Re-Post of the Batmobile Christmas Story - Cheers

Ø  I knew I was in for one of those days – A Christmas Story

It started with a stubbed pinkie-toe on the bedpost, in the dark, of a very early and cold morning. I held back the welling profanity at my lips because everyone else was still asleep. A few crippled steps later and I step in some wet slimy stuff (that turns out be dog puke I find out once I turn a light on and go back to check) and now I do swear and storm into the bathroom. I clean up after the pet, get myself ready for the rest of the day totally aware of these signs and expecting more to come. Today is my Karma payback day no fucking doubt about it. So on it goes: take the dogs out for their morning break and the screen door slams me in the elbow “funny bone”, it wasn’t in the least bit funny, and I swear again startling the dogs now a tangle in their leashes around my feet. It’s freezing outside (and still dark) and they seem to take forever to pee. Back inside and during breakfast, I drop the sugar spoon into my Cream-o-wheat and it splashes onto my work shirt. The smoke alarm begins to scream at an ear piercing level damn near rendering me immobile wincing in some weird mind-melding torture, and its going off because I’m burning my toast! Seems I must have bumped the setting knob from my perfect toast setting of 3-dash all the way to 7-dash-dash (as high as the thing goes – why? Why a 7 dash dash setting at all, hell it burns at 5-dash-dash, what the world is the reason for those other extreme settings – arson maybe?) By the time I get around to eating, every things cold – and its cold outside, and dark, because it’s still early. Now I’m wondering, actually thinking carefully and seriously, if this is some omen and I should just take my ass back to bed. Really, what next, was it even safe to try to go to work? But was it safe to stay home? Shit can happen anywhere, anytime. I decide to head to work. Everything is hunky-dory until I’m almost there. When, CRUNCH ! I get rear ended sitting at the last stoplight before getting to our work parking lot (that parking lot is a freaking hazard too, but that’s another story for a different day). I pull over and the car behind me follows along and I can see there’s some damage to the headlight and hood of this little black car. Then I notice the big white decal or painting on the hood – the Batman logo! The windows of the little car are darkened and I can’t see in, but I’m fuming and pissed, but kind of amused at the little “Batmobile” sitting there crunched. I’m already late and now this, what a screwed up day, how much more can I take, I’m sure to be dead before the end of it at this rate! I get out and still no sign of movement inside the other car, and now I’m getting even more steamed because I have to go back to this guy? He’s not getting out? WTF? I take a glance at my rear bumper and it is fine, a big somewhat rusty, heavy steel solid bumper. A bumper that is a real bumper. A bumper that stops shit. A hit me at your own risk bumper. Just as I’m getting to his hood, checking out his poor busted headlight, smashed plastic grill, dented hood crumpled just to the edge of the Batman logo, the door begins to open slowly and the loud Christmas music is pouring out and a large hand grabs the top of the door jam, and out comes a very rotund, apologizing but smiling, happy round faced black dude wearing a Santa suit ! Now I am smiling and assuring him there is nothing at all wrong with my car, apologizing to him for what has happened, refusing to let him call in the accident since there is no damage to my car and he’s worried about a ticket and his insurance. He tells me he’s on his way to Walmart, he explains to tend the Salvation Army kettle and ring his bell for the day. As I help him back into his car and he’s telling me “bless you” and “Merry Christmas”, I realize this is one of the coolest moments and experiences I’ve had and how my day had just become “one of those days”, one I’ll never forget and one I’ll tell about the rest of my life! 

Holy Holly Berries Batman, Santa is a jolly black dude that drives a Hyundai Batmobile!

Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays !

Revolutionary thinking

History and change –

When I arrived in Lancaster PA, onw of my Aunts suggested I go do some genealogy research for relatives on my father’s side of our family. So I did, and I found a good deal of information and history from the mid 1700’s. It actually had a very good deal of history for as we all know European arrivals to this continent came to create a new life with freedoms not had under European rule at that time. They escaped persecution, they escaped tyranny and religious controls, they escaped hardships and feudal systems. Then they had a Revolution that establish a new democracy, a new government, founding principles, Declarations, Rights, Congressional representation, all of which have held the present test of time.

I found that I have ancestors that were gunsmiths, in fact they were very good gunsmiths and I found documents validating their commission to build arms for the Revolutionary Army. These were the famous Pennsylvania Long Rifles. A smoothbore blackpowder .50 caliber rifle. These, along with relatively few blackpowder pistols, were treasured and valued tools and were considered as personal property of the owner and became part of an estate to be passed down to younger generations. Craftsmanship, skill, and true artistry went  into the hand creation of these tools. They were treated with care and respect, and as a most valued tool for survival in primarily providing for food, and when needed, protection. As such, care and respect went into the use of the tool, and the same for the teaching of younger users to be certain no damage or harm came for accident or misuse. Respect for their power, respect for the life of the game they would hunt.

They were owned by the citizens and became the arms used to fight in response to tyranny and for revolution. When commissions were granted for building them for a Revolutionary Army, it was done by hand, no mass production was had at that time, and parts were made by hand locally and in secret, as every participant was in their action breaking the law of an English King, treasonous actions subject to prosecution by the King. They went from a family “tool”, to weapons, arms. Families split, Loyalist and Revolutionaries, or Patriots in their words, over this relovution and sided with Kings Law or with the Patriots, but until such time they were truly “free” and recognized as members of a won and newly formed Country with independent rule, the Patriots were traitors, farmers, militants, innkeepers, anarchists, subjects of England, criminals, shopkeepers. They organized and formed a citizen militia that had leaders, formed a structured representation, formed an organized Continental Army and township colonial militias. There was a common cause, organization to the goals of that cause, observance of order, structure, “rules” of engagement.

Upon winning their freedom and creating doctrines to govern, language was drafted significant to that time but also with core elements and careful wording to outline a long-term basis of Rights. There was debate, heated discussion, politics, negotiation and in the end compromise that had wisdom on ideals far more reaching than that of the day.

As this nation and the world developed so did “arms” to more effectively fight battles over conflicts. Arms were developed and improved for greater mass production, greater accuracy, and greater power to kill more people faster. Military actions, conflicts, wars, drove the enhancement of these weapons development far beyond a tool for hunting and simple home and family protection. They became weapons used in mass murders; of women and children, of elderly, and often times unarmed civilians, used on “heathens, animals, savages” , Native Americans and so often innocent civilians in their homes, beds, yards, schools, and at play. Slaughtered by weapons designed to kill, and to kill fast, and to kill many. To inflict deadly carnage en mass. And so it has continued over the ages increasing in the efficiency to kill other human beings.

My immediate family lived in Colorado and one of my daughters was attending her pre-school class on a school campus of children aged pre-school through 12^th grade. That school was less than a Mile from Columbine High School when that mass murder was committed. It shook the entire community, state and country to its core. We had school friends who lost loved ones in that horrible ordeal. We moved not long after, then moved again to quite Lancaster County PA. Home of many “Simple People”, the Amish; peaceful, god loving, farming families of German and Dutch decent, family histories in the area back to the 1700s just as as my own family ancestors. Then there came another horrific mass murder of innocent school children in a single room Amish school house. Again a community and nation shaken to its core.

Aurora Colorado, yes family leaving in that community, in fact family that frequents a movie theater there. Not on that day thankfully for them, but so tragic and horrible for many others; children, innocent, families, friends, lovers, civilians mass murdered with big powerful multi-shot military grade weapons.

Now Newtown CT. And again, I have some close association to that town, as I have driven past it, stopped in it for gas, thought what a quiet, peaceful, pretty town it is on my travels between Lancaster and Hartford CT. Who would ever imagine a mass murder taking place in an elementary school there? Innocent victims; little children, teachers, civilians, killed from multiple gunshot wounds inflicted by weapons of similar military grade.

Our Founding Fathers of a great nation formed from a citizen militia, did not draft a doctrine of Rights with the intent to allow for the mass murder of its civilians by way of the protected Right to “bear arms” to form a militia to combat a tyrannical government. And I believe by way of many years reading American History and biographies of many of those Founding Fathers, they would certainly have they wisdom, respect for life, clarity of the constitutional principal, and quite frankly they'd have the balls to establish and institute a change of laws to protect the citizens and their right to pursue “life, liberty and happiness” and still allow for the basis of the 2^nd Amendment to “bear arms and form a militia” as needed. There is a big and distinct difference in citizens continuing to have the right of owning arms for hunting, home and personal protection of property, and that of citizens forming a militia and "arming" themselves with military grade weapons to confront another opposing militia.  Those Founding Fathers would act swiftly, strongly, and as national leaders to protect innocent civilians. My greater fear is that we no longer have any congressional leaders with any balls (women of Congress included), to take a stand as bold, inspirational, and revolutionary as those Founding Fathers.

I wish you peace and strength to stand and speak out. Citizen revolutions start small these days!

Holiday from the heart

Heartfelt giving -

I find it heartbreaking that so many people feel such a need to marginalize and demonize others in an effort to establish themselves as compassionate, caring, righteous, moral and above all, superior.

I was verbally affronted the other day when dropping some clothes off at the Goodwill. As I placed my bags into the bin, a lady pulled up and hopped out of her car and began placing paper bags of items by the side of the container on the ground. “I can’t reach all the way up there to throw these in, they wash all these things before selling them anyway” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I can put them in for you” I said.  “You can if you want to but it doesn’t really matter, they have to sort through all this junk we leave and clean whatever they want to keep of it anyway. Besides those kind of people who buy it don’t expect this stuff to be perfect, just cheap!” she replied. “The Goodwill expects people to donate items that are in good shape and clean, not junk” I said with a bit of a glare at her. “Whatever, you are crazy if you spend your time washing stuff before you bring it here. I do my part for charity; I even gave some to their Bell Ringers ”.  “The Bell Ringers are the Salvation Army” came my response and then her immediate “Whatever!”Those were her parting words as she climbed into her car and sped off. 

Now I’m not so perfect and I can be as judgmental as anyone, in fact my first “judgment” was that she probably never actually even entered a Goodwill or Salvation Army, let alone considered ever buying and using something from them. Then I judged her as a prissy well to do Bitch. But I didn’t judge her that way to make myself feel better about “me”, or to belittle or demean “her kind”. My judgment was of her at that moment, of her action and of her words with me, so it was really my conclusion of her character in that brief exchange.

Regardless of whether it was my conclusion, or a judgment, or a label, or a group that I had just associated her to, I was later just as troubled with my own anger at her and that compulsion to connect her personal action and words to anything greater, to some group or class.

Finally it came to me. And it’s important this time of year as Holidays approach and with the recent weather  disaster – Charity, Benevolence, Donations, Giving , if not truly done from the heart in an action to share and care for others in good will in order to help them as equals, actually subjugates them or elevates you.

We are for the most part a compassionate and caring society, for the most part we embrace justice and equity, fairness and equal opportunity, the freedom to become better off and prosper. We want to help people with a “hand up”. But that has to be heart-felt. It has to start truly from there, from your heart, you have to feel it and believe in that. Otherwise it’s more an action of duty or a kind gesture but without real compassion. In those cases your spirit of “giving” is not present, there is no empathy. It is just another action or task or “to do” on your list; went to the bank-check, washed the car-check, dropped stuff at the Goodwill-check, eat lunch-check.

We all have our causes and favorite charities, we donate a great deal of time, money and effort into these and sometimes we really do feel a sense of caring and sharing. I have to remind myself of this often, I’m human in a very fast paced “me” world, and holidays bring out the best and worst in all of us.

Care, share and give from your heart and I believe you will “feel” a special gift within yours.

May the Spirit of giving be with you now and through-out the year, Good Will to you and yours this holiday season. Enjoy your Holiday celebration and respect others in theirs.

Peace and cheers to everyone!

A boy, my boy

Joshua –

Our little boy would be in sixth grade, a twelve year old today, the day he came into this world, born but not living. His arrival was anticipated and agonized as we became aware of his death several days before the final delivery of his birth in the very early hours of a November morning. He came quietly into the world, we cried and held each other and we held him. We smiled some too, but mostly we wept. There was beauty and distinction in his tiny face, hands, fingers, toes, ears, nose, eyelids. He was beautiful but still.

There is grief I feel quite often and will be forever, and there is remorse from me as well. I wish I had requested a picture of him as with any other child’s birth, as with other “live” births. I could have asked for that, but didn’t at the time as we were really unable to think or make choices with any clarity. I wish I would have had his young sisters there to see and hold him briefly. I regret that and I am sorry for that decision, that still hurts me even now and it always will, so I hope they can forgive me in that choice of the moment.

I wish he was here today, learning and playing in a sixth grade classroom. Acting silly, teasing and loving his sisters, loving pets, hugging mommy and daddy.

My faith was rocked by that event.  My following of a particular Religion and church teaching has never been the same. To me his conception seemed a miracle. There had been miscarriages before, fertility concerns, but two sisters were born and healthy, though with challenging pregnancies and deliveries, one c-section and the other natural but with complications for mother and baby after. It had been four years since the last birth of our baby girl, and no form of birth control all those years. We wanted another child and looked into fertility and other options and then,  he was there.

A tiny heartbeat, and he grew, past the scary first weeks, 8^th, 9^th, 10^ththrough 12^th weeks, 13 weeks and counting so I felt more at ease. We were going to have another baby, we had another baby, we heard his heartbeat, we saw his image. 15 weeks, 20 weeks, 24 weeks, and then silence. No prayers would change it. No science or religion strong enough to change it. There was no longer a heartbeat, only a tiny body that now had to be delivered premature and stillborn. It was agonizing, torturous, unbelievable. For me it was an emotional nightmare, for my stoic, loving wife and the mother of our child, of our children, it was both an emotional and physical contradiction. Pain physical and emotional, labor and delivery heartbreaking and still in a moment wonderful, yet real in its drama, sorrow and devastation.

We were comforted by family, friends, doctors and nurses, pastors, clergy and Priests. We were comforted in prayer that God would help us through. But there were no answers to why. No spiritual answers, no Religious answers, no scientific answers, no comprehension or understanding then, or now for that matter.

There are many phases of grief the experts will tell you, and there are, and they come and go depending. My faith allowed me to believe that my sons soul had past and was at peace in a better place, in Heaven with others and family that too had died. There was, is, comfort he is there, my belief and faith helps me with that. MY faith, MY beliefs, not those of the Catholic Church which I had chosen to be confirmed into prior to marriage.

Grief played a part in my mounting anger, but the anger was more pointed at Institutions, State Laws and Church rules. The contradictions.

See Insurance for medical covers the pregnant mother, not the living child yet to be born. There are laws to protect the life of the living unborn baby, but not that allows for a life insurance policy of that unborn child as example. You can get life insurance for the mother, but not for the living unborn “life”. Insurance death and burial benefits of a family member don’t count if the person wasn’t born “live”. In fact since it isn’t a “live” birth there is no Birth Certificate, and therefore no Death Certificate. The hospital records show a female patient delivering a stillborn male child, but no birth or death, no name of the child recorded or tally on a census record. Just a hospital statistic. The Insurance benefits I paid for over the years for family death and funeral costs would not be supported by my insurance company because my son was not born alive.

The Catholic Church has Sacraments and rites. The Sacrament of baptism is only performed for a living person.  The sick cannot be anointed if they are dead. Last Rites cannot be given if the person has not been baptized. The stillborn child is not recognized into the body of the Church, but “is in Gods hands”. There couldn’t be a Catholic funeral and Mass for my son because he wasn’t born alive, he was born still, his life stopped at 24 weeks, protected by laws to protect anyone from taking his life within a pregnant mother, but a natural unexplainable death before birth and he’s nobody in eyes of State Laws, Insurance Companies and Church Rules. So we decided to have his body cremated (against Catholic teaching, but they didn’t officially recognize him anyway), and we hold his cremated ashes dear and cherished in our own safe vessel and await the passing of mother or father to be buried along-side one of us, to be present at a funeral recognizing both parent and child.

I love my son and cherish his short life and time with us, unborn, and I am happy I saw him and held him. I have faith and believe in one God, a universal spirit. I believe in Jesus, and some teachings of Christianity, I also believe an omnipresent God shares a Spirit in many, many ways and through many means of teaching, different stories, different peoples and different events. I believe in Angels and Spirits, I believe the Souls and Energy of all life is part of the omnipresent. I find comfort in various Religious images, icons, monuments, statues, writings, and practices, not just Christian, but from all of them. I believe in connecting with God though intentions, meditation, prayer, and just being open to enlightenment. I believe in the universal spirit and good will of all people. I believe it is all in Gods hands, within Gods universal structure, but I think that we make choices and do things as humans, that are not “Gods will”. I believe my relationship to my God in my way manifests the love and good in me to empathize and care for humanity and all things in this world. I believe that firm Religious dogmas, Politics and power of separate Religious Institutions and those Leaders of Church and State are often ironically at odds with their Gods intentions and the natural balance of Gods spirit. I still go into a church and attend Mass, as I feel Gods presence there, me and My God, but I don’t really listen to the Priest, I don’t hear the Catholic Church, I go to feel the presence of God and to have my own connection to him, and to share a greeting of peace to others. I’ll light a candle, I’ll kneel and pray and share an intention, I’ll give thanks to my God, to him, not to the Church or it’s politics.

I believe my sons Soul and Spirit contributes to help balance and provide positive, loving, peaceful energy in his very, very small way. I believe I must live up to his contribution, live up to his potential, live up to his expectation of me, small as he was in that still body, he is now a part of Life as large as the universe, and that is immensely more enormous in Spirit and will take my lifetime to strive to achieve daily.

I hope in some small way this heartfelt and personal sharing benefits you, that it has even a small impact in your life, that it may stir an emotion and an honest moment of your own, with your own beliefs. We all need to check into our own Spirit and deep into our Souls, time and again.

Love and peace be with you, blessing of the Spirit be upon you, go in peace and serve the world every small step of your way as best you can, always first for the good of others, and you too will find peace along that path.

O X O

New States of America - a science fiction story

The Oracle & The Bain States of America –

Science Fiction has roots in possibilities, history, probabilities, statistics, power, money, apathy, greed, rises and falls of empires, kingdoms and dominions. This is a short story, as with the course of human creation, evolution, and possible extinction, so goes history as it’s told of a higher thinking civilized society. The United States of America is but a blip on the historic timeline, a quick blooming then self absorbing flower with too many thorns and shoots to sustain. It cannibalizes itself for sustenance until death.

Before a nation reaches its 300^th birthday it will further split and divide and topple and be no more. The inhabitants, some, will remain. Not in an apocalyptic “tumult” of utter destruction left from self inflicted ignorance and warfare, though surely in isolated and divided camps with authoritarian plutocratic superficial democracies. As nations topple wealth adn power prevail and retain thier dominion in the new higherarchy. Russia, East Germany, the middle east, our domestic chieftans know the game, they have been creating it and establishing rules for decades. Little experiments played out across history, lessons learned, strategies adjusted, orders executed, casulites a part of the war.

Alaska is first to go as exchange of resource asset in property for debt payment and forgiveness to China. The exchange will have a contract entitled Treaty, but will be in the manner of a business deal private equity exchange offering. It will be then known as the Alaskan Republic of China.

Northern California, Oregon and Washington will be granted the title of the Western Democratic State of America.

Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Illinois, Minnesota, Wisconsin will be entitled with Northern Republic State of America. Note, North Dakota will be the sole grant of new Country status sold back to the Native American Nations, with a provision that they all relocate to the newly established Country and all existing Reservations be abandoned, and are required to tithe 30% of all future gaming revenues to the Dominion Capital Bain State of America.

Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Maryland, Delaware, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont become the Eastern Democratic State of America. Maine is exchanged with Canada for western pipeline and commerce free routing between the Alaskan Republic of China and the New States of America.

Kentucky, West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Georgia, Alabama, North Carolina, South Carolina all become the Rebel-publican State of America.

Southern California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado become the Hispanic State of America and all “illegal immigrants” at the time will be granted asylum and immunity and allowed to relocate as an American citizen to this enclave.

Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Arkansas be granted OPEC status as the NewAmerican Oil Empire State with exclusive Gulf of Mexico Oil and Gas drilling rights. 50% of all revenue goes directly to the Dominion Capital Bain State of America to further support governance.

Florida is established as a Universal medical and retirement colony primarily funded from oil and gas surcharges. All Americans who so choose at the age of 79 must relocate there to live out their lives in carefree luxery, having relinquished all other froms of Entitlement, or they may depart the New United States immediately revoking citizenship with a one-time projected 5 year Cost of Living stipend. All funded from the Native American Nations gaming revenue endowment trust equal to 25% of all their revenue, but administered via an Offshore Dominion Capital Bain State trust fund protected and free of any taxation.

Hawaii becomes the new “Las Vegas” and vacation island playground establishing the “American Pacific Riviera”, owned by the Dominion Capital Bain State of America. Where odes the Dominion Capital Bain State reside, clearly it must be established in the only remaining location: Utah.

Footnote - the District of Columbia; Washington DC is dismantled and absorbed into Maryland. The White House, Capital, monuments, excetera, all become part of a masive Public Zoo and parkland.

Choose your state carefully and live happily ever after.

The END.

Trickle-down my ass!

Editorial comment below: this opinion is that of the author; no association or agreement, no fees, no subsidies, no wages real or implied, have been given or paid by any Fortune 1000 Company, CEO, CFO, Senator or Congress memeber current or former, or any other PAC or Media entity - they keep that among their own 1%. 

Ø  How’s that “trickle-down theory” working for ya –

The language is simply offensive, as it relates to finance and economics, nothing in the word “trickle” instills any confidence, success or acceptable outcome for more than a select few.  A planted field of crops does not grow with a trickle of irrigation, but a trickle of oil seeping from a tanker can pollute and kill an entire eco-system.

Heaping scoops of ice cream melt and trickle down the cone.  Water trickles from a leaking faucet. Piss trickles down your leg.  A shattered domestic economy doesn’t need “trickle-down economics”, hell we’ve been trickled on for too damn long. 

Likewise any economic policy that anticipates those demigod gatekeepers of big business, financing, banking and commerce to actually care about what value and domestic economic improvement in poor, low-income and middle-class real wage could be, are so full of shit I imagine that is trickling down upon us too!

A few lines from Monty Python’s Holy Grail where the lowly commoners, servants and serfs are muddy in the fields goes something like – “How do you know he’s a King?”, “He hasn’t got shit all over him!” as King Arthur heads on his quest for the Holy Grail and riches. Our Corporate, Banking and Political “elite” preside over their power, wealth and quest for more, in open mockery of any premise to see domestic median income and wealth improve. Quite the opposite, as their control and use of monies to influence policy and lawmakers has become legal (or illegal and not prosecuted) in campaign financing, lobbying, monopolization actually broadens the wage gap and increase poverty levels domestically.  Those dollars flow in the hundreds of MILLIONS, BILLIONS, to TRILLIONS while their “trickle-down” of wages continue to go to developing third-world labor and emerging markets, and are whittled away by their policies to help ensure shareholder and corporate revenue. Wages and benefits are always the first on the chopping block, “low hanging fruit” in the business lingo for easy things to manage.

Now as far as Capitalism goes, and a sound business practice of securing the lowest wages and material costs, they are indeed doing the right and profitable business. They should go to those places for low cost labor and materials. There is no reason, incentive, regulation that would compel them to keep jobs, wage, and production domestic, or in the very least give consideration to wage stability in line with expanding production of these labor resources. They can trickle-down much less outside the US and therefore make more profit. That’s just good business. More profit means more money to spend on things that benefit their futures individually and as Corporations; business incentives, tax breaks, government contracts, R&D grants, and reduced regulation so they are free to help the economy grow through trickle-down economics.

A recent Wall Street Journal review of 35 multi-national US companies discovered that they collectively added 446,000 jobs between 2009 and 2011, 3/4s of them overseas and 60% of their revenue growth came from overseas where they contributed to those locations economic growth. At the same time domestic production per capita continued to increase  at a greater percent than real wages – domestic workers are producing more, are more efficient and effective, without any wage benefit to their efforts.
“Trickle-down” is the expectation that the companies bring their profits back to the U.S.A and create jobs here, but this doesn’t happen, because the low wage and profit margin is over there and they are incented, and given tax breaks to do it, and their CEOs and large shareholder investors (often foreign banks and countries like China profit on stock growth). American companies' investment in US plants and equipment as a percentage of GDP is around 10%percent, the lowest it had been since 1964.
Unfortunately for our Middle-Class this has meant that since the 1970s the Middle-class has shrunk steadily and has now been surpassed by Upper-Class, and our Middle-Class net worth has plummeted based on numerous Economic and Demographic studies. Another sad note from demographics shows that Middle-class family size has also shrunk since the 1970s and it take two and three incomes within the household to keep from declining further and faster. Glad that moral high-ground emphasis on core family values and two parent families is so important in agendas too; not to actually have a parent at home, but just to make enough money to pay for necessities of food, shelter and clothes. WORKING families mind you, in fact economists and demographers have begun using the term “working poor” for the lower income group that used to make up a portion of the “middle-class”.  Note the poverty guideline is approximately $23,000 for a family of four! Two fulltime incomes at minimum wage jobs is only about $32,000. So in a “traditional” family, a mom and a dad would be both be working fulltime at their minimum wage service jobs (since those are what our domestic economy is growing at the fastest rate, though still with a double digit unemployment rate) and little Jack and Jill would be cared for by another minimum wage caregiver or at school until they got home to be alone.
More deregulation, more tax breaks, more freedom to allow these major Corporations, Business Leaders, Politicians to take the lead to improve our domestic economy? I don’t think so  – there’s a great big crock of shit, and you know exactly where it will be emptied, and on whom.  There is a growing oligarchy and they are buying elections and elected public servants, and they are doing it clothed in Red, White and Blue while touting a moralistic family values agenda. But really it’s a reinvention of Aristocracy and Nobelmen.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Well folks shame on all of us for continuing to watch and even support this magical sleight of hand, snake-oil selling, silver-tongued, bullshit con-job over and fucking over again. I say no more. Show me just one major US Corporation, CEO, or former Congress member or Senator that has up and left the USA to live and do business under another countries tax code because they were over regulated or taxed too much here. They stay here because we are easy targets, willing Johns to their prostitution, gambling addicts sitting in their casinos knowing the house always wins. And one particular Casino owner is the poster boy – Michael Corleone has nothing on this guy.

Our Congress, Senate and President need to pull their collective heads out of these guys asses, work as a collective National Government, do some seriously hard work to redefine National interest and business interests, reverse some past shity legislation and adjust the tax codes to benefit in a more balanced way the income and net worth of all people, ensure special interests keep their greedy hands out of everyones pockets - stop the "payola", and be held accountable to the American populace -the "us" in USA. A Goverment "of the people and for the people".

IM - AG - I - NA - TION

Ø  Imagination – and the pigment of it

“Well you have quite the colorful imagination”, that is what she said to the little boy who had written in bold Crayola letters a paragraph about a young elf who became friends with an eagle and flew to beautiful places. The story was accompanied by an equally vivid and bright drawing from his handy 64-Pack Crayon container. “It’s the pigment” he said boldly with confidence to her. “It’s the what?” she asked. He stated clearly again with confidence “The pigment. The pigment of my imagination. That’s what my dad told me. He said what you said, that I had a colorful imagination. And another time when I thought I saw some fairies and elves out playing under trees in our orchard, he said that what I thought I saw was a “pigment of my imagination”, and that it was colorful; my imagination. My daddy does some painting and drawing sometimes and he said he mixes pigments to make different colors, so I guess since my imagination is so colorful it’s gotta have lots of pigment”.

I think we all have a pallet of assorted pigments to choose from in our imaginations too. I think sometimes though we lose touch with it in our on-going attempts to make rational thoughts of things in our lives. We seem to need structure and try to keep things black and white. I love great black and white photographs, charcoal drawings, black ink and shading in art. A well executed rendering in black and white, or an excellent composition with light and dark contrast can be riveting and dramatic. Images captured, images created. Im-ag-i-na-tion.

I Imagine, if you use the pigments of your Imagination, you too can capture a great and inspiring Image. It may come to fruition in any number of ways as you pursue the action and task at hand to accomplish it. The work and labor of the task must always begin with the idea and an image in mind of the outcome and final result.

I think the broader you allow for your experiences to build on the pigments you have to add to your pallet, and the more open you are to choosing a broad variety of them for expression, the better for it you and all you touch will be.  Think bold, think inclusive, think outside your box, and keep building your collection of colors to add to your crayon toolbox, and never stop stretching your imagination. Soon that “figment” of your imagination of what you might be, you might do, – is being done with passion and flare, boldly and colorfully!

May your soul be full of color and your imagination never-ending. Peace.

"color creek" - CristPix Creative Images copyright 2012

Independence needs you

Ø  Independence –

There is a certain contradiction in our American value of individual freedom and independence, especially as it relates to community, people known and unknown, acquaintances, friends and even family. I love that we cherish freedom and independence; that our nation was built on that foundation. That so many of our ancestors came here to get away from oppression, tyranny, persecution, or others who were here, or came involuntarily, we all had the personal intention and expectation to live freely and have personal independence. We all still strive for this and place it very high on our list of personal values, core beliefs, and “rights”.

The Constitution, The Bill of Rights, the Declaration of Independence all relate to freedom, independence, liberty of people. They also all speak eloquently and directly to the collective of “the People”, the collective inhabitants of the separate States and the United States. These documents are all Charters of our Government; language written to establish rule and hence a collective governance to provide the “people” means of equity, fair-dealing, representation, and direct participation in our pursuits of Life, Liberty and Happiness.

They expressly state matters of equality and separate from a specific religious doctrine, but make no doubt they are all in place to govern, to provide a safe and equitable opportunity for all citizens. The language most know is:  “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness”. But just after that the Declaration states “That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed”.

Our very rights as individuals therefore are established and protected with our consent to a Government of our choosing, as a people with individual choices, but by majority consent through an established governing body. It also states shortly after “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes”.

So there is where we have the personal challenge of contradictions in our individual, vs “we the people”, rights and governance to pursue Life, Liberty and Happiness, to have Independence and Freedom, and how we see and determine what is “equitable”. If you add to the governance quandary, our spiritual or religious dogmas, you can clearly see the challenges we all face and play out our entire lives.

What I find most interesting though is the basics of most governing laws pretty much align with the commonalities in the World’s religions: It is wrong to Lie, Steal, and Kill. We should embrace all living creatures with compassion, respect, peace and non-violence, do not covet.

We have the independence and freedom within our heart and soul to choose happiness, take actions that are compassionate, giving and loving, for a United Humanity. We just have to get over ourselves, get past our Egos, in order to contribute to the greater good of community, society and all the earth. See it isn’t about “me” or “you”, it is about “us”. This is exactly why our current politicians in government  continue to fail US, they are still too caught up in their own power, self-worth, partisanship, greed and alliances to PACs and large financial contributors, Corporations “too big to fail”, to actually humble themselves to “serve” their individual voting constituency first and foremost, rather than their identified party and platform. Our Government has the appropriate democratic structure and underpinnings set forth in the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. What we no longer have is a national agenda, and elected representation, in place to serve those ideals at their core for the equality, benefit, independence, freedom, liberty and justice for all.

Use your independence to take the time to research those you may be voting for, read the Pros and Cons, look at their collective record. What’s on their resume to take a government, tax paid public job to serve you and I – are they qualified; have the performed as you want them to? Forget the paid propaganda and political advertisement bullshit, ignore and forget the bandwagon, banner-waving, drum-beating hyperbole that comes from special interests and other self-centered egomaniacs that thrive on soapbox hysteria. Think and act with responsibility for your family, neighbor’s community and it will be good for you as a part of that body.

Think and vote with informative choice and intention to have those elected truly be accountable to your community, not to their deep-pocket special interests.

Photo credit CristPix Creative Images - copyright all rights reserved

Art and so much more

Ø  Art, music, meditation, prayer –

I was speaking to an artist at a gallery last week and something struck me that I hadn’t quite noticed or acknowledged before. She said she often looked upon a completed piece and was transported to the time, place, the setting, and often reflected on what that experience meant to her. She explained that she often still saw details that she hadn’t captured in the art piece but that were with her still. She explained that she was often challenged with the material composition of what her mental reflection was at the time and the thought of what she wanted to convey. That was what dictated the final outcome of the piece.

I spoke to her about how the image pulled me in and I mentally composed a quick image and story beyond what was there on canvas as to how the session may have taken place, what situation drew it all together, what relationship there was or wasn’t in the subject and setting.

She didn’t elaborate on the story behind the painting we were speaking about, and I found that I didn’t really want her to. I was happy in my story of her painting. She did however elaborate that she often spent time in thought, meditation and even prayer about her work as it progressed and at those times where she struggled with the creative flow and talent to execute the physical painting of what her mind was showing her. That, she said, evolved and changed quite often as a piece was in process. The piece we were discussing she said was actually one of many different attempts or variations. That the one I was seeing now took several months to complete. Not that she worked on it directly that entire time, but rather reflected on it, contemplated the work, thought of the story, did and redid things in her mind and on canvas pieces over and over.

After that discussion I found myself thinking about what things came to mind as I looked at different pieces on display throughout the gallery and wondered about them and also about what else was behind their coming to be and how they manifested to now be hanging there. I thought about my own “art” in photographs that I take, pottery that I make, writing that I do. There is so much more to those things than what is ever “on display” for others. There are always many versions and attempts at a thing, and at some point we deem it worthy in our mind to release it and share with others. Same was true for the music I had playing in my car. I thought about how often I heard music, live or recorded that actually took me somewhere. Sometimes, back to an event or a place and time, a period in my life, or sometimes it took me on a voyage into some subconscious place I was manifesting.

I too, have seen paintings, drawings, sculptures, photographs, weavings and even Nature that pull you in and transported you to wherever. A transcended place and time. You are where you are physically, but you’re not “there”, in mind and soul.

That is what “Art” does. And that is what I believe true meditation or prayer can do. What is hard for us all is to first provide an opportunity to allow for that openness and awareness to manifest, unforced and not to our will, but to our being. Not as a request or desired outcome per se, but open to free-will of what may be, and not just for ourselves but for others beyond us as a whole society.

I have seen acts of kindness, images of affection, and beauty in many things, and I have seen violence and pain, things that were horrible and ugly. They each had an effect of the present and of a lasting impression for me. I can go there as I recall them. The mind is a powerful thing. It takes experiences and information, and combines it with emotions and thought, and then allows for your choice in expression. So does Art.

Be Artistic my friends. Meditate and find your happy-place, find your inspiration within you and from around you. Your life and how you live it is your canvas, so choose your medium of artistic expression with care, work on it with pride, express it with love and joy for the mutual benefit of all. Give and share your Art with others.

Peace -

This photo has a story, and I may tell it to you some day, but until then, create your own story from viewing it and see where the picture takes you. Let yourself go, happy thoughts!

Best Man - thanks to women!

Ø  Best Man – thanks to strong women and Girl Power–

I have a lot of women in my life. I am a very lucky man and a better man for it. Every one of them continues to impact my life and who I am every day, even those that have passed and are not physically with me, still have a great influence and spiritual presence that helps me. Women are great! Guys are great too, but this writing isn’t about them, it’s about women. I love women!

So that you keep reading and don’t start making stuff up about me and my love of women, understand that I am happily married to a beautiful lady for 25 years and counting. I have two beautiful teenage daughters. I have three beautiful sisters. A beautiful mother. A beautiful sister-in-law. We have beautiful God Mothers to our daughters. And so many more beautiful women in our extended family. They are pretty, and some are drop-dead gorgeous, but when I say beautiful, I mean in body, soul, spirit and heart, inner beauty and strength of character.

I grew up with three sisters, no brothers in our family, and since the age of eleven with a single mom. A mom who had been a stay-at-home mom, and who had to become a working single-mother of four in the early 1970s. The Age of Aquarius. It wasn’t easy for her, but she adapted and began a successful and respected career. She managed to raise my sisters and I through teen years when the term “latch-key kids” arose, we too had to adjust and learn and grow to be a bit more independent, and at the same time to be more dependent and supportive of one another. Trust me, I was no “father figure” or “man of the house”, I was a brother and son and a damned ornery one in my teens at that, so it wasn’t simple, minding my manners, doing my chores, behaving well, and what a good boy, time of my life. My mom and my sisters helped me get through all that, and I helped them.

I learned nuances of a female household, the “rules” not always spoken or spelled out but still clearly defined. I knew when to stay out of things and when to lend an ear or advice, more insight really. I learned to care and remember little things that were important to each of them. I learned what certain “looks” meant and became more in tune with unspoken communication.

Each of my sisters has their own story, their own tale of trials and tribulations, of challenges, obstacles, hurdles, mountains to climb, walls to break down, adventures had, lessons’ learned good and bad. I can tell you that each of them and I, made it through high school, into colleges, into various jobs, into and out of relationships. We all have children that are unique, intelligent, strong, individuals that seem to be following a good path. I trust my sisters and count them as my closest friends.

My grandmothers, and a great-grandmother, blessed my life, and yes I was privileged to get to talk, visit and learn things from a great-grandmother – her story alone is worthy of a book. My Aunts and Cousins, each of them truly had an impact on their immediate families and beyond to extended families and community.

As an only boy in this household, I needed a buddy and as irony might have it, I connected with a neighborhood schoolmate. He too was an only boy in family of four sisters! This family quickly became my second family as I spent as much time running in and out of that backdoor, kitchen and family room as my own. Here too I was surrounded and “adopted” into a family of intelligent, strong, independent, artistic women; sisters, mother, grandmothers. I couldn’t avoid the opposite sex even if I tried. Their influence was everywhere I turned. Thank God.

I met my love, friend, wife, when I was still a teen working a summer job. She too is a strong, independent, yet a very family centered woman. I soon had the privilege of meeting more amazing women in her family. Grandmother, Mother, Sister, and lots and lots and lots of Aunts, Cousins, Dod-Mothers; a big Catholic Hispanic family with family history and roots in Colorado and New Mexico extending back before those were even State’s, for that matter before America was America. These women were Matriarchs of generational families. I very quickly found I was embraced, quite literally, into this dynamic bunch of women, and I learned some more things of a cultural nature with respect to women, relationships, “rules”, and honored respect of traditions. Though we were from very different families and cultures, I believe we both knew we were meant for each other. We both had growing to do, life lessons to learn, adventures to be had, college and jobs to keep us going, so we didn’t marry for almost ten more years, but that entire time we remained very close, supportive of one another, in contact and communicating always, and we have boxes of letters to prove it. (I’ll interrupt for one second – kids, mine and yours reading this now, write letters and cards, and notes, to those you care for and love. You can save these and look back at them. Your phone, IPad, PC texts and messages on FaceBook most likely won’t be the same, if even there, in twenty years when you want to reminisce some. And never pass an opportunity to spend true, real, face-time with those you care for; friends, family, loves).

All these women in my family, in my life past and present, and including girls/women who I’ve been in school with, had friendships with, dated, worked with, admired, they all continue to influence me positively and push me to keep learning to be the best man I can be and I thank them all for that gift. My hope for the World is that barriers for women will continue to be broken down, that those still oppressed and ruled-over by male dominated politics and religion, will rise up in their strength and independence, and that every man will come to respect and appreciate that we cannot be the “Best Men” we can be, until that time.

Peace and Girl Power to you all.

Roberta Belle Easter Roberts - at 94 years

R.I.P.

Look what I can do

Ø  Look what I can do –

Remember when you were a kid and you couldn’t wait to show your mom, or dad, or grandma, or anyone who would pay attention your new found skill? Like a cartwheel or summersault. “Mommy, look what I can do” and you’d launch yourself into an awkward, twisted, attempt at a cartwheel where two hands touched the ground with your butt hiked into the sky, legs bent and dangling from a half spin into the air. Sometimes you landed on your feet some times on your derriere.

You did it whole-heartedly with enthusiasm and determination, proud in the effort and outcome even if it was no Olympic standard performance. But you did it, well you pronounced loudly “look what I can do” and you went for it. And you kept on doing it and shouting at others to watch, over and over, and over. People would give advice, and praise, and instruction, and they’d laugh or tell you it was great or that it was awful. And you’d keep at it. Eventually you were doing a pretty damn good cartwheel, solid form, athletic, artistic, balanced, smooth, well executed.

“Daddy, look what I can do” as you climbed onto the oversized bike, barely reaching peddles and wobbling as you teetered in a coast down a small hill to topple over in a heap. Leaping to your feet with a smile and full of enthusiasm, “DADDY, I CAN RIDE A BIKE!”  You’d push it back up the hill and do it all over again, and again, and again. Soon you were peddling, not coasting downhill. Soon you were steering and controlling the bike down the hill and beyond. Soon you were not bruised, scratched, battered from crashes and wrecks, you were riding a bike, and you had the scars to show for it. And it took you to new places beyond your yard and immediate surroundings. It took you to fields and back roads, to hills and valleys, ups and downs, heavy effort in peddling up hills, or going as fast as you dared, or coasting along enjoying the ride and adventure, thinking “look what I can do, look where I can go”.

Remember that free spirit and “can do” that you felt as a kid, remember the excitement and enthusiasm and willingness to do new things, poorly and awkward at first, but repeated and practiced until you were able and capable and good at the thing. Remember as you grew you kept on doing new things, but maybe began telling those around you a little less often “look what I can do”. They were always still there, watching, seeing what you could do, what you did, what you accomplished, the most important of them being you.

Remember now, today, everyday, to say to yourself , “look what I can do”. DO those things and try new ones. Recall the joy and excitement of a new experience and the efforts along the way to keep at it and improve. Fall on your ass some, crash, wreck, topple over, and get back at it over, and over, and over again and say with a loud and proud voice “LOOK WHAT I CAN DO !”

> Note – this is dedicated to my lovely and inspiring wife Jacqueline. She took her desire and enthusiasm, her love for food, cooking and creating, and returned to full time school for Pastry Arts. She went beyond the minimum class work and participated in competitions, she helped classmates achieve more, she assisted a world renowned Chef prepare for International competition. She left her family and home for the summer to travel to another state to do her internship at a Five Start Hotel and Resort, and worked double the hours required for the programs base commitment. She drove the 1900 miles there and the 1900 miles home, and that first week home created and baked a three-tier birthday cake for our daughter's 16th Birthday party for 30 teenage girls. She then graduated, at 50 years young, and was awarded by her instructors for her Excellence in Commitment to Career, an honor along with her diploma and "Student of Term" pin. 

“Look what I can do” didn’t come from her lips, she is often reserved and modest about these things, even grand accomplishments. She is an inspiration and a very good example for me, for our daughters (who both have her determination, stuborness, and inate talent), and for all of us.

So here is her proclamation, on her behalf, from me,  “ Look what Y O U can do”!

Remember, you can do, then do it, and then start saying “Look what I can do” and say it with pride all along your way!

Old Man Down by The Sea

No opinion or commentary on this post, but perhaps some form of message or thought may come to mind - I hope so.

This is a short story, a very short story, that has been sirring in my head for a little while. Finally just banged it out and here it is for you to enjoy. Please feel free to share my blog with others!

Old Man Down by The Sea –

I saw him alone, walking, down by the sea. Shorts, a T-shirt, no shoes, long grey hair and beard, windblown. He looked old, but of an undistinguishable age, worn but still fit enough with broad shoulders and strong legs and arms. He walked slowly, paused often, looking into the water and out to the sea. Others passed by without much glance or any acknowledgment from them, or from him. Truly alone even on a fairly crowded beach. On down the sand and shore he walked in that manner.

I saw him alone, fishing, with a short rod off the pier. He was deliberate in his rhythm of casting, reeling, waiting, and casting again. There were others fishing there too, but he was alone. He stood, or crouched or sat, but he didn’t move from his spot on the pier down by the sea. At times I saw him take pause setting aside his rod and reel sit back straight against the piers mooring post and he’d pack and light a pipe with the same deliberate motion of all he did. Smoke swirled up and around him, seeping out more than any exhale, draw in, and seep out, as he gazed out across the sea.

I saw him alone, washing the deck of a large and beautiful sail boat, down by the sea. Same old shorts, T-shirt, no shoes, long windblown beard and hair, hair spilling out from under a well worn and tatter Greek Fisherman’s cap. He was true to form, deliberate, careful and fluid in his motions of task at hand. He was familiar, comfortable and at home there on this vessel. It was laborious work he was accomplishing there alone, on the boat, down by the sea. When he had thoroughly finished and stored all his cleaning tools somewhere below in the pristine cabin, he stepped off the boat and sat, back straight against the piers mooring post, lit his pipe and looked out to sea. Shortly a very well dressed middle-aged man accompanied by three very beautiful, giggling, curvaceous, bikini-clad, young girls approached. He rose straight, tipped his cap in greeting and assisted all to board the vessel. He then took a handful of money from the gentleman, stowed it into his T-shirt pocket, tip his cap again and walked deliberately up the pier to shore, and proceeded down the beach.

I saw him alone, drinking from a bottle, nestled inside a brown-paper bag, down by the sea. He sat, back straight, there on the curb in the parking lot, across the street from the ocean boardwalk, at the small tavern and store. He drank and looked out over the traffic, people passing, bikes, strollers, skateboards, beyond all that toward the horizon there above the sea. When he stood and started off, he now wobbled some, but was still determined, stood tall and made his way off to the overpass.

I saw him alone, curled up and sleeping, under the overpass, down by the sea. There were several others there too, but he was alone down by the sea. By him was a shopping cart that held a few items of clothing, a small box, his fishing rod and reel, a crab trap, and assorted other nondescript things. He appeared still and peaceful sleeping like a child in a soft, warm, safe bed, in a home, with family. But he was alone there on the ground, on cardboard, covered by a light hooded sweatshirt, alone down by the sea, sleeping.

The next day I saw him again, alone, sitting on that same curb, in the parking lot, drinking from a bottle, in a brown-paper bag, as he looked out over all the moving things. He looked more disheveled, less strong and true, yet still determined in a bad way to press on in drink, to heal the pain, wash away the past, dull the present. He sat less straight, teetered more. He reached to his T-shirt pocket and pulled the last few bills from what was left of the previous wad he had gotten from the dapper gentleman a few days before, rose unsteadily, pitched the bottle toward the trash can and wobbled toward the door to go inside the establishment. Above the door was the sign “Down by The Sea – The Seafarers Tavern”, and I watched him go alone as he entered Down by The Sea.

A mariners wish, blessing and toast to your travels through life:

May the wind fill your sails now and for ever more.


Cheers!

Matters of Love

Matters of Love –

When most people associate Love with the Human body, the heart is the first and primary connection. Then they’ll tell you it is a feeling, a feeling mainly in terms of the emotion and the following physical sensations that come along with Love. People speak of the “nature of Love” and natural tendencies of attraction. Science explains the chemical, mental, physical responses of attraction but can’t fully explain “true Love”. Too often physical and emotional attraction, Love, procreation, even Marriage, are bundled into conversation and language in discussions of these topics. Debates can rage and many other factors, beliefs, opinions and mixed amounts of knowledge; fact or fiction, come into the dialog. Historical and social practices of various regions of the world come into play with expressions of what is right, wrong, good, bad, acceptable, shunned. Rules, manners and practices of courtship, engagement and relationships are explained by family and communities, even written into Laws of governments and religious doctrine.

But, it is still the “natural” and “instinctual” emotional and physical response of the person that manifests initial attraction and “Love”. Free from all else, with all other elements eliminated, Love in and of itself will manifest. It has since the dawn of time, as “natural selection”.  Here too we must be clear that “natural selection” with regard to procreation is a separate act and function, from the emotion and heartfelt connection of Love. What typically unites those two actions is a positive and pleasurable physical and emotional sensation. That said, history and science indicate that there are very, very few species that “mate for life”, and Humans are NOT one of them, and only about 3% of mammals (and that includes us Humans) are truly monogamous or “faithful”. On the Matter of Love regarding “natural selection” and attraction to another “mate” or partner, once again Nature demonstrates attractions, partnering, even the raising of offspring is not exclusive to opposite members of sex. The majority of Natural acts of procreation are indeed between opposite sexes, and most are no act of Love but just the tactical action of breeding for survival of the species.  Since we humans are the only mammal to create and attempt to abide by “laws” other than those laws of nature and physics, we as a society establish these man-made rules and laws revolving around “Love”. Here is then, where the departure from true natural Love is quite often separated from governmental and religious applications of “Love” or any other associated legal jargon they so choose to concoct.

People do fall in and out of Love. People do find attraction to many other people across the course of a lifetime. Some people choose to have physical relationships based on those attractions and “loves”. But no person “chooses” with whom they will “feel” the attraction or “Love” for. Just as we cannot choose whether we feel pain if physically injured, we cannot choose to feel an attraction. In both cases we may be able to choose our response to it and our actions to manage it, but either way the feeling is Natural, it is part of our Human reflex, in our genes and our DNA, we are wired for the attraction and manifestation of true Love. Whether you believe it is Creation from the Devine, or Darwinian in evolution, it exists – just as a “flight or fight” response is regarding harm to one’s self.

In Matters of Love, I believe we would all be much more loving, caring and nurturing, if we let each person “Love” as they feel by their own Natural calling, and that we show our love of the human being, the human spirit, by granting the respect of Devine Creation or Evolution to allow Love to grow and manifest in a natural way as intended. No rule or laws of “mankind” should ever contradict Matters of Love.

So live and let live, love and let love.

And let’s get this straight, Marriage as a recognized legal matter, is at its core an arrangement of choice, an agreement of bonding of formal law by two people, either civil and/or religious – legally two people who may hate each other, or not even really know one another, can get married in every state in the USA if it is a man and a woman. In fact and as a point of curiosity, in all US states we can marry our 2nd cousins, in 19 states we can marry our 1st cousin, and in most of these if you are under 18 years old but older than 14, you can marry with parents consent. So if you are 14 year olds and have your parents consent and want to marry your 1st cousin of the opposite sex in certain US states - game on! But  same sex couples can only legally marry  in 8 US states, and in 31 US states there are constitutional bans on same sex marriage -- call me old fashioned, but that is wrong, and as for Matters of the Heart, love rules all and is the strongest bond.

May peace, and equality, be with all of you.

Let Love rule!

Funny? Who's laughing now?

Funny - haha.  

Funny - odd.

Funny – unexpected.

Funny, how time slips away from you. Funny how I can feel creative one moment or for a certain amount of time, and then it stops all of a sudden. Funny, how there are just times where I don’t feel very funny, or times in my life I don’t find funny at all.

Writing a Blog that is most often, and has been funny, is rather hard to maintain to be honest.

I am one who can most always find some humor, or a funny moment, or funny twist on things even in difficult times and sad or troubled situations. But it doesn’t mean I want to write about them. For the most part I have written in this Blog in an attempt to provide humor, a funny insight or story, to be light-hearted and share in words things that will allow others to smile, maybe even laugh. I am generally a positive, upbeat, funny motherfucker! But not so much recently. And not enough to find a desire to retell in this Blog recently. For sure “funny” will return, but for now, not so much.

Life is that way. There are so many times where things in life are Funny–haha. People can laugh at the littlest thing, even in those difficult situations, even where others might deem it inappropriate to laugh, slapstick comedy was born of this, and consider America’s Funniest Videos – those people are often times hurt, but watching them is some funny shit!

A Funny–odd, thing can happen anywhere any time. They are unusual, hence “odd”, in our perspective. Here’s an example, the other day I was driving home on the back roads in rural Amish farm country of Pennsylvania and I saw three goats, a big one, a medium one, and a small one all in a row, standing on the roof of a farm shed – “ha, what the hell, how did they get up there? and what the hell - big, medium, small all in a row, what the fuck? are they real? did someone put them up there,? dude, pay attention and watch the road you dummy!” , all this goes through my head as I drive along. It was Funny-odd.

Lately though I have had more of the Funny–unexpected. Funny how shit happens, Funny how life is, Funny that wasn't supposed to happen, Funny things don’t go the way we planned. Funny – not so much.

Life does happen. Plans and goals, and action on ideas, and precautions, and chances, choices whether educated or not are taken, even guesses at what is best and then a leap of faith. We do these things everyday and even routinely in many cases, yet there always come the inevitable, the unexpected and many times unexplainable. Accidents, cars break down, floods and storms, new territory and experiences, job loss, tragedies, failures, financial losses, set-backs, lightening strikes, stuff out of our control and unexpected. Funny, I didn’t see that coming. Funny, how that turned out. Funny, I didn’t expect that. Funny, I can’t explain it.

The funny thing is, those things aren’t funny and they happen a lot and they can happen to all of us at any time and often one after another, kicked when you're down, getting deeper into a rut, a whole you can't dig out of, quicksand. There are even cliches for it. Funny we've come up with cliches for those times. It can make us sad, angry, confused, even lost and alone. We usually aren’t in it alone or really lost, but we sure can feel sad and angry, and confused. Surely not happy or feeling there is anything “funny” about it. All these emotions need to be respected and there is not a damn thing wrong with being sad or angry. We are able to cry for a reason, and able to feel emotions like anger and fear and grief because they are as valid as happiness, excitement, and laughter.

So let me “feel” and have my emotions of sadness and anger. Respect them as you would any other emotion. Please don’t ask me why I am “acting” this way or that – I’m not ACTING. I’m “FEELING”. It is our human nature. It is a response to some stimulus. Poke me with a needle and it hurts, I’ll be in pain, and most likely feel angry that you stabbed me. Tickle me and I will laugh and feel happy.

Another funny thing is – we can cry when we are sad, or when we are elated and happy. And we can laugh when we are happy, or when we are frightened or nervous.

Hmmm, Funny our mind and body works that way ; Funny-odd.

And funny, how when you saw this post, at first you expected funny-haha, but got funny-unexpected.

Life is funny that way.

Trains

> Travel by Train

I consider myself very lucky to have close access to transportation by train. Real train, not light-rail or connected bus service, but Amtrak passenger train service. Now some will obviously want to debate about the term “service” and want to qualify it with their personal assessment of what “service” to them entails and how to rate the quality and delivery of said “service”, but not here and not now. (And I am a Service Manager with pretty much my entire working career in some manner of frontline customer focused, personally engaged, client-first, direct point-of-contact “service” position, so I know good and bad “service” – some other time I’ll get into this). Lucky to have Train service,  because of its nostalgia for me and for its differences in user “feel” and experience. Public transportation yes, but “travel” is at the heart of it. And to define “travel” in this context I don’t mean the act of going from point to point, a means solely of being transported, I mean “traveled”, as in “I traveled across the state”, “I traveled across the country”, “I traveled trough-out Europe”, the journey of travel. Also to clarify the point of public transportation and “travel”, because you can travel in your car, or on your motorcycle, or bicycle, or by motor-home, even in a private plane.

Consider this, in an airplane when you go from here to there, you “fly”, you “flew” from here the there. When you hop on the local bus or school bus, you were “bused”. In your own car you “drove”. Ah but a Train, see you don’t get “trained” to your destination, you “travel” by Train. Now don’t go looking all this up in a dictionary or decide to start the argument about other stuff and the whole English language crap, yada, yada, yada . . . I know you can “ride” on a Train, you can “ride” on a bike, you can “ride” in car or bus or taxi or Train, and even a plane too. This whole aspect of language could go on for a long time.

Travel by train allows you a certain freedom. Like a bus and some airlines, you generally get on a choose your seat, window, aisle, facing forward in the traveling direction to see where you are going, or facing backwards to see where you’ve just been. You see country side, and small towns, and big cities, and places in those locations you wouldn’t usually see. You go over bridges, through tunnels, some under rivers or through mountains, even under cities and through buildings. You can go through forests, over mountains, across prairies and plains and deserts. You can nap, or read, or chat or listen to your music, or watch your movie, or talk (quietly) on your phone – on some Amtrak cars they have designated at quiet zones – nice. You can work on a laptop, or fold down the table and eat, or play cards. You can get up and stretch, walk around, change seats pretty much when you want depending on how full the train is.

The seats are relatively spacious (a hell of a lot better than a plane), decent with regard to comfort and there not three and four and five across like some planes. The isle is fairly wide so two people can pass one another without lying across the back or lap of a seated occupant. Then there is that rocking motion and slight rhythmic sway, and the whirr of train on metal track, a melodic tick, click and clack, only the sound a train can make. It’s calming, loud enough to hear and notice, but not deafening or so loud to drown out normal conversation. A conductor, in uniform, with appropriate cap, comes to check and punch your ticket, or to sell you one if you got aboard without. That’s pretty much their job, no snacks or drink carts to push down the aisle, no oxygen or life preserver, or seatbelt seminar to give, no seatbelt light to monitor and scolding to give if one rises from their seat while said light is on. Just punch tickets, help with bags as needed, and announce the next stop.

Train stations and stops are all very unique too. From the massive and beautiful, to the small town depot, to the platform, to quite literally a stop at a trailhead. There is an Amtrak stop, not more than a sign and what looks almost like a couple wooden pallets laid down at the track, on the Appalachian Trail. Now how cool is that ? Google it. You can even plan a trip with your bike, roll it on and roll it off for some specific trips.

We have an Amtrak stop about five miles from our house in a small town named Mount Joy. That stop is only a low platform, outside and uncovered. Further on west we can get on at Elizabethtown where they recently rebuilt a small indoor station, or we can go about 12 miles into Lancaster to their station. Built in 1929 and listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is pretty cool but doesn’t of course compare to Philly’s 30^th Street Station. That “Keystone” Amtrak train runs right past our house, across the street and just behind the old brick grain mill, one truck fire station, and other old early 1800 brick warehouses. It runs several times a day. We can hear the whistle blow over in Mount Joy as is passes a railroad crossing near the edge of town, then a few minutes later if you are outside you’ll hear the whhhiiirrrrrrrrr as the train zips past, usually just the engine and five passenger cars long.

I always get a good feeling and a slight smile when I hear it go by, and I wonder who is on it, where they’re going, where they’ve been where their travels and adventures carry them. I think about that track, originally traveled by the Pennsylvania Railroad, and how people since the mid 1800s have been traveling along that line, traveling by rail. Traveling on a train. Traveling.