If You Can, Please Help Me Help This Vet

I was having dinner with the Peas – Sweet and Grand – when a “neighbor” called.  During the summer I had observed Neighbor bobbing and weaving on unsteady feet, carrying many grocery bags in the heat of the day, as I entered the gate to our community.   He appeared to be near collapse.  It’s quite a walk from the gate to even the first building and it turned out that his is well beyond mine.  I stopped and suggested he put his many bags in the back seat and let me drive him as close to his door as possible.  He was really having a hard time.   

I remember that after arriving at his building, he sat in the car for a very long time.  The A/C was running high and I guessed it was more than he was accustomed to, so I just sat and waited him out.  He spoke of his recent stroke, and losing the ability to drive his taxi, his means of livelihood.  I gave him my card and told him if he ever needed a lift to call me, and if I was anywhere near, I would fetch him.   

This evening he called, for the first time, asking for a ride to the local WalMart to get water.  For that, he had definitely called an understanding person.   He picked up a case of 32 bottles.  I suggested he get more and told him I would take care of it.  

As we walked the aisles of the store, he caught me up.   Neighbor is losing his home because of unpaid maintenance fees.   A realtor is helping him with a short sale (his place needs some work and he cannot get market price).   Probing, I asked what the balance of his mortgage was.  When he told me I couldn’t believe it!   He thinks he’s going to get a few thousand from the sale, but I am doubtful, considering the condition of the place (as he described it) and the balance of the mortgage.   I am also concerned that a realtor would have a recovering stroke patient sign a contract.   From my interactions with him I am skeptical of his ability to understand clearly what he is doing.  Also, Neighbor lost his taxi because he has been unable to work.  He is confident that when he gets a medical release, the taxi company with which he contracted will allow him to drive and thereby earn an income.

I am concerned for Neighbor.   His siblings have refused to help him and it seems he has no other family.  He is a veteran.   Tomorrow I will try to contact the VA to see if there is anything they can do to help him – an advocate –- securing living quarters or something — I really don’t know what, but I hope something.

This is one of those times when it would be nice if either 1) I had won the lottery and built my dream “commune” for seniors and parentless children, or 2) I was just plain old wealthy with a generous heart intact.

If any who reads this as an idea to help Neighbor, please contact me.

The Groping Incident

Introduction

In recent years I have finally mentioned the rape I experienced more than 30 years ago.  Now, with  current news snippets tossing out the many instances of Mr. Trump’s abuse of women, The Groping Incident has found its way to the forefront of my thinking.  While there was more than one groping incident, the one of which I write here was for me the most foul.  It threw me totally off guard and left me speechless and feeling worthless, insignificant ... and filthy.  

The Groping Incident

There was a time, decades ago, that I regularly baked.  A lot.  And my favorite baked good was a chocolate chip cookie, made in an 8-inch pie pan.   The recipe was mine and to this day, still my favorite.   I baked these huge cookies and folks practically inhaled them.  It was not unusual for people to make cookie requests, and I responded by delivering a freshly baked 8-inch chocolate chip cookie.

When an associate minister of a more-than-century-old-church, a man old enough to be my father, asked me to bring him a cookie, I thought nothing of it.  The following week I presented him with a cookie – wrapped in foil, still warm from the oven, having been baked that morning.   As he reached for it with one hand, with his other hand he cupped my left breast.  And squeezed.   I was shocked speechless, and he walked away without a word.   I wanted to run away, and could not.  It was shortly before 11:00 a.m. and I was due to play for the 11:00 o’clock worship service.   I entered the sanctuary, sat at the piano, and felt as if every pair of eyes in the sanctuary were settled on me, accusingly, as if I had committed some atrocity.  Haunted by the unanswered question “what did I do to deserve that,” I have no memory of what hymns were sung, what special music the choir sang, or the text of the sermon delivered that day.   The one thing I do remember, however, is that the old guy was not there in his usual seat. 

Not a Good Idea -- Suing the Saudi Government

Dear family and friends of those who perished on September 11, 2001:

That was a terrible, terrible day.  I grieved for the loss of lives, of a sense of security, of peace.    Along with everyone else in this country, and even around the world, my heart was broken.  

The problem is, I see the senseless loss of life every day.   It’s all over broadcast and print news, and in social media.  Even before social media, and well before 11 September 2001, that kind of grief was real to me.    Many times, those left to bury their loved ones, most times killed by the hands of their own countrymen, citizens of the United States of America, had no recourse.  You know the ways people get killed here without justification or provocation; that litany need not be set out here.   So, while there was a terrible, terrible morning of violence in our country and thousands were lost, and it is normal to seek to hold someone accountable, I cannot help but think that to seek redress from another country’s government is not good for our fellow countrymen who may be in other countries right now, nor for the rest of us.   Is it right and fitting to risk their possible freedom, or possibly even their lives?  Or our national security?  

And to Congress:  of all the issues on which to unite, could you not have focused on something that is more pressing and affects the entire country?  Or would you rather have it shut down again, and in the process cause more Americans distress – financial and otherwise? 

I grieve for the thousands who perished on September 11, 2001

I grieve for all who have been abused by police officers who were/are psychologically and/or emotionally unfit for duty.

I grieve for four young lives lost at 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, and the lives of all others who were maimed, crippled and killed to secure rights they did not have, for themselves and for those who came after, like me.

I grieve because all lives should matter the same, regardless of how those lives ended.  The sad commentary is that they do not.

It's Not the Size (of the Hands) That Counts

For more than a year, this country has been inundated with political campaigns, many of which have been waged like grade school popularity contests.   The personal attacks have been rampant, and more has been said about candidates and their families in many aspects than about candidates and their  perspectives on policies and issues that affect the operation and the very existence of the country.   

Last evening, the lopsided debate of the candidates from the two largest political parties was no exception.   And, of course, this morning is yielding the reviews and analyses (such as can be done) of last night’s debacle – oops – debate.   For the truly anal, there is a transcript, complete with fact-checking on National Public Radio’s website:  http://www.npr.org/2016/09/26/495115346/fact-check-first-presidential-debate.  

My morning message, however, is a tad more succinct.  I had a fleeting thought of the “small hands” issue promulgated by Marco Rubio (http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/history-donald-trump-small-hands-insult/story?id=37395515), and the responding thought (yes, there is running dialog in my mind most of the time) was “forget the small hands – those aren’t important.”

Indeed, the size of either candidate’s hands (nor any other body part to which this reference is alluded) is irrelevant.  What is important, however, is the capacity and quality of their minds.

“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." 

- Eleanor Roosevelt 

What's in YOUR Closet?

He has a gun!   
Shots fired!   He’s dead.  
Oh, he had a license to carry.  Oh well.  
I feared for my life.

Every time police kill someone, the decedent’s present and past get plundered.   The things often found (sometimes after being planted) via the plundering are guns and drugs.   Folks then use these findings as to justify the killing.  Is there ever found a school book, comic book, technical manual, novel or a Bible?  What about a bottle of prescription drugs?   What about pictures of children or a spouse?   What about a protein bar — or even a candy bar?   What about a job application?  Or better, what about a police officer application?

ARE PEOPLE REALLY EXPECTED TO BELIEVE THAT THE ONLY THING FOUND AMONG A PERSON’S BELONGINGS AFTER BEING KILLED BY POLICE IS A GUN OR A STASH OF ILLEGAL DRUGS???

The sad, sad commentary is that the ignorant, the bigoted, the hate-filled, will delude themselves and use those findings as justification for the killing.   This begs the questions:  

What’s in YOUR closet?   
What’s in YOUR vehicle?   
What’s in YOUR past?  
What’s in YOUR heart?

When you are killed (highly probably if you are Black and stopped by police in the United States) – or when you die (by whatever means we will all do this), what will you leave behind?  How will you be remembered?

Profoundly Disturbed

This morning I am profoundly disturbed.  Upon learning via Facebook of the murder of yet another Black man by police, I clicked on the link – http://tinyurl.com/j2tl7ja –  read the article, and watched the video over and over.   And over.  And over.

Profoundly disturbed?  Yes —

• disturbed that while I cringe at horror movies I could calmly (at least outwardly so) view the real life killing of a human being

• disturbed that the sight of Hannibal Lecter is more than I can bear, but I would prefer to see someone of his ilk approaching my vehicle rather than a police officer

• disturbed by the realization that no matter what posture Mr.  Crutcher assumed, regardless of what “command” he may have followed – or not – most likely he would have been killed

• disturbed by the recent memory of driving home from the circus in fear of being stopped by police after learning that a headlight no longer worked.  (Yes, I am a 62-year-old woman, but something similar happened to my 67-year-old client and she was placed in the back of a police car while they checked her out.  This did not help her cardiac problems.)

• disturbed that I have a brother whom I love dearly, who is educated, a brilliant chemistry geek, a Biblical wizard whose dinner-table sermons should be heard by the masses, well-spoken, happily retired, and licensed to carry a gun – and is a Black man, and therefore statistically more likely to be stopped by police than any other man in this country.

• disturbed that all lives in this country do not matter – because at least 12% of them don’t – and they are Black.   Like me.

You Act Like You Didn't Like It: An Analogy to That Flag Business

I was bed-ridden with food poisoning, motionless, waiting for the next round of trying to make it to the bathroom on time.   That is how he found me when he stopped by to check on me and summarily dismissed my good friend who was seeing after me, saying that he would take over now.  Yep, he took over.  And he took me.   No amount of protest was sufficient and since I could barely raise an arm, there was no fight in me.   When he finished the dirty deed, the rapist expressed disappointment:   You act like you didn’t like it. 

It doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination:  

In the paragraph above, simply replace “I” with “X,” where X stands for any individual or group of people who have been raped (literally or figuratively, physically or financially or otherwise), lynched, beaten, cheated, shot, killed, discriminated against or otherwise abused or taken advantage of in a substantive way,* by the United States (including without limitation all levels of government [federal, state, county and municipal], agencies, officers, representatives and anyone acting on behalf thereof).  

Next, replace the rapist with “Y,” where Y stands for the United States (including without limitation all levels of government [federal, state, county and municipal], agencies, officers, representatives, and anyone acting on behalf thereof).

Then, consider that X is expected to show respect and reverence for the symbols of Y, including its flag.   

Can you now hear in your mind’s ear, Y saying to X:  You act like you didn’t like it. 

Thousands and thousands of people have fought, bled and died for this country, taking care to show respect for its symbols, including its flag.  In return, they have been denied the same rights, privileges and opportunities afforded those for whom they served to protect.   They returned to their homes and families maimed and crippled, physically and psychologically.  Sometimes upon their return they are beaten, lynched, wrongfully convicted, imprisoned and even executed.  And when they reach out for help, their hands are slapped away.   They are disillusioned.  They get discouraged.   They turn bitter.   Anger sets in.   But they have no fight left.   If this country cares not a whit for them, why should they care about it?  Or its symbols?   

*Here substantive relates to any negative effect on opportunities for growth, development or advancement, like attending school or getting a job for which one is qualified, or having access to quality health care, or a business opportunity.

Make America Great . . . . Again???? -- Par II

Football is rarely a blip on my radar, so I did not have a clue as to who this guy, Colin Kaepernick is. The recent big rub was his failure to stand for the national anthem.  Now he is amidst, as Justice Thomas would say, a high-tech lynching on one side, and high-tech defenses on the other.   

When these lands were stolen from the native inhabitants and the subsequent wars from which this country was founded, people of color were not considered 100% human.  Having been brought here in chains, in the bowels of ships where they were laid out like canned sardines, they were chattel to be bought and sold like so many head of horses or bales of cotton.   

After so-called emancipation, their contributions in the areas of agriculture, medicine, manufacturing, the arts, literature, engineering and more rival any others.   Having built this country without compensation, and having fought and died for this country as soldiers, fit to wear the uniform but not fit to the same care as other soldiers, or the same rights as others who did not even put on the uniform, to this day, the darker nation is still treated differently. 

For those who make the argument “that was way back then,” consider one of this country’s problems is its failure and refusal to deal with the ugliness of its past.  I am slain by those who take pride in their southern heritage, and want to keep their monuments and institutions and flags.  Honestly, I have no problem with this; these things are a part of our history; they should not be hidden lest we forget the ignorance and evil brutality of our ancestors.   But so should the murder of thousands of folks, guilty of being born to some group other than the paler nation, not be forgotten.  Keep your monuments to Lee and Jackson and others of that ilk.   Keep the names of schools.  And add to that lists of names not to be forgotten, the names of those whose biggest crime, for which they were indicted, judged, convicted and executed without the benefit any so-called constitutional rights, was a God-given abundance of the melanin factor.  Perhaps when this is done, then America will, finally, be on the path to being healed  . . . . and being great.

https://youtu.be/vYM3HAVPPG8

Until then, the question remains:   When was America great, and what was that like?

Make America Great — Again??? – Part I

Howard Zinn:  There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing innocent people. ...  Civil disobedience is not our problem. Our problem is civil obedience. Our problem is that people all over the world have obeyed the dictates of leaders…and millions have been killed because of this obedience…Our problem is that people are obedient allover the world in the face of poverty and starvation and stupidity, and war, and cruelty. Our problem is that people are obedient while the jails are full of petty thieves… (and) the grand thieves are running the country. That’s our problem. 

Daniel J.  Flynn:   Thumb through A People’s History of the United States and you will find greed as the motivating factor behind every act of those who don’t qualify as “the people” in Zinn’s book According to Zinn, the separation from Great Britain, the Civil War, and both World Wars all were the result of base motives of the “ruling class” -- rich men to get richer at the expense of others. - See more at: http://historynewsnetwork.org/article/1493#sthash.WcPNm2Cv.dpuf

Thanks to Audible, I am listening to Howard Zinn’s 34+ hour tome ("A People's History of the United States").  It is intriguing, depressing, and infuriating.    When listening I cannot help but wonder if the letters and documents from which Mr. Zinn quotes were actually written 300+ years ago.   What documents did he research to record this unseemly perspective of American history?  

On the one hand, how can any thinking person intelligently rationalize the taking of lands from native Americans – and repeatedly violating treaties with them?   How could any thinking adult characterize the U.S. slave system as a guest worker program, as characterized in recent textbooks?  How can anyone deny the evidence of beatings, lynchings (with thousands in attendance) and burnings, of the destruction of entire subdivisions and towns that took place after the abolition of slavery and well into the 20th century?  

On the other hand, how can it be denied that some people of "privilege" lost everything, including their lives, fighting against injustice on the side of and for the freedoms of those oppressed?  It is said by certain segments of the darker nation that all people of the paler nation are evil.  That is as ridiculous as saying that all people of the darker nation are upright and right-living!  

But there is a troubling segment of folks — those who want to make American great again.  Their thought processes and rationalizations escape me.   One must first have an inkling as to when America was great.   From this writer’s perspective, we have yet to live up to greatness.  Yes, we have done some right things, sprinkled among the wrong.  Somehow, it is difficult for right to overcome greed, fears and prejudices.  So the question to these folks is:   When was America great, and what was that like? 

When The Choices are Agonizing

The cool thing about being an American is that if you don’t like your president, you get to vote for another every four years.

The agonizing thing about being an American is that if you don’t like your president, you get to vote for another every for years.

The folks who run for president may not be the brightest.

The folks who run for president may not be the wisest.

The folks who run for president may not even understand the American system of government.

The folks who run for president may not have the best interests of the country as a whole in mind.

The folks who run for president may want to make sure his* cronies have opportunities for personal enrichment.

The folks who run for president may pit segments of the population against each other, fueling distrust, hatred and other negative and destructive emotions.

The folks who run for president may take your vote for granted depending on your melanin content.

The folks who run for president may not have exercised good judgment in past government-related positions.

The folks who run for president may have a good facade but a debt-ridden “empire” behind it, fraught with 500+ companies tagged with variations of a bastardized name.

The folks who run for president may have stiffed small businesses along the way of amassing wealth of questionable amount, based largely on a bastardized name.

The folks who run for president may have a high intelligence quotient and a low moral base.  

Sometimes the pickings are slim and the choices are marginal.  

Sometimes the pairings are inconceivable (remember McCain/Palin?).   

Sometimes the choice is a “no-brainer” and the brainless one wins anyway.  What does that say about the electorate?

I have made my choice.   And I am in agony.  However, based on who was offered, I made the best choice I could, and I pray the footnote that follows will have more meaning on 9 November 2016.


_________________________

*Don’t give me grief about the male pronoun.  American presidents have been nothing other than folks with male genitalia.  As of this writing there is roughly a 50/50 chance “she” might be appropriate — in the near future.

Why We Cannot Afford to Hate Each Other – Part I

We need each other.

California is burning.  People are losing their homes.
Louisiana has flooded.  People have lost their homes.
Texas has flooded.  People have lost their homes.

There have been earthquakes.   Explosions.   Tornados.   Hurricanes.

Do any of these folks in need really question whose hearts are led to lend them a helping hand or donate to an organization that will administer relief?   

If the extended hand that holds the food, water, clothing or medicine is not the same color as the intended recipient, will the offering of food, water, clothing or medicine be rejected?  

If a hand reaches out to help another out of the water, will the water-logged care whose hand it is?

If the person making the offering wears a cross or a crescent, will it matter?

In times of need what matters is help.

In times of distress what matters is compassion.

Freely given.  

In love for the only race that matters:   the human race.

I ask you now:   What else matters?

Introduction

The title is somewhat deceptive.   Fact is, however, many find my writing offensive, and react accordingly.  It is not my intent to offend; it is my intent to exercise my right to express myself — my thoughts, ideas and opinions – a right that most take for granted.  Others don’t mind, as long as they agree with those thoughts, ideas and opinions.  There is hell to pay when they do not.   What follows the disagreements are tirades of unreasoned garbage and personal attacks, often fraught with foul language and bad grammar, of which I pray none (or scant few) will be found here.  

This is my blog.  These are my thoughts, ideas and opinions unless quoted and cited appropriately.  I have no desire to apply the Melania principle to this blog, so there will be no snatching or sampling of another’s content.  And since this is my blog, the use of phrases like I think and in my humble opinion are unnecessary and will be avoided.   Assume that these are my opinions unless, as indicated above, they are quoted and cited appropriately.  

The goal here is not offend, but to engage.   We are more alike than we are different.  Still, it is okay to be different – to act, speak, look and think differently.  Having a different opinion does not require personal attacks on another, or the use of foul language to get one’s point across.  My hope is to engage others in a civilized discourse, something from which I learned that it really is okay to agree to disagree without resorting to disrespectful, coarse, crude, foul or reprehensible behavior or language.  

Let’s see how different we are — and amidst that, how alike we are.