I was just pondering my last post and it made me sad. Not just that I had lost a friend but that we are all getting older and more and more of our time will be spent at funerals and memorials. I worry constantly about my friends, my retiree friends. I want to hold them so close so nothing will happen to them. I worry that I will lose them, or that they will suffer some of the ultimate losses that makes going on so hard. And as most of my friends are women I worry about them losing their husbands, their soulmates. Sophie, dear woman that she is, was the first to lose a husband. She did not misplace him. He died sixteen years ago. It was a New Year's Eve/Day when he died at home. And that home was no longer a home for Sophie. Sixteen years have passed and she now seems more assured of herself. But it took growing pains of sixteen years. Seem is 70 now and my friends who are in their 70s now when they will suffer a loss, and they will, might it take them sixteen years to move on, if at all?
Hyphen dear sweet Hyphen was always the one who would point out we never know what life has in store for us. And that hit her so hard in the end that she is no longer able to practice. The traumatic brain injury so injurious as to make it hard for her to think. But Hyphen dear sweet Hyphen would opine that is the way of the world. You just never know.
I worry that the cats grow older. I look in the mirror and wonder where I went. Time is a thief.
And yet...
I was out walking this morning and decided to change my route. I meandered through a new neighborhood for me and as a hawk swooped down and landed in front of me and I pondered this meaning, I looked up as he flew off to see, through the buildings, a huge man-made lake surrounded by homes. Of course this proved to be a private lake, the bastards, and I couldn't get any closer than
the road. For those of you in the area it is between Harrison and Coolidge on Chartwell Dual...So if Hope is a thing with feathers, this young hawk showed me the hope of the lake. Of people enjoying ann early morning on the lake, a shimmering clear sand-bottomed lake (none of this muddy lake for these home dwellers), shimmering under the morning sun.
Some days I find growing old to be a gift and not a thief. Some days the concept of being a crone is very appealing. I think the crone is the female counterpart, in a good sense, of a curmudgeon. We are wise from our years, we have learned from our years. Yes, I am still dealing with past hurts in therapy but the new hurts pass much more quickly as I learn to be still and let the time sink into me. Yes, the cats grow old, but at least they do. It is better than the options. Yes, I worry about losing them. I worry every time my Aunt Marilyn calls early in my day from California that she is calling to tell me someone has died. I listen to her contemplate being 85 and all her ills, both mental and physical, and hear her fret about growing old and the fear in her voice. I am twenty three years her junior and some days I feel that fear.
I shall bypass the long philosophical question and quest of what happens when we die. I think that is just that. I worry about the pain of dying. Yes, I have heard from others as they watched loved one pass, that as the body dies in stages it is painful, not quite the dying in the sleep we all ultimately hope for but more often than not a morphine induced haze to make the transition tolerable.
So aside from the pain of dying and the questions about the soul, should there be such an entity, I have no complaints. I hope to have a life well lived and live I shall. I shall enjoy the cats, the yard, my roses, my home, my neighbors, my neighborhood, the raccoons who live in my trash can...yes all this and heaven too. Life will go on after I have gone on and that is as it should be.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Sunday, May 29, 2016
It just seems...
Like two weeks ago we had snow. Since then the sky has opened blue and the temperature uses each day into the 80s. Life is good and the sun is warm. The boys, at least two of them, have found a sunny spot in the dining room window. Hence this...
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
These boys enjoy the sun as Yankel Cat lay under the ceiling fan in the bedroom.
Yes is was two weeks ago today that we had snow and if the worm had turned that was the turning. Two weeks ago I was covering my tender tomato and pepper plants with a sheet to protect them from a frost. Two weeks ago today I meandered to breakfast wearing a heavy jacket. Two weeks ago today seems like an eternity ago.
Today it was in the 80s and the sky was azure. I felt a certain optimism. Yet there was sadness in the air. There was a memorial service for a former library friend. Her son and neighbors arranged an outdoor memorial service in her backyard; a yard filled with plants of every sort. A kind of wild garden, an absolute epitome of the women herself. And, as an aside, an old friend from the library showed up from Connecticut and actually hugged me. It was bittersweet seeing her again. I had been a total asshole when she worked at the library while she finished her MLS. I am reminded of the Paul Simon song "Still Crazy After All These Years". She seemed so glad to seem me I just had to smile. We talked about the old times ad had a glass of cheer...still crazy....
It was a wonderful memorial for the master of the backhanded compliment. She was an immigrant, a stranger in a not so strange land. She was a person who valued bluntness. And was she ever. She worked alongside my pal Jerry and the two of them were quite a pair: he murdering the English language and she bluntly exposing the truth. My favorite of her compliments was to a friend, actually Sophie, and she said to her "most heavy women could not wear a outfit like that but on you it looks good". She was a good German woman, a child in Nazi Germany and emigrated after the war. Durrkopp was her maiden name and her father, as she told it, raised horses for the Nazis. They were spared some of the atrocities of war because of this. She emigrated after the war and married. The couple them came to MSU where, according to her, she killed her husband by making him quit smoking whereupon he took up chewing gum and choke on said chewing gum and died. And she would bluntly tell this story time and again.
The last time I had a chance to speak to her was at Jerry's wake, not to be confused with his memorial tree service. She was 89 at the time and made a point to tell everyone this. I worried about her driving as she never got over the fact that there was no Autobahn in the States yet she drove as if she were on it. She made it to a few of the Library's social after that but really stopped coming after she turned 90 or so. She grew addled and ended up in an extended care facility and died shortly thereafter. Her neighbors today spoke of caring for her in her own house until she became so addled it was no longer practical. She was 93 when she died. Her neighbor Rita, with whom she spoke nightly, quoted a line from Emily Dickinson, which I shall parse here:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
There will always be a part of me that will miss her: her bluntness, her love of orchids, her love of nature, her love of her dogs, her love of learning new things and her lead foot on the gas. It was a beautiful day for a memorial and a fitting tribute to my friend.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Blisters
On my feet. I gots 'em. Spending a great deal of time walking of late and working in the garden and regardless of the fact the I wear good shoes I get blisters. I think this is my mother reaching out from the grave and saying her famous line "I don't know why you got (fill in the blank). It doesn't do (fill in the blank again). Some of our biggest fights were over my choice of footwear and her insistence that I were heels or flats with a too small toe box. I rebelled with my footwear, moreso as I got older. So in addition to blaming mother for the blisters I am also blaming sweating feet and rubbing toes. My feet seem to be misshaped from years of toxic footwear. And a small blister from yesterday turned into a massive blood blister on my big toe today, a gift from a long walk into the art fair in East Lansing, where I swore I would not get anything I could not carry home and I ended up carrying home a too heavy garden sculpture make of iron and stone. A gift for the house, specifically for the back yard.
This house has received more gifts from me than I can count. First the gift of me. Then the remodel, the new rugs, furniture, lamps, the new kitchen, the new bathroom and the countless gifts of filling the house with home goods, like sheets, towels and sundries. I must learn to acquire less and enjoy what I have. But this piece of rustic rusting iron with a bevy of stones spoke to me, in a zen sort of way. So home it came to be placed between the deck and the patio.
More gifts. The rose bed...looking good. I think I now have twelve rose bushes. Most are floribundas. Some are ground cover. They are set to bloom in a week I should think. The area on the side of the house where the roses dwell gets full sun and the soil is very clay-like. Roses love clay soil. Also I threw in a handful of ten penny nails in each hole I was planting the rose in as they also love iron. And the roses last year, the first year of my rose garden, were spectacular. Fragrant and beautiful.
Monday promises to be a busy day as I have therapy and then Sophie, ah yes, Sophie whom we have heard little of since her retirement, is taking me to a nursery to get a flat of flowers to border the rose garden. I would like to get some potted flowering annuals to spruce up the House. The House That Must Be Fed. I think that is why I had the flood three weeks ago. Not paying homage to the house. Well more flowers are coming, baby, and all will be right. No more floods...please...pretty please. I should also like to pick up a patio tomato plant just because. My small vegetable garden is doing splendidly, as is my herb garden. Today I put the larger tomato plants in bondage, circling a cage about them. And I have been watering them and caring for the gardens. All that I currently have is planted so of course I want more to plant.
Mrs. Kravitz from across the street showed me her garden and patio today. She has really paid homage to her home. Pots of flowers everywhere the eye looks. I don't want to go that crazy but then she has lived there over forty years and has collected lots of pots and lots of ideas. I rely on my sensibilities. I have pots in the garden but they are not suitable. Her pots are lovely.
So anyway off to Van Atta's we will go. I have to be home by 4:00 as the Old Duffer is coming by to play guitar with me and I am hoping he would like to do so on the front porch and take advantage of the weather. Last Sunday, the 15th, it snowed. This week not so much. It was lovely in every sense of the word. The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la. After Old Duffer leaves my friend Eastman is coming by to set the TV up. See there is another present for the house. A great deal I could not pass up on a newer TV than what I had. A 4K UHD TV...Yahoo and all that crap. Eastman will get the older one for a small price and he will make good use of it.
That should be all the presents for the house for a long time. I should be receiving a check from the insurance company for my loses in the flood. Four itemized pages of loses. Who knew I had that much stuff in the basement. It was as if another person had taken up residence in the basement and it was she who sustained the loses. Still I am waiting for money like manna from heaven. It has only been a week since the paperwork has been filed but dang give me the money.
And so dear children as the moon is full and so am I off to bed I go with dreams of flowers in my head. Up early to take a walk and do some grocery shopping...gotta get my steps in, and then a 12:00 therapy sessions, home again, home again jiggidty jig and off to Van Atta's. Too bad I ain't all that tired.
This house has received more gifts from me than I can count. First the gift of me. Then the remodel, the new rugs, furniture, lamps, the new kitchen, the new bathroom and the countless gifts of filling the house with home goods, like sheets, towels and sundries. I must learn to acquire less and enjoy what I have. But this piece of rustic rusting iron with a bevy of stones spoke to me, in a zen sort of way. So home it came to be placed between the deck and the patio.
More gifts. The rose bed...looking good. I think I now have twelve rose bushes. Most are floribundas. Some are ground cover. They are set to bloom in a week I should think. The area on the side of the house where the roses dwell gets full sun and the soil is very clay-like. Roses love clay soil. Also I threw in a handful of ten penny nails in each hole I was planting the rose in as they also love iron. And the roses last year, the first year of my rose garden, were spectacular. Fragrant and beautiful.
Monday promises to be a busy day as I have therapy and then Sophie, ah yes, Sophie whom we have heard little of since her retirement, is taking me to a nursery to get a flat of flowers to border the rose garden. I would like to get some potted flowering annuals to spruce up the House. The House That Must Be Fed. I think that is why I had the flood three weeks ago. Not paying homage to the house. Well more flowers are coming, baby, and all will be right. No more floods...please...pretty please. I should also like to pick up a patio tomato plant just because. My small vegetable garden is doing splendidly, as is my herb garden. Today I put the larger tomato plants in bondage, circling a cage about them. And I have been watering them and caring for the gardens. All that I currently have is planted so of course I want more to plant.
Mrs. Kravitz from across the street showed me her garden and patio today. She has really paid homage to her home. Pots of flowers everywhere the eye looks. I don't want to go that crazy but then she has lived there over forty years and has collected lots of pots and lots of ideas. I rely on my sensibilities. I have pots in the garden but they are not suitable. Her pots are lovely.
So anyway off to Van Atta's we will go. I have to be home by 4:00 as the Old Duffer is coming by to play guitar with me and I am hoping he would like to do so on the front porch and take advantage of the weather. Last Sunday, the 15th, it snowed. This week not so much. It was lovely in every sense of the word. The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la. After Old Duffer leaves my friend Eastman is coming by to set the TV up. See there is another present for the house. A great deal I could not pass up on a newer TV than what I had. A 4K UHD TV...Yahoo and all that crap. Eastman will get the older one for a small price and he will make good use of it.
That should be all the presents for the house for a long time. I should be receiving a check from the insurance company for my loses in the flood. Four itemized pages of loses. Who knew I had that much stuff in the basement. It was as if another person had taken up residence in the basement and it was she who sustained the loses. Still I am waiting for money like manna from heaven. It has only been a week since the paperwork has been filed but dang give me the money.
And so dear children as the moon is full and so am I off to bed I go with dreams of flowers in my head. Up early to take a walk and do some grocery shopping...gotta get my steps in, and then a 12:00 therapy sessions, home again, home again jiggidty jig and off to Van Atta's. Too bad I ain't all that tired.
Friday, May 20, 2016
Maybe now it is a sure thing
Maybe now the worm has turned or more to the point the weather has turned. Since last Sunday's appearance of snow the weather has slowly and steadily improved to the point it is no jacket in the morning and shorts in the afternoon weather. Windows are flung open at home and ere know I am sleeping in a sweatshirt the windows are staying open at night. The tomato and pepper plants survived last weekend's snow/sleet/hail/rain storms and the herbs did well, save for a lonely basil plant which the Good Tuna, that being the Green Tuna, shall pick up for me today at the plant sale on campus.
This place is lousy with mice. I was out in the Cyber Cafe as a daredevil mouse fell from the sky, or rather the ceiling, and two Cafe employees were attempting to capture it with a device consisting of two plastic cups without lids so as to escort it out of the building. Dang, we need us some library cats to patrol the dwindling stacks where the mice seem to have found a home away from home and other inconvenient places like office desk drawers. I once asked about having a library cat or two, as some libraries do, but was told too many people are allergic to cats to populate the stacks with them. Also, I think it might be a tad unnerving to see a cat with a mouse in its mouth off for a quick bite.
Which reminds me of a story, as these things do, of a cat name of Moon, a beautiful Russian Blue (the Archangel Cat). Moon Cat was a prodigious mouser. He also enjoyed having a bit of meat with me at dinner at night, which he would play with for a while, the meat that is, and then eat. One night I was sleeping in bed and Moon came in playing with his piece of pork steak I had given him at dinner that night. I reached down to grab the meat away from him, as he was disturbing my sleep, only to utter those fateful words "Oh, shit, meat doesn't have fur!" Yes, he had brought his latest kill into the bedroom and was presenting me with a gift. Of course in German a gift is poison. Yikes.
Into the weekend we go. Planting some tonight, ground cover roses. Additionally, off to Le Kroger for some groceries manana. Tomorrow brings the Art Fair as well as a Tea at the Kellogg Center, both of which I will attend. Sunday should be a quiet day with lots of time in the yard weeding. A puttering sort of day.
Ah, Green Tuna has just delivered us from, wait, not evil, but a basil free summer. Five, count 'em, five basil plants. Pesto anyone?
This place is lousy with mice. I was out in the Cyber Cafe as a daredevil mouse fell from the sky, or rather the ceiling, and two Cafe employees were attempting to capture it with a device consisting of two plastic cups without lids so as to escort it out of the building. Dang, we need us some library cats to patrol the dwindling stacks where the mice seem to have found a home away from home and other inconvenient places like office desk drawers. I once asked about having a library cat or two, as some libraries do, but was told too many people are allergic to cats to populate the stacks with them. Also, I think it might be a tad unnerving to see a cat with a mouse in its mouth off for a quick bite.
Which reminds me of a story, as these things do, of a cat name of Moon, a beautiful Russian Blue (the Archangel Cat). Moon Cat was a prodigious mouser. He also enjoyed having a bit of meat with me at dinner at night, which he would play with for a while, the meat that is, and then eat. One night I was sleeping in bed and Moon came in playing with his piece of pork steak I had given him at dinner that night. I reached down to grab the meat away from him, as he was disturbing my sleep, only to utter those fateful words "Oh, shit, meat doesn't have fur!" Yes, he had brought his latest kill into the bedroom and was presenting me with a gift. Of course in German a gift is poison. Yikes.
Into the weekend we go. Planting some tonight, ground cover roses. Additionally, off to Le Kroger for some groceries manana. Tomorrow brings the Art Fair as well as a Tea at the Kellogg Center, both of which I will attend. Sunday should be a quiet day with lots of time in the yard weeding. A puttering sort of day.
Ah, Green Tuna has just delivered us from, wait, not evil, but a basil free summer. Five, count 'em, five basil plants. Pesto anyone?
Monday, May 16, 2016
Two words that should never be in the same sentence...
The 15th of May and snow. Yes, dear friends, it snowed in East Lansing today. Not too much but enough to ask what the hell is going on. It has been an unseasonable spring, as far as I am concerned. Last night, well, Saturday night, I had to cover up some plants outside and in the morning there was hail the size of peas on the sheet. Yes, I tucked my plants in like children in the safety of their beds.
Speaking of beds, here it is Monday morning and I have a full day ahead of me yet I can't seem to find any rest. I have taken two sleeping pills, and yes, I am allowed. Nothing. Not tired. I think this weather thing is making me a tad depressed. It should be sunny, maybe not super warm but pleasant. Not sleeting and hailing like a mother and forcing me to keep the heat on or else the cats might sue me for mistreatment. Gonif Cat is waiting under the covers and I am waiting for the sleepy bugs to overtake me. I have my alarm set for 6:00 a.m. as I want to get out and have a walk tomorrow before doing some running around for and with JB. Have to get her email situation taken care of. Hopefully our computer center can facilitate a resolution. Off to HR to get a resume put in for her daughter. The resume a production courtesy of Capitol City Informatics. Another fine feature of the entrepreneurial undertaking. So far it has netted me a case of Coca Cola and a lunch. Not bad for an hour worth of work.
Tomorrow I think I will work on getting a website developed for me and also for my landscaper who is really just starting out in his line of work. Hopefully he will be out tomorrow to finish a project for me. Then we can talk about a website design. Another fine service of Capitol City Informatics. Go ahead...Google Capitol City Informatics...oh the hits you will get.
Right now I am more bored than tired. Sometimes sleeping seems a waste of time. I am eagerly awaiting the morning for my walk. And all this is like wishing my life away. Must...relish...every...moment...and thus sleeping seems suspect.
Gonif has joined the other cats on the couch. I think of all the work around the house I should do. I really need more bookcases in the music/cats room. So many books and so little time.
Monday, if all goes according to plan, the authority processing will be primarily outsourced and I will have very little work to do for the summer. Oh, I have projects but at one point I thought if I could afford to take a month off without pay then the summer might be more enjoyable. Must ponder that a little. I don't want to take all my vacation time. The processing of the authority file could take as little as three months. Or, and here is the kicker, longer. I could use some of that time to actually work on my business, which will now include website design. How nice July might be if I didn't have to go to work. Yes, I can wrap my mind around retirement. A new stage in life. Maybe talk to Dan about taking a month off. Actually twenty some off days as I need to work once in a while to keep my health insurance without resorting to COBRA.
Well, gang, the Restoril is finally working and I am getting droopy. Look for me tomorrow morning walking the streets of East Lansing.
Speaking of beds, here it is Monday morning and I have a full day ahead of me yet I can't seem to find any rest. I have taken two sleeping pills, and yes, I am allowed. Nothing. Not tired. I think this weather thing is making me a tad depressed. It should be sunny, maybe not super warm but pleasant. Not sleeting and hailing like a mother and forcing me to keep the heat on or else the cats might sue me for mistreatment. Gonif Cat is waiting under the covers and I am waiting for the sleepy bugs to overtake me. I have my alarm set for 6:00 a.m. as I want to get out and have a walk tomorrow before doing some running around for and with JB. Have to get her email situation taken care of. Hopefully our computer center can facilitate a resolution. Off to HR to get a resume put in for her daughter. The resume a production courtesy of Capitol City Informatics. Another fine feature of the entrepreneurial undertaking. So far it has netted me a case of Coca Cola and a lunch. Not bad for an hour worth of work.
Tomorrow I think I will work on getting a website developed for me and also for my landscaper who is really just starting out in his line of work. Hopefully he will be out tomorrow to finish a project for me. Then we can talk about a website design. Another fine service of Capitol City Informatics. Go ahead...Google Capitol City Informatics...oh the hits you will get.
Right now I am more bored than tired. Sometimes sleeping seems a waste of time. I am eagerly awaiting the morning for my walk. And all this is like wishing my life away. Must...relish...every...moment...and thus sleeping seems suspect.
Gonif has joined the other cats on the couch. I think of all the work around the house I should do. I really need more bookcases in the music/cats room. So many books and so little time.
Monday, if all goes according to plan, the authority processing will be primarily outsourced and I will have very little work to do for the summer. Oh, I have projects but at one point I thought if I could afford to take a month off without pay then the summer might be more enjoyable. Must ponder that a little. I don't want to take all my vacation time. The processing of the authority file could take as little as three months. Or, and here is the kicker, longer. I could use some of that time to actually work on my business, which will now include website design. How nice July might be if I didn't have to go to work. Yes, I can wrap my mind around retirement. A new stage in life. Maybe talk to Dan about taking a month off. Actually twenty some off days as I need to work once in a while to keep my health insurance without resorting to COBRA.
Well, gang, the Restoril is finally working and I am getting droopy. Look for me tomorrow morning walking the streets of East Lansing.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
The rise of the amateur and the angry whte vote
Yes, it is one in the same, Donald Drumpf, AKA The Donald. I have been pondering how incredible his ascendancy is. Back in January I wrote about the rise of the amateur and in particular the rise of the amateur musicians who fancy themselves true musicians and they lack any kind of theoretical background. Well, what we are seeing now in Mr. Trump is the rise of another type of amateur. A true amateur, not merely a dilettante. And a huckster, a showman and a buffoon. And factor into this the angry white vote, the voters who feel disenfranchised by their shrinking majority, the latent and overt racism and fascist inclinations. Yes, all this has given us Donald Trump. His followers are what is the worse about this country. Let them spout their hatred of immigrants, the xenophobia. And harken back to the mid-nineteenth century and the xenophobia of the Know Nothing Party. And think for a minute what the name of that party proudly boasts. Know Nothing (and they did). I think we are seeing the rebirth of the Know Nothings in the guise of a populist movement that has more in common with the KKK than with the Republican Party, the Grand Old Party, the party that forever banished the insidious taint of slavery. That taint of slavery that is still with us today. The Republicans spout crazed theories about reversed discrimination but what you really hear is them losing their grip on the locus of power. Having an African American as a president has not magically eliminated the racist overtones in the national conversation. They can proudly point to that presidency while holding the police state of Ferguson, Missouri intact.
All this has me worried. As a student of history I am overwhelmed by Mr. Trump's politics. His shameful pandering to the lowest common denominator. His statement, which honest to God was "I love the uneducated" should have been considered slanderous and not a compliment for his supporters to embrace. They are the Know Nothings. They spew venom in the name of free speech but it is very much akin to yelling fire in a crowded theater.
Let's consider the oxymoron that is Trump and his followers. Here is a billionaire who has played the system brilliantly, going through bankruptcy not once, twice or three times. Four bankruptcies (five if you count his moral state). Yet his followers adore his role as an outsider and a shrewd businessman. Conniving is more like it.
Now let it be said I am a Hillary supporter. I like Bernie but not enough to vote for him. Yes, Hillary is a little too hawkish for me, but Bernie is a little too pie in the sky. Here is my platform. I think we should abolish the graduated income tax and replace it with a 10% flat tax (Shades of Henry George). I would love to see health care reform in the guise of a single payer plan, much like Medicare. I would love to see universal free education through college. A 10% flat tax with no loop holes would provide the revenue to rebuild out crumbling infrastructure and guarantee free college and health care for all Americans. A flat tax would be more equitable and would ensure the wealthy would actually pay their fair share. Bernie is the idea man but I believe Hillary could execute the changes necessary to rebuild our country. We need to remake America, not make it great again.
What country gave us the notion of universal education (Hint: it isn't in Europe)? What country gave us the New Deal that built this nation back from the brink of poverty? I have been to Europe, East and West, and I am amazed by their progressive models that they have liberally taken from the American Ideals. Granted they have a more homogeneous population than the United States but we need to use that diversity to our betterment. Not exclude whole segments of the population from basic human and humane rights. We need a Roosevelt and not a Trump. We need anyone but him.
Trump, again, is a laughing stock in Europe and our neighbor to the north, O' Canada, who are proudly building their wall to keep out the flood of Americans they will see flocking to their borders if Trump is elected (See: www.maplematch.com ). The Right is even blaming the Left for the rise of Trump but, baby, it is all on them. The Know Nothings.
What we need to do to avoid a Trump presidency, which might see the end of the Republican Party as we know it, is to GET OUT AND VOTE and GET OUT THE VOTE. I am hoping I am preaching to the choir. Enough with the name calling of Trump. Let us engage as a country to defeat the evil empire of ANGRY WHITE MEN... I am often criticized for my liberal politics, my PC stances but I hold them near and dear. I believe this country has better things to do than to devolve fifty years, nay sixty years, for the good old days of the 1950s. The days when there was segregation and Jim Crow Laws. And yet under an African American president we saw the gutting of voting rights laws. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 was needed and still is needed to ensure all Americans, regardless of race, gender, or economic state, be treated equally UNDER THE LAW. We need to rekindle that spirit and build on what is good with America. Get out and vote.
All this has me worried. As a student of history I am overwhelmed by Mr. Trump's politics. His shameful pandering to the lowest common denominator. His statement, which honest to God was "I love the uneducated" should have been considered slanderous and not a compliment for his supporters to embrace. They are the Know Nothings. They spew venom in the name of free speech but it is very much akin to yelling fire in a crowded theater.
Let's consider the oxymoron that is Trump and his followers. Here is a billionaire who has played the system brilliantly, going through bankruptcy not once, twice or three times. Four bankruptcies (five if you count his moral state). Yet his followers adore his role as an outsider and a shrewd businessman. Conniving is more like it.
Now let it be said I am a Hillary supporter. I like Bernie but not enough to vote for him. Yes, Hillary is a little too hawkish for me, but Bernie is a little too pie in the sky. Here is my platform. I think we should abolish the graduated income tax and replace it with a 10% flat tax (Shades of Henry George). I would love to see health care reform in the guise of a single payer plan, much like Medicare. I would love to see universal free education through college. A 10% flat tax with no loop holes would provide the revenue to rebuild out crumbling infrastructure and guarantee free college and health care for all Americans. A flat tax would be more equitable and would ensure the wealthy would actually pay their fair share. Bernie is the idea man but I believe Hillary could execute the changes necessary to rebuild our country. We need to remake America, not make it great again.
What country gave us the notion of universal education (Hint: it isn't in Europe)? What country gave us the New Deal that built this nation back from the brink of poverty? I have been to Europe, East and West, and I am amazed by their progressive models that they have liberally taken from the American Ideals. Granted they have a more homogeneous population than the United States but we need to use that diversity to our betterment. Not exclude whole segments of the population from basic human and humane rights. We need a Roosevelt and not a Trump. We need anyone but him.
Trump, again, is a laughing stock in Europe and our neighbor to the north, O' Canada, who are proudly building their wall to keep out the flood of Americans they will see flocking to their borders if Trump is elected (See: www.maplematch.com ). The Right is even blaming the Left for the rise of Trump but, baby, it is all on them. The Know Nothings.
What we need to do to avoid a Trump presidency, which might see the end of the Republican Party as we know it, is to GET OUT AND VOTE and GET OUT THE VOTE. I am hoping I am preaching to the choir. Enough with the name calling of Trump. Let us engage as a country to defeat the evil empire of ANGRY WHITE MEN... I am often criticized for my liberal politics, my PC stances but I hold them near and dear. I believe this country has better things to do than to devolve fifty years, nay sixty years, for the good old days of the 1950s. The days when there was segregation and Jim Crow Laws. And yet under an African American president we saw the gutting of voting rights laws. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 was needed and still is needed to ensure all Americans, regardless of race, gender, or economic state, be treated equally UNDER THE LAW. We need to rekindle that spirit and build on what is good with America. Get out and vote.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Old Duffers and Heaven
I have two Old Duffers in my life now. First and original Old Duffer (O.D.) is a gentleman from my synagogue who fancies himself a competent guitarist. Tonight he came over and tuned his guitar to something other than the the actual notes. His G string, you should pardon the expression, was so flat and he kept tuning to that flat. He also plays so fast, regardless of the song, and I don't know if he is playing me by playing so badly and expecting me to play badly as well. Once a week I endure this and some weeks are better than others but tonight won the grand prize. I finally had to stop and say my hands hurt and he still played on. He and his wife want me to join them for the local community sing and I have been avoiding that but in June I will have run out of excuses to not attend. Singing with a bunch of old folkies singing off key is not an exercise I willingly would participate. But I must as heaven awaits.
O.D. 2.0 is a gentleman down the street from me. He is Oakwood natural in a neighborhood that conflates Oakwoods. This gentleman winters in East Lansing and summers in Empire, Michigan that is. He is quite the character and full of bombast. He is trying to obtain a Currier and Ives lithograph for the Empire Historical Society and Marching Band. I found some copies and he seems interested. I love researching that sort of thing and as long as the Coca Cola flows I has help him in his quest. I might go visit the O.D. 2.0 tomorrow after the missed reflexology session concludes. I need to know exactly what he is searching for and how much he is prepared to pay. The original print, a side wheeler steam ship name the Empire State, is in the Library of Congress, and is public domain. I could load it to a flash drive and get him a print at the library's copy center. There are also other options for prints but mine in the cheapest. So I need to speak to him about his hopes, fears, dreams and desires. He is an old fashioned gent who honors the Happy Hour with a cocktail or two. Or three. Right now, in addition to his quest for a Currier and Ives, he is reassembling pallets so as to make strawberry planters. He is the owner of the house with the children's garden that seems only adults plant and tend. Four raised beds loaded with all matter of matter.
I spent much of the day trying to catch up but ended up running in place. The lists continue to daunt me. So I took time to search for lithographs and other manner of Empire stuff. Excelsior and all that. I do so like spending other peoples' money and he seems to enjoy spreading the wealth. The researcher in me takes pride in being able to locate the unlocatable. It pleases me to no end, unlike O.D. who can't carry a tune in a bucket to coin a phrase. Oh, I can still hear that annoying G string flat for all the world to see. He even had an electronic tuner, a Snark, as in the hunting of the Snark, and still managed to mangle the tuning. Why I continue to do this I do not know but it is like watching an accident happening in slow motion and I can't turn away. He wants me to play along with him at a function at the synagogue which scares me. His rationale for having me play with him at the synagogue is that if I play loud than he it would appear that his is playing well. Yikes. And I keep doing this to myself. O.D. 2.0 is a far more pleasurable pursuit.
Oh, well, it be time for the bed and/or maybe a yogurt to calm Ursula down. She was better today with the influx of the new medication which I am actually taking for a change. And so I bid happy trails to another day.
O.D. 2.0 is a gentleman down the street from me. He is Oakwood natural in a neighborhood that conflates Oakwoods. This gentleman winters in East Lansing and summers in Empire, Michigan that is. He is quite the character and full of bombast. He is trying to obtain a Currier and Ives lithograph for the Empire Historical Society and Marching Band. I found some copies and he seems interested. I love researching that sort of thing and as long as the Coca Cola flows I has help him in his quest. I might go visit the O.D. 2.0 tomorrow after the missed reflexology session concludes. I need to know exactly what he is searching for and how much he is prepared to pay. The original print, a side wheeler steam ship name the Empire State, is in the Library of Congress, and is public domain. I could load it to a flash drive and get him a print at the library's copy center. There are also other options for prints but mine in the cheapest. So I need to speak to him about his hopes, fears, dreams and desires. He is an old fashioned gent who honors the Happy Hour with a cocktail or two. Or three. Right now, in addition to his quest for a Currier and Ives, he is reassembling pallets so as to make strawberry planters. He is the owner of the house with the children's garden that seems only adults plant and tend. Four raised beds loaded with all matter of matter.
I spent much of the day trying to catch up but ended up running in place. The lists continue to daunt me. So I took time to search for lithographs and other manner of Empire stuff. Excelsior and all that. I do so like spending other peoples' money and he seems to enjoy spreading the wealth. The researcher in me takes pride in being able to locate the unlocatable. It pleases me to no end, unlike O.D. who can't carry a tune in a bucket to coin a phrase. Oh, I can still hear that annoying G string flat for all the world to see. He even had an electronic tuner, a Snark, as in the hunting of the Snark, and still managed to mangle the tuning. Why I continue to do this I do not know but it is like watching an accident happening in slow motion and I can't turn away. He wants me to play along with him at a function at the synagogue which scares me. His rationale for having me play with him at the synagogue is that if I play loud than he it would appear that his is playing well. Yikes. And I keep doing this to myself. O.D. 2.0 is a far more pleasurable pursuit.
Oh, well, it be time for the bed and/or maybe a yogurt to calm Ursula down. She was better today with the influx of the new medication which I am actually taking for a change. And so I bid happy trails to another day.
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