What healthcare system?

Take a ride with me. I’m going to tell you the story of my latest bump. I’ll get over my angst about ranting over a personal problem, something I find a bit uncomfortable, because I know with certainty that my experiences aren’t unusual.

About a month ago, I ran through the drive-through of a local fast food fish place after a long day. I ate about half of the fish and cole slaw and went to bed. A half hour before the alarm went off the next morning, I was in the bathroom, sending that poor excuse for a meal down the drain in a projectile manner. Convinced I was dying, I called in sick to work and went back to bed.

Not only on Sunday

There is a charming little town set up on the outskirts of the city as a museum to preserve the history of what life was like “back then.” The buildings are a collection of structures brought in from many little towns – a cabin, a general store, post office, jail, a train depot and a few outbuildings. Striving for authenticity, the display is today’s interpretation of what life must have been like; with a few “holes” filled in with much more modern items (dollar-store throw rugs, color photographs, manufactured dolls) than would have been found in the late 1800’s, Still, when I toured the little town with my camera clicking away in November of 2009, I was caught up in the charm and the respect for the people who put the display together, all the while battling the incongruences in the back of my mind.

Sex isn’t a secret. It’s a key.

Of course I remember; it was The Big Day. I had no idea why, though I suspected it was a Big Deal considering how many whispers behind hands were fed into ears. It was Sex Education day in the grade school, and we were all to watch a film shown to all the 6th grade classes that day. Whispers and wiggles. Whispers and wiggles.

I must point out that it was a relief that lunches were only long enough to bolt down the sad excuse for food slopped on a sectioned tray because they were nothing more than slab seats attached to slab tables that folded to move out of the way. The film started shortly after the lights went out, and that’s when the wiggling finally stopped. It must’ve been made in the 1940’s – it was black and white, streaked, stuttery and utterly boring. My seat because uncomfortable and fast.

What dreams are made of

Have you forgotten how to dream?

Have you forgotten how to hope?

Maybe so. Is it time to dust off and try again?

Make it so.

If you can think it, then it is possible.

Dreams are thoughts, uninhibited by your reality.

Dreams are your thoughts.

Thinking is your power.

That’s what dreams are made of.

We need to get on the same page

I can’t sleep.

Is it that tonight there is an extra hour to sleep? No. We fall back every year, but I’ve never not been able to sleep through it. So, what? My mind just won’t shut off.

The truth is, I am afraid. Very afraid.

Are things getting better or worse?

"Things are getting better, yet people always think things are getting worse."

When I heard that, it stopped me in my tracks. It seems to be completely opposite of the way I’ve been thinking lately: Things are getting worse, yet people think things are better. I think it’s worth looking at, peeking around the corner a bit, just to see what’s on the other side. Hey, if something comes out of the blue that affronts a long-held belief, then it’s worth a look-see, right?

One of the major things about getting old is that it’s harder to remember things. Well, no shit, Sherlock. As time goes on, there’s a lot more things that happen, it all accumulates, piles up and gets deep. What, we’re supposed to remember it all? I mean, isn’t it logical that a 20 year old with only 7,300 days to his name could remember something that happened a few years ago compared to a 50 year old with 18,000 days to sift through? See what I mean?  There’s no Fading Memory Syndrome; it’s just plain math. There’s just way too many things to remember, even for the sharpest Crayon in the box. It’s the needle-in-a-haystack thing, and my haystack is reaching mountainous proportions, ok?

Media blackout, misinformation, misdirection the beginning of a very slippery slope

The last few days, I’ve held my breath, waiting for the news about the “Occupy Wall Street” protest to hit the headlines; but I’ve been waiting in vain. Then, last night, I found a very short AP article about how 80 of the protesters were arrested. YouTube is far more forthcoming with news of the protest, though none of the videos’ view counts go over 50,000. As if finally ceding to the uproar about the media blackout, the NY Times shot out a quick, highly critical, painfully short of substance, article today where the obvious purpose is to fragment and vilify the story. The article implies that the protesters are nothing more than a few unemployed college students who have no idea what “corporate personhood” is. So, the information leaking out into the mainstream is only misinformation. None link to the Occupy Wall Street website, as though it isn’t easy enough to find via Google.

9/11–America’s obituary

The horror is no less palpable today than it was last year or ten years ago. The specifics may have blurred with the passage of time, but not the pain, the despair, the trauma of the birth of a new and different way of thinking about life.

The 10-year anniversary of 9/11 brings a torrent of emotion, and try as I might, none of those emotions can be called positive.

Parents, pet and horse owners need education now

There are two things that burn, and I mean burn me bad. First is harming a child. The second is harming an animal. Do you see the pattern here? Both are dependent on adults, on us, to protect them and to provide for them. That is an absolute. There is no room in that absolute for harm in any way, shape or form. Got that? Good.

Now, I’m no dummy. I know that there are people who don’t happen to take the responsibility of care, protection and providing for kids and animals as seriously as I do. I say, “Shame on them!” What part of being an adult, a responsible adult, don’t these people get? Didn’t their mommas take care of them? If their mommas didn’t do the job, didn’t they hope that some other responsible adult would step up to the plate and make it right for them?

Privacy is a matter of common sense

Being online has become such a big part of our world that it’s almost unimaginable what life was like without it. For me, the most significant aspect of the role the Internet plays in my life has been the immediate access to information and knowledge. All you need is an Internet connection, and you can learn anything. Just as significant is that everyone is connected to just about everyone, virtually world-wide. It is empowering, powerful and infinite in potential.

While I may be jumping up and down in joy about being plugged into the world, many are not. There are privacy concerns and it’s no secret that some use the Internet for unscrupulous reasons. In this way, the Internet is no different than telephone or TV or any other form of mass communication. If a business or a government or a person decides to stick its nose into your life, it will find a way and you will be harmed, no matter what the vector. It happened before the Internet and it will happen always. That’s just the way it is.

What can you do to keep your private stuff private?

When a newspaper has its own agenda, it can’t be trusted to report the news

Integrity : firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values; incorruptibility : an unimpaired condition; soundness : the quality or state of being complete or undivided; completeness

I’m a news junkie. I didn’t used to be. I used to feel the news was nothing but doom and gloom, car accidents and drug busts, and politics. I never understood the value of a newspaper beyond the comics and the classifieds and housetraining a new puppy. My attitude changed when my love of writing led me to reporting for a few small newspapers, and in the course of researching to learn and understand what I got myself into.

Unanswered questions fuel the misplaced anger

“You taught me to be nice, so nice that now I am so full of niceness, I have no sense of right and wrong, no outrage, no passion.” Redheaded Riter 

“What has become quite clear is that the "Dark Triad"-- which consists of the combination of Machiavellianism, subclinical narcissism, and subclinical psychopathy-- is an overarching trait that everyone has to some degree. Unfortunately, some people just have a lot more of it than others.”

"You realize there are folks out there who want to do crazy things, like fillet people open, pour salt on them, and feed their legs to the piranhas," Judge Belvin Perry said.

Last night at dinner, in a popular, crowded restaurant, I watched a woman look down at the baby carrier she had set next to her on the booth seat. The new mother’s face was blank, an expression that didn’t seem to change from when she was looking at the menu to when she was looking down at her baby. At one point, she reached into the carrier to retrieve a dropped pacifier and reinsert it into her baby’s mouth, then returned to focus on the menu.

Casey Anthony an insult to us all

The Casey Anthony trial speaks volumes about how far away we’ve become a subjective culture. The trial is a media circus resulting in a sequestered jury, 12 peers spending the last month in hotel rooms, away from their families and lives, and hopefully safely away from the endless commentary about the case. Closing arguments begin today with deliberations set to begin tonight.

The facts in the case are few and far between. At some point in June or July of 2008, 2 year old Caylee went missing. However, this wasn’t discovered for a month while Casey Anthony partied her heart out. Then one day, grandma Cindy gets a call to come pick up her daughter’s abandoned car that reeked of death. Six months later, the toddler's body was found not far from her grandparent’s home where she and her mom lived as of the last time the little girl was seen alive. That, in a nutshell is all that is known. The trial itself has produced no other hard evidence, and the jury must decide, beyond a reasonable doubt, whether Casey Anthony planned and murdered her child.

Wave that flag, Weiner

From the west it came, blocking the sun’s rays, darkening the sky hours before sunset. The cold met the hot in fury; deafening thunder, blinding lightning. Wind-bent trees were weighed down more under heavy rain that quickly collected to form raging streams and rivulets. The torrent lasted a half hour and was gone. But, the coolness lingered; a welcomed relief from the stifling heat of the last few weeks.

I watched the storm from the barn door with Odin, my ears ringing from the sound of the rain pounding the tin roof. The look in his eye seemed to reflect what I was feeling: Not resigned, not content; not quite suffering, but not far from it either. We were both pensive.

It was a kick in the gut. Someone decided to steal the hubcap covers from one side of my car one morning this week while it was parked at work. I discovered the theft on my way to lunch. I felt, I feel, betrayed. And, horrified. I have so little.

So, what? What is this?

Hunger.

It’s bad. Very bad. It’s so bad right now.

Are you ready for the real thing?

The ultimate goal of technology, the telos of techne, is to replace a natural world that’s indifferent to our wishes — a world of hurricanes and hardships and breakable hearts, a world of resistance — with a world so responsive to our wishes as to be, effectively, a mere extension of the self.  (Jonathan Franzen)

I've got a lot of years behind me now, enough to have lifetime events written into high school history books. I've witnessed the advent of the Bic Pen, color TV, automatic washing machines, electric typewriters, countertop toasters, microwave ovens, touch-tone phones, automatic transmissions, cable TV, cell phones, digital cameras and personal computers connected to the Internet.

A storm blowing in

There’s a storm blowing in. Storms have been blowing in all over the place, within and without. I’ve been thinking that Mother Nature’s storms are pointing the finger at our own storms, making us take notice.

Rumor has it that insurance companies are no longer paying out replacement value on claims submitted, specifically the claims filed as a result of the tornadoes in Alabama. Those who lost everything will see only a fraction of the cost to rebuild their homes and their lives. When did this change happen? Unknown. The insurance companies spliced it into the small print and no one noticed. You no longer get what you pay for, and there is no longer the peace of mind that an insurance policy is supposed to provide.

You want rapture? Try this on for size.

Rapture – to transport with excitement, carried away from one’s self by agreeable excitement; extreme joy or pleasure.

I did what most people will do when looking for a definition, an explanation or an understanding for something not quite known how it applies to current circumstances – I picked and chose from the varied descriptions offered the ones that suited my purpose.

Thus, today, May 21, 2011, the day of The Rapture, sounds like a good day, based on my chosen definition of the word. Give me a minute and I’m sure I could come up with an equally positive definition of “apocalypse” too. You see, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings a bit if today marked the day that the world as we know it comes to an end.

Not old enough, not young enough to work

Her youthful face looked freshly scrubbed, shiny and innocent. Just 19, she was already a mother and intelligent enough to know that her road may be more difficult, but not impossible. She was a go-getter, never still for long and loaded with youthful energy, all the while responsible and balanced. Her youth seemed to be what kept her mind clear and quick. She was a mountain of potential.

For three weeks, she worked as the receptionist at a mobile home sales lot, doing everything asked, and learning everything she could. She kept the website updated and completed purchase agreements. Everything was fine when she left work Friday, the owner’s last words of “See you on Monday” sent her away just like the two Fridays before. But Monday, when she came into work, there sat an older woman at her desk. The owner had decided she wanted someone older and with accounting experience.

When budget cuts hit close to home–and kill

I am so exhausted. I am exhausted from the frustration. This frustration comes from the constant, flagrant, blatant hypocrisy that exists under the name of the Conservative Christian right. Less government, less public services, less taxes, less deficit….less life. I want to scream, it is so frustrating.

I have to ask: If you are “Christian,” does that not mean that you model your life, your behavior, your actions, your goals to that of Jesus? Jesus’ teachings, it is my understanding, centered on love, on compassion, on peace and spent his time on Earth helping his fellow man.

Jesus was not a greedy, rich bastard hell bent on having it all! He chose to shun worldly niceties to live free of the mundane traps of possession. So I ask, isn’t it an oxymoron to be a Conservative Christian?

Abused child, 4, dies and all hell breaks loose

Today, Damon Adams, a former Brooklyn, NY child welfare worker and his supervisor were charged with criminally negligent homicide in the death of 4-year-old Marchella Pierce. The girl weighed just 18 pounds when she was found dead in her family’s apartment on Sept. 2, 2010. A known drug abuser, the girl’s mother, “Carlotta Brett-Pierce, tied Marchella to her bed, beat her with a belt and videocasette tape, deprived her of food and water, and force-fed her medication including Claritin and a generic form of Benadryl. Marchella died Sept. 2 of child abuse syndrome, along with acute drug poisoning, blunt impact injuries, malnutrition and dehydration.” The girl’s grandmother reportedly witnessed the severe abuse from March until her death and is also charged with manslaughter in the case.

Like every other “normal” person, hearing of an innocent child’s death sets my blood to boil and breaks my heart. It is senseless, unforgiveable and unfathomable that some people can and do act in such bizarrely inhuman ways toward dependent, helpless, innocent children.

Could Marchella’s death been prevented?