new history

  I have a copy of the book East Hampton History and Genealogies by Jeanette Edwards Rattray. The copyright on this book is 1953 the year I was born. I inherited this book from my mother who had purchased it as a first edition. In the foreword Mrs. Edwards recognizes Judge Henry P. Hedges who had published a history of East Hampton in 1897. She says she was inspired to write this new history. I read that this morning with a mixture of a smile and a sadness. A new history written 70 years ago. Much has changed over that time and perhaps it is time once again for a new history. I have no intention of attempting that. 

 In her history she did include the genealogies of early families. My grandfather, Horace Bennett, was descended from the earliest settlers in the area. My roots, my family tree stretches all the way back to the very beginning. A Bennett, although the spelling was different, was with Lion Gardner when he purchased his island. I can't prove it without a doubt, but I believe it was a Bennett that was killed by Indians during Philips war and his widow moved to East Hampton. I know for a fact that my 2nd great grandmother worked for Judge Hedges. My family lines can be traced in her book. It's a fact that my great grandmother, Lucy Terry Lester, worked with Mrs. Rattray in compiling those genealogies. 

 I have read that book numerous times and always learn something new or notice a detail I had missed. My mother made notations in the margins correcting some of the genealogy. Those corrections concern her immediate family, and she had first-hand knowledge. All in all, it is a remarkable piece of work when you consider the time in which it was compiled. In 1953 there were no computer programs to record and organize that information. Everything had to be assembled either from paper resources or personal interviews. Yes, there are mistakes in there, and as I said, my mom corrected what she knew. 

 My sister and I are not mentioned in that genealogy. My mother at first married Donald DeCristofaro and had my brothers Harold and Daniel. There is no mention that she divorced him and married my dad, Austin B Reichart. A piece of history unrecorded in what Mrs. Rattray called a new history. There was much left unrecorded I'm certain of that. 

 I have compiled quite a family tree over the years. I make no claims to the accuracy of that information but have tried my best. It is the unrecorded information that fascinates me, however. I have uncovered secrets, bits of information not mentioned in conventional histories. I have also found they aren't always welcomed and so do not spread that information around. Is it gossip if it is the truth? Well, that depends upon who you are talking to and if they have any connection to the one being discussed. That sort of information can be upsetting. It can change the way we view someone. At other times it provides an explanation. 

 In my copy of the book, I highlighted family members. I know it devalues the book, but I'm not concerned with any monetary value it may hold. I still have a remanent of the paper jacket that went with that book but that's all it is, a remanent. That book would have a rather niche interest anyway. I'm thinking I'll write something inside to let my grandkids know what that book is and why they should save it. It's been around for seventy years already! Now my grandmother had ten children and so documenting all the cousins is quite a challenge in itself. I admit I do not know who all of them are. I have discovered some in my research but I'm certain many are missing as well. As to what children and grandchildren they have I haven't even started to look. 

 A new history. I have written a good deal of that new history through these blogs of mine although I haven't concentrated on family. But I guess that history is more my opinion of history, my viewpoint than it is actual fact. There is so much more to tell of a person beyond their name and two dates. More than what they did for a living. Is it simply history? I can't speak for others but I'm hoping I won't be just history. I'm hoping to be that "living" history you hear about. The question being, do you want others to write that history, or do you want to do it yourself? The goal should be to write that history as you go along and not have to do a rewrite or have any omissions. 

Traditional

 Today I will be engaging in an age old tradition, the dying of eggs. People have been dying and decorating eggs since ancient times. I've read where it began with "pagans" and Christians simply carried that tradition forward making it their own. It's been said Christians did that with the Christmas tree as well. Old habits and old traditions never die! But I'll be dying my eggs because that's what I have done since I was a small child. A rabbit used to dye and bring those eggs, along with candy when I was very young. At least that is what I was told. Peter Rabbit. "Here comes Peter cotton trail hoping, down the bunny trail, hippity-hoppity Easters' on its' way." Did you realize that song was first recorded in 1950. Gene Autry, the singing cowboy, did that song in a movie in 1951. I looked that up and was surprised having thought the song was much older than that. Peter Rabbit is but not the song. Peter Rabbit was born in 1902 and is celebrating his 122nd birthday. 

 Easter is associated with dying eggs or is it vice-versa? I've read where the egg symbolizes new life and that is one reason for it at Easter. But that is all a part of folklore. It is very hard to say with any certainty the origins of such beliefs. I'm certain some traditions, along with some habits, are simply modified to meet the occasion. We humans do like our symbols, don't we? We have been waving flags and displaying symbols of our beliefs since the earliest times. A tradition that is carried on today on a massive scale. The rainbow has been transformed to fit a narrative. The WW2 victory sign changed into a peace sign. I hear about the various gangs and their colors. I just associate dying eggs with Easter because it is what I have done all my life. I have never attempted to place any real significance on that activity. It's simply fun to do and now it reminds me of my youth. 

 I do remember my parents hiding some eggs around our house when I was very young. My siblings and I searching for them. I don't recall ever going to an egg hunt like they may have today. What I mean is big, organized events with entertainment, food vendors and the like. One local church here is having what they call an "eggstravaganza" on Easter Sunday. This church celebrated Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday a week early to hold this event on Easter day. The hope being it will attract those that don't go to church on Sundays, an opportunity to gather some more into the flock. 

 I remember breaking the ends out of those hard-boiled eggs and attempting to "blow" the egg out of the shell. We would hold them in a certain way and bump them together too. If your egg didn't crack but your opponents did, you got their egg! On at least one occasion my father had dyed an egg that wasn't hard boiled. Yes, that was quite a surprise. Happy Easter! Another year we didn't find all the eggs that had been hidden. It was discovered a long time afterwards. It didn't smell bad or anything, I guess because the shell hadn't been broken, but no one was brave enough to crack it open to find out either. 

 Other traditions associated with Easter are dying out, I think. The biggest being getting those Easter outfits. I did get a new suit every year at Easter. Some years it was just the jacket, but we always had a new outfit to wear to church for Easter. My sister would have the gloves and the bonnet so closely associated with all of that. The pictures would be taken outside the church following the services. All the parents and grandparents with their Brownies. You remember them, those little box like cameras. You looked down into the camera to see the image through the lens. Memories made. Yes, it was a day to celebrate! He has risen, he has risen indeed! And he had new clothes too. 

 I can honestly say I never associated Peter Rabbit with any religious beliefs. They were and remain totally separate things. Two celebrations, one day. The one was serious and the other just for fun. Yes, the risen Christ is serious business. Peter Rabbit is just a fairy tale, an amusement to celebrate spring. So today I'll dye some eggs, relive some old memories and tomorrow enjoy eating them, with lots of salt. I don't have a basket full of candy though, I just have the candy. I confess I already ate my chocolate rabbit. I just love that cheap chocolate that they are made of. It's probably not even chocolate but I have one every year, it's a tradition, or a yearly habit depending upon your view. 

 I have my fathers' baby spoon. He was born in 1924 when Peter Rabbit turned twenty. It was long before the song. On the handle of that spoon is Peter Rabbit himself! Oh, it is the original depiction of Peter, and I must say a bit scary looking. The spoon is silver, of course, and the handle bent in a curved shape as baby spoons are. My dad would show that spoon to us kids every Easter, it being Peter Rabbit. Now it sits in his baby cup on a shelf in my living room. Dad would be one hundred this September and Peter one hundred and twenty-two. It's a good tradition. 

                                                                                 

                     

                                                      There's Peter! 

Once again

This morning, I decided to just publish what I had written six years ago. I read through it and found my feelings remain unchanged. 

 Today is Good Friday. When I was very small, I can remember some businesses closing at 3 O'clock and the church bells ringing. Many people stopped whatever they were doing to observe a moment in history that changed the world. I don't recall anyone complaining or being offended, just a quiet respect. Yes, it only lasted a short while, but the acknowledgement was there. It seems like that was such a long time ago, but it wasn't really. Sixty years isn't that much. But it is three generations.

 You can't eat meat on Good Friday. That's a rule. I have never been Catholic but know that stipulation. My wife is a Methodist and insists we not eat meat. I don't know why she feels that way, but I certainly honor it. With the meat thing, I can recall there was an alternate choice on the school lunch menu every Friday. That was until the Pope said it was okay. I think that happened back in 1965. I believe there has been more changes since then. If for no other reason it did serve as a reminder. We had a lot of reminders back in those days, today we tend to forget. It is a shift in society in a general way. Yes, back then there was no question we were a Christian nation, the only question was, which kind? Today there are many that profess no Christian ties at all, and there are many new " kinds " as well. Seems like if you don't like what this Church is preaching, start your own. And please, don't get me started with these Mega-Churches.
 This is all tied into my thinking about religion in general. I've written about it before and likely will again. The question for me is do you go to church as a celebrant or a supplicant? Me, I tend to be on the supplicant side of the aisle. I've saving the celebration for when I get the reward. In the meantime, I think I had best be humble, ask for forgiveness and understanding, and behave myself! You see I do believe your choice of denomination doesn't really matter as long as you hold the belief. The way you choose to express that belief is an individual thing. So, I'm not saying one way is better than another, just noticing the differences. You see I was taught to address him as God the Father. I was also taught how to address my father. Hey, there is even a commandment about that. Now I wouldn't go to my father, calling him by his first name and making demands. I also wouldn't go to him full of expectations. I really am at his mercy. I was a child then and remain a child of God. I never got very far telling my father how much I loved him or telling him how great he was. No, my father had a tendency to judge me based on the actions I took.
 That may be the reason we are seeing some of the things taking place today, Perhaps the children aren't being taught the proper respect for the father. Well, we know many today don't have a father! I was taught to fear God and my father! A fear born out of respect. I'm thinking we need to bring back some of those reminders we have abandoned in favor of convenience and profits. All I hear these days is, don't judge. Well, the deal is you will be judged, and you had best be prepared for that. I was taught that lesson. I was judged on my words and my actions. Back then we called it parenting. Mom and Dad let you know if you were right or wrong, and judgement was immediate and, for the most part, final. To have a conviction overturned required some pretty substantial evidence.
 But today is Good Friday and I will pause at three. I'm betting Walmart won't close their doors, even for a minute. Will any business? What is sadder still is so many will close their hearts to the message. A solemn day indeed. I have always wondered why it was called Good Friday. Good for us! That's the only reason I can think of.
 

that's right

  I've heard about a gambling scandal involving a major league pitcher and his interpreter. A Japanese sensation from what I've read. I haven't been following baseball much in the last decade or so and so am not well informed. Anyway, this player claims he didn't know anything about betting on any sporting events. His claim is his interpreter, a close personal friend of his for many years, was doing the betting. His friend owed millions to the "bookies", and he paid his friends debt off. That's the jest of the story. Whether he knew or not I can't say, but I will say I'm skeptical that he at the very least wasn't aware of his friends gambling habit. I'm certain there will be an investigation. If this player violated the rules he should be suspended and/or fired and possibly banned for life. The rules are the rules.

 Now, as I read about that I was also reading all the comments from those advocating for Pete Rose to be included in the hall of fame. Their argument being this current player bet on baseball games and was involved in gambling. That argument holds no water for me as two wrongs still don't equal one right. At the time Pete Rose was betting it wasn't a legal activity at all. There was no such thing as sports betting, it was all done illegally and controlled by criminals! Granted our government has now decided to fund our economy through gambling in many forms but the rules haven't changed. I'm not aware of what the exact contract/agreement is, what it actually says or doesn't say but I know as a professional athlete you are not allowed to gamble on games you are in, and I suspect, any games at all.

 The whole Pete Rose thing is clear enough to me. He was gambling, illegally, on games. He at first attempted to deny that, then he made a deal. He would accept a lifetime ban from major league baseball with no possibility of ever being in the hall of fame. He agreed to that, signed the documents and that's that. Whatever anyone else has done, is doing or will do in the future has no bearing on that. Was justice served? It's what he agreed to, and that is the best form of justice I think one can receive sometimes. That punishment wasn't imposed upon him, it was agreed to. 

 I am always annoyed with these folks that advocate for conditional morality or rules. It's wrong this time, right in this case or some other ridiculous reasoning involved. This guy hasn't been found guilty of anything. Rose was banned in 1989! That was thirty five years ago. He has done nothing but complain since. Yes, his accomplishments on the field were outstanding, worthy of the honor of being in the hall of fame. The problem is his moral character excluded him from that honor as he conducted himself in a dishonorable fashion. He agreed to that ban and that's the bottom line. You can't go back on your word and claim integrity! 

 This is just an example, however. I really am not concerned with Pete Rose, or this latest pitcher being accused of the same offense. I'm just annoyed with the reasoning. There are those letting people out of prison because the law changed. That was the law when you broke it, and you should be punished according to the law. The law wasn't unbroken when it was changed. It's likes paying reparations. It doesn't undo what happened in the past. Getting an abortion doesn't make you unpregnant! There are two genders regardless of how you feel. If you cross the border into my country illegally, you are an illegal alien! You are not a migrant, an immigrant or a refugee. You are an illegal alien. Doesn't make any difference what happened thirty-five years ago or fifty years ago or a hundred years ago. The rules haven't changed. It is still illegal to enter my country without the proper paperwork. Oh, you can ask for help, for asylum or whatever but you have to ask before entering the country! All I'm hearing is the old excuse we all tried to use at one time or another, "but everyone was doing it." Yeah, that makes it right? 

Saddened

  The rescue operation has ended. Sadly at least six are presumed dead following the bridge collapse. It's an amazing thing that number isn't much higher. I realize that is no consolation to those that have lost a loved one. Every effort was made to locate any possible survivors, it just wasn't possible. Now the focus is shifting to recovery. Other than the rebuilding of the bridge itself, the economic impact is being talked about. Many jobs will be lost, no ships no need for workers. I'm certain it will be quite some time before any sense of normalcy will return. 

 Already on social media the marine experts are in abundance along with structural engineers of all types talking about the design faults of the bridge. Experts are saying the bridge was too old.  There should have been bumpers in the water and pillars to deflect any run away ship from hitting the pillars. All the "experts" are genius after the fact. There are, of course, the conspiracy people. It's the Chinese, it's the Russians. it's the drug cartels! Some are saying it is a plot by Joe Bidens administration. Some say Trump is to blame in some fashion. 

 Today the NTSB is going to board the ship, amazing to me that they didn't do that immediately to collect information. But today they will board the ship and recover the "black box" that records all the vital information regarding the operation of the ship. There is a different name for that device, I don't recall what they said, but it should provide answers. I'll add my speculation to the mix and say it was simply a mechanical failure of some type, an accident. Now I will say I'm certain they will comb through maintenance records and discover some deficiencies. In my twenty year career in the Navy, in the engineering department, every inspection performed found deficiencies. It is the job of someone to conduct the inspection. If you are that individual, you can't simply write, no deficiency exists! If you do someone is going to say, you weren't looking! All I'm going to say is there are times when something simply fails. You could inspect it today and have a failure tomorrow. 

 It is a tragic accident. There was a bridge in Florida that suffered a collapse under similar circumstances in 1980. Do any of you remember that? I certainly didn't and thirty five lives were lost in that one. It was caused by a navigation error as the ship was lost in the fog. That was forty four years ago. My point being, accidents happen, and we shouldn't rush to judgement about the cause. All this "if we had" following this tragedy does nothing. It is impossible to prevent every accident. But I suppose it is human nature to want to place the blame somewhere. 

 There was a lawyer being interviewed on the news that was talking about litigation for this accident, that someone had to be held accountable financially. And that was the focus, the financial responsibility. His feeling being the United States will have to sue whoever is the owner/underwriter of that ship. It could take years to recover the financial loses. Sadly, I'm certain many lawyers will be in contact with family members wanting to take their "case" and sue someone, anyone to recover some form of compensation. Yes, it will be, you may be entitled to compensation! If you are afraid to drive on a bridge in Maryland, you may be entitled to compensation.  

shocked

  Woke up this morning to the news that the Francis Scott Key bridge in Baltimore collapsed after a container ship crashed into one of the supports. That news has dominated the news as well it should. Few details are known at this time. I'm assuming the Pilot was aboard the ship. If that is the case one would have to think something happened to the steering gear system aboard that vessel. Steering gear is something I am quite familiar with due to my naval career. I was an engineer and am well aware of how all that operates. Still hard me to fathom that it would happen and cause the ship to be that off-course. You can't turn quickly and so your heading shouldn't be at the support system for the bridge but rather in the center of the channel. But no details are known at this time.

 There has been a loss of life with people driving vehicles on that bridge and as I understand it there were maintenance workers on the bridge as well. Everyone on the ship appears to be ok. Beyond the immediate tragic events the impact on the port of Baltimore will be far reaching. Baltimore is a major shipping port both incoming and outgoing. That channel will not be clear for traffic for quite some time I would imagine. Another bridge will have to be designed and built. That won't happen quickly either. This will have a long-term impact.

 This is one of those events that will be remembered for a very long time. I usually write about something that is on my mind or something I remember. This morning my thoughts are filled with this tragic event. It is difficult to imagine a bridge of that size collapsing in that fashion. That is something you see in war movies not on social media. And that is where I first saw that, on a web camera. There are several videos of that happening in real time. My thoughts are filled with the magnitude of it all. All we can do is offer our prayers for everyone. I'm in shock. No other way to describe my feelings. 

  

in reveiw

  No one told me aging would be like this. I'm not thinking about the aches and pains, the slowing down of your reflexes and becoming the "old" people at the party. No, I'm thinking about how you begin to live your life in review. Oh, we are told age is just a number and to stay active, it will keep you young. But then you realize that being young quite often involves being foolish or impulsive. That is when you also begin the review process. Yes, that is what the old people are doing when giving advice or relating the stories of their past. It's a review of the answers but understanding that the test is over and there is no changing those answers, that's the frustrating part. 

 That process is different for each of us as our experiences are unique. Are you satisfied with the answers you provided? Some will provide the same answers today as they did back then. They will do that despite their better judgement. Others become somber. But the majority will become teachers. What I mean is attempting to teach others the lessons we learned, providing the answers, often revised, from our original response. We have learned that it isn't really about the answers, it is about the questions. The answers aren't the constant in life, the questions are. Those questions never change, never go away, they are always present.

 You can't just take the test over again. That is one lesson you will learn over time, and it does take time to understand that. The finality of time creeps up on all of us. There is nothing you can do but accept that. You can attempt to medicate it away in any number of ways, but it won't go away. You can attempt to distract yourself from that by "staying" busy. But the thing is, it will always be a review. What we call experience. Experience is our answer in review. The answer isn't always the same. The test hasn't changed, only the answers. I don't see that as a bad thing, nothing to cause concern. You can't change the past and I'm thinking you can't change the future either. 

 It is the final grade that concerns us all. For some that final grade admits you to heaven or something similar. For others the final grade determines your next life. Life is nothing more than the realization that you exist. If you fail the test, you fail to exist. But that leads to the big question in all of us, just who is grading the exam? In review we are deciding if the answers were right or wrong. I think the best you can hope for is a passing grade.  

Oh snap

  A politician named David Trone made a bit of a Freudian slip the other day. When it was brought to his attention, he immediately issued aa apology, acknowledged his white privilege and explained that he had intended using the word "bugaboo" in his response. He was responding to a black female republican about the vote on an upcoming bill. Although he was called out on that, it has already been dismissed as, oops, that's what I said but it isn't what I meant. Now I firmly believe the term he did use is implanted in his mind and just popped out. I get it, it happens to all of us especially in heated moments. He is running a campaign and presenting this tough appearance of the working man, working for the people. He popped the clutch on that one! 

 I'm not saying he should be disqualified from the election or anything else. I do think it should open some people's eyes about his true nature. All is not as it seems with David Trone, the only candidate that doesn't take any special interest monies or money from Pacs. That may be the case, but he sure does patronize specific demographics in his policies and statements. What he did with that statement was remind me of what LBJ is purported to have said after signing the civil rights act of 64. That was in an age when things weren't as easily documented, and we may never know the truth in it. It is true the democratic party tends to patronize certain demographics with grandiose promises or rewards. 

 I'm only writing about that because it amused me. I wasn't outraged, offended or moved to action. No, I was just laughing about that and a phrase the younger people might use came to mind, oh snap! I watched as he spoke, uttered that racially divisive term, and just kept on talking, totally unaware of what he had said. Yes, it amused me because I have done similar in the heat of the moment or becoming overly excited. I've seen others do it and all I could do was cringe. Then I've watched as the others attempt to explain or apologize. I've felt that embarrassment myself! It happens sometimes when you get feeling just a little too comfortable. That is what happened to him, in my opinion. 

 I'm certain his opponents will use that slip to their full advantage. It will be a tricky thing however, like walking on eggshells. You have to be especially careful not to offend, while being so offended yourself. Innuendo works best in that situation and I'm quite sure I will be hearing that from some. Now he claims his intention was to use the word "bugaboo" and perhaps that is the case. It isn't a very common word you hear today, although I have heard it before. Perhaps his speech writers were just trying to make him sound more "down home" and connected to the common people. Turns out he very well may be more connected than they would like others to know. Opps. What word did he use? Well, it is something I heard in my youth, back in the day. I won't write it out, repeat it, but suffice to say it isn't very nice. Fightin' words I'd say. The word begins with J and end with that boo. Yeah, he said that in responding to a fellow lawmaker that just happened to be a republican, a female and black. Oh snap! 

why

  A great deal of what is write is an attempt to explain. I'm trying to explain it to myself most of the time. The search for justification you might call it. I guess that is what therapists do. They listen to your answers and tell you why you answered in the way that you did. For me, a good friend or a good bartender does the same thing with a lot fewer words. Thing is, I already know all of that, it is simply a matter of admitting to it. I never ask, what was I thinking. I ask myself, what made me think that. As I said, I know what I was thinking, just not sure why.

 Influence is the usual cause. Role models or whatever you wish to call those people that influence your decision making process. You've been told what the correct response to the situation should be, but opinions vary on that. Whose opinion do you value the most? The fact is, it isn't always your own. It is the difference between arrogance and confidence. That must be combined with acceptance of consequence. What we sometimes call, getting over it. 

 For me, I've always found it easier to simply accept the blame for my choices rather than to blame someone else. Is that the result of confidence or arrogance? That would certainly depend upon who you ask. I just find it more difficult when I have to admit to myself, I should have listened. Probably the reason I take a secret satisfaction is saying, I told you so. Yes, I enjoy being correct even in the face of defeat. Thing is it was my choice. And that is what I tell myself. 

 Discovering the truth is something quite difficult to do. I'm not easily influenced. The hardest person to convince of anything is yourself. I can easily fool others by making a simple declarative statement, but do I actually believe that? That is where hypocrisy enters the equation. It is also where the search for "exceptions" begin. We all have those special circumstances that except us from the norm. It's the reason people break the rules. I made up a name for those folks, I call them "Butimahs" which means, But I am a (fill in the blank) wrote a whole blog about that in 2010. I'm one of those people too. It's just that I'm different from the others. The truth, is I'm? That is what I'm trying to explain to myself.

 There are those that pay a lot of money to have others explain their thoughts. I think a great number of those people accept the answer simply because that is what they paid for. In my way of thinking the same reason people buy name brand products at inflated prices when they could buy the same product for half the cost that would perform equally well. But we tend to think it if costs a lot of money, it must be good. There are those that require that outside influence to accept anything, they need reassurance and validation. Doesn't matter to them if they have to buy that. The reality is all they need is honesty. Being honest with themselves and being honest with others. The hardest part is being honest with yourself. 

 Now just what made me think that? You know what you were thinking.  Just be honest with yourself. You are really the only person you can't fool. In the end the truth will catch up with you. The reason some people seek an escape through alcohol, drugs and therapy. At least that's what I'm thinking. But the real question is, why do I think that? 

messaging

  Country music. It's what I heard because it is what Dad listened to. Of course, back then the choices of radio stations were limited by technology and distance. There was no such thing as streaming services or anything even vaguely like that. I remember back in 1963 we got a local radio station, WLNG radio. I remember hearing Jimmy Dean signing Big Bad John and listening to a program called swap and shop. It was a big deal having a local station. I believe they played a mixture of music, popular music I guess would be accurate enough. I do think popular music has taken on a new definition since that time, not necessarily music that is popular, if you know what I mean. Today I rarely listen to the radio at all. There is just one station I listen to in the evening that plays "classic country". That's the country music my father would have been listening too. Whatever the new country is I couldn't say, as I don't listen to that. 

 That's the thing though, defining a musical genre. There are divisions and sub-divisions. Each generation defining their own. It's a never-ending evolution of sound. And beyond the music itself is the message. I didn't always listen to country music after I was grown a bit. I was like most kids and was listening to rock and roll, embracing the new beat and the new messaging of the times. I did listen to a broader spectrum of music than most, I think. I enjoyed rock and roll but good old fashioned soul music inspired me as well. As I aged however, I did settle into that genre we now call honky tonk country. Those old cry in your beer, she done me wrong songs that make me smile. And yes, sad songs do make me happy, that's why I like listening to the blues as well. The impact of a line like, "he stopped loving her today" and realizing the finality of that statement. That's country.

 Songs do reflect the mindset of a generation. I'm quite certain some scholar, some expert with multiple degrees in subjects I can't even pronounce has written a paper about that. I have neither the time nor inclination to do an exhaustive study about that. I just listen to the lyrics and relate them to the time. Granted my time is limited to a few generations. I wasn't really listening to the lyrics and determining their social implications when I was in grade school. I do remember when the Beatles appeared on the scene and their first songs where nothing meaningful. I want to hold your hand and those types of songs. But they developed a social conscience as the years went by and I didn't want to hear that as I didn't agree with what they were saying. Yes, it was the cool thing, the latest but I didn't agree with it so that was that. So much self-assigned insight into the world! Ha, they didn't impress me with their convoluted opinions. I prefer the message to be a bit more direct. Just say what it is you're thinking.

 As far as the old country honky tonk music goes that is exactly what they were doing. Those singers were just telling their stories, their life experiences and laying it all out there. It took George Jones some years to sing this one. The song is called Choices and was included on the album, The Cold Hard Truth. It took him a long time to just lay it out there. He didn't write that song, but he had lived that song. The songwriters said they didn't write that song with Jones in mind but man, it sure fit when George was ready to sing it. I mention that as I think that is an excellent example of what I am talking about.

 The message of a generation. My parents' generation listening to that old time country music were facing the realities of life head on. Just telling it like it is. Music that takes you in, shakes you up and wakes you up! Just like the song says, " I've had choices, since the day that I was born, I've had voices, that told me right from wrong, if I'd had listened, I wouldn't be here today, living and dying with the choices I made." It's a song about being accountable. It isn't anyone else's fault; it is all about the choices you make. A message so many need to hear today. But that isn't what is being taught today. Today we need to find someone to blame, someone else to hold to account because they influenced our choices. It's a different mindset altogether.  

what we say

 I am grateful for Facebook at times. It has afforded me the opportunity to reconnect with old friends and classmates. Without Facebook I'm certain I would not have done so. This being the modern era most of us have scattered to the winds. I'm not certain if that is true in all areas of the country but I'm thinking not many stay home anymore. By home, I mean the town they grew up in. Perhaps in the urban areas they do but in my experience that's not the case in the rural areas. I know it seems rather backwards if you think about it, think about the American experience. We tend to think about being on the farm or living in that small town with a rather romantic and nostalgic view. The reality seems to be the opposite, however. We leave for the city where we can earn a larger salary. Then some will eventually buy a home in the country and commute to the city to work, once that salary allows that.

 It is nice to talk with those that you knew in years past. We often say we are catching up, but that isn't the case at all, we are really just checking up. How have they fared in the world? That's the real question and the one we won't ask. We don't ask about finances do we. No, but we form ideas about that based on their social media postings. Do they vacation often, dine out and drive a nice car. We look at whatever pictures are posted and attempt to discern that. We look at the person, how they are dressed, what they are doing and what they say. We compare our own situation with whatever perception we form of them. There are times when that perception has changed from the old days, what you thought then, to what you think today. Memories untainted by time are the best. It's always unsettling when those memories are disturbed by reality. 

 As a society we tend to judge people by their financial success. Oh, it is something we will all deny vehemently, but we do. It is one of those ideals that is taught and rarely practiced. Many today are busy virtue signaling. It has become almost a national pastime in my estimation. That is what all this "acceptance" is really about. It's a way to show the world how virtuous a person we really are. But it's a fad like many others, and this too will pass. The narrative will change to one of change. That is the one constant in all of this, change. No one wants to admit it, but it is money that drives the world. That is how you measure success or failure. It's what's good for business that wins out in the end. That is what will be adopted.

 Still, it is an itch most of us want to scratch. We want to know how those folks we knew all those years ago turned out. Did the guy voted most likely to; do that? What became of the homecoming queen, that girl you admired from a distance or were involved with. What we want to know is, did they succeed. If they have a degree of wealth that is a sign off success. At least it is the most obvious one, the material things that are the proof of the pudding. The rest of it is always subjective, open to individual judgement. The rest is where we all say, money isn't important, all that matters is that you are happy. Yes, that is the ideal, isn't it? The absence of judgement. The stark truth is: that doesn't exist. Well, except in my case, I don't think that way. What brings peace is the acceptance of judgment, not the lack of it. A judgement is not the final disposition. The final disposition is success and failure and only you can define that. That's what we say. 

a while back

  Was looking through some pictures and came across this memory. It happened in the last century. Yes, I'd say it was about 1993 or so, although I'm not certain of that, as I didn't write a date on the photographs. It's funny because that is something I often cajole others about. Amazing how quickly we can forget the details when it comes to time. The actual events I remember clearly enough, every detail in focus, just not the exact year. Doesn't seem that long ago but as we all tend to say, a while back. So, let me tell you about this from a while back.

 I was working at the Standard Fusee Corporation, also known as Orion Safety Products as an industrial maintenance mechanic. This company manufactured road flares at the facility where I was employed. One particular chemical came in steel barrels of a 35 gallon size. There were a lot of barrels and I received permission to take home all I wanted. I had in mind to build a raft to drift down the Choptank river. That river runs through Greensboro where I live and is less than a half mile from my house. A few years earlier I was working at the Annapolis Naval Station. I was on active duty then just finishing up my career. I had come into possession of some sails that were being retired from service. Now being a person that just naturally collects stuff that I feel I may be useful at some time I couldn't resist. So, I brought that stuff home and had it in storage in the shed. 

 Well, I gathered some materials like plywood, 2x4's and some metal strapping and began to construct my raft. I thought I would go ahead and add a sail. I had done some calculations and figured six barrels would be enough to keep the whole thing afloat with the weight of myself and one other person. My calculation were correct! Well, perhaps the weight distribution was off a bit and a bit more freeboard would have been good but it worked. I enlisted my son Kenny for the maiden voyage. That happened on the 4th of July. I do remember the day, if not the year.

 The raft was ready, we put it in the back of my pick up truck and went to the ramp. We launched that raft and it was floating just fine. Pulling it around to the docking area we loaded the safety gear aboard, two life jackets. We had two seats fastened on one end but quickly determined that just wasn't going to work. Weight distribution issue. So ditching the chairs I took up my spot at the "helm" and Kenny manned the sail. I began paddling down the river while my wife took the pictures. I ordered the sail be hoisted but we weren't catching any wind. Nevertheless, I kept paddling and with the help of a gentle current we were making headway. We were going down river like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. And no, there wasn't any alcohol involved in this. 

 We had gone maybe twenty minutes or so and traveled perhaps a 1/4 mile down river when there was a rumbling in the distance. The sky was turning black, a stiff breeze was picking up and the sail was doing its' job. Well, the job of a sail is catching the wind and it did that, just not in the fashion I had planned. Then the rain came. I ordered the sail lowered and we made landfall as quickly as possible. Pulling that raft onto the shore we tied it to a tree, gathered our belongings and walked back home. It rained as hard as I can remember it ever raining, the storm was raging as we trudged along. But it passed almost as quickly as it had arrived. We made it back home soaked to the skin, laughing about our adventure. Never did go back and retrieve that raft and to this day have no idea what happened to it. It was a fine voyage, a good time and a good memory. 

                                                                   Ready to sail! 

                                                                                

                                       

                                                              notice the chairs. Yeah that didn't work out 

                                                               but the sail did! 

Remembering Nana

  Grandmother Bennett may have been the model for the stereotypical grandmother in the 1950's. She had all the attributes. Her grey hair was in a bun on the back of her head. It was actually quite long, but I never saw that, I only know because my own mother told me so. She always wore a housedress; her stockings were rolled down to her calves and every once and a while you would see that. She wore slippers on her feet. And yes, she always had a big apron on. It went around her neck covering the front of her dress, it had two large pockets on it and went to her knees. In one of those pockets, she kept her change purse. How well I remember her reaching for that, opening it up and carefully removing the correct change. You never saw the contents of that purse just what she extracted from it. Occasionally, when times were good, a few folded dollar bills could be seen poking out. 

 I remember being in her kitchen, that's where all the activity in the house took place, when the Dugan man would pull into the driveway. The Dugan man, in case you are not familiar with him was a door to door salesman that delivered baked goods of all kinds. I thought it was like magic when he appeared. Later on, I learned there was a large D printed on a card. Grandma put that card in the window whenever she wanted him to stop. That was when I usually saw that little purse appear. Maybe she would buy a few cakes or cookies. But one thing she would buy for me was a bag of potato chips! Now that was a treat. It is the earliest place I remember getting potato chips. That would have been about 1958 or so. I was five then. Little did I realize what an extravagance that was for her. Whatever the cost was I'm certain it was expensive in her eyes. You have to remember that ten cents could buy an awful lot back then. Potato's themselves cost about 35 cents for a ten pound bag. So, if you look at buying a few ounces for a dime, it's expensive! In 1958 federal min wage was one dollar an hour! 

 I don't see any of those little purses today. I wonder if anyone uses them. The last vestige of that, at least a reminder of that was when women carried those little purses that held a pack of cigarettes and a little pouch in the front for the lighter. A far cry from grandma's little purse that much is certain. A sign of the changing times I suppose. As far as I know my grandmother never smoked a cigarette or tasted liquor of any kind. No, my grandmother was just like you would see on television shows. Always busy, always involved in some industrious activity. She would stop occasionally and have a cup of tea, to socialize as she called it. That generally lasted all of ten minutes. Today women may carry their I-phone with a case that holds their credit cards.  

 I never saw her when she wasn't fully dressed, her hair up in a bun and engaged in some kind of work. What she did for entertainment I have no clue about, even to this very day. I know she was against card playing, the devils' tools as she called them, and didn't allow them in her house. She did have a small television in her dining room, but I never saw it turned on. As far as I know she didn't have a radio. I never saw her sewing or knitting, nothing like that, although I'm quite sure he knew how to do all of that and more. She passed away at the age of 89 after having taken a fall in her home. She broke her hip and went to the hospital. While there she fell off a gurney hitting her head. From that point on she suffered from dementia and was placed in a home. That was in 1973 and I was in the Navy at that time. I never got to say goodbye, to see her gain. Today is her birthday. She was born the 19th of March in 1884 at Ransater, Sweden. She lies in peace today in Cedar Lawn cemetery, East Hampton, New York. She would be 140 today.  Happy Birthday Nana. 

                                           One of the very few pictures I have of her.  And the only time

                                            I know she left her house. A rare occasion indeed. 

 

my feeling

  Yesterday I posted about not wearing a helmet when riding a bicycle. I was touched by the response of those concerned for my safety and health. I heard the warnings. Yes, it's a risky business and precautions should be taken. Things is, I wouldn't be seen wearing a bicycle helmet any more than be seen wearing a pair of crocs! There are some things I just won't do. I wear a seatbelt in the car because the law says I have to. That is my sole reason for doing so. My body, my choice. That's how I feel about that. I will not be hurting anyone else by not wearing that device, but that slogan doesn't seem to apply in this scenario. I have to question why? Your choice certainly hurts others, in fact, it is fatal, every time! But I won't get started on that this morning.

 I do think we are all becoming a bit paranoid about dying. All the safety precautions, warnings, labels and litigation. The objective appears to be to live as long as possible. In my way of thinking I will live just as long as I am supposed to. Yes, I do believe our days are numbered at birth. That being said I also believe I can change the number, shorten it, should I make a direct attempt to do so. I also believe that should be my choice as well, but that is called crazy. Not when you choose to end someone else's life though, that's a choice. But I wasn't going to talk about that. If I decide to make that choice I'm urged to call the hotline, seek help immediately and others will intervene to prevent that. Shame the same action isn't taken in that other scenario. But, I'm not talking about that.

 I do come a different time, the proverbial old school. At this point in my point life especially, I have no one to impress. I think it just looks silly for an adult riding their cruiser bicycles with a helmet, mirrors sticking out on the side, possibly wearing those racing suits, pedaling two miles an hour. That's what I'm talking about. It's about dignity. Yes, I have that attitude. I will die as a man! I will not wear a bicycle helmets or crocs! And that has nothing to do with common sense, logic or safety. I don't think masculinity is toxic, although I hear that from some, I think it is like everything else, good when applied properly, not so good when abused. It's the way I feel. You have to validate my feelings you know, that's what I'm being told all the time. I can't tell you your feelings are wrong! That means you can't tell me that either. You should be empowering me! LOL  

 I never said other people shouldn't wear a helmet, I said I thought it just looked silly. It does to me. I'm not talking about banning bicycle helmets, I'm talking about choice. Do I have to justify my choice? I don't think I do. Truth is, I don't think I could even if I tried. It does make sense if you are worried about falling off the bicycle and hitting your head. I'm not worried. And if I get hit by a car or something I'm still not worried about that, I expect I would have a host of other problems. If I were worried about any of that, I simply wouldn't ride a bicycle. That makes more sense to me. Know what else just looks silly? Man buns. Yeah, that's just silly looking. Nothing manly about that. At least that is my feeling.  

 

in the ranks

  I had posted a picture of a coffee mug I used during my time aboard USS Yellowstone AD-41. A memento from the past. I received a few likes and comments which is why we post such things in the first place. We like to call that sharing but it is really for ourselves. It's the 21st century way of telling our stories. People like pictures much better than words. And there is no denying the 21st century is all about speed. The instant society. No longer about the journey, today it is about the destination. Let's get to the point as fast as possible. We'll talk about the journey later, when we have arrived and survived. 

 That coffee mug survived from that time while several others did not. That wasn't my first coffee mug! It made it home with me somehow and sits gathering dust for the most part, a relic. One person did ask if I would write a book about my time in the Navy as she felt so many stories weren't told. I appreciate the asking, its very kind, but all I would have to write is a few stories and anecdotes. When I joined the Navy the advertising slogan was, It's not just a job, it's an adventure." Well, in my case it turned out to be little more than a job, I missed out on the adventure part. I suppose that is the stories and anecdote's part and as I said, far and few between. Mostly just hours spent on watch or working. Nothing too adventurous about any of that.

 I wasn't alone at any time. I served alongside thousands of other men and women. Now it's true that I wasn't always with family or friends, but I was never alone. Homesickness isn't something I ever really felt. I came close to getting seasick once in the north Atlantic Ocean. We were sailing in a hurricane and the seas were angry that day my friends, (a line from an episode of Seinfeld). The rocking of the ship combined with the smells of diesel fuel and oils made me feel a bit queesy. I didn't get sick however, just feeling less than 100%. Real sailors do not get seasick, ever! You don't get homesick either. I have to say I wasn't always happy with the company I had to keep, and they weren't always happy to be with me either. No great lasting bonds were created between myself and anyone I ever served with. They have all just been friends or shipmates, nothing more. Probably due to the lack of adventure.

 I wrote a little bit about this before, what haven't I written about. The adventure I speak about would be valor. I was never engaged in any life-or-death battles, no adventures on the high seas involving any real risk of danger. To attempt to tell any such stories would be akin to stolen valor in my eyes. It just wouldn't be factual. I served on auxiliary ships. My first was a fleet oiler. Our job was to refuel other ships at sea and transport oil and fuels wherever they were needed. My next ship was a Destroyer Tender, its' job is to provide repair services. I served on a second Destroyer Tender before finishing my career aboard an Ammunition ship. Designated an AE we delivered fuel and ammo to the fleet. We were not on the forward lines at any time. Not that any major Naval engagements took place during my time, they didn't, but we would have been in the back anyway, protected from attack. 

 It was just a job that lasted twenty years for me. I have no big story to tell. My story is the tale of thousands of others. Consider the great battles through the ages and how many of those names you remember. We only hear about the heroes. I'm certainly not a hero. I did nothing heroic at any time, just did my job. I am simply one of those that served in anonymity. Grateful for that while serving, but looking back wishing for some adventure. 

 It's far easier to be a hero after the fact, if you know what I mean. Fortune never presented me with a choice. The ancients would say the Gods smiled upon me. I can't argue with that. It's been said "fortune favors the bold" and I'm not very bold. I'm more of a "risk and reward" kind of person. Something I learned as young child. In most situations it isn't worth the risk. Living to fight another day always struck me as good advice. Join the Navy and see the world. I did see the world is mostly water, and I saw a good deal of that! Growing up on Long Island I was already aware of that. Good memories but little else became of that adventure. It was just a job. 

 There are hundreds of quotes about serving in the military. Quotes about honor, duty, vigilance and bravery. Quotes about self-sacrifice and guarding the gates of freedom. There are no quotes about just doing your job. But I know there are thousands of others that I served alongside that did just that. They did their jobs, did as they were told to do without question, without complaint, and with their best efforts. Mostly unrecognized they just "soldiered" on. The length of their commitment varied from a few years to a career. Heroes? No, just in the ranks fulfilling an obligation. I think it is unfair to ask or expect anything more than that. But, that doesn't make for a very good story. 

a little longer

  It's something I think about often, who will be the custodian of my memories. I've written plenty of those down in the hopes they remain. Then there are the physical things I've collected over the years. Some of those things are the memories of others, parents, uncles, and siblings. For instance, I have a cigarette lighter given to my uncle as a Christmas gift by my aunt. It's engraved and dated 1949. What memory is locked inside. Recently I came into possession of 35MM slides that belonged to my wife's uncle George. Never married and with no children there was no one to take custody. I have scanned them, and my wife identified the people as best as she could. Many remain a mystery and there is no one further to ask. I feel a responsibility to his memories. And that is true of many of the objects I have around. For many I feel like I am the last connection to the person that owned them. It's a complicated story but my children never had a connection with my parents. My children didn't grow up in my hometown, being military brats. All they know are stories and old pictures.

 Yesterday as I poked around in the attic I ran across a number of those type of things. They are in the attic because I don't display them, just save them. It's the old story of one man's junk. I did begin to look at some of that stuff and feel like it was time to let it go. That was especially in the area of tools. I have quite a number of them that I feel I'll never use again those days being behind me. I don't have a sentimental attachment to them, that's what I tell myself, but still, I might need that one day. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. Some other things I have saved thinking they would increase in value, and they have not. My lighted Joe camel advertising sign being one of them. Perhaps it is time to let it go to someone that will display it in their man cave or whatever. Lots of books and magazines up there as well. Just hard to part with old friends like that. 

 I have given it some thought, and I think I know what bothers me about all of that. By sorting through that stuff, deciding and relegating its' fate, I am curating a collection, seems like that is something you do with dead peoples' stuff. It speaks to me of a museum and I'm not that old. I guess that is why people becomes hoarders just keeping it all. The collectors you see on television, like the ones visited by Antique Archeology, are really just high-class hoarders. I could have been one of them given the money to collect and store all that stuff. 

 Maybe it is time for me to curate my stuff, find a home for it other than my attic. I wonder what to do with those things like Uncle Georges' slides. There is no one left that would know who those folks are, no one that would have any particular interest. But I'm thinking there must be some museum or something somewhere that would be happy to get those, and more importantly preserve them. Its' been said a picture is worth a thousand words, but those slides have lost their voice. All that remains would be in the imagination of the viewer. Looking with an objective eye is far different than knowing the story. 

 Now a curate is the person charged with the care of souls in a parish. They are like an apprentice to the Vicar. In a sense the things we leave behind are a portion of our soul. They are certainly clues to who we were or who we wished to be. Can you curate yourself? That is the challenge we all face whether we are aware of it or not. Do we really get to choose what we leave behind? I'm thinking that we don't, not really. It is what others remember that remains. The best we can do is leave reminders. And that is what we curate. I'm thinking I'll leave lots of reminders just to be sure. Yeah, that sounds right. That stuff in the attic; can stay a while longer.    

away from home

 Took a short drive yesterday and the Bradford pear trees are in bloom, along with the Forsythia. The daffodils are always first and send out the invitations to all the other flowers of spring. The temperature was into the 70's, a farmer was fertilizing his fields and there was green everywhere. I hear the perch are running and the riverbank was lined with fishermen. I even heard the sound of a mower off in the distance. The world is waking up again, rubbing its' eyes and yawning.

 The cold hasn't left, this heat wave is just a tease. But I opened the windows yesterday allowing that fresh air to rush into the room. Riding the air currents are the sounds of the outdoors, they come almost as memories having been shuttered for so long. My cat rushes to the window now whenever a car passes by or a bird begins to chirp. He's curious too, what is that? Outside is coming in, coming home.

 The little league parade can't be far off although I've not heard any plans as of yet. Greensboro and the Ridgely alternate hosting that event each year. I'm not certain whose turn it is. The last few years parades have been limited or not held at all. There aren't a lot of events held in Greensboro in the first place. Whoville, during the Christmas season is the big attraction, although the fishing derby for the kids draws a good crowd. I saw where the rodeo is going to return this year, a fundraiser for the firehouse. I'm looking forward to that.

 That's life in a small town and I like it. I'm not one to be involved in many community events and I don't volunteer for anything. Some of that stems from being in the Navy. Navy means, "never again volunteer yourself." I've pretty much taken that to heart. I've lived here for over twenty five years but I'm still an outsider. I have no connections to any prior generations of greensboroites. In my hometown we call that being from away. If you weren't born and raised in the community, you were from away. That's what I am in Greensboro, from away. And I'm a Yankee, which can go either way here in this border state. All depends upon who you are talking to. But I'm not complaining, I like living here, it's still a quiet little town.

  I do think I'm seeing the last of it though as the developers build, the farmers selling their farms and the "commuters" settle in. Some call it growth. It is supposed to be a good thing, but I question that sometimes. Sometimes a "growth" isn't such a great thing and needs to be removed. Sometimes that growth saps the heart of the host. But always it will come back to one thing, who has been here the longest. That is the one thing that settles the argument. In the end the person who can say, my family has been here longer than yours will play that like a trump card. And me, I'm from away. I'll always be from away. And that is a part of small-town America as well, perhaps the best part. I think most of us small town folks would like it to stay that way. 

the message

  Well, we have the whole tic-tok thing going on. It has passed the house and sent to the Senate. Tic-tok is to be banned from the United States unless they sell that company to someone else.  The fear is it is being used to collect data on the American people and exert influence over our actions. Yes, it's the damn commies once again. Hey McCarthy warned everyone about all of that years ago. Often called the second red scare, it was perceived as an attack on the left. It was the Russians then, now it is the Chinese. Is this the beginning of the third red scare? The first red scare began in the early part of the twentieth century and was concerned with Bolshevism and anarchy. In 1952 Charlie Chaplin was exiled from the United States when he was refused reentry. He was thought to be a commie. That was during the second red scare. Now tic-tok is under the gun.

 This time the narrative is a bit different. Tic-tok isn't going to be banned, not really, if they divest themselves of the communists that is. As long as they don't have to, by law, share whatever information they should obtain through that platform with the communist Chinese. Nothing to prevent them from "sharing" however, either for profit or just because. We are not trying to suppress the freedom of speech, just who can hear it. This being an election year everyone has to get on board with this or risk losing support. No one in America likes the communists! You can't say you support the right of Tic-Tok to operate in the United States and still have any political career. It's a real sticky wicket to be sure. Only way to go is with the ban that isn't a ban, but will ban tic-tok in the United States. Well, until it is sold to someone that doesn't have to share whatever information they gather. We'll be safe then. Yeah, that should secure everything alright.

 The only opposition I'm hearing is from those hollering about freedom of speech. Those folks that believe by banning tic-tok their first amendment rights are being taken away. My question to them is, ever hear of Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or Linkedin? Are you being banned from posting on any of those platforms? You could argue that you are by the "terms of usage agreement" you sign before using them. So, to my way of thinking that is a mute point. It's more like Tic-tok and it's not fair to take it away from me. Tic-tok is my life! I say, get a life. No one is saying you can't be a communist. You just can't share being a communist with the Chinese government. 

 Now will this ban actually do anything. I have serious doubts about that, although I'm not opposed to banning them completely. Never hurts to send a message. This started during the Trump administration. The state department urging congress to ban tic-tok in the United States. Really it is an effort to hit them where it hurts, in the proverbial pocketbook. We don't want the Chinese profiting off of that platform. Justification has to be provided and the fact that they are communists is enough. It's a concern of National Security! Of course, the border isn't a concern to this administration, can't build a wall like Trump was doing, but we can ban the commies! It's all political posturing. That's all it amounts to in my opinion. 

 Still, I support it. I like the idea of it. Send those communists a message. A message that is a bit more stern that what they have been hearing. Keep it up and we will stop buying Chinese electronic products as well. We're keeping an eye on you and what you are doing. Better knock it off! It's rather like your parents taking away your social media because you have used it in an inappropriate fashion. Back in my day it was no television until your homework was done! We don't want to ban tic-tok, we want you to enjoy it safely and with confidence, but the communists are listening. What's worse they are influencing you trying to turn you into a communists too! This ban is for your own good and the good of the nation. The purpose is simply to send a message. That's the deal. 

Transparency

   Having discovered my interest in the family tree and the things of the past I now have regrets. I'm certain we all do. All the questions never asked, the stories never heard. We see meme's on social media about all of that. The fact that we even know what a meme is, shows how the times have changed. Do you know that word didn't appear in the dictionary until 1998. If you are my age, 1998 seems like a little while ago. I had already been retired from the Navy for five years in 1998. I hope others are paying attention to those meme's and asking those questions that I never thought to ask. 

  Yes, it is true our parents had lives before us. They were even stupid teenagers just like we were. Strange how most of us don't really think about that. Oh, we hear a few stories from them, mostly to instruct us in what not to do, and maybe a few from the aunts and uncles. I was fortunate to hear some tales from friends my father had when they were young. Tales my dad would rather I didn't hear, but, it was his best friend telling the story so. I would hear his protests saying that isn't what happened, but I knew it had. I was told all of that was long ago and it was a different time and place then, things were different. You could do that stuff back then, but you shouldn't do it now! 

 Having reached the age of "maturity" as the polite way of saying I'm old, I get it. I certainly don't want to tell my kids everything. Some things you just don't need to know. I also understand a good number of those things would bring context. I come from a time when you didn't brag about your mistakes, your stupid choices and bad decisions. You didn't proclaim how you were a survivor or overcame obstacles on your journey. No, the objective was to not let others know about that stuff. My parents' generation was even more closed mouth about all of that than I am, and their parents practically silent. You certainly didn't talk ill of the dead. Your misdeeds were buried with you.

 In the future far more of this will be available to anyone that wants to search for it. In this information age a great deal of our activity is recorded in some fashion. I'm not certain what happens to our social media accounts after our passing. I often get notices about it is someone's birthday when I know they passed years ago. I've read a little about how your account can be closed after your passing by others. I'm thinking that the data isn't permanently deleted in any event. I'm aware that information extracted from social media may or may not be truthful, but at least some of it will be. All I mean is our lives are far more documented than ever before. 

 Transparency is a word we hear a lot these days. Everyone feeling like they should be informed about everything. But transparency requires disclosing everything. I'm not so certain that is a good thing in every case. Heroes are often created by hiding the faults. The one great deed outweighing any and all missteps prior to that. We need heroes. How can you strive for perfection when everything is imperfect? That's when you settle for good enough. You can't use all your mistakes and missteps as a foundation for virtue. Yes. we are all human and make mistakes. That's no reason to tell the world about them. Learn the lesson and move forward. 

 And that's the thing isn't it? If we all were completely transparent with each other our opinions would certainly be different. Those that we admire may not be admirable after all. In my experience the more transparent you become the less popularity you enjoy. Others don't like hearing the whole truth. Consider the heroes of the past that have fallen from favor when the truth of their lives was told. And it doesn't even have to be factual, rumors and innuendo can accomplish the same thing. Best to keep your cards close to the chest. Still, when it comes to others, we all want to know everything, all the juicy details. I would encourage you to ask those questions and listen to the stories. The only thing I would add is, don't ask questions if you don't want to know the answer. Transparency is a fine thing until you can see right through it. 

Not hardly

  In the town where I grew up there were families of fishermen that lived in a certain area of the town. At least it is believed that is where those families initially settled. The area was defined by the Indians (native americans) as the "the springs" in their language Accabonac. But that tribe of Indians were very few by the time the white men settled in the area. Eventually the families living there became known as Bonackers. The area was called bonac by the locals having shortened accabonac. These folks spoke a particular dialect that has been studied, recorded and catalogued. The origins of that dialect are still being debated to this day. For me, it just sounds like home, although I have never made any claim to being a Bonacker. My grandfather on my mothers side was certainly one of those folks, he being a Bennett. The Bennetts are among those core families of Bonackers dating back to the first settlement. 

 That is all history now and, in my estimation, very few Bonackers are still around engaged in the family business. And that, to me, is what defined a true Bonacker. It was those families that made their living off the bay and ocean, year-round, generation after generation. A rough and rowdy lot of hard men living a hard life. A proud people that asked no quarter of anyone and gave none. Those folks that held to the ideals of that tradition were often called, of the finest kind. What others may call the salt of the earth. Ready to help others whenever and wherever they could, honest, hardworking people. 

 It's my belief that I witnessed the last of the real Bonackers, the last of the lot. Books have been written about the demise of those families, about their way of life being destroyed by what some called progress and in the name of conservation. They were forced off the waters by the stark reality of having to provide for their families by other means. A way of life slipping beneath the waves. I was honored to know some of those men and listen to their stories and tales. I heard that dialect spoken, and some say I even had a catch of it myself. Perhaps a phrase or two or a certain inflection, but certainly not a fluent speaker of that dialect. A dialect often corrected while I was in school as not being proper English. 

 Those of you that know me also know I have a Facebook group called B'low the bridge. That stems from that heritage of Bonac. The Bonackers all lived below the bridge. The bridge is a railroad bridge that divides the village from the rest of the town. B'low the bridge is North Main Street, the hook as it was called back in the day. Literally the other side of the tracks as it were. And yes, it wasn't always a good thing to live there. Those living in the village didn't associate with the Bonacker's much, a different social class you know. That wasn't as prevalent when I was growing up, but remember I was near the end of all that. Social barriers were coming down. It was the dawning of the age of Aquarius. 

 I moved away from that area fifty years ago. I'm quite out of touch with the realities of that area today. Only what I read or hear from others. I hear the complaints from the "locals" about the cost of everything, how crowded it has become and the loss of their way of life. I hear the laments about how their children will ever be able to survive there. But what I hear more than anything else is the proclamation of being a Bonacker. Seems to me everyone makes that claim these days if they are in any way associated with the town of East Hampton.

  I can only view that in one way. It is what we call "cultural appropriation" in modern parlance, the dialect of today. The claim has no basis in reality for the vast majority. As I said I make no claim to that heritage, although my grandfather certainly could. Heritage is what you inherit, I inherited zero commercial fisherman skills from him. In fact, I have never done any commercial fishing of any type. I had an ancestor, several in fact, that were whalers as well, but I can't claim to be one. I never lived in Bonac either. I lived in the area called Three Mile Harbor, not the Springs. Springs was like another world to me. One I was familiar with, one I visited often, but I never lived there. And just living there doesn't make you a Bonacker either. 

 I just have to chuckle a bit as I'm reminded of a song. "I was country, when country wasn't cool." Now I was never a Bonacker in my eyes although some may have told you otherwise. But I certainly remember when being a Bonacker wasn't cool in other peoples view. And now, like the song says, now everyone is "tryin' to be what I was then." I laugh when I think to myself that I have lived that long. Long enough for the people that that I associated with, drank a few beers, laughed and shared tall tales have become as legends! So many clamoring to be included in their ranks almost as mythical heroes. Yes, you could say that about the Bonackers I suppose but I know what their response would be. Not Hardly Bub!

 None of this is intended to disparage or offend anyone in any fashion. This is all simply my view, my opinion and my feelings on the subject. I have searched for a word or phrase to describe it, and nothing seems to fit exactly. In my mind there are those that claim to be a Bonacker in much the same way some folks claim to be Indians or Cowboys. There is some vision or image in their minds of what that would be. They may have distant relatives, ancestors that were just that, but they are not. Cultural appropriation comes close, but only if you think being a Bonacker was a culture. Each of us may define what being a Bonacker was, or is, and each one would be correct. Social identity? Only on a local level. Perhaps being a Bonacker is only a spirit and the spirit lives on. Usually, we call that folklore. Have I really lived that long that my parents generation has slipped into the realm of folklore? Well, not hardly Bub.  

making do

 Was thinking about when I was a child and how my parents shaped my attitudes and thoughts. I was remembering when we had pancakes for supper. That was always a treat because dad did the cooking. It was something different and as a kid I was convinced there was something better about those pancakes because of that. The truth was we had pancakes for supper because there was little else to eat. Feeding four kids wasn't easy. Still, we all thought it was great thing. It was special. Dad also cooked the scallops, smooched the clams, and made fritters. All of those items were also "cheap" ways to feed us. That seafood was readily available. It was beef and pork that were the more expensive items on the menu. Had to buy them at the store. Thing is, we never knew about that, we just believed it was a treat, something special to be enjoyed. 

 I didn't always agree with everything my parents said or thought but had to concede the reasoning behind their thinking was right. You did pay more for a name brand and that they weren't always worth it. Nothing wrong with getting your clothes at Brills store. Brills was a local clothing store. What we didn't know was that Brills sold mostly factory seconds. Those clothing items that hadn't passed inspector #32 for some reason. The stitching may be off a bit, or a pocket misaligned, but those clothes were still serviceable, and cheaper. The closest department store to where I lived was 25 miles away. I grew accustomed to using the mom and pop stores. The "expensive" stores were uptown and for the rich people. Their kids wore the latest fashions. But as I was told often enough, a fool and their money soon part company. 

 We were a DIY family before anyone thought of calling it that. We just called it, making do. You bought used, repaired what you had, or built it yourself if at all possible. I made push carts out of 2x4's and milk crates using the wheels off my sisters' baby carriages. We made slingshots and kites. Made tree forts out of whatever materials we could find and generally entertained ourselves. We fixed everything except the television set and the tv man came only after we had determined it wasn't just a tube. Tested lots of tubes before calling that guy. Call a plumber? Why would you want to do that? An electrician? There are only three wires to be concerned about, easy enough to figure out. 

 Now education was a fine thing, but it wasn't the best thing. There are a lot of educated damn fools in the world. If that education didn't help you fix something, make you some money in some fashion, it wasn't worth much at all. Talking about stuff isn't getting anything done. You have to do it to understand it. 

 That is what I was told. Understanding how something worked was the key. If you don't know how it works, keep your hands out of it. If you can't build the house don't try and tell me how to do it. That's the problem with those educated folks, they don't really know how things work at all. Yeah, looks good on paper but that doesn't mean it will work. Well, that's why people go to college in the first place. They don't want to actually work for a living, they just want to tell others what to do. Sit behind a desk somewhere and be a big wheel. Well, let me tell you something, wheels roll through excrement and dogs urinate on them! Not exactly the way I heard that, but the analogy is the same.  

 What I was taught was to be self-sufficient and confident in my thinking. I'm not intimidated by wealth or education. Expect nothing and you won't be disappointed. You get pretty much what you put out there. What goes around, comes around. If you are waiting for others to give you permission, you will have a long wait. I don't need your permission! All I need to be concerned with are the consequences. It's all risk and reward. If I figure it is worth the risk, I'll go for it, if not, I don't. Not a very difficult philosophy to understand. 

 It's true that "no man is an island, entire of itself" as John Donne points out in his famous poem. We are all a part of the whole and as such have obligations to that whole. That doesn't mean we should be dependent upon that, however. All it means is that the obligation exists. You know it isn't so much what we are taught, but what we adopt that makes us who we are. The willingness to adapt is crucial to survival. You might say, making do. Sometimes we see more by the absence of something than we do when it is before our very eyes.  

contextual

  The terms we use change over time. My grandmother said she had an ice box, although she did have a refrigerator. It was just that she had an ice box for many years and that is what she called that. I sometimes would call it an ice box as well. That's because you tend to repeat what you hear others saying, learning the language you might say. Colloquial is another word for that, learning a dialect. We say dial the phone, but we haven't dialed one since the 1960's. Kleenex means a tissue. They replaced handkerchiefs more or less. A handkerchief is usually just decorative today. In fact, most people would be grossed out if you blew your nose into that thing and shoved it in your pocket. I mentioned turning the channel on television. Remember when you had to physically turn a dial to do that. Having looked inside the television to see what happens it was a baffling thing. Just a bunch of plates that spun inside each other. Today we switch channels remotely by pushing a button. I have no idea what is happening inside that tv. But we still say, turn the channel. 

 I started writing this and discovered it is harder to think of these things that I thought it would be. The terms and phrases are so ingrained that it is hard to see them differently. Other terms creep in and we adopt them. If I say to you, do you have a landline, you know what I'm asking. If I said that to you twenty years ago you most likely would wonder, what the heck is he talking about? Other things like a shoehorn could be confusing to some. You're next in the queue. Everyone knows what that is today. Wasn't long ago when the majority wouldn't have had any idea about that, we were just on hold or standing in line. Debit cards? And if something was online your Mom probably hung it there. The wash had to be hung out. Zap it. We know what needs to be done. Have you tried rebooting it? I'm old enough to remember when we wore galoshes! And my grandmother called them rubbers. Yeah, they definitely serve a different purpose today. It's all about context.

 That's becoming a big problem today, understanding the context. We have people from all walks of life, all social classes intermingling exchanging ideas and their thoughts. The problems begin when we don't understand each other contextually. It's quite a difficult thing to accomplish on social media especially. I'm responding to what is happening around me, in my environment and you are responding in yours. I'm trying to figure out what you mean while you are thinking, what the heck. 

 Separating sarcasm, rhetoric and genuine feelings can be hard. The terms we use relate to the current situation except not all of us are aware of that. It's what we used to call being "cool." Being cool is understanding the current language. It's a sort of code talk, to confuse the old people. At least it used to be, today it is called something else, "woke" being one example. Us old people might still say Mary Jane and the other old people will know what we are talking about. Now the "woke" people are concerned with racial discrimination and social justice. Like the hippies once were only insisting everyone else agree and join in. The hippies just made their own communes, they dropped out and tuned in. Yes, they were cool. Woke isn't cool.

 The context of time. That's the issue and has always been the issue. What really happened? It all depends upon who you ask. More importantly, what did it mean? How to describe an action. What channel do you watch? Before televisions that certainly meant something entirely different. Today people make judgements based on that. Someone being Gay has certainly changed in meaning. Today it takes five letters plus to describe that. What does it mean? The social changes we advocate for, and implement will; surprise, surprise, change society. Will it lead to the downfall of that society? History suggests it will. 

a disgrace

  I didn't watch the state of the union address. I admit to not having watched many of those political theatrics. That's the way I see it anyway, it isn't about the state of the union in any honest straightforward way, it is about getting reelected or simply bragging about how great a job you have done. I'll be the judge of that. It's a real shame that the pomp and circumstance, the formal and dignified speech from our commander in chief has devolved into a spectacle. It isn't the best view to inspire confidence in our government. It isn't just the president but the lack of decorum on the part of the representatives that has caused this. 

 I see the whole thing as a lack of order in the classroom. That comes from both sides of the aisle. Everyone knows I support the Republican party and in general terms support their policies and ideologies. Still, I thought Greene wearing her MAGA hat in violation of house rules was just a childish and disrespectful action. No order in the classroom! It didn't make any great statement in my eyes. Just seems so immature to me. Those shouting out during the speech falls under the same category in my book. It does nothing but make you look foolish! Regardless of your personal feelings toward the president he is the president! As such, the president should be given respect. It really is as I was taught in the service. You don't have to respect the man, you have to respect the (uniform) office. There is plenty of time for rebuttal later on. 

 I have to add that the president responding to such is also immature in my eyes. I'd much rather he just paused, allow the room to quiet down and continue with whatever prepared speech he had on the teleprompter. I want to see an image of someone who is unflappable in his statements. Engaging in any argument with your detractors shows your vulnerability. It's beneath the office. If you wish to project power and authority, you can't get upset when someone disagrees with you. The best course of action is to simply dismiss them as inconsequential. You are dismissed! People hate that when it happens. As the "speaker" as the authority in the room at that moment you have that power, whether you are the president of the United States or simply giving a lecture. By responding you are surrendering your power.

 I view all of that as a reflection of the lack of civility in general in our society today. It's a topic I have written about several times as it is something I notice. The concept of polite company. It is what I was taught in the 1950's and throughout the sixties. I guess all of that is old fashioned, out of date and no longer applicable. 

 Keeping a civil tongue in your head was once an admonishment. Today I've read "studies" proclaiming the use of profane language is a sign of intelligence! Perhaps, but it certainly isn't a sign of respect. Strangely, the very people proclaiming such, saying it is also the exercise of free speech, have passed laws against saying anything hateful! I can use all the profane language I choose, it's on the radio, television, social media and in the movies and all perfectly acceptable as long as I don't "hate" you. And all of that tells me the state of the union. It isn't good! The country is more divided now than it has been since the civil war. A total lack of respect for each other and others' opinions. Just shout them down! It's a disgrace.