 There is little I have failed at. That is not a boast but an observation. In most things I have been able to meet, at the very least, the minimum standard. I have been able to do this without overwhelming effort. I am fortunate in that regard, call it a blessing. Conversely I would add that I excel at nothing. I can do a fair to middlin' job at a lot of things, but nothing exceptional. It is for that reason that I feel I an not contributing enough. I question whether I have been lazy. If others are driven, I've just been along for the ride. I am a participant in life. Is that what I am to receive, a participation trophy ? Is that enough ? The real question is, what trophy do I want ? Isn't that why people enter the competition, to win the trophy ? I wasn't given a choice, to enter this race we call life, but I should strive to win the trophy. That is what we are told. Our society demands that of us. At least it used too, today I'm not so sure of that. That is another discussion entirely.
 I guess what I'm saying is, I seek reassurance. We all want to be assured of our worth every once in a while. That assurance must come unexpected to be of value. It is a gift. The strange part is the best assurance comes from within yourself. It happens when you are convinced of your worth. When you have reached or exceeded a standard you set for yourself, that is assurance. It should not be confused with praise, a different entity entirely. So, I find myself looking for another distraction, another path to follow. Should I gather the eggs and place them all in one basket ? Does failure count after a certain age ? Or can you just " put it out there " when you reach the plateau of seniority. Would that action be the big push for a better trophy ? What is the reward we seek ? I guess that is the question I am trying to answer here. The answer is as varied as the people answering that question. Do you require a " reward " here and now, or is the promise of reward enough ? Well a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush is an old saying I can agree with. So, yes, I want my reward now. The only thing is I don't know what reward I am seeking. Fame and fortune ? How much fame and how much fortune ? Both would be excellent distractions from everyday life, that can't be denied. Neither would guarantee happiness or contentment. Seems like you should strive for more. Perhaps it is your contribution that is the reward. It is not what we receive, but what we contribute that measures the value of reward.

Spock did it !

 This morning I find myself just sitting here and looking around. The news drones on in the background causing an occasional silent comment to surface in my mind. Comments best not said out loud. And that is becoming a recurring thing, this silence. Opinions contrary to the current agenda will get you labeled immediately these days. There is no discussion, no explanation of thought. Now it is get in line, or get labeled. Discretion in speaking your opinion is important, more so now than at any other time in recent memory. All this " freedom " being enjoyed I find restricting. The issues are being forced and it grates on my nerves.
 I liken all this progressive agenda stuff to a little book written years ago by a Doctor Spock. No, not that Spock, Dr. Benjamin Spock. He was a pediatrician and advocated for a method of child rearing opposite to the prevailing methods at the time. Basically he went contrary to " spare the rod and spoil the child. " He wrote about picking the baby up whenever it cried and just talking with children rather than discipline. It was he that started this decline in society and I place the blame firmly upon his shoulders. The first generation subject to this parenting method was the " baby boomers. " I'm one of that group but Mom didn't listen to Doctor Spock and for that I am grateful. I lived with the " hippies " and they were a product of that parenting experiment. It has only grown worse since. The children are remaining children well into what should be adulthood, in my opinion. That is why we hear all this whining and crying about everything. Whining and crying has gotten them whatever they wanted so far, so why not continue. After all it is their right and they are entitled !
 Yes, in my opinion Dr. Spock is responsible for replacing real parenting with just keeping them entertained. It is easier that way. When you don't have to discipline your children that saves you from responsibility, or so it would seem. Behavioral disorders are given names and drugs applied to correct the issues. When bad things happen and the children of today manage to get through it they are called " survivors. " Used to be that was just called life. Today the world is filled with survivors ! I'm sick of hearing it.
 I am sick of these spoiled, entitled brats, forcing their liberal agenda down my throat. We do live in a constitutional republic and the majority rules. I have to comply with the laws of the land but I don't have to like it. Not every law written is a good one ! Isn't that what the agenda is now ? Our laws do not protect my feelings, I get offended. So, now we are writing laws that make that a criminal offense. I was taught to just get on with my life and ignore those I felt ignorant. You can't fix ignorant ! Just because I make a " choice " that doesn't make it the right one either. Some things you don't get to choose, they just are. No matter how much you may feel contrary to that, the fact remains. Yes and the ones with the loudest voices, the politicians and public figures shout their support for a simple reason, monetary gain. Wouldn't want to offend anyone and lose my office or record sales ! Makes me sick.
 Well that's my little tirade for today, I apologize if I offended anyone. Doesn't change my opinion any though. I try to only share with those that are receptive. I'm no advocate. I'm also not an activist. I'm just a 62 year old man that is observing the world around him. I enjoy sharing my observations and will gladly explain them to any that would listen. I feel no need to defend them. This morning I feel like the world is lacking in discipline. But then when you are teaching that there is no set code of conduct what can you expect ? Hard to be disciplined without set standards.

Why did I do that

 Life is full of balances. The secret to happiness is in keeping that balance. Every once in a while we tip that scale, unfavorably, and we have no one other than ourselves to blame. I find myself disappointed and disgusted with myself when that happens. Then I attempt to justify whatever action caused that imbalance with skewed logic. I become defensive, with myself ! Isn't that a strange reaction ?
 Do you think that bad things must occur to balance the good ? That is to say, can your life be all happy and good ? Sure there will be others that disturb whatever peace you may create and I don't think there is much you can do about that. I am thinking only about your own choices. Do we unconsciously make bad decisions to tip that scale ? When things have been going well for too long ? It is not a matter of deserving happiness, it is a matter of  maintaining it. Do we all shoot ourselves in the foot eventually ? These are the questions I find myself asking whenever this happens to me. Just why did I do that ?
 Eventually, after being upset for a while, I will determine to not do that again. I make myself a promise. After properly chastising myself I will set it aside. The purpose is to move on, not forgetting but forgiving. It is in remembrance that promises are kept. Forgiving is not forgetting. This is true with ourselves as well as with others. Breaking promises to ourselves is just as bad as breaking promises to others. In some ways, breaking a promise to yourself is worse. You are fully aware of the consequences of whatever choice you are making, yet you continue. Being a disappointment to yourself ! The search for justification only intensifies that wrong.
 The best one can do is seek to return to balance. You must find a way to rectify whatever it is you have done. This has to be done in a realistic and reasonable fashion. Some, over the top, reaction may cause a distraction but not resolve the issue. To use an old metaphor, the milk has been spilled, no sense crying over it. All that is to be done is clean up the mess. Following that, steps should be taken to ensure it doesn't happen again. The promise to be more careful is made. Will you remember that promise ? Or will you become careless and repeat that mistake ? It is the human condition is it not ? Another slogan is " let the good times roll . " I have found that just letting the good times roll often ends up in disaster. Things just get out of control. It is then we wind up shooting ourselves in the foot. So, just how much happiness are we allowed ? As much as we want, as long as we remember what causes our unhappiness, that is unless others intervene in our happiness, but that is a different thing altogether. I am only thinking about one question this morning, why did I do that ? Ever ask yourself that question ? I'm quite certain we all have and there is no satisfactory answer. I am unbalanced, staggering a little bit, but will regain my footing. Searching for forgiveness, either from yourself or others is always a difficult journey. Unfortunately we tend to forget the journey once forgiveness is obtained. Remember the promise made before that journey ? Keep it.
   

Doubt

 The questioning mind is full of doubts. That is something I have come to understand. The hardest part is learning to live with that. The tendency is to just say, I don't care and that is that. Our opinions become fact in our own minds and can lead to disagreements with others. It can also block further learning. It is important to keep questioning however, to not become stagnant in thought. Still, it is just as important to adopt some baseline, some foundation for truth.
 Self confidence and self esteem are important in our lives. We are constantly bombarded with that lesson. It is how we have arrived were we are today. Participation trophies for just showing up. It is meant to protect our self esteem and self worth. External reaffirmation for the internal. Same as getting a raise at work or having your work praised by others. You could say, the temporary removal of doubt. Doubt will return. It is hard to understand that doubt is a good thing. Doubt is a protection against arrogance. It is often thought that only with extreme confidence can true humility be achieved. That is when we can afford to be humble. An example of this would be a Kung Fu master. He can afford to be humble with the knowledge of his superiority in fighting skills. That can be true in any field of study. The wise man continues to study however, because of doubt. The true challenge is to establish that confidence within yourself without the external rewards.
 Is humility the true measure of our intelligence. The truly humble among us are not subservient but independent. They walk their path with confidence, with their goal in mind. Their goals are not for the external but for internal peace. Isn't that what happiness truly is ? It is true that one must first gain a mastery of the external before this can happen. We do require certain things from the world. Shelter, food and money. It is only the quantity and quality of each that is variable among us. We all need it. How much is enough ? The doubt lies within that question. How much of the external must be satisfied before we can focus on the internal. Is the complete removal of doubt even possible ? It is if we are convinced. The question then becomes, do we convince ourselves or rely upon external evidence. Doubt must be replaced by faith. Faith hinges upon belief. We must guard against becoming arrogant in our beliefs. The goal is humility.

Creating spirit

 First many of us became disconnected from the land or sea, as our livelihoods changed. Now it appears we are being disconnected from each other. The small family farms are conglomerates now and the fishing is done by fleets. We carry our connection to the world in our pockets but fail to connect with each other. Everyone connected by invisible lines yet we may as well be in a cave. Social media is predominated by aggression rather than compassion. With the knowledge of the world at our fingertips, we are ignorant. How withdrawn have we become that we fear to speak personally. We communicate by text, not by emotion. We have adopted " emoji " to try to express our humanity. The Japanese invented it and it mean picture and character. Its' relation to the English word emotion is purely coincidental. Not a very efficient method to convey the range of human nuance in speech. We read to reply, not to understand. The art of discussion is being lost, replaced by Wikipedia and Snopes. Discussion is the exchange of ideas, not of facts. This incessant desire to be correct in everything is what is driving us into our dens of solitude. The need for attention adding fuel to the fire of resentment that resides within us all. That is why so many are lashing out at society in such evil ways. That is the disconnect, our feeling of being a part of it all.
 The removal of mystery from life makes it mundane. As man grows in his explanation of the universe he eliminates his Gods. Man attempts to be that God that was eliminated. That is because mankind needs that mystery to flourish. We may greatly expand our knowledge of human physiology and make great strides in engineering but the mystery remains. For some , this mystery appears as a weakness and is denied. The belief being they will come to understand, through science, the explanation. I believe that to be a foolish thought and an arrogant one. Our planet and everything on it hangs in a fine balance. Man can do little but destroy the world, he can not create. Duplication is not creation, but recreation. It is an imitation. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, isn't that what they say ? Should man strive to be like God ? That is the real moral and ethical question that nags at mankind ? To follow or to lead ?  Can we create a spirit ?
 Man has advanced in his knowledge of " mysteries, " We discovered why so many died of disease and infection for example. We came to understand about the transmission of these things. Where we could only pray for recovery we now apply medicines. Is the mystery truly explained ? I don't think so, just solved. Why do these things exists in the first place, are they of any benefit or solely detrimental to man ? The answer is both, depending upon context. Miracles are a solution to a problem. Isn't that what they do ? When a miracle happens it is a great thing, why its' a miracle ! It is also a mystery. Will the mystery ever be solved ? Perhaps an understanding of the mechanics of that miracle will. Does that then explain the miracle ? If man can duplicate that, is that too a miracle ? I say no, it is an imitation. A imitation of what can't be known. All this imitation should be bringing us closer to our God but the opposite seems to be the case. I believe that is because we are concentrating our efforts on scientific fact to the exclusion of divine intervention. That is why we are called the " children " of God. We act like children, believing we know it all. It is a disconnect. My belief is, given time, man will come to understand his inferiority not as a weakness but a strength. That is unless we destroy ourselves first.
 Strange how we attempt to imitate what we refuse to admit exists. That is what is happening right now. Those that deny the existence of God trying to duplicate what has been created. To explain it all. Maybe we should spend as much time enjoying what has been provided, reconnecting with that energy. Reconnecting with each other.  

In my time

 There are times when I feel like I'm fighting against the tide. Current events are that tide. When I was in school my history and English teachers would encourage me to study current events. They were trying to make me aware. The lesson was to compare the events of the day with the past and determine that correlation. It was not meant to justify current actions, or assign blame for the past events, but to understand those events in the context of time. Social attitudes and moral behaviors do change over time. Often called evolution it implies an improvement. I would submit that is not always the case. Societies can devolve just as well. Currently I am seeing a transfer of moral standards from the personal level to the government. It is an attempt to remove moral ambiguity from our society. It is that desire to have everyone just " go with the flow " to not resist the tide, that is this struggle. The struggle I face is not a revolution, but the maintenance of progress. To be told you are wrong , in your thinking, is a difficult thing. It is an extremely difficult thing when the only argument being put forth is because it is change. You should just change your thinking because you are old. You need to just go with the flow.
 The troubling part in this is that history is being rewritten to fit the agenda. This demanding of reparations for the misdeeds of the past that occurred centuries ago I find most troubling. There is an old adage that applies, don't cry over spilled milk ! Seems like we are constantly in tears these days. To what end ? Nothing will change what has happened. Moving forward is easier by leaving old baggage behind. Do not drag old junk along that serves no purpose. History does repeat itself and for a good reason. We forget the lessons of the past and attempt to rewrite the lesson plan. What we once held as a truth we now label discrimination. Discrimination is wrong, but so is being indiscriminate in our choices. How do you rectify the two ?  The first affects others and the later may cause harm to yourself. Should the government have a role in this decision making ? Only as far as the prevention of physical harm, freedom from oppressive restrictions, and the conduct of commerce. In other words, Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It is the concept of liberty that is hardest to define and to litigate. Oppression is subjective in nature. To understand that concept just talk to a child. What Mom or Dad says is the best course of action is often viewed as oppression. That doesn't make it so however.
 It is the context of time that concerns me. You often hear the phrase, in my time, to indicate the past. I don't feel like my time is gone, not yet anyway. I carry that time with me. Trying to keep moving forward, against the tide of time, is the challenge we all face. The young among us have yet to collect sufficient ballast to maintain an even keel. They are subject to wind and wave. We older folks have that ballast and are reluctant to jettison it. Maintenance is more difficult that creation. When we build a house it is all new and sound upon its' foundation. The challenge then is to maintain it. Without maintenance it begins to decay. Yes sometimes maintenance requires replacement. That only occurs however when the item wasn't maintained in the first place. Do not change the foundation because the roof is leaking ! I do get the feeling that the tide of current events is washing away our foundation as a nation. Time and tide wait for no man, that is a truth that cannot be denied. Change occurs because it is allowed. I advocate for maintenance over replacement. Changing things doesn't always solve the problem, sometimes it just creates more. I am concerned with the moral ballast of the nation. Sounds rather lofty doesn't it ? I just want a stable ship for my grandchildren and their children. I'll keep doing the maintenance as long as I can.

Goodbye Merle

 I was on the computer when I saw a sidebar saying Merle Haggard had passed away. I immediately stopped what I was doing to fact check that. Willie Nelson has been reported dead several times so it is best to check. Turns out it is true and that it was his birthday as well. The Hag was 79, not that old in todays world. Somehow it seemed right that he would pas on his birthday. Reminded me of a John Wayne movie, the shootist. He played a character that was a gunfighter and had his final gunfight on his birthday. In that movie, he was aware of all that and you could say planned. I don't think Merle planned any of it but had been suffering from pneumonia for a while. Fate or irony ? Being a fan of the Hag, my next thought was, are the good times really over for good. I feel a sadness for the loss of this man and his words. Well the words he wrote will remain with us, that is true, but no more will be forthcoming. Probably just as well. as the " good times " for Merle Haggard truly had passed. He will be missed.
 I admit that I wasn't always a Merle Haggard fan but discovered him later on. I can remember seeing him on hee-haw and other shows. He was a country boy before, as Barbara Mandrel put it, country was cool. He helped make it cool. He wrote over 700 songs in his lifetime. The majority of people in the United States would know a great number of those songs if they heard them. They may not know that Merle wrote them but they know the tune. Some called him the poet of the common man. I would agree. Along with everyone else,  I have a few favorites. Merle Haggard has a song for every occasion. Working man blues for when you're feeling rebellious and mama's hungry eyes when feeling pensive.
 When I was young I wanted to be older. It is that way with us all. Nobody told me getting older meant losing old friends. I always figured they would be there with me. Even though I never met Merle Haggard in person or even went to one of his shows I feel like I know him. Our musical heroes are like that. I remember hearing about the death of Jimi Hendrix and couldn't believe it. That was in my rock and roll days. not too long ago we lost the Possum, George Jones. That was a blow to me as well. George sang a song asking, who's gonna fill their shoes, who's gonna stand that tall ? Merle Haggard was that tall. We still have Willie, but he was a late bloomer. at least as a performer, he wrote great music long before most knew who he was. I expect it is just a generational thing. The greatest generation, as it has been called, has almost left us now. This generation in music is fading away. Will Alan Jackson. Dwight Yokum and Ricky Skaggs fill those shoes ? In my opinion they are candidates. The " new " crop doesn't impress me at all. A lot of show but little go. They know how to sell the product, just not how to create it. Just my opinion though and I'm certain there are many that would disagree. Music is a personal thing. I take the passing of the Mighty Merle Haggard personally and will grieve along with the rest of the world. A man that will not be forgotten. An icon and that is a term I don't apply often. Rest in Peace Merle Haggard. Well he was the ramblin' kind and it was time for him to move on. I'll miss him.

" Everything does change, except what you choose to recall,
there's a million good daydreams to dream on
but, baby,  you are my favorite memory of all. "

                                                           Merle Haggard, My favorite memory

A silent crusade

 I find myself on a bit of a crusade. As with crusades it is a moral one. Surprising, even to myself, it is a crusade against a choice of words. More specifically the foul mouthed, guttural language that has invaded everyday life. Having spent twenty years in the Navy I have ben guilty of this. It is no stereotype to make that statement. In my Navy days it was a mans' world and all that implies. I joined in , heartily, as most young men do. It was a combination of peer pressure and some misguided thinking. I felt there were expectations to be met, a standard to uphold. I did my best ! But that was still in the time when you didn't talk like that in the presence of the ladies. You cleaned up your act, while implying otherwise. With a wink and a tossing back of a beer you hinted at your manliness. Nowadays they call it swag. Sailors invented swagger, probably because it took a while to get your feet under you once on shore. Sea legs they call it, but you needed them at sea not on shore.
 That language was used to show the other guys how tough you were. It was a sign of your moral depravity and something to be proud of. Nobody wants to hang out with a goody two shoes. No sir, I was one of the roughest, toughest, two fisted, foul mouthed sailors in the fleet. Why I had been everywhere and done everything. And that was after graduating boot camp ! While in the fleet it only got worse, or better, depending upon your view. I lived in two worlds. As I said you didn't talk that way around the ladies or children. My crusade began a while back but I wasn't aware of it. It began when we first got women on the ship. Now, my world wasn't the same. A lot of the young ladies began to adopt the attitude we young men held. They wanted to be " sailors. " They used our language and adopted our ways. I found it unattractive and unflattering. A sexist attitude ? Perhaps you could call it that but I just found it unattractive. Not the girl I would take home to mother. Of course, I did expect the good girls to take me home.
 Now this language thing spread to the civilian world. Not that it hadn't existed there before it always has. The lower working classes, it has been noted, is associated with this gutter language. It was offensive and everyone knew it. Among the menfolk offensive is a sign of strength. Well the things that offend you define who you are in the pack. You can call me names but don't speak badly of momma ! Inappropriate references to body parts and the like are just friendly ribbing. Hearing that from the ladies is just a turn off. When I hear children say stuff like that I have to hold my tongue. And so my crusade has begun to eliminate this trend. There are sayings and expressions that are used all too often today that bother me. I feel uncomfortable hearing them in polite company. I guess that is the crusade, the restoration of polite society. Some would say that polite society has always been a façade. On some level I can see that analogy and the truth in it. I prefer to think it is more of a temperance. I do believe we should temper our thoughts, actions and words. That is being polite. It is not dishonest, rather it is considerate.
 This crusade is a crusade of silence. I will do my best to refrain from the use of this language. I will not be reasonable for the perpetuation of its use. I can not undue the past and so have to live with that memory. I will forever be guilty. But it is a new day. There is much talk today of how our country is divided. I hear tough talk from all directions. Maybe we should just try a little polite conversation instead. A restoration of society as it once existed. It takes no restraint and no knowledge to just blurt out expletives. Little can be accomplished in that fashion. Passions may flare up, but that is all. A flare up ! What is needed is a long term thing, a slow burn. Temperance and knowledge are requirements to a stable society. The voice that is heard is the voice that sounds differently. I will sound different by being silent. There are plenty out there screaming, streaming obscenities together in a never ending assault on civility. I will remain silent thus lowering the din.

Moral wealth

 After posting yesterdays blog , Civility and soccer, a regular reader of mine left a comment about wealth being tied to manners. That wasn't my intent when writing that piece but upon review I think it was a valid statement. I can see where you would get that impression. I responded with, clothes make the man don't they ? I believe we both got a chuckle out of that. It did lead me to a further thought about manners and the state of civility we live in today. What I was writing about yesterday was the way those folks, affluent in my opinion, had conducted themselves at the soccer game. It was a welcome change from the expected rather coarse behavior I frequently encounter. Soccer is a game of passion, that can't be denied. Soccer fans are pretty vocal about their opinions. To say the language used to express those opinions is crass is an understatement. Taking that thought a step further and one could say that is becoming the case in general society today. I believe it is tied to wealth. Not monetary wealth however, but what I would call moral wealth. It seems to me there was much more of that forty years or so ago. At least that is the way I remember it. At public events whether they be sporting or otherwise our expletives were somewhat tempered. Occasionally there would be a person there that had possibly consumed some alcohol and would " act out. " Those actions were never condoned. Abuse of the game officials or other spectators was taken care of. It was accomplished not always in the most civil of ways. The point being it was taken care of.
 But what is this moral wealth I feel we are lacking ? Is it our choice of language ? I think it is much more than that. It is in the way we interact with each other. It is a slew of little things. Being polite is on top of the list. We are far more likely to face confrontation today rather than an understanding smile. We have become hesitant to even speak to strangers. The declaring of our " rights " is a very common thing. There is much talk of division in our country. No surprise to me given the way we act towards one another. We are in defensive mode most of the time. Hard to make friends or simply interact with the enemy, even when that enemy is just a perception. That is this underlining reason for the choice of language we use and the attitude we adopt. No borders ! We often speak of this " no borders " philosophy as freedom. I am free to act and do as I please, it is my right. I will even quote the Constitution of the United States, the Bill of Rights and quote a few rappers to prove it ! In doing so I do not have to consider you or your rights, that's freedom. To do otherwise would be a constraint on my freedom. It is that attitude that has caused this moral bankruptcy.
 Many folks mistakenly believe that morals and religion are the same thing. That is not the case, although a good religious background reinforces morals. Morals are just what we consider acceptable behaviors. Each society establishes a set of moral behaviors. Remember the Cowboy code ? That is morals. Forty years ago our moral standards were different than they are today. I would submit that they were quite a bit higher. Strange how today some would look back at that and say how prejudicial and judgmental we all were back then. I say we were held to a standard. It was an assimilation into society to learn how to conduct oneself. Today assimilation is of secondary importance. Just do your own thing is the prevailing attitude. The shift is from personal accountability to one of governmental control. As long as you are not in violation of any laws, that is legislation, you are to be accepted without prejudice. Those laws that become problematic to established morals will be abolished or rewritten. I have seen that occurring over the years. It doesn't take much thought if you lived through it to see just that. Remember the " blue laws " ? Abolished as unfair to non -religious folks. They should be able to buy whatever they want, whenever they want. Yes, it was a moral thing tied to the Judeo Christian belief system. I wouldn't deny that but did it not also benefit those non-believers that didn't have to work on these days ? Just because you are not religious doesn't mean you don't want a day off. Was it compelling anyone to observe a religion ? I don't think so. But that isn't the point anyway. I am just talking about our morals as a nation. The government providing goods and services to the population, free, is not a moral code. You can not legislate morality ! I know, a recurring theme of mine.
 Does wealth and affluence equate to morality ? I would have to say only in appearances. The poorest of us can be the most moral. The wealthy can be immoral. Morals are a personal thing, that assimilation to society I mentioned earlier. Are the "poorer " folks in the population rebelling against morality or just frustrated with being poor ? Are morals something to be bought or afforded ? It is interesting to note that the distinction has always existed between the " classes. " The poor folks, uncouth, unclean and uneducated. The wealthy have always held those of lesser wealth in contempt. It will always be so. Regardless of any form of government that will not change. The " poor " have their strength in a physical way. The " poor " are the doers of the world. Financed by the wealthy, they fight revolutions. They win by sheer force but never control. The wealthy will control the results of revolution. It will ever be so.
 The wealthy establish the morals of a society. It is what the poor aspire too. That is why we are taught manners and etiquette. We need to know how to conduct ourselves in polite company to be successful. Tact and diplomacy are the tools of the wealthy. The rest of us are confined to brute force. That is the perception being perpetrated today. Why is that ? It is because the wealthy, in their desire for more wealth, seek to appease the masses. They are the ones telling everyone what they need, no what they are entitled too ! Of course those entitlements come at a price. The price is your freedom. And what is freedom ? Freedom is a lack off dependence.
 None of us can take it with us. We all have heard that and know the truth of it. The quest for wealth is to have it now. In the end we will all be equal. Rich or poor the deceased are dead ! It is what we present in life that is our measure. The poorest among us can be the richest and vice-versa. The standard is what determines that measure. Being a moral and just person should be the goal in life. The acquisition of wealth is a standard while on earth, that can not be denied but so also is fame or notoriety. Others can only know what we project. They can not know your heart. Appearances are important. Morals are free. Why then are we going morally bankrupt ? To gain wealth and material things ? Decay takes a long time but it occurs naturally. A revolution took place, a government was formed based on a moral standard. A government was formed " by the people. " The wealthy profited from that revolution. Now " moral decay " is beginning to rear its' ugly head. This decay must be accepted, or at the very least justified. The method to do so is the removal of those standards. Rewrite the morals. It is really a descent. The real question to be answered is, a descent into what ?