Friday, April 19, 2013

Belief can transcend everything

I don't live a long way from West, Texas.
On forays to Waco or Austin, either forward or back, we often stop there.
I've never ventured into town, because you don't, if  you are trying to get from Austin to Fort Worth on a bumper to bumper highway that is only two lanes each side. And we drive, and we grumble, and there's West, unfailingly tasty, with pleasant folks.Unfailingly pleasant, as well.

Then, three days after the Boston Massacre, their whole town blew up. A fertilizer plant in the middle of town blew up and destroyed five blocks of homes. Eleven first responders, most volunteer, are dead. They got the folks out of the collapsing nursing home, and nearby neighbors out, first. Then, too close to the explosion as they tried to help others, they died.

IN the same week, two tragedies, both probably manmade, one with evil intent.
Today I was listening to an expert who said no matter how bad--and it can take years to recover from a tornado or hurricane--we are more resilient when we know our bad fortune is due to misadventure. Mass enmity is a whole other kettle.

When it is a storm, we deal. When another human being wants to harm us, without knowing anything about us,we cringe.

This week, we have two indiscriminate tragedies. Neither could the innocents of life escaped.
In both cases, the question is why? In West, they have pretty much ruled out terrorism. That leaves negligence or Act of God. In Boston, terrorism. Why are some so eager to kill, or allow killing to occur?

I understand neglect. I understand human error or Just Life. But.

What is in your mind to want to kill, or blow the legs off scores of people, some children? People you have never met.

I don't understand. Hope this miscreant lives and tells the authorities something.
Thank God he is alive. And the police in Boston are heroes for oh, 15 minutes. They better eat all the free food they can. The populace will start complaining again soon.

We love our miracles. Ane we want another one NOW.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Monday, April 15, 2013

Passing the Bread test

I used to be a journalist, and maybe, 40 years ago, if I was in the midst of it, I didn't notice the headlines. Referring to the Boston bombings, I do.

So many journalists are young. I felt a touch of reality when the people reporting this attack almost lost it when they commented how volunteer first responders were overcome by blasted feet, legs, arms and bodies. The reporters were, too, and were genuine in their reports. They let their own shock through, too. Good.

I understand there are those already making jokes about it. These are very immature, dysfunctional or emotionally dead folks. Do these same folk make jokes about tornadoes and hurricanes?

They aren't invited to my home to break bread.

Funny. I am pretty tolerant except about this: I will not break bread with you unless I have made peace with you. If I have not, I am not looking to cause you trouble. Neither will I break bread, support you, or vouch for you. I will do nothing to cause you harm. I will do nothing if harm comes your way. Children different. That has nothing to do with you. I refuse to break bread with so very few, they probably don't realize I am not doing it. I'm not a showoff. It seems somehow archaic on my part.

But if you eat at my table, or I at yours, we must have some amity. I am a fat old LOL. And I don't want to go to war.

Just know, if ever you are at my table and I pass you the bread, you are pretty high in my book.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Do You Pick Up Your Mail Daily? I Don't.

Yes, I do think the postal service should cut to five days a week. They can choose the day. Maybe keep Saturdays and close on Wednesdays.

I do understand rural areas. I semi-live in one. I drive through West Texas, which no longer has grocery stores except for bread, milk, lunch meat and mustard in the Stop N Go, or a Walmart somewhere within 60 miles.

These folks are surviving just fine. It's not like I need to get my Social Security check. That goes straight to the bank. Always has. Now everyone else's is as well, in one form or another.

Probably 20 years ago, I was driving down a Farm to Market road in East Texas, and I saw an old woman in a housedress, hair pinned up, drawing her mail out of the mailbox on the side of the road. It was one of those picture frames you note and file.

I thought,"That is going to disappear in my lifetime."

I am so tired of posturing. With so much electronic exposure, it is inevitable that we do so, and it is indeed a danger to survival to let your warts hang out unless you are very strong. It helps if you are rich, too, I think, but not as much as some seen to think.

You have no power over me unless I consent to let you. The older I grow, the more I see this. I also see as I age that the more I speak out in anger, the more damage I can cause to those who don't deserve it.

I still have this obstinate, immature streak. I hope I am curtailing it more often. Words said cannot be unsaid. I have to live with the results.

Here is what I know:some cancer patients aren't getting their medication now because Medicare isn't paying because they are so expensive. That hurts. I may have to learn to live on less and less as costs rise and my check doesn't. When I was working fulltime, I once went five years without a single cost of living raise because the bosses said there was no money. The golden years for lots of money for aging patients (and the corporations who handle the money and provide the care) are going away. That's fine. Just keep the money there for the children. And the helpless. Societies who do not care for the vulnerable don't survive very well, historically.

We HAVE to treasure the children. We must. Government doesn't have to do all of this. Society must somehow.

I am optimistic about the plans I see locally. Community gardens with lessons on how to cook and store fresh vegetables. A move to see that all the kids not only have school supplies but their athletic shoes for the start of school. More support for low-cost or free clinics. Festivals with music and dancing and fun for families. So many good things are happening.

We have sequesture because Congress would do nothing. They can't even pass a budget.

But the people go on. We always have. I hope we always will. With or without mail on Saturdays.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Comfort music

I don't know how many of you are into lullabies. My grandchildren are almost grown.
Trout Fishing in America is a duo that has been touring since...well, since I was 40 years younger. An I don't know how they do that....except I really love to sing. So maybe that is a shadow understanding.

So much is funny. Still, they have this lullaby that is so comforting and sweet I play when life seems discombobulated. I still remember hearing it at the memorial for a 17-year-old girl who wanted to be a doctor. Since then, when I deal with more pain than I am comfortable with, I listen to it.

For me, it's a God-thing. It doesn't have to be. It is comforting.
I don't know how to give it to you except: Trout Fishing in America: Lullaby.