Screwed? You did it to yourself.

Heh, heh. Get it? 

From an old friend of mine. A rant that has a whisper of desperation and a certain acceptance of what will come:

“I am so bummed out about the state of the world, humanity, the different continents, countries states or provinces, cities counties neighborhoods. I am so disappointed that religions, politics, political parties candidates are so inept that they cant steer us in the right direction, instead of being steered by a perception that will keep them in power or job. A country of the people by the people for the people. Hmm. Will it be here for my great grand children.? Do I need to stock up on greenbacks, gold and .223 or 7.6 mm's? a real true leader not a wannabee at every level. Where are the John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Abe Lincolns,, Wilson, Roosevelt (2 times), Winston Churchill's of today??? Where have all the flowers gone??? Long time passing? Just saying!”

 And the answer is very clear. Yes, your children, grandchildren and great grandchildren are really, really screwed. In so many ways it is painful to enumerate but part of my answer to him was this: “----the grand kids are screwed. By the frozen assholes in Washington ignoring poverty, wage disparity, resource raping and of course climate change we have doomed our next few generations to wallow in some serious shit.”

 And more. The world has ignored warning after warning about population growth and water and land pollution. It has ignored the pleas of the “wacko hippie tree huggers” to conserve the fish stocks in the oceans, and the old growth forests, especially the rain forests, and to reuse and recycle. And more. Drastic cuts in spending for medical research and world health problems. And more.

(The following references "you" several times. I want to make it very clear that the "you" I am talking about is NOT my old friend quoted above, but the rest of "you". This is not aimed at or intended to be a diatribe for my friend.)

And now we have come to the place where warnings are too late. Earth, air and water are seriously damaged. The environment is rapidly changing, with weather patterns changing rainfall locations and amounts. The air is changing to allow more heat to reside in the oceans and atmosphere. Not “WILL CHANGE” but “IS CHANGING”. Get it? The warnings were right and now by not heeding them we, yes all of us, are screwed. SOOOO SCREWED. So don’t whine and cry about the conditions of the world. Suck it up. You allowed this to happen by inaction and either not voting at all or voting for the science-denying religion-spouting assholes of the world. You did this. You.

And you will, if you are unlucky, live to see the consequences. And the more? Only the loss of freedom. Desperate peoples give up freedom for security. You are doing that now. Too late, folks. Just too late.

Image: http://static.fjcdn.com/pictures/Damn_8b112b_584520.jpg

And There’s Nothing I Can Do About It Now

Coming back from the best performance of Les Mis I have seen to date we slipped Willie’s album, A Horse Called Music in the dash. An old, old friend and we know every song by heart. The play? Well, sum it up this way: I started to choke and tear up in the first 2 minutes and didn’t finish until after the final “curtain” went down (the theater has no curtain, more like in the round). The theater is one of a few they have and it is a small venue. Maybe 200 seats? We were in a 4^th row from the stage and slightly above the stage, which was the floor of the theater with some low risers. The music was live and the cast was a mixture of local Orlando talent and Broadway veterans like James Beaman, David Gaines and Michael Hunsaker. It was unbelievably real. I doubt that we will ever see a mere “play” done like this again.

And on the way home we listened to Willie. Many of the songs he does express some of my philosophy, and this one has not one but two punches. The first couplet is this:

                          And I could cry for the time I've wasted
                          But that's a waste of time and tears

I once worried about time wasted, but as the line goes, that is a waste of both time and tears. Why? Because there’s nothing I can do about it now. Learn, modify or not, and move on. It took a while for me to learn that, but it sunk in in the last 30 years of so. This is one reason Sally and I take life as we do: Don’t wait. Do it now.

The other couplet is this:

                          I'm forgiving everything that forgiveness will allow
                          And there's nothing I can do about it now

I have forgiven and asked for forgiveness for all I can, and from whom I can. Some was easy and some was very hard. But after you forgive yourself, in order to live at peace, you have to give and ask for forgiveness. Ah, but there are some things in life, at least in my case, that forgiveness will not allow. Those few things remain unforgiven or unasked. Still, I let them go, mostly.

Why? Because there’s nothing I can do about it now. But I can do this: If any reader has been harmed by me, I beg you to forgive me. And if any reader has harmed me, I forgive you. As I age, my memory necessarily fades a bit, so forgive me if you can, for not remembering any slights, intended or perceived.

1. Willie Nelson - Nothing I Can Do About It Now Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

Image: http://lindsaykriger.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/forgive1.png

Great Performance and Good Teaching Moment

Tossing Diabolos. What a treat!

I saw a remarkable performance last night. A troupe of middle graders from Taiwan, the Taiwanese Youth Folk Sport Troupe from Keelung, Taiwan were putting on a show of dancing, top spinning, acrobatics, rope skipping and diabolo (1. A double conical Asian yo-yo) spinning.  Average age = 14. These were very athletic and graceful young people. Very high energy.

The things they did mostly worked out fine and the coordination required to jump multiple ropes at once, or throw a top onto a 3 inch disc or keep the diabolo or indeed multiple diabolos going at once is impressive. Mostly worked out. But a few drops or trips or missed tops did happen. And here is where the real professionalism came out. In every case when something went wrong, the kids made a correction and moved on without missing a beat. No frowns, no tantrums, no pause. In most cases many performers are involved, such as 5 girls twirling and throwing diabolos at once. Someone drops a yo-yo, picks it up and seamlessly gets back into the act.

As we all know, we learn a lot from our mistakes, if we have any sense at all, and we get better by getting back in the game after an error. These kids took the good and not-so-good completely in stride, at least publicly, and are to be applauded not only for their successes, but also for their mature response to glitches.

Unlike some professional athletes I could name.

1.  http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c3/Diabolo_large_and_small.jpg

Image: http://www.taiwanembassy.org/public/MMO/Photo/15217213671.JPG

Bad News for Americans and Worse News for Women

Best economic news since the Bush meltdown. GNP up, unemployment lowest in 8 years, job openings up. All indicators bright green.

But somehow Obama has failed to get the economy going. Huh? Did I miss something? Bush handed off the worst economy since the Great Depression and it took a bunch of years to get things going again. But, the steady progress has led to a slow but very solid recovery. Until, that is, the Republicans get control again. Then you can look for wars, inflation, debt increase and tax cuts for the 1% who already pay too little. Then you can look to Fox News for the reasons. Then you can suck eggs.

Think very hard before you put Republicans back in charge. Think about reduced wage growth, reduced health care availability, reduced help for poor and starving Americans, reduced control by women of women’s reproductive processes, and more. What you will get is less taxes if you are rich, more spending on border security, more spending on prisons and prosecutions, more spending on congressional salaries and fringe benefits. Less spending on safety net programs that benefit the lower 99%, even though they are the ones who supply the money.

Talking to the wall, Woody. The assholes who are Republicans and conservatives will vote the greedy bastards into office and then wonder why they are not doing as well as they hoped. Sorry Woody, you will probably lose this one, and so will the country. Oh, and Woody, did you forget about all the judicial appointments that Obama will not get? A conservative Republican will probably fill those positions with ideologues and further decrease the rights of Americans in favor of corporate persons. And Woody, don’t forget that as soon as the conservatives get control, voting will be harder for poor and minority people, thus favoring the wealthy and mostly white people.

All in all, Woody, the future politically is not very bright. Unless the people get off their asses and VOTE.

Image: http://www.loyarburok.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/291765548_a917548e72-400x331.jpg

A friend of mine, JH, sent me an email piece about God finding out just what morons humans are by questioning St. Francis (Frank) about lawns. Think about it. We dig up what grows there, plant something that needs constant attention, and we pay for the privilege. The point extends to all aspects of the earth. Many of the religions of the world say man should/must live in harmony with the earth and critters thereon. The often repeated idea is good stewardship while harvesting what is needed.
Take the Bible (please) for example: Genesis gives mankind dominion (if the translation is right) over the world. Dominion means to rule as a king and it also means possession of the land that is thus ruled. So in many religions control and ownership is ceded to mankind by some deity or right.
The implication is pretty clear that good care, stewardship, will follow this most gracious gift. Because it seems that something given by a deity can be just as easily taken back. To my point, then.
Mankind for millions of years (if you are rational) lived in harmony with the earth. Neither taking too much or too little. Just right. Equilibrium. Carrying capacity. Then we learned how to exploit our vast home. And trash it in the process. We are way past the point of fouling our nest. And now it is nearly at a point of collapse. I can’t help but think that any deity that cared enough to give such a paradise to a species would be seriously pissed off at the outcome. Nothing but silence from the heavens. My conclusion: nobody home up there. Gone fish’n. Lost interest when we nuked each other, maybe, and moved on to somewhere else. Or just never was.
Anyway that is my take.
Image: www. stickerworldusa.com

surviving child abuse: one of the lucky ones

“Let This be Our Secret”: The Secret of the Abused Child

It came out of nowhere. An early morning, a basement, a cousin, name being called, mothers bedroom,questions,crying, shame, forgetting. The details buried.

Years later a sudden memory of murmured words "...it'll be fun...don't tell...pull down pajamas...be quiet..." Details return over the years. A cardboard fireplace stored in the basement, bright red bricks printed perfectly. In the corner. Perfect hiding place.

What happened? I still don't know for sure. Some details elude recall.

From early on a lingering sense of guilt about something recalled as a protective mother tried to get to the truth. She couldn't have known that the inquisition would be the first lasting memory. The session ended with "let this be our secret."

Well, it was. So far as I know, no one in the family ever knew that the cousin was an ---what?

And here the story pauses for a question. I have always been repulsed and revolted by the cousin. Had to be with him in many family gatherings. He never seemed to be different. Always playing, cutting up, joking with everyone, an all around goofy guy. He grew up to a hard life of failed work. Job after job. Wife after wife, more than a dozen kids all together and grandchildren by the score. The question is this: What exactly was/is he? Pedophile? Ordinary child abuser? Experimenting kid? Monster? Sick shit that should have been put down? You know, I really don't know because I know of no history except my own. I was 5 or 6 he was 12 or 13.

For years I didn't see him didn't want to see him didn't want to think about him. Then it happened. On a trip with my kids we stopped to see his mother. And he was there. Looming. And I realize that he was a sad, failed (for all his kids and grand kids who he loved and seemed to love him in return) human being. On the fringes of society moving from one menial job to another, unfocused. I couldn't hate him. I wanted to and told myself I would kill him when I saw him. But I couldn't hate him. And I didn't kill him. Instead we had dinner, a few beers and left. I kept a close eye on my boys.

Years later I think about him and what he did. How did that change me? I don't know that either. As Popeye is oft quoted "I yam who I yam" and "I yam what I yam". Me too. No point in dwelling, and I think the healing has long been underway. Forgiving is hard, but forgetting isn't going to happen. So I forgive him for his acts of long ago. Pax vobiscum.

One of the lucky ones? I think so. You see I knew something happened in that basement. I remembered something. Not all of it, but something. Many abused children suppress the abuse so deeply that they never know why they feel and act the way they do. They go through life damaged and guilt ridden and don't know why. One more effect of the assault. (see the July 28th 2009  post for another story on child abuse.)
Image: http://ylstc.weebly.com/uploads/1/0/4/1/10414578/6136082_orig.jpg

A Tale of Meeting

Rabbit in his bed

Rabbit ran as fast as he could back to his warren and yelled “Grandpa, Grandpa!! Wake up. I have just met a human who talked to me.” Grandpa made a grumbling sound and turned over. “Wake up Grandpa!! I think his father was the human we all heard about in your tales !!”

Well, at that Grandpa shot out of bed and said “What? No, couldn’t be. Too long ago. Never came back. But, to be safe we should go talk to Grandpa Tortoise. He has lived a long time and has a good memory” and off they went.

Grandpa Tortoise was as usual having a snack at that time of day and was happy to talk to the rabbits, especially the young one. He loved to tell all sorts of tales, and all the older animals had heard them many times. He listened while the excited rabbit told of the encounter with the man and his child, and just hummed. “Hmmmmm. Hmmmmm. So you say you couldn’t understand the man, but you talked to his child? Very interesting. And you say the child told you that his father knew tales of this very Valley, told to him by the elders? And you say the child said he would come back some day? Well, let’s hope he hurries up, because soon enough he will stop talking proper language and just speak gibberish. Happens to all of them sooner or later.”

“But Why Grandpa Tortoise? We don’t speak gibberish when we grow up” said the young rabbit. “One of the mysteries of their kind is all. It is very difficult to understand why they do the things that they do. A few years ago, a man moved in two valleys over. The woods, stream and meadows were full of good things to eat. Fruit and vegetables grew everywhere. Well, this human cut down all the forest, dug up all the meadows and planted one single kind of plant. Ruinous for the animals there. Some were killed, some fled and some died slowly of starvation. They make no sense at all. The man you saw might be our friend from the past and may not be. But you must be very, very careful if you ever see this human again.”

The rabbit thought back to his last session at school and remembered that the teacher warned all the children to be wary of humans, because they made no sense and were unpredictable. Now this had been confirmed by the old Tortoise. He went to bed that night remembering the child who spoke to him, and dreamed of a day when humans would make sense in the world. He didn’t know it, of course, but he would have a very long wait.

Image: http://www.therabbithouse.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/701.jpg

Horses: Loving Them to Death

Rutger Hauer on Othello

Sally told me I would get in trouble for this, but so be it. Let me start by affirming that I find horses at times breathtakingly beautiful. The image here is Navarre on his horse from the film Ladyhawke. I am stunned every time I see this Friesian stallion named Othello move, and I have seen him many times. (1)

But like any other animal the same natural rules apply to horses, and some unnatural ones as well. They are protected from most predation in their wild ranges, and the herds are growing faster than the land can sustain them (2). Biologists will know this as the Doctrine of Limiting Resources. They are currently rounded up from time to time and sold to mustang lovers. In addition, people all over the country are indiscriminately breeding horses, the results being an overabundance of animals leading to abuse. Every day I pass a small paddock where a neighbor fosters abused horses, the latest of which were a pair nearly starved to death. Why? Probably someone got them cheap or free and couldn’t or wouldn’t spend the money to keep them healthy. My Facebook feed often has photos of rescued horses. The problem is over breeding and under utilization.

If they were cattle the solution would be simple: take them to market and slaughter them. Cattle mostly have only one source of value, namely their meat. But horses have value added: in addition to meat, they have sport. They race, are ridden, act in movies, pull wagons in parades; pose for pretty pictures and other things. In the old days, horses were valued as working animals, and some cattle were as well. But they were also slaughtered in times of famine, or sold off to butchers when unable to work, or when there were too many of them, or when they were captured in war. They served a dual purpose: work and food.

The last domestic horse slaughter operation closed in 2007 (3). Finally yielding to the pressure of the hundreds of horse organizations and thousands of individuals.  Attempts have been made since to restart the industry, but have been systematically blocked.

Now, enter my point of interest in this saga: a semi loaded with horses for Canadian slaughter overturned and many horses were injured or killed. The driver was killed as well, but nobody seemed to mind that.It was not a pretty sight. Who is to blame? Well, some blame Canada for allowing horse slaughter. Why, I am not sure. Horses are a commodity eaten around the world, so why should they not be humanely killed and processed? America for allowing the export? Hey folks, America these days is all about business and profit. Horse export is a profitable business. Even more profitable would be the domestic processing of excess horses. The people who sell them at auction? Better to starve them to death in a barn?

No, the people to blame are the indiscriminate horse breeders and owners who refuse to not have “just one more cute foal” running around their yard or field. And the people who refuse to allow the control of wild herds to insure range productivity, genetic health of herds and to stop environmental degradation of range land.

You people who love horses, own horses, breed horses, sell or give away horses and oppose rational control of wild herds are to blame. And of course the racing industry too.

So if you are interested in stopping the legal trade in horses for meat, stop the stupid and unsustainable breeding of the animals. In every venue. And voilà!, the problem goes away. Until them, take ownership of the results of loving them to death.

Image: http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/8200000/Navarre-ladyhawke-8239730-600-598.jpg

Image: http://www.naturalhorsetrim.com/Accident,%20semi%20cab.JPG

1. http://www.thenutgallery.com/trivia/ladyhawke.html

2. http://www.wildhorsepreservation.org/media/tens-thousands-wild-horses-face-mass-slaughter-after-mustangs-breed-too-fast-great-plains
3. http://www.usatoday.com/story/money/business/2014/01/17/horse-slaughter-blocked-by-federal-law/4604929/

I Always wanted to but I Never Did

He Stopped Loving Her Today

Just heard George Jones, a very young GJ, sing this old favorite (1). As the words rolled out my mind drifted to other thoughts and came to focus on the idea of missed chances. Missed chances. The Service of Remembrance I went to last weekend was in large part about missed chances: a young woman missed the chance for a long and happy life and as she went she exhorted all of us not to delay. Not to miss the chances life presents.
Many of us have missed chances to accomplish all kinds of things from ridiculous to sublime and everything in between. It is human nature to prioritize what we do according to some unfathomable internal metric. And in the process we always miss the chance to get to something else. Or someone else. Or someplace else. Or just plain something.
The real tragedy of the "He" in the song seems to be that both the dead guy and the live woman wanted to be connected somehow, but missed the chance. A careless word or deed, or something not done or done badly. We can't know the back story. Just the effect.
Which brings me back to the idea of getting "it" done now, whatever "it" may be. Oh so easy to say isn't it. "Just DO IT". But not so easy to do. Why? All those damn priorities keep getting in the way. Save for the future or spend now? Cut the grass or write a story? Take a nap or work on the gun stock? The fact is that you can't do everything and that means deciding what is important and keeping the important things at the top of the list. As the "golden years" (those are the years when you spend all the gold you have saved) proceed, it becomes even more important to make the list and keep on it. To paraphrase a line from Gary Jennings great novel "The Journeyer" (1), Marco Polo said he lived so at the end he would not  say "I always wanted to but never did."
This is what I wish for you and yours, and for me and mine. What could be better than to be dying and not be able to think of a single thing left undone, unspoken, unexperienced or unloved. My idea of a good life.
(And, on the way to the citations, I found this country song by Blake Shelton I never heard before, and except for a few details,  it is my story. Funny how things work. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jnf82BCQV68 )

Image: https://img0.etsystatic.com/031/1/5261100/il_340x270.577789716_o8ss.jpg

1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crIUhQ536f8

2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Journeyer

A Tale of Sacrifice:Hey Nutria!! Bet You Can’t Catch ME!

A mink and nutria, usually natural enemies, were walking by the edge of a wide stream. Their unlikely friendship had formed some time ago when the mink and his friends saved the nutria from a feral dog. They grew up playing and planning their futures together and as adults were good friends. “Mink” said the nutria, “On a find day such as this we should find a warm spot in the sun and have an afternoon nap. I am tired from enlarging my burrow for the next litter.” “I don’t know Nutria. I have a lot to do to get ready for the “blessed event” in my den. New grass and feathers to collect and maybe dig another entrance for safety.”

Suddenly, Nutria jumped back and yelled “GATOR!!” as a 5 foot alligator lunged for him. Mink, being the more aggressive of the two, jumped in front of Nutria and said “Run Nutria, I will deal with this coldblooded mindless reptile” and bit the gator on the end of its nose. The gator lunged at the mink several times, and each time the mink led the gator further from his cowering friend. Finally, when the gator was totally distracted, Mink ran away and left the gator wondering where his lunch had gone.

“My goodness Mink, that was really brave of you. I think he would have had me if you hadn’t taken him on. I can be really slow to react at times, especially when I need a nap.” The mink just laughed and said “I tease gators all the time. They think they can catch any animal they want, but we minks are way too fast for them. Why, I remember a time “ and at that point Nutria screamed ‘GATOR” again and before he could react, Mink was snapped into the jaws of a second gator he had not seen. One bite and one swallow and Mink was gone. Nutria ran and ran, sobbing “It was all my fault. All my fault. How will I tell Mink’s wife?”

But somehow he found the courage to go to Mink’s den and tell his wife of the tragic end of her husband. She cried and her kits huddled around her. Finally, Nutria said “Mrs. Mink? Don’t worry about your den. I know what Mink needed to do, and I will do it for you. You just get ready for the new arrivals.” And so Nutria began collecting dry grass and feathers and bringing them to the den, and when Mrs. Mink told him she had enough, he dug another entrance into the den. After a few days of this work, Mrs. Mink said “Nutria, why are you helping us? I know you have work to do on your den.” “Mink was my old friend, and without him you would be in danger collecting nesting grass and digging a new entrance. He was my friend, and friends help friends when they can. I will never forget what I owe to Mink, and I will always look out for you.”

And so a new relationship was born, and eventually Nutria became an uncle to many young minks. But sometimes when he was getting ready for an afternoon nap, he would think back to that fateful day on the stream bank and silently cry for his lost friend. He had found out that new friends may be found, but old friends are never forgotten. As he dozed, he thought he heard someone say “Hey Nutria! Bet you can’t catch me!”

Image: http://www.rickubis.com/rick/gatorbuck025.jpg