Remembering

 It was the first day of school, September 1959. The little boy waited with his two brothers, his sister and his dog, for that big green school bus. Yes, the bus was green and all the kids called it the green bean. He had seen the green bean many times and even knew the man who drove it. He was a friend of the family and all the kids called him Uncle John. He was known as Big John to everyone else and he spoke funny. You see Big John came from the south and said ya'll a lot. He was a big man with a big booming voice and when he spoke you listened. Soon the green bean arrived and it was time to get on the bus. The little boys' dog followed him. All the other kids were laughing and his older brothers yelled at him, get that dog off the bus. This whole deal wasn't starting out very well. Even Big John was laughing at him. The other kids on the bus were getting up to chase after his dog and Big John hollers: ya'll sit down and stay sit! That's how they say that in the south. Laddie Boy, that was the dogs name, left the bus, the doors closed and off it went. That bus was heading to Skimhampton, that's were the elementary school was. It was a temporary thing while the new school was being built.

 The little boy thought I'm not going to like this any better than I liked going to kindergarten. That Oddfellows Hall were kindergarten was held was kind of a scary looking building. He remembered sitting on the hardwood floor and listening to the teacher read a book. The jungle gym outside was fun, but the rest of it, not so much. Remembering the time he had asked to use the bathroom and being told, he had to wait, he winched a bit. He had told Mrs. Jones he didn't think he could wait, she insisted, and he was right. He had worn a painting smock the rest of that day as his pants dried on the jungle gym, like a flag flying to announce his shame to the world. Mom noticed those pants flying right away when she came to pick him up. He was hoping there wouldn't be a repeat of that in the first grade. He determined he would go to the bathroom when needed, permission or not! And this was going to be all day. Kindergarten had only been in the afternoon. He clutched his lunch box, the one that was painted like a barn, and had a bad feeling about all this. They finally arrived at the school and his sister helped him, his brothers got as far away from him as possible. They, the brothers, were the big kids and wanted nothing to do with the little kids. First grade had begun.

 This school was going to be different, he knew that right away. To begin with there were desks and chairs. He didn't have to sit on the floor. The bathroom was down the hall and you did have to ask by raising your hand. There was a big chalk board on the front wall. It looked a little intimidating. I hope I don't have to write on that thing, I don't write so good. The teacher did say we would have a recess, she explained that meant we could play outside, unless it was raining. He liked the sound of that. 

Making it through the first day the little boy rode that green bus home. His dog was sitting there waiting for him. That dog, Laddie, had been a birthday present to him when he was five years old. Laddie would be at that bus stop every morning and every afternoon until the little boy no longer rode the bus. At first the little boy didn't like school very much, but grew to enjoy it. There would be a few incidents over the years, some misunderstandings on the bus, but that little boy rode the green bean until the green bean was taken out of service. It always felt a little special to ride that green bus, it was different and that made it special.

 That little boy was me. I remember well the green bean and Big John. I confess to not remembering all that much about the school in Skimhampton. It is true with all of us, our earliest " memories " are ones we have been told about. We were there alright, but the details have been written by someone else. I went to John Marshall Elementary the first year it was opened, not sure what year that was. Elementary school went to sixth grade back then. While I was in high school a new high school was built and I was in the first graduating class from that building, forty seven years ago. John Marshall Elementary must be closing in on sixty years now. But first grade, maybe even second was at Skimhampton school. If memory serves, later that building was the Sears store where you could pick up your mail order purchases. Surely the Green Bean is a museum piece somewhere. No pictures exists that I am aware of. Ah, but the pictures in my mind are still there, sometimes faded, sometimes crystal clear. And those pictures have sounds, smells and even taste at times to trigger them. I remember well the smell of a tin lunch box at the end of the school year. It didn't change no matter how much Mom scrubbed that thing. My favorite was that " barn " with the wide mouth thermos. Good for milk or chowder. It was pretty high tech.         

       

Stigma & Reality

 I've been listening to the case against that kid that shot and killed those people at the video game tournament. He didn't use one of those " assault " rifles and so the narrative has to be changed. He did use a semi-automatic pistol that he purchased legally. For that reason we now have to question his ability to purchase the gun. Yes, his right to keep and bear arms is being examined. It has been uncovered that he has had mental health issues in the past. And so the cry goes up, mental patients should never be allowed to own or purchase firearms! Which, I admit sounds reasonable enough to me but has to be examined from all angles.
 Now many of the people so outraged, and justifiably so, over this tragic event are the same people talking about mental health in America. Free mental health services should be available to everyone. They say how mental health is a disease and should be treated like any other disease. It does require treatment. But now, unlike other treatable illnesses, you should have your constitutional rights withheld because you have had this disease. Do you see what I'm saying here? If that isn't attaching a stigma to mental health I don't know what else you would call it. And so, how can we say in one breath mental illness is a treatable disease, and in the next say, you will be forever penalized for having that disease.
 It is a bit of a problem isn't it? There are many that would just ignore that portion of the conversation altogether. Or there are those that will talk about it but never admit to the truth of it. And the truth is, we will deny your constitutional right to keep and bear arms if it is determined you are mentally unstable. We also agree that once mentally unstable you are suspect the rest of your life. Yes, we will assign a stigma to that disease and to you for having it! Ah, but there it is in a nutshell. The liberal progressives want to withhold your rights without having to admit they are withholding your rights. They are desperately attempting to justify that action without having to admit to anything. And that, in my way of thinking is the whole issue. We all agree that mental patients shouldn't be able to legally purchase firearms. Of course, that doesn't prevent then from buying firearms illegally. It's a bit of a quandary.
 Most of you reading this are aware of my political and social leanings. Yes, I'm a conservative person by nature and a bit of a stoic to boot. I accept things for what they are, whether I happen to like that thing or not. There are crazy people in the world, always have been, always will be. I don't believe you can medicate that away. You can medicate the person into some semblance of conformity, a lobotomy took care of troublemakers in the past, although I believe that to be a bit extreme. But my point is I believe in certain things and am not easily swayed from those beliefs. I get called names for that occasionally, and that is just fine, I don't mind. I've been known to do a bit of name calling myself, although I call it telling the truth. I don't believe in conditional morality or conditional ethics. Really it is the same old thing, you can't have your cake and eat it too. The bottom line in all of this is simple enough. If a person has been treated for a mental illness should they forever be barred from owning a firearm? If so, define those parameters. Is it alright to be a little crazy? Is it alright to be crazy as long as I am not institutionalized? Thirty days seems to be the cutoff at the moment.
 Me, I say if you are diagnosed by competent authority as having mental illness you should be banned from purchasing firearms. Yes, I would attach that stigma to you! No different than preventing a blind man from getting a drivers license in my view. It's just a common sense measure. No, it isn't foolproof. If you want a firearm you will get a firearm. An automobile is a deadly weapon along with a few hundred other things I could think of. But, I wouldn't make it easy for you, so you are barred. And that's how I feel about that and I make no apologies for saying that. I will attach a stigma to you! I will not attempt to rename it or make some excuse for it. Nope, I will just display my prejudice against the mentally ill by not allowing the legal purchase of a firearm. Stark isn't it? Reality often is.   

Place and Time

 If you want to go clamming , you go to Hands Creek. That was an axiom I learned when I was probably two years old. It was one of those things you learned when you were born and raised in a certain place, your hometown. That's where you went. If you wanted to go fishing, go to the jetty, the commercial dock or surf casting up to the ocean. Well, unless you had a boat then go out in Gardiners bay. But, whatever you wanted to do, you knew where to do it! Isn't that the way it was? We call that our stomping grounds and we knew every inch. Our stomping grounds usually didn't encompass that large an area when looking back at it, but it was our world growing up. My world was mostly b'low the bridge. I did venture uptown and become familiar with a great deal of that territory but not " intimate. " It is that intimate relationship we had with our old stomping grounds that we remember and treasure so much after we are grown. All the secret places. I think we all had our secret places when we were kids. They were those places we would go to just be alone. I wonder if the kids today still do that? I mean, today they can take their phone with them, a virtual entertainment center, whereas the best I could manage was a comic book or pencil and paper. I would be alone with my thoughts, undistracted. I don't know, maybe the kids today just turn off their phone. Somehow I doubt that but it would depend upon the individual I suppose.
 I got to thinking about this after reading some posts. People talking about places and time. Is it the place that changes, or the time? We all say time changes everything don't we? I'd say that was an accurate statement. What changes is our reaction. Those reactions can change the place, over time. The old ways replaced by the new. Then we lament the loss of the old ways and long for their return. As far as the place, the physical location that changes little over time. There may be natural events like storms that take place and alter the landscape, but for the most part, it remains unchanged. It is mans' constructions that do the most to change that landscape, It is man that interferes with nature. But that isn't the place I mean when I talk about " home. " The people are just a great a part of the " place " as the landscape. And it is the people that change. We call it social customs or whatever. Community is a popular way to describe that. The people in a community share common values and traditions. And is for that reason you can't go back. Those people will no longer be there. Even the ones that stayed have changed, as we all do, adapted to the environment, and are not the same. Those values and traditions have changed and in some cases lost altogether. It is what we call the " old days. " Then we write books and stories about them.
 I was talking with my sister and we both agree, we saw the end of an era. It was our generation that was the last. Many books and essays have been written about that ending. It is still a common topic of conversation. As with all such things it is difficult to pin it down. Just when was the last. and what was the cause? Time is the answer, time and time alone. I remember those old days with fondness, although I wasn't an active participant. No, I was just an observer. I was like a spectator at the races, I saw the crash and felt the thrill of it all, and just moved along. It makes no difference, nothing was going to stop time anyway. It was time. I was fortunate enough to have witnessed a small portion of that time and place before it disappeared forever. I am grateful for that. But that's is also the beauty of it all. Time and place remain the same in our memories, and we can visit whenever the mood arrives. We can go back to those secret places, our place, our time. And, it's a good thing.       

omitting the truth

 It is a long standing adage in my family, do not speak ill of the dead. I believe that is because whatever faults and fallacies connected with that person are buried with them. It goes hand in hand with advice for the living, if you have nothing nice to say about the person, say nothing at all. I believe all that should be doubly true when you didn't know the person personally. When the only way we have to judge is by their perceived actions and the opinions of others.
 Much of that is ignored today, sensibilities having changed somewhat over time. Well, from my view a lack of good sense being missing anyway. What purpose does it serve to disparage the deceased? Whatever actions they have taken are now forever in the past, as there is no future for them, not here on this earth anyway. That isn't to say an accurate biography of their lives shouldn't be offered. On the contrary. their accomplishments as well their failures should share equal billing. No one is all good or bad. But it is our custom to celebrate the good in a person once they have passed and bury the bad.
 It is also true that those faults, whatever they may have been, will not stay buried for long. The idea of not speaking ill of the dead only applies in the immediate aftermath of their passing. Once the ceremonies are over, the grave covered and an appropriate amount of time has passed, the speaking will begin. In todays' world it won't be all that long a time. Take the latest two " celebrities " as an example, Aretha Franklin and John McCain. Are made for television movies far off? And movies showing all aspects of their personal lives will be among them. Yes, I'm certain there will be more than one, each. The outpouring of praise for Aretha was overwhelming. Hours of news time and interviews with all the legends of music chiming in. Social media was flooded with pictures and tributes. But I question why was their there no such fuss made while she lived? John McCain is being declared a national hero, based in part because he was a POW. His record of service in the Senate is being praised and lauded as a shining example of patriotism and commitment to the nation by the same people advocating for term limits on that office. But, in the case of John McCain there was much controversary while he served. I only mention these as examples.
 All of this was brought to mind as I watched the evening news. Yes, the news was reporting that the Flag at the capital had been raised to full staff and then subsequently ordered , by the president, back to half staff. The innuendo in that story was that the President had ordered it raised as an insult to the memory of John McCain. Only later, after his advisors convinced him to do the right thing did he have it lowered once again. Well, I just question the whole story. I wonder how much direct input the President has in all of that in the first place. Yes, I know it is the president that has the power to order the flag raised or lowered. But do you think he actually does that? Wouldn't you believe he has people for that? I'm certain there are folks in the white house that observe and know all the proper protocol for every occasion or incident. I don't know every minute detail of everything happening in the white house on a day to day basis. I do know there is a time limit for the flag to remain at half staff before it must be raised once again. I don't know the details of that protocol however, do you? Or are you just going by what you heard on the news or social media? And that's my point. I remember when the news was intended to inform. That was their purpose. They provided you with all the pertinent information so YOU could form your own opinion, make your own judgement. Now, the news presents their opinion. They may or may not include the facts.
 The times they are achangin". Bob Dylan wrote that line and it was just as true then as now. There was a time in America when the news didn't speak ill of the President without having all the facts before them. There was no speculation, no mind reading going on. The news reported on what the President actually said or did. It was left up to you to decide whether it was good or bad. Yes, I was taught to not speak ill of the dead and to respect the offices held by our elected officials. It didn't matter if he was the local cop, or the president of the United States, you respected that office. You didn't have to like the person holding that office, but you had to respect that office. But today we shout about respect all the time, we insist upon respect, we march for respect, we hold rallies, we even take a knee demanding respect, while being disrespectful! I seriously question how many actually understand what respect really is. I question that because I'm sure not seeing any on display. Respect isn't reverence! But perhaps a man named Bryant McGill expressed it clearly when he said, " one the most sincere forms of respect is actually listening to what another has to say." I would add that respect entails stating all the facts, leaving nothing out. " The omission of truth is the greatest disrespect we can perpetuate against our fellow man. " ( A.B. Reichart )   

consternation

 The summer of 2018 is almost over. I would have to say it has been an uneventful summer. Nothing too exciting has happened and it isn't a summer to remember. That's not to say it can't change in an instant, it certainty can. Still, I mention the passing of another summer almost as a footnote, there is an entire year to consider and two seasons yet to come. Fall and winter. The holidays approach.
 Earlier this year I had a heart attack, that has been dealt with. I had a bit of a scare with cancer, that also has been dealt with, it's in the past. I don't really want to recall either of those events. Now I am required to take medication that I didn't have to take last year. I'm not alone in that, I'm certain thousands more have to do the same. I have nothing to complain about. Isn't it strange how we say that? It's almost sounds as if I wish I did have something to complain about. Ah the nuance of language. It is far more difficult to put your feelings in writing. The challenge being to convey your feelings to others. It is easy to be misunderstood.
 We all have an internal clock. I believe that clock was set when we were born. The seasons are a part of that clock. If you were born in the northern areas of the country the four seasons are distinct events. Your internal clock responds to that no matter where you move later on in life. The actual weather has little to do with that. It is something in your subconscious. In ancient times the people looked to the stars. They knew by the location of those stars what to expect. They knew it was time. Time to take appropriate action, whether it was to plant or to harvest. Man began to mark those stars, those events, on rudimentary calendars. And now, it is ingrained in us from birth. The summer is almost over and fall approaches. I feel the need to start preparations for that. Doesn't matter what the weather is, the impulse is there. For me, that means what? Pulling out the tomato plants, the cucumber plants, and turning the ground over. Putting away the patio furniture, a few final times of mowing the grass. The hanging plants come down and the mums appear. Soon I will see the corn fields all stripped bare, the beans will have been harvested as well. Leaves will drift slowly to the ground and trees standing there, bare. Now it's time for soccer games, this year will be the grandsons' final season, he graduates next year. Perhaps it is that knowledge that colors my thoughts this morning, a little bit blue.
 Well, whatever the case may be I will move forward, ever forward in time. That's what we all do. No matter how hard we try to hold onto the past, it is gone. Still, the past is the fuel that drives us forward. When we no longer have a past we are done. Isn't that the truth of it? Isn't that what causes us humans such consternation? We are anxious. We know that death awaits and yet it is always unexpected. The passing of hours, days, months, seasons and years. Each brings us closer to that eventuality. So we must learn to celebrate the past not mourn its' passing. Be happy for what you have is age old advice.
 This narrative took a turn to the melancholy. I apologize for that. It wasn't my intent. But I have committed myself to writing my thoughts. It is what I am thinking about. It's an honest human emotion and worthy of sharing. As Paul Harvey would say, and that's the rest of the story. This mood shall pass, the sun will rise, and a new day presents itself. Enjoy the day to the best of your ability. Another old adage jumps to mind, a bird in the hand is better than one in the brush.   

distracted

 We all get distracted by the bumps in the road. There you are just rolling along, singing along to the radio and you hit a bump! That's what has happened to me. It isn't a bump in the road though, it's car trouble. My car has decided to run a little hot and the reason isn't obvious. So now I am distracted. I need to figure out what the problem is and what to do about it. And yes, it is my problem. I find it quite difficult to just take it to the shop and tell someone else, fix it. It just grates against my sensibilities. I have always repaired my own cars, always. It started out of necessity. Then it became somewhat of a habit. I wouldn't call it a hobby, as I rarely worked on my vehicles just for the fun of it. Oh, I've been known to fool around with them a bit, but not seriously. That is also a hobby for a man of far more means than myself. Well, the truth is, that isn't where my priories lie. We all seem to find the money to fuel our priorities don't we? Yes, whether it is clothes, cars, or partying we always found a few bucks for that stuff. I enjoy my hobbies as well and spend my money there, justifying the cost. But now, now, I'm distracted and have to fix the car.
 It is annoying and frustrating. It's annoying because it should be easy enough to determine the cause, and frustrating because it isn't. The engineers made sure of that. I can't help but believe it is a purposeful thing, designed to discourage. The whole thing has become so overcomplicated. Keeping the engine cool is really a simple straightforward process requiring only a few components. Ah, but no, not any more. Now we have to get the computer involved. The computer requires input signals and relays. And then we have to make the sensors as inaccessible as possible and the relays are numerous and expensive as possible. Yes, they are designed to discourage! Take it to your " certified " mechanic. Why is he certified? Because he has been to school to teach him/her where all this crap is and how to test it. You begin by having a bigger computer to diagnosis what he computer in the car is saying. Yeah, you can go to the auto parts store and they will read your " check engine " light for free. That's the best way to sell you a part you know nothing about, or didn't even know existed. After you purchase it and are lucky enough to install it you will discover you need to go to the dealer anyway. That was only the tip of the iceberg! It isn't as easy as all that you know.
 And so now I find myself distracted from the things I really want to do. I feel a compulsion to repair the car. I have always repaired the car and can't let my wife down. Yes, it's a man thing, pride rears its' head. I will not be defeated by this. Oh there will be complaining, there will be frustration and anger. But I must prevail. It is that underlying obligation to provide for the family. To be the man! There's no calling someone, no just paying someone else to solve your problems, you don't just quit. But mostly, mostly I don't want to disappoint. I don't want to disappoint my wife or myself. I can do this. Time to get at it.    

Promise land

 My Dad worked at Promise land. No, he hadn't traveled with the Israelites out of Egypt, he just drove to Napeauge. That's were Promise land was. That is what we called the Smith-Meal company, a fish processing factory back in the day. Why it was called Promise land I really don't know. I've heard a few ideas about that, but its' all just speculation. But during the late fifties and early sixties my father fired the boilers at the plant that made the steam to dry the fish. That was his job and he worked the afternoon and night shift. I don't really remember the hours just that he slept during the day and left for work in the afternoon. I remember that much because I was sent outside to play, your Fathers resting! That happened in the rain, snow, hot or cold. It was that or go read a book! The television only received two stations, channel three and eight. Nothing on during the day for us kids during weekday mornings so that wasn't an option. Staying indoors and quiet was always a challenge, unless you wanted to " help " Mom. That wasn't much fun. But, during the summer, my sister and I would often volunteer because there would be a reward. If everything was done, we would go to the beach in the afternoon. The beach meant, Sammy's beach. 

 My Mom washed and ironed clothes to help make ends meet. She had laundry to get done every day. Washing in the morning, drying and then the ironing, folding and wrapping it up. A slip of paper, the bill, would be pinned to each bundle . Only after all of that was done could we go to the beach. Well that and any other chores that needed doing. And you had to be quiet about it! Dad is resting. On the days we made it to the beach it was all worth the effort. We would help hang the clothes, no clothes dryers then, and bring them in when they got dry. You had to be careful not to get the " orders " mixed up. Usually Mom only did one customer at a time so it wasn't a big issue but one you had to be aware of it. I never gave it a thought really, we had lots of strangers clothes in our house. Never knew what might hanging on the line. 

 By mid morning Mom would be doing the ironing. I can hear the creak of that ironing board and smell the steam to this day. I would refill the sprinkle bottle for her when necessary. I could hang the shirts and pants on clothes hangers until Mom was ready to fold. I never folded the clothes, only helped with folding sheets. I still remember to this day the exact pattern to fold a bedsheet and Mom insisted it be done a certain way. Of course that was before fitted sheets were commonplace. I don't remember ever having to struggle with folding those and still don't know how to do that. Once the folding was done and those bundles made up we would be done. It was then the excitement began.

 I can remember Mom telling us to get the scotch cooler. It was a round metal one, a little dented and a few rust spots but serviceable. Sandwiches would be made and carefully wrapped in waxed paper. An apple or two, a banana or on rare occasions potato chips would be packed into that cooler. We also had a thermos style cooler with a spout on it. That held the iced tea. The picnic being assembled we couldn't wait to get to the beach. Mom had a 1956 Ford station wagon and the back would be loaded with inner tubes, beach towels, sometimes a beach umbrella and beach chairs. We were headed for Sammys! Down the springy banks road we went, snaking around until we reached a small peninsula were Sammy's beach was located. We always parked in the same spot. on the right. That's were the lot was. You could park two, three cars there at most. Others would have to park alongside the road on those busy days, like the weekends. But, we went during the week and the same few families would be there. Mom would visit with the other ladies while us kids played in the bay. They are some of my favorite memories. The smell of the bathhouses, the warmth of the sand and the sound of screeching gulls all combine in my memories. I can close my eyes I'm there, anytime. 

 Like most things from your childhood they just seem to fade away, unnoticed, at some point. The last time I can say with certainty that I went to Sammys beach with Mom would have been in 1966. I can say that because I remember well a song on the radio. Red Rubber ball by the Crykle. By then Mom had a convertible. It was a Chrysler 300G. That car was a 1961and it was awesome. My Dad picked it out. It had a 375 horsepower, 413 cubic inch V-8 and would fly! When the top was down and you were in that back seat it sure felt like you were going to take off. The interior was four bucket seats with a center console. The radio speaker in the back was right between those bucker seats. My sister and I were riding in the back, with the top down, singing along to that song. The springy banks road is a tar and chip road and far from a smooth ride. We were bouncing up and down back there, no seat belts then, and just had a blast. Mom was driving and twisting that car down the road like a snake on hot rock. She turned the radio all the way up. Yes, a ride and a day to remember. 

 I suppose we went to Sammy's a few times after that but I don't remember. Every now and again I look back and smile. Dad may have been working at Promise land, but right then I was living in it,  just a few minutes, ten minutes or so, no more. A fast car, a great song, headin' to the beach. I was with my sister enjoying the ride. Doesn't get much better than that.          

same thing

 I spent some time yesterday reading Cicero. I know, he's just an old Roman dude. He was a pretty smart guy though, although it got him killed in the end. It has been said that his head was cut off and his right hand. Marc Anthony wasn't too happy with Cicero and his speeches and letter writing. As it turns out, over two thousand years later, people are still reading his letters. And Cicero didn't even have a blog! He was murdered for his beliefs. The main thing Cicero is remembered for is defending the Roman Republic. Toward the end of the Roman Empire when Cesar and the rest of them were destroying the Republic, he was arguing for it. Cicero was a lawyer and a politician. You see some things just never change. It wasn't so much different back then as it is today. Murder was employed more frequently as a means to usurp power but the intent was the same, just shut up the opposition.
 Other historical figures that I enjoy reading were influenced by Cicero. John Locke and Thomas Jefferson are two of them. They read Cicero extensively and studied his rhetoric. I wouldn't say I was a scholar of Cicero or any of the others but by reading their thoughts have had a bit of conversation with them all. I don't agree with everything Cicero ever said, or Locke either for that matter. Jefferson was controversial in some of his ideas as well. I have come to that conclusion after reading just a fraction of what they all wrote. It is like I always say: in the context of time. You do have to take what is being said or proposed in the context of time. What is perfectly normal today may be considered an aberration tomorrow, or vice versa. It truly is dependent upon the society in which you have been raised. Then understanding that, it depends upon your understanding of your own standing in that society. Cicero went from an equestrian class to Consul, the highest level in Roman society. We would say he started out as a soldier, in the cavalry, and rose to  Congressman. He was the first in his family to do so. His enemies, including Marc Anthony and Caesar, weren't too happy about that thinking his ego was inflated somewhat by his success. Personal vendettas and all of that.
 It is amazing to me how much is the same. Two thousand years later and motives remain unchanged. The problems of men and society really haven't changed at all. With all our " advances " all our " technology " not much has changed at all. There are the haves and the have nots. Then there are the haves that just want more. They begin to manipulate the have nots to their cause with promises and gifts. That's pretty much what happened to the Roman empire. It grew so large as to be unmanageable. The have nots were getting restless and even the army couldn't control them. The generals wanted more power and control. Caesar began his attempts to appease the people with his " games " and entertainment. There were handouts and " free " subsidies galore. Well we all know what happened in the end. Cicero was adamant in protecting the original premise of a Republic, a government of the people, ( the populus ) in Latin which is what Cicero wrote in. And we have the same struggle going on in America today. There are those working to preserve the Republic and those that would " modify " that Republic to their advantage. think politicians, the wealthy, and the aristocrats. Like I said, not much has changed at all.
 Now reading Cicero, Locke, Jefferson and others doesn't make me any smarter than anyone else. I read them to gain an understanding of what came before. No one can know what the future holds but we can study the past. Yes, history does repeat itself. An old adage but one that holds a great deal of truth. The same things have been said over and over again, just said in different ways. Today, if we can quote the thought in Latin that implies we're educated, isn't that why lawyers use it a lot? To try and confuse us ordinary people. Really they are just saying what we all have thought at one time or another. Cicero wrote in Latin. John Locke wrote in English, although his words sound different to us, his phrases and choice of words. Jefferson too, wrote in English, but the English of the 18th century is different than what we speak today. Thing is, they are all saying the same thing. And that is my point this morning. Cicero defended the Republic and a great many have followed him in that quest. The quest continues to this day. We are faced with this struggle each election cycle. There are those trying to save the Republic and those that would change it. Those that would change it must begin by silencing the opposition. Silence can be obtained by shouts! And that is what I'm seeing right now. It's far easier to get a mob to act than an individual. Cicero knew that and so have all the others that followed. Knowledge can be used for good or evil. Joining the mob absolves the individua from blame, that's the thinking. The " everyone else was doing it " mentality. It was Cicero who said, " A nation can survive its' fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. " Those in power didn't like that comment much. It wasn't the only thing Cicero said or wrote that made them mad, mad enough to have him murdered. And time goes on. Really it's the same old thing.   

it's policy

 I heard on the news that Jimmy Smith. cornerback for the Baltimore Ravens has been suspended for four games. The suspension came as a result of his conduct toward his ex-girlfriend and mother of his son. He was found to have been emotionally abusive and threatening. There are no formal charges filed by law enforcement for any of this. No, this conduct is in violation of the NFL's personal conduct policy. Yes, the NFL that bastion of moral and ethical conduct has applied punishment for this behavior. In addition to the suspension he has been ordered into therapy and counseling. Jimmy Smith has assured the NFL he has seen the error of his ways and is committed to change. Well, isn't that all very nice. This guy is thirty years old and I guess just needs some guidance on how to act.
 Now I couldn't care less about Jimmy Smith or the Baltimore Ravens. I just wonder why the NFL thinks " taking a knee " is just fine in their " personal conduct policy. " Disrespecting the National ensign, our veterans, and indeed the country in general is just fine for personal conduct! Threatening your ex and the mother of your son gets you suspended and sent to counseling but " emotionally abusing " the sensibilities of millions of Americans does not? Look, I'm not justifying anything Jimmy Smith said, or threatened to do in regard to his ex. They were having a battle regarding custody and support issues. Those discussions tend to get a bit heated. I seriously doubt that the abuse went just one direction. That doesn't excuse it however. Bottom line for me is he got suspended and ordered into counseling. That's all well and good. I wouldn't have an issue with that if he got fired completely.
 Other than the fact the NFL seems to be just fine with all this taking a knee as long as it doesn't impact ticket sales I wouldn't care at all. What I do take issue with is this " ordered into counseling " thing. Does anyone really believe you can just order someone to change? I think its ridiculous and nothing more than a feel good gesture. I feel that way when the courts do it also. If anyone thinks that I can just order you into therapy and you will be cured they are crazier than I am. Jimmy Smith says he has seen the error of his ways and is committed to change. Yeah, exactly what I would say if I was suspended for four games and threatened with being fired altogether. What did you expect him to say? Oh but we have to say and order the obvious these days to show how progressive and aware we are. We be woke! I'm glad they stopped saying that particular phrase every two minutes, it's irritating.
 Am I alone in seeing the hypocrisy in this? The NFL has a personal conduct policy that must be adhered to. Well that's a good thing and any employer has that right in my thinking. If you don't want to abide by those rules, don't sign the contract. But the NFL says they can't suppress those players right to disrespect the National Anthem, that's not part of the personal conduct policy. Of course when T-Bow was kneeling on the sidelines and in the end zone that wasn't acceptable, the NFL was quite vocal in their disapproval. When the Dallas Cowboys wanted to wear a patch or sticker in support of the Police, that wasn't allowed. And now the NFL is referencing this Personal Conduct Policy as the reason for Jimmy Smith punishment. Remember there are no formal charges from law enforcement authorities. If the NFL can say, taking a knee isn't against the law as justification for those players doing that, should Jimmy Smith be able to say, I haven't been charged with any crime! Seems to me it's a two way street. Just my opinion though. But I did learn how to solve the drug addition problems in this country, order them into therapy and counseling, that'll fix the problem. They will all be changed people, well, unless they relapse that is. And remember a relapse is never the fault of the therapist or treatment, that's on you.

an open window

 It's that time, school has started in some areas of the country and will be starting soon here in Maryland. Labor day is only twelve days off, the unofficial end of summer. Can pumpkins and corn stalks be far behind? Well, they are already in the lead, at least at the major retail stores they are.
 I had been talking about this with my sister, all the grandkids going back in the different areas of the country where they live, and how things have changed. Of course we started with, talking to my sister about grandkids! Just how that happened we are both a little confused about. How can my sister have grandchildren? And how can I have a grandson that is a senior in high school? I'm her little brother. It does seem a bit surreal at times, especially when we begin talking about the old days. The old days weren't all that many years ago, where they? Well, it was a different century. And that, that is a sobering fact.
 She had mentioned that school had started in Florida. She lives there but as I mentioned all her grandchildren elsewhere. She was telling me on the news they were reporting the air conditioning in a number of schools in Dade county Florida wasn't working. The temperature in the classrooms were exceeding 100 degrees. You would have thought they would have checked all that out before school even started, but apparently that's not the case. I guess they had no money for that stuff, too busy buying Narcan for the drug addicts or housing illegals I guess, but don't get me started on all of that this morning. At any rate that's when I mentioned how we used to just open the windows. Yes, you could open the windows in the schools I attended, except for my senior year when we went to the new school. That school is 47 years old this year and I hear they say it needs replacing, too old ya know. What? Well, anyway that school was air conditioned and the windows didn't open. Or maybe they did, tilt out at the bottom or something, I really don't remember. But, we had chalk boards that much is certain.
 I expect schools being designed and built these days are a lot different. First and foremost I guess we have to design them to act like a fortress. Are they installing bullet proof glass and doors that resist explosions? I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they are. What security features are being installed as " standard " equipment these days? That gives you something to think about doesn't it. I said to my wife just the other day, I can see a day when we have no public schools at all. Everyone will learn at home. Maybe they will have " extra curricular " centers where you can take your children for those activities. Centers that are heavily fortified and secure.
 Sorry I got distracted I was talking about opening the windows. When I went to school elementary was grades one through six. We didn't have middle school, at least I never heard it called that. It wasn't in a separate building that much is certain. No, grades seven and eight were in the high school. As I recall those grades were held mainly in the basement and the first floor. High schoolers were on the first and second floors. I do believe that art class was in the basement, at the end of the hall but like I said that was 48 years ago, so my memory is a bit hazy. All the classrooms on the first and second floor had rather large double hung windows which could be opened and frequently were. You could hear the street sounds, or lacking traffic, the birds chirping. I remember getting yelled at by the teacher for staring out the windows instead of paying attention. In the spring it was hard not to. In the winter months, those windows would be closed but you could see the snow when it started and a murmur would go through the classroom. Would we get out early? I don't remember that ever happening but there was always hope.
 That old school building is still in use to this day. I haven't been there to inspect it but I'm certain it has undergone many upgrades over the years. I didn't think much about it when I was going there but my Mom and Dad both attended that school. I did sit in the same classrooms as they had. I even had a teacher that had taught my mother! And we thought that Mom and that teacher were pretty old people. Oh the stories that building could tell.
 I remember going back to that school years after I had graduated. I was a Navy recruiter then and had gone " home " to visit Mom and Dad. I wore my uniform to go to the old school and hopefully see some of my teachers. I did meet a few that were still there. One teacher, sadly her name escapes me was my English teacher. She was retiring that very year. I spoke with her and she hugged me and began to cry just a bit. She told me how awful the students were these days, not polite and respectful like the " old " days. She said how much changed in such a short period of time since I had been her student. That exchange touched me and that's why I remember it. To see your teacher acting like a regular person, with feelings and everything, was a bit of a shock. But I think we viewed teachers differently back then. A lot of things were viewed differently back then. Back when we looked through an open window. Aw, good days, good memories.             

Does it make a difference?

 I was listening to the news this morning as I usually do, it runs in the background. I had heard about a man here in Maryland charged in the death of his wife and children. Without going into the whole case He is saying that his wife strangled his kids, he saw that she had done that and killed her. Oh, and the wife was pregnant. Unfortunately what really caught my attention was the charges being brought against him. He is being charged with three counts of murder and one count of " unlawful termination of a pregnancy. " My reaction is, what? Think about that for just a moment, unlawful termination of a pregnancy. This man is accused of killing his pregnant wife and two daughters. The charge is murder in the first degree for three people and one charge of unlawful termination of a pregnancy? How is that not, murder? Had he just terminated her pregnancy that wouldn't be considered murder? Well, I guess there is no way to commit " legal " murder so you have it call it something else: terminating a pregnancy. Maybe it is just me but I fail to see the distinction between the two.
 I did go on Google for a quick search of the law in Maryland. I didn't find much. The majority of the searches concerning " unlawful termination "  were concerned with people getting fired from their jobs. Plenty of information and advertising for lawyers dealing with that situation. Now I admit to not doing a very extensive search. I'm sure if I spent enough time I could find that piece of legislation that defines it in such a way. I did type in the whole question, unlawful termination of a pregnancy and the results came back pretty much the same. I have to say I'm shocked by all of that. I fully expected that to be an additional charge of murder. If you kill a pregnant woman isn't that double homicide? Apparently not in Maryland it isn't. I did find where the issue hinges on whether it is a " viable fetus " and whether the person intended to harm the fetus or not. Just killing the mother isn't sufficient evidence that you wanted to harm the fetus! Think about that. A consensus of our legislators reached that conclusion. Yes, the vote was in favor of that. Sure you killed the mother, but that doesn't mean you intended to kill the baby. In fact, it was just an " unlawful termination. " People, we are in trouble in this country when this stuff goes unnoticed.
 Now no matter how you feel about abortion, the legal termination of a pregnancy, when you kill the mother, you kill the child! I don't care if that was your intent or not! I also don't care if you " knew " she was pregnant or not! You're not supposed to kill anybody! I do find it disturbing that the law has to define the killing of an unborn child as an unlawful termination of a pregnancy. We can't call it what it is: murder? No, we can't because then we would have trouble justifying abortion as a " choice. " And that is the bottom line in all of this. We are saying its' alright to terminate a pregnancy as long as we decide to do so, murder is a viable option. Well that's because we can also decide when a fetus is " viable. " I'm no doctor, no medical expert, but I know this much, you can't be a little pregnant! Either you are, or you're not. I also know that being pregnant means you are going to have a baby. That's the expected outcome. I would say it is a viable outcome. Also the reason we have " abortions. " The intent is to prevent that outcome. It's a lawful termination.
 Here is what I did find regarding Maryland's law. Read it over for yourself. If you don't agree that it is all a bunch of double talking nonsense you haven't really read it. Yeah it may justify some things in some peoples minds but not in mine. I really don't care about viability and all of that. That child, as yet unborn and now will never be, had the right to life. It was taken away and in my book that is murder! Does it make a difference? Yes it does. If we can't be honest, admit to facts, and for lack of a better analogy, call a spade a spade we are lost. He murdered that child. And that's the bottom line.

Here is what I found. Md. Criminal Law Code Ann. § 2-103 establishes that a prosecution may be instituted for murder or manslaughter of a viable fetus as defined in Md. Health-General Code Ann. § 20-209. A person prosecuted for murder or manslaughter must have intended to cause the death of the viable fetus; intended to cause serious physical injury to the viable fetus; or wantonly or recklessly disregarded the likelihood that the person’s actions would cause the death of or serious physical injury to the viable fetus. (2005 Md. Laws, Chap. 546)

Just listened to the news a bit closer. This happened in Colorado. My bad but I get upset about this sort of thing. Doesn't matter to me where it happened though, my feelings about the whole thing are unchanged. 

Wimpy

 I enjoy a bit of trivia now and again. I wouldn't say I was very good at it as there are huge gaps in my knowledge base. I'm not very informed about great art or artists. Pop music? Not even close. But every once in a while I can pull an answer out of thin air. Yesterday it was asked," who would pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today? " I immediately responded with Wimpy. Then I had to add, not Wimpy from Three Mile Harbor though, not that wimpy. That got to remembering the Wimpy I knew. That Wimpy, I don't know his real name, could usually be found in the section of town known as the hook. When I was a teenager I worked at the IGA grocery store located in the hook. It was there I met and interacted with Wimpy. Every time I saw Wimpy, or more correctly Wimpy saw me, he would ask for a quarter. If he only had one more quarter he could get a sandwich. That is what he told me each time. If you offered to buy him lunch, or whatever at George Greens restaurant right there in the hook he would tell you, oh no, not right now I'd rather wait till later on, if you could just spare a quarter I will get a meal later on, you know, buy something at the store, make it go farther. I always gave him the quarter.
 Wimpy was what they used to call a drunk. Back in the day he wasn't the homeless man, or a man with an addiction, no, he was just a drunk. He didn't bother anyone beyond asking for that quarter. If you ignored him or just said no, he just walked away. I never heard him raise his voice to anyone or act aggressive in any way. Really he was as pleasant a man as you would want to meet. He lived in a little wooded area across the street from the IGA store and behind the firehouse. He would get a refrigerator box from the appliance store every now and again. That's about as much as I knew about him that I know for a fact. I did hear stories about him though. It was said that Wimpy had lost his best friend in an accident. They were walking together on the Three Mile Harbor road and his friend was struck and killed by a car. Following that Wimpy would just get his wine, sneaky Pete we called it, and go visit that friend in the cemetery. I never saw him there, but they say he sat on the grave talking and sharing that wine. That Wimpy used those quarters I gave him to buy that wine is a fact. There was a liquor store right there in the hook and I saw him enter that place many times. Occasionally I would even tease him a bit, asking him, you're not going to buy wine with that money are you? And Wimpy would assure me he wouldn't do that, oh no, I'm going to get something to eat.
 It was also told that wimpy had lost his toes to frostbite. He did walk with a bit of a shuffling motion. Whether that was from his loss of toes or just a matter of bad balance I really couldn't say. I never asked him about any of that. I didn't see him around during the winter months, supposedly he was in the county jail, an act of kindness by the local magistrate. He would be arrested for vagrancy and given a few months. Again, if that is true or not I really don't know.
 I only interacted with this man for a year or two. He would do odd jobs to earn a few dollars. The barber, Frank Libert, would have him trim the hedges around his home every now and again. Frank would give Wimpy a free haircut too. I don't believe anyone tried to interfere with Wimpy and what he was doing. Folks back then kinda minded there own business in that regard. No one was trying to " save " him.  At least no one I ever heard of. Whatever happened to Wimpy I have no clue. I hope he found peace at some point and is resting easy with his friend. You know I didn't pity the man, I didn't feel bad for him, or obligated to do anything in any way. I just treated him like I did everyone else. He never gave me cause to feel any differently. It was a different attitude back in the day. I just naturally figured Wimpy was responsible for Wimpy. He was who he was and that's all he needed to be.              

Turd Hawk Avenue

 Every town in America has a neighborhood like it. It is where the less fortunate members of town reside. They may reside there by choice or wind up there by circumstance. The character of those folks may be gold, its' just a lack of finances that place them where they are. Others living there do so as a result of questionable moral and ethical values. Really, not that much different than other sections of town, just more visible. Where I grew up we had a neighborhood like that and it went by several names. not very complimentary, but an accurate description nonetheless. Tar paper city. The houses there were covered in tar paper and had no shingles . The name reflected that characteristic. They didn't have shingles because they couldn't afford shingles! They looked like what we would call " third world " homes. They stayed that way my whole childhood. I can only assume those folks just didn't believe shingles or siding was a priority. Now I had shingles on my house but could understand that logic. You can't eat shingles or wear them either. Now Tar Paper city was also referred to as Hollywood. The reference was an obvious sarcasm. 

 A lady named Francis lived two houses down from me. She was an older lady, at least we always thought so, but turns out she really wasn't that much older than my own parents. She just acted old. She dressed old and did things the old fashioned way. To say she didn't believe in having the latest technology and comforts is an understatement. But Aunt Francis, as we called her out of respect and not relation, used a slew of colorful terms and adjectives. Aunt Francis always said that Tar Paper City was over on Turd Hawk Avenue. As a kid I thought that was so funny. I'd smile every time she said that. It was explained to me that a Turd Hawk is seagull. That was because gulls just circle around and poop on everything. The term Turd Hawk also morphed into a term used to describe the folks living in that neighborhood, no matter where that person actually lived. Do you know what I mean? You might get labeled a Turd Hawk if you displayed some of those characteristics. 

 Those folks living on Turd Hawk avenue were poor. That's the most direct way I can put that. They subsided on welfare. Back in the 1960's welfare wasn't as lucrative as it is today. They were given a box of food once a month I believe. As far as I know that was about all they got. They didn't get much. Those folks would go fishing and clamming to put more food on the table. Thing is, the shells, guts, and whatever parts of those things that couldn't be eaten got thrown out in the yard. And it is that practice that attracted the Turd Hawks. And that is why it was called Turd Hawk Avenue. There were days when those gulls where circling that neighborhood like buzzards in an old western film. If you have never lived near the water or been where gulls circle like that you may not know this. Don't stand underneath them! You will get Turd Hawked and they are excellent shots, seldom do they miss their target. That's what all that screeching is about, calling out the coordinates to the other gulls in formation. Gulls don't screech when they are roosting, only in flight.

 I have to add that Aunt Francis was the only person I knew that called it Turd Hawk Avenue. I did hear others calling people a Turd Hawk though. Like I said, its' not a compliment. I went to school with some kids from Turd Hawk Avenue and found them to be fine people. The kids couldn't help what their parents chose to do. Some of those kids seemed ready enough to adopt that as a lifestyle while others had dreams of moving uptown. Yes, those kids on Turd Hawk Avenue where just like me. I knew a few of those " characters " that lived in Hollywood. There was even an Indian living in a teepee there. Yes, that's the truth. Tez, Catawba Indian and friend to my father, and most of the town by all accounts, had his teepee on Turd Hawk Avenue just past the last house. It was all painted up and looked pretty fancy compared to those tar paper shacks. I don't when Tez quit living in his teepee but he did rent a home from my sister for a while. 

 All of that was more than fifty years ago now, hard to believe. It is still fresh in my mind and I can see it all. I can see those houses , hear the voices of the people, and the screech of those gulls. Growing up I never gave any of it a second thought. I just accepted it for what it was. It was reality living, not reality television. Those folks were poor and that is the way it was. Why they were poor and chose to remain that way I couldn't say. I didn't see anything holding them back. They had skills when they chose to use them. They were smart enough, just seemed to lack ambition. That's the way I saw it anyway. I have to add I didn't hear them complaining much either. Well, like I said that was more than fifty years ago, time and sensibilities change. But I'm betting there are still Turd Hawks around and they still live on Turd Hawk Avenue, no matter what name you call it. Life goes on, on Turd Hawk Avenue.     

   

distractions

 There is a lot of talk these days about mental health. It's a booming business no doubt about that. Everything from self-help books to seminars and retreats. We even have mental health days at some of our jobs. Everyone laughs about that, knowing it is really just because you don't feel like working. Your job isn't your passion. There is much said, much theorizing and analyzing going on. Some are even calling it a crisis. But I believe I have the answer to it all. You just have to stay distracted. I say that because if you are really paying attention you will go nuts. And I didn't learn that in any university or from any book. I do suspect the people that wrote those books were paying attention though, that's why they wrote them. Fact is stranger than fiction. It's a fact that some people are just plain crazy. I grow more convinced everyday that it is the crazy ones running the circus. Just look at the mess we have today and try to deny that.
 I realize it is far easier to claim an illness that has no outward signs or symptoms. When I was in the service there were guys making a career out of that. Oh, my back hurts. But even the government would deny that to them after a series of tests and pictures. Something more was needed, something irrefutable. Mental health is the key. We have reached the point were even the " doctors " can't issue a diagnosis. All they can do is prescribe a series of medications and/or therapies. I do remember when they could lock you up in a state facility when you went nuts! You may or may not get cured. Some see that as a dark period in history, I see it as common sense. Yes there were abuses but on the whole it served the public well. You certainly didn't have all the crazy stuff happening that you hear about today. Is there a direct correlation between the two? Well, I'll leave that to some statistician to determine. We also didn't have all these " professionals " saying certain behaviors were perfectly fine and normal when in fact they aren't. Ah, but then again its' good for business isn't it? I don't have to cure you, just talk to you and tell you how you are alright, its' everyone else that is wrong. Biology is wrong, even nature is confused some times. It's alright.
 I listen to the commercials on the television about depressive episodes and the like. Yeah, everyone has those, nobody is happy all the time. I hear them talking about taking this pill or that pill to even things out. No more highs and lows, steady as she goes captain! Well let me tell you something, the sea ain't flat and the journey ain't smooth. There will be highs and lows, learn to deal with it, get your sea legs, as we used to say in the Navy. But even then they would prescribe Dramamine. It didn't smooth out the waves but kept you from throwing up. It isn't a cure, it's a cover. And I think a lot of this mental health stuff is just that, a cover. I know, I know, its' not the popular opinion right now. I'm supposed to be empathic. I can't see what you are going through. I am supposed to accept whatever it is you're selling sight unseen! If I'm the salesman that is exactly what I'm going to tell you.
 And so I do my best to stay distracted. I write my stories, read a good book or find something else to concentrate on. There was a day when I would use alcohol as a distraction, it always worked. It didn't always work out well, but it worked. Now we just get prescriptions that will serve the same purpose and aren't so frowned upon. That's what the push to legalize pot is all about. I really just want to be distracted. We'll call it medicating. It's an escape. The real trick is to avoid the distractions, " let your life be the distraction that interests you."  Lend a hand to others when you can, but don't be distracted. The storm will rage around you, but remain calm. Keep your bow into the wind and maintain steerage until the storm passes. You can always adjust your course during the calm that follows.  

Alien life

 They say you can become alienated from members of society. That's a polite way of saying, they really don't like you. I can live with that. The longer you expose yourself to others the greater the chances get that it will happen. We are all aliens living in our own worlds, to a degree. You could call them neighborhoods, communities, towns, states or even countries. Thing is, we are all aliens and we all have encounters. How genuine we are in those encounters is the deciding factor. Just how alien are we?
 I participated in a small experiment on face book. I usually don't pay any attention to such things but this one intrigued me. Supposedly Facebook is using some algorithm to determine what posts and from whom I see on my timeline. I thought, why not give it a shot. I must say I can't see where that it made any difference at all. I see where others say they had different results. Interesting. My attention was once again drawn to this by the birthday notification banner. It wasn't showing some of my " friends " birthdays but did show others. Then I gave it some more thought and there are people I used to interact with that no longer show up on my timeline. To the best of my knowledge we are still " friends " as I haven't blocked anyone in any of these settings. Maybe they blocked me! I wouldn't know if they did as I pay no attention to any of that nonsense. If I don't want to read what you wrote, I don't read it. I know, it's a low tech approach, but effective. I also don't respond to those I don't want to respond to, another low tech approach but works every time.
 I have to say it is an amazing thing the number of friends that wind up on your friend list. I have far more than I would have ever guessed. My friends list is actually quite small compared to others than I have seen. I do differentiate between friend and acquaintances. Facebook makes no such distinction, but I do. An acquaintance may become a friend, but once a friend you can never become just an acquaintance again. I don't think aliens become friends. I also question whether aliens would be friendly. I mean, if they are smart enough to get here, what would we have to offer them? People generally conquer those that are weaker, and try to be friends with those that are stronger. But then that's human nature, who knows what aliens are thinking?
 It is that alien thinking that causes all the friction though. When thoughts and beliefs don't align, chaos ensues. It is what begins fights. I will defend what I believe to be right. The opposition will always proclaim they are right, and you are wrong for not changing your thinking. That's just the way it works. When we are at odds with one another we are alienated! I have discovered that are far more aliens right here on earth than any I anticipate coming from outer space. There are aliens all around!
I left my world when I was just 18 years old. The search for intelligent life continues. It's out there, somewhere. Isn't that what we say we are doing when looking for alien lifeforms? Why do we think that? We just might find a whole world of idiots. Of course, we wouldn't need to travel in space to find that, California is a good start.   

writing the law

 You can't have a general discussion on individual terms. That seems to be the problem we are having an awful lot these days. I know I run into that all the time. It happens on social media and it happens in my personal interactions. I find myself getting frustrated with the whole thing. There are times when I just have to walk away shaking my head. No wonder we can't reach a consensus on things. If we continue to attempt to litigate and define each and every possible situation and circumstance we will most certainly fail. I'm sure you have heard it before, this concept of the generation of me. It's been said of every generation by the ones preceding the current one. I fully expect that trend to continue. Yes, it's been said before, and it's getting worse.
 This is particularity troubling in the field of government. Government is for the benefit of the general public. Notice that it is the word General that is the operative word here. We must speak in general terms and base our decisions on public welfare in a general sense. We call that the majority rule. It's not hard to understand really, the difficulty lies in acceptance. That is the problem we are having these days, the acceptance of truth. We keep trying to change reality to match our perceptions. The truth is there are no " one size fits all " solutions. That's what we have to accept. There are solutions that will satisfy our needs as a society in a general sense. There will always be dissention, disagreement and disgust. But if we continue to attempt to satisfy each want, need or demand on an individual basis, it will lead to collapse. It's not rocket science folks, it's common sense. You can't rule by exception!
 Are there exceptions to the rule? Yes, everyone will say so, and everyone will also claim to be that exception. That is just human nature. Oh many will proclaim that they aren't publicly, we all know the correct response to that accusation. Truth is we all believe we are special in some way and should receive that exception to satisfy whatever need we are feeling at the moment. Reasons and excuses abound, at least in our own minds they do. And the biggest excuse of all, everyone is doing it, doesn't make the action right. Replacing the word exception with the word " justice " doesn't change a thing. It's a popular ploy, a bit of clever propaganda, but it is a deception. This is especially true when you start justifying what you should be afforded today based on the actions of those in the past. The wrongs of the past can not be " rectified " by granting privilege in the future. Those that were wronged, remained wronged! And that is the truth of it.
 The intent of law, of government, was to define what wasn't acceptable. At least that is my thinking on it. Each country, state, county and community enacts such laws in accordance with their customs and beliefs. Those precepts will change over time and with advances in technology. But law is intended to delineate what isn't acceptable throughout the society in a general sense. Law is totally inadequate to govern man on an individual basis. That's because law is always dependent upon acceptance by the individual. All laws are created by a superior being! Now you can label that superior in any way you wish, by any name or description, but it is imperative to understand that it is a superior force that creates that law. The founding fathers called them unalienable rights, they are laws. There are no exceptions to those laws and the founding fathers made a point of stating just that.
 It looks to me that we are now making laws to define what will be tolerated. It has become necessary to protect those that refuse to acknowledge a superior force. Whether that force is an unseen God enforcing moral standards, or a legislature enforcing ethical practices, we are making laws that are the exceptions. Isn't that what the tax code is really concerned with? Thousands of pages of exceptions! Yes, you can call them exemptions, but the intent is the same. They provide a legal means to circumvent the rule of law by providing an exception. A great deal of the legislation enacted and being proposed today is nothing more than exceptions. It's the whole attitude of, it's not that bad. No one is denying that " it " is bad, just that it isn't that bad, and so an exception should be made. Law by exception. For me, an action that is generally wrong, has to be considered wrong in the public domain, no exceptions. But now we have reached that point where the answer is: it doesn't say I can't do that, not exactly. There are no unalienable rights unless those rights are delineated by the government! We all started out knowing it is wrong to kill one another, yet we have justifiable homicide. An exception made. It's not that bad to kill someone if I save my life doing that, if I had no other choice. Can you argue any other way? No, yet generally speaking it is wrong to kill another person. Exceptions abound, so too excuses. We'll make it a law! All we need to do is write it down. That was the original thinking wasn't it? Ten laws were written in stone, then man started making amendments to those laws.  

a simple thing

 There are times when it is the simplest thing that brings you joy. Yesterday when returning from the post office I stopped to pick some wild flowers. I walk to the post office , it is less than block away. Just across the street from my place there is a log cabin. This cabin belongs to the Greensboro historical society. Surrounding the cabin are gardens, once tended by the Caroline County garden club but they seem to have been neglected this year. The gardens are overflowing and gone well, wild. The grass hasn't been cut and the whole thing looks abandoned. It's a shame and I will have to speak to Mr. Nashold the president of the historical society about this. I was a member for some time and even a docent at that cabin. But, I hate to have to admit to it, I quit attending the meetings and let my interest wane. I have become one of those folks I am apt to complain about. Well, I took note yesterday.
 I did stop and pick some of those flowers with the thought of giving them to my wife. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. I was enjoying life and wanting to share that joy. What better way than to bring some joy home with you? Those flowers smell so nice. I can't say with certainty what kind of flowers they even are. I'm not much of a horticulturalist. I can only identify the major ones, like roses and daises. I know a black eyed Susan when I see one and sunflowers. These aren't any of those. But what they are isn't important, unless they will kill you or something. I don't think that is the case. Neither I or my wife have had any allergic reaction to them so that's good.
 Those flowers and that simple act served as a reminder. I was reminded that it is the simplest things that can bring the greatest joy. I only picked a few, a spray, I believe that is the proper term. You wouldn't notice them missing from the garden and they fit into the vase just right. The cost was zero, provided gratis by mother nature herself. The smell doesn't fill the room, it's not overwhelming but every now and again I catch a whiff. Ah, the smell of fresh flowers. A reminder of the days when I would pick wildflowers for my Mom. That was a simple act of love as well. The best things in life are truly free.
 It isn't that far off now, autumn. Soon the leaves will begin to fall and the earth turn shades of brown. Mums and pumpkins will dominate, corn stalks standing proudly by their side. The smell of burning leaves will replace the smell of flowers. Sunny days and cool evenings. And autumn, autumn is a comfort. It is relief from the dog days of summer. Autumn is the time to pack your summer memories away and prepare for the long cold winter. We have the holidays to carry us through until the springs arrives and the cycle begins anew. But right now I'll enjoy the flowers, and my wife. Life is good  and the earth provides if we but pay attention. The simplest things often bring the biggest joy.

a princess and a janitor

 I'm certain I'm not alone in this. I have a story or two, 100% the truth, yet people often don't believe it. Oh, some folks are polite, nodding their heads and smiling while others just laugh. One of those stories concerns a lady I can just remember. She was a friend of my great grandfather and I knew her only as Miss Pokey. Her full name was Princess Pocahontas Pharoah. She was the last member of the Montauk Indian tribe to be born at Indian Field in Montauk. She seldom spoke of any of that though as it was her life. You know how you are, to her, it was pretty much ho hum. She didn't dress like I thought an Indian should dress, nor did she talk like the Indians on television. She was a jovial sort of lady and from what little I remember very nice. I do recall her telling me she was asked to march in the parade. She laughed about that and said, I'm too fat and too old to be walking in any parades in moccasins! 

 Now Miss Pokey worked at the telephone company. She was what we would call a janitor today. I'm not sure of her official title. All I remember is her stopping by my great grandfathers house on her way home from work. She would sit and chat with Gramp and tell us kids she needed to rest her feet. I have no idea what they talked about as kids weren't allowed in the conversation of adults. That my Great Grandfather had a cane he claimed was once the property of Stephen Talkhouse I knew. Stephen Talkhouse was famous He was a Pharoah too. I assume they were related in some fashion. There wasn't much interest in all of this when I was a kid. I expect a great deal of this history has been researched these days. There is a bar named the Stephen Talkhouse that by all accounts these days is a rather big deal. It wasn't when I lived there. But anyway, that cane was given to Tez, another Indian friend of my father. Dad figured that was the proper place for that artifact. Whether that cane was the property of Stephen Talkhouse is questionable. Gramp said it was, and Chief Red Thundercloud of the Catawba nation took his word for it. 

 Miss Pokey, princess and janitor passed away in 1963. She was interred at Cedar Lawn cemetery in East Hampton. The last I knew it was an unmarked grave. I wonder if that has been rectified, if not, it certainly should be. Yes I have people that just don't believe me when I tell them I was once held by a Princess. It's the absolute truth and so was my sister. Yes, we were friends with a princess. We were also friends with Chief Red Thundercloud, known to us as Tez. I remember him sleeping in a teepee too! I think he did that more for effect than anything else. After all, Tez made his living being an Indian. There is much that can be said about him, but I can say he was my friend.

 It can be frustrating when you tell people these stories and they doubt you. The thing about stories are, that's exactly what they are, stories. As I have said in the past, memories are always in the first person, everything else are stories. I remember Miss Pokey in the first person, to others she is just a character in a story. It happens to us all eventually, we become a memory, then we become a story. The goal is having someone tell the story. That's when you have been successful in life wouldn't you say? To be remembered. This morning I'm remembering Miss Pokey. A princess and a janitor.    

        

something worth repeating

 It's quite the ubiquitous thing. The best way to sound intelligent is to quote other people. We all do it, we all accept it and we believe it. If I can quote the masters in literature or the most brilliant minds that every lived, I do sound smarter. Additionally it is a strange thing to just quote anyone famous. They don't have to be scholars, or particularity learned, just famous. We will quote and misquote them as evidence of our " truth. " We offer these quotes as proof positive. After all, if we have read all this stuff, surely we are smart. It's my thinking a great deal of the college curriculum is concerned with all that. Reading and then explaining what was written. The thing is, you do have to explain it the way your professor taught you, or you won't have the right answers. It is a type of catch 22. How else could the professor evaluate whether you " learned " the lesson or not? I mean, there has to be a standard answer right? Well now, that all depends upon who we choose to quote when it comes to philosophy, ethics and morality issues. Sure we can agree on mathematical formulas and scientific facts they are fairly straightforward and provable. Human nature and human interaction not so much.
 Now I often employ quotes in my writing. I find quotes as a validation for my own thoughts. What I mean is, I haven't necessarily read any works by that author, but found a quote by him or her that expresses exactly what I was thinking about. The quote is an explanation. I especially enjoy the more succinct ones. You can call them witticisms or zingers as well. I think of them as the condensed version of an essay. Sorta like those Readers Digest condensed books. They get right to the point of the story, a no frills approach. As I said, I will use quotes in my writings and yes, the intent is to add credibility to my statements. Hey, if John Locke or James Madison thought the same thing I must be on the right track. Of course that is dependent upon you. Do you believe what John Locke or James Madison thought? It's a matter of trust really. You see, I'm not famous or a recognized scholar so just quoting " Ben " isn't saying much. No one feels obligated to agree with that! It is far more difficult to dispute say, Ben Franklin or Socrates. And if I can say it in Latin, so much the better.
 It has been said " imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. " ( Charles Caleb Cotton ) Ever hear of him? I admit I hadn't until recently. He also said, " The writer does the most who gives his reader the most knowledge and takes from him the least time. " And that is a sentiment I share with him wholeheartedly. I do like to get to the point. I find it is quite the difficult thing to accomplish. I used to believe that those who wrote volumes were the smartest, but now I'm not so convinced. I have decided that there is little that can be said that hasn't been said before. The " trick " lies in saying it in a way you haven't heard it before. Do that and you will be quoted. And the strangest thing about that is, it doesn't prove a thing. It's a flattery though.
 What about those that do write an entire volume, a book? Well it can take a book to explain a single thought. That's why we study them isn't it? I like to reverse engineer things myself. Take it apart and see how it works. For that reason I have always been prone to read the quote , then look up the author. Sometimes I agree with the author and sometimes I don't. Surprisingly, terrible people have said amazingly intelligent stuff! We avoid quoting them however. If you quote someone it is assumed you agree with them. Well unless the intent is to disparage someone else, then those quotes become a weapon. You know, like name calling, only more intelligent, sorta.
 I'll finish up by saying I am in the process of writing a book. Yup, I feel the need to explain. So far that is what this " book " is shaping up to be, an explanation. I have discovered that the majority of my " blogs " are just the condensed version of my thoughts. I am discovering writing the explanation is far more challenging. It is a validation of what Mr. Cotton had to say about taking the least time. But by being brief you rely upon the readers assumptions. That usually isn't a good thing.
 Writing a book requires you to be alone for only you know your thoughts. Mr. Cotton had something to say about that as well. " To dare to live alone is the rarest courage, since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in the closet. " Could be that's why we hear so much hate and discontent today. Could be " humanity " needs a little bit more alone time. And that is accomplished one person at a time. Is there a quote in all of this? " Say something worth repeating " is my first thought. Oh, you can quote me on that if you like, or adopt it as your own. The value lies in the thought, not who said it.      

deciding

 My normal routine is to sit at this keyboard and write my thoughts each morning. It has become somewhat of a habit. My sister tells me she has been " journaling " for many years. She is the only one that reads those journals, and when they become filled she tells me she just throws them out. She  writes solely for herself. I admire that dedication, dedication to self. When I began this " blogging " a different enterprise than a  journal I think, I intended to share them with the world. Fact is I figured a few of my friends and perhaps old acquaintances may browse them. I was taken with the notion that a complete unknown could share with the world in such a way, I still think it is pretty cool.
 I didn't really know what I was going to write about. I had the idea that a blog was supposed to cover a single subject. I figured I would just write my thoughts and stories. Didn't take long to figure out I just don't have that many stories. At least I don't have that many interesting stories or the ability to make the mundane ones exciting reading. Soon I began to include my philosophical meanderings. I didn't realize I even had them until I started writing them down! I also discovered a bit more about my personal religious feelings and contemplating those. I have continued in those veins for about 8 years now. I believe if one were to read all my blogs you would gain an understanding of who I am. I have discovered that can be problematic! Sometimes I tell too much. But then I chuckle at that thought. If I can't be honest with my " readers " what is the point? I remind myself I am writing for myself,  more so than others. It would be a different scenario were I doing this for profit. In that case I would feel completely justified in writing whatever I feel people want to read. Then I would be writing for popularity or profit. It isn't that I wouldn't want either one, its' just that isn't my intent. The action is somewhat like what my sister does in her journaling, the writing is therapeutic. The subtle difference is I'm sharing that therapy with anyone that chooses to read it. It may or may not apply to them! I often laugh to myself when I receive negative comments regarding this. I can't help but think, if that person were paying a therapist a hundred dollars an hour they would be far more receptive!
 I say that based on experience. In-between my stints in the Navy I upholstered furniture for a living. Part of that job was to install curtains and blinds in the customers homes. I had no formal training, or even practical experience in home decorating. Still, many times while I was installing those items or just delivering the furniture I had reupholstered I was asked decorating advice. I always found that amusing and always gave those folks an answer. Many times they accepted that " answer " as a fact and arranged their furniture accordingly. I would be asked for my opinion or advice. Why? I can only assume they also assumed I knew what I was talking about. I did not. But, that is why I say what I do. If you are paying for it you do make assumptions. If it is free, you are far more skeptical. In my opinion that's why we came up with the whole concept of diplomas and degrees. I am too smart, see I got a paper that says so. This here is my " bona fides. " That comes from the Latin and literally means " good faith. " When I worked at the grocery store I was often asked advice about buying cuts of meat or how to tell if a certain vegetable or fruit was ripe. I'm not a butcher or a chef, but I was asked anyway. Why? Folks assume you know:  any port in a storm is the thinking.
 When it comes to philosophy, religion and personal stories each port is distinct. We each have our own. We are often hesitant to enter another. For that reason I don't expect folks to drop anchor in mine. I also hope they don't attack it. When I write these short snippets they are meant to offer my opinion. I am somewhat amazed when folks find out that I will defend that opinion. Some become incredulous. What do you mean you won't change your opinion? Didn't you just hear mine? Yes, I did and I'm asking the same question of you.
 I've only had one occasion to speak with a mental health professional. Before you can be assigned as a Navy recruiter you are required to talk to the head doctor. I had this interview with him and he asked a series of questions. He showed me ink blots and stuff. We had a short discussion. In the end he asked me if I had any questions for him. I did. I asked him who decides on his mental health? I thought it a valid question, as I felt comfortable enough with the man. He seemed a bit offended and assured me his " peers " performed that function. I politely thanked him for his time and went on about my day. I got the job. My take away from that experience? His opinion counts because of a piece of paper. I wonder what school he went to and what he was taught was right? I mean, just what do those ink blots prove? What did I see in them? I don't remember, but I think a butterfly and a spider was in there somewhere. I'm thinking it is all a matter of opinion.
 The thing is, my whole thought this morning is, if we can't share and discuss our opinions what can we do? I'm one that believes in black and white, right and wrong. You do have to decide. You can't just sit on the fence agreeing with both sides all day. You can't compromise on every issue. At some point you do have to get down off the fence and walk through the meadow. Sometimes you step in it and sometimes you don't.
 
    

Pride or Defiance?

 Pride and defiance, two words that seem to be confused an awful lot these days. They really do have different meanings. But, in the last few years I have been seeing them used interchangeably. The intent is to minimize. That is the common ploy man has used throughout history. Really it is saying, I know it's bad, but it's not that bad! Pride is a deep satisfaction in what you have accomplished or who you are. Defiance is acknowledging that something is wrong, but continuing with the action. Yes both words can mean different things when taken in a different context, true of many words, but often we leave the context out these days. In some cases the word has come to imply certain things without any context at all. Take Pride for example. If we talk about Pride today what thought is brought to the forefront? We start thinking about rainbow flags and Gay people. Why? The reason is because we wish to minimize that as being perfectly acceptable social behavior. That's the bottom line, simple as that.
 Now set aside my statement implying that being Gay is not acceptable behavior. I realize many will jump at that as evidence of my " homophobia " or some other derogatory term. That's an attempt to minimize my words or thoughts. That's all a part of human behavior. What I do believe is that being gay is an aberration in human behavior, not the norm. The name for that behavior has been changed over the years to, you got it, minimize its' impact in general society. Remember when those folks were called Queers? That's very offensive, or at least it was, but I understand that has now been included once again. In the " LGBTQ " community. Notice how it is called a community, implying they are a separate group altogether from the rest of " us. " The " Q's " can't even decide what they are. By their own admission they are different. But, they aren't that different, is the real message. I can't help but question all of that. Are they truly " proud " or are they just being defiant?
 Defiance is acting contrary to what is acceptable. Wouldn't you say that is a fair statement? It is something we start doing as children and will continue to do throughout our lives. We all have heard of the terrible two's. What is that? Defiance! Instinctively we want things our way. We defy convention because we haven't learned convention. The way we are taught that convention has certainly changed over the years. Fact is, it has changed with each generation. It's a cycle, like most everything you can think of. From strict to permissive. There is a whole gamut to navigate. Some will take pride in being defiant! That's where the two actions get confused. And we hear a lot about confusion these days. The present answer to that confusion is, whatever you decide. The attempt is being made to minimize right and wrong. It's not that wrong! How can we make wrong, right? We accomplish that by reducing the consequence of your choice. If it is a test, we grade on the curve.  If it a contest, everyone gets the trophy. If it is human behavior, morality or ethics, the standard is simply, as long as it doesn't harm me. In that way we minimize the impact on society in general. If everyone gets to pretty much do whatever they want, you have less dissention. Isn't that the plan? Like raising children, its' easier to just let them do whatever, as long as they don't hurt themselves too bad, or destroy your belongings. It's easier to keep your intervention to a minimum.
 It is also far easier to just keep doing whatever it is you are doing. To put that another way, change is harder. Even when we realize that something we are doing is harmful to us personally, we often refuse to change. We call it addiction these days. Addiction is never the fault of the addicted but caused by an outside source. That's the message I keep hearing. That message comes from where? Those that would profit from that is the short answer. The drug companies and mental health professionals! Their message is always the same, you need help. Additionally they can provide that help, for a fee. They don't deny the behavior is harmful or wrong, no they confirm that, but their promise is to alter the consequences of those actions to your benefit. They will even " help " you gain pride in doing what is wrong! That's why they will tell you, it's not that bad, it's only a little wrong. Ah, it's an aberration. Synonyms include, anomaly, deviation, divergence, abnormality, irregularity, variation, digression, freak, rouge, oddity, curiosity, mistake, and rarity. None of which you would want to take pride in being. You may have to accept that you are one, but proud? Is it Pride or Defiance.
 I know that  many will read this and only think I'm talking about Gay people. That is not what my thoughts concern. I only choose that topic because it is easy for people to relate too. What I'm thinking about is the deeper portion of all that. I'm thinking about what thoughts people must have and how they react to those thoughts. Is Pride a good thing? Sometimes it is.  Is Defiance a good thing? Sometimes it is. Is Pride a necessity? Is defiance a necessity? Can we tell the difference between pride and defiance? I guess that all depends, depends upon what we want, what we have and what we intend to get. Or, just maybe, it depends upon what we want others to believe about us. I'm not that bad.