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Friday, December 31, 2010

The Present

                  Then again, maybe not

       Sometimes, always, never
                   Then again, maybe not

                There are many
          There are some
                  There are few
and then again, maybe none

               Now, here, there
and then again nowhere

and then again, after

          You, me, we, they, ours
his hers theirs those thems?

          Today, tomorrow, and yesterday
that covers it all
time circumstance and whom
There's nothing else to say

          Tomorrow is another day
Tomorrow is another year
Tomorrow is Saturday
Every day is a gift
That is why they call it the present
a new year
a new present
a new beginning

make the best of it
make the worst of it
make something of it

Thursday, December 30, 2010



        Religion is like sex, it's followers are adamant about their feelings and have little regard for other sects.

         That they all have holidays about the same time is worth pondering, are they all basing their beliefs on the seasons, or way back when, was there one idea splintered into variations on a theme, like Luther and King James.

          If all the books were written by men could that be the reason all their gods are men.
There are few religions today that honor female deities, if any.

           Consider the Muslim religion where they bow on their knees several times a day and the similarity to some yoga exercises.

            Could we have it wrong, the bible is really a medical guide to health and well being.
Literal translations give reference to prayer and many religions pray including Tibetan monks.

             Could the different religions be adaptations for humans to the regional weather as guides for expelling poisons from the body.

      In the 1950's there were American movies of African natives bowing from the waist with arms and hands extended above the head sorta like human fans cooling each other off, bowing to the white bwana.

    Religions also take advantage of regional foods. The Catholic church adapted meatless Fridays to give the fish industry a boost. It is no longer a sin to eat meat on Friday.

Bread as the staff of life was perhaps initiated by a cleric whose father owned a mill.

Superstition has added flavor to many customs altering their interpretation of the Scriptures.
Why when making the sign of the cross do some kiss their fingers, maybe imitating the priest signing the cross with the crucifix and then kissing it.

Statutes use to be paraded through the streets of Brooklyn for various saints holidays to collect money for the church, travelling preachers, bring god to the neighborhood because the neighborhood won't go to god.

If one considers religion as a business, their salesmen sell yo  something you have to talk yourself into believing, because nobody has returned to prove it true. Lazarus risen could have been a coma, same thing for Jesus.

Religion of course is a good crowd control and controller of some ignorant and others who are not ignorant but like the rules better than all the others.

Religion has rules for the masses to follow to live 'better' lives and the reward is a better hereafter, to make sure you all do follow the rules.

The afterlife exists in physics also. Matter can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only be changed, like the effects of a tornado, once there was a cow, now there is only wind. Compressed particles caused by random coupling with energy forces and a thinking thing or a tree.

No one knows for sure what is so, only what they believe and refuse to believe and yet we can not tolerate any other opinion which does not agree with ours.

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much"

Wednesday, December 29, 2010


              What business is it of any one's if someone is "straight" or "gay". Why does anyone have to discuss anyone Else's sexual preference.

              Oh he's gay, they say. so what.
why do 'they' always think about sex.
when do we have privacy.
what is the reason for discussing or mentioning any one's sexuality.

               F-- news is interesting, in that they seem to be preoccupied with homosexuality.
They seem to make it a point to mention sex a lot. They seem have no better focus than on sex.

Business is business if F-- news has someone to trash for their sexual persuasion. 

              Whether a person is a nice person is judged by whether or not they share "your" sexual preference. 

                Deviant sex is scary for some, bizarre for others, repulsive to another. There is no more tolerance, and perhaps there never was. Yet, looking at a person as a sex object is more out there with the help of F-- news. Even when you want to think about something else, someone is always talking about sex.

               When someone gets angry they say f--- , When someone wants to demean someone they say your mother is a female dog, or you are a whore. 

                Nobody says I'm angry with you because..... There is no more thought about what a person is feeling, there is simply the outburst of emotion.

                We have found it acceptable for people to react, instant action, without any idea of why there is a reaction. Why are you angry.

                 Control is gone, there is a certain madness when emotional outbursts, as at soccer games, are normal.

                  Civilization is losing it's civilization and it is becoming acceptable.
Sex and violence. That's what sells and that is what is taking over the human psyche.

                  Stoning women for adultery, in some cultures, is acceptable behavior. Sexual mutilation is acceptable in others. For some abstinence is their code of sexual behavior and their mark of identification.

                  Married women, women who have had sex and have a sexual relationship with one male person as condoned by some religions and governments, have a label, misses.

Misses declares to men that she belongs exclusively to some man for sex, i.e.,  mrs jones.
she is no longer mary jones she is mrs jones, property of mr jones, and in the old days she HAD to give up her maiden name and take on his(ah you say for the sake of the kids) poppycock,
see another sexual innuendo.

                If you listen carefully you will hear whether or not a person is preoccupied with sex. Their choice of adjectives are common and more acceptable in everyday language, with little chance of change. The only advantage is you get to know what is on a persons mind even when they are not consciously thinking. If you pay attention you will know how to protect yourself and avoid altercations with people who do not share your preferences.

                It seems to be a violent opinion about sex, people have very strong feelings pro and con about anything about sex, and they probably learned it all from their parents, and that is a whole 'nother can of wax.

Monday, December 27, 2010


Monday, a quiet day, before the Saturday that begins a new year. Not necessarily a time of reflection but a time of accomplishment. Time to hurry and do all the things we've been putting off. Time to straighten things out, neaten things up, so we can  begin the new year unencumbered.

Time to do the laundry, so there won't be any in the new year waiting.
Time to put things away so we may begin messing up again in the new year. Pile upon pile of things to do, and not the time to do them all or the time but not the frame of mind. Sometimes the mind needs to rest and let it all just sit there. Sometimes the mind cannot find the impetus to move to action to sort and order the life.

Fatigue may be the problem. A good night's sleep may be the first order of business.
Rest creates order. The mind given the opportunity to rest can sort and order the chaos. It, the mind, is like another person living in the same body. No matter what You want to do the mind does it's own thing, so you turn around and say, "who said that" or "who did that" and you are as surprised as everyone else.

The mind left to rest can astound you. When you are exhausted you cannot do it, whatever it is. and when the mind is rested you can achieve beyond your wildest dreams.

Blame and recrimination of the self is a very unkind pressure which limits productivity. Accepting that you do your best all the time AND sometimes it isn't good enough is easier to accept than you did not do your best on purpose. Who you are in the real world is always measured in real time right now. "They" whoever they are, measure you, sometimes good sometimes bad. If you always measure yourself as you do and did your best, then you are truly free. Free from guilt, and free to continue with your life, at it's best.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Dumbing down America

          There you sit in front of the tv, watching something when zap, the program is interrupted with a louder transmission of someone  saying something irrelevant to the product being hawked, and animation of persons similar to puppets.

          TV advertising does not inform nor educate an individual to the benefits or use or operation of the said item.

          It simply disrupts the ordinary flow of information to a brain shorting the circuits to distract and disrupt.

          The tv advertising community appears to be frustrated singers, dancers, and actors who have not been able to communicate a rational idea.

           The mute button on the tv gives one the ability to save the cells energy by automatically reducing the interference.

           Perhaps {tv advertising} is foreign propaganda used to control the masses by disrupting the brain cell activity by the cacophony of useless dribble, numbing the brains of Americans thereby reducing the population to blithering idiots.

          Tv advertising, tv stations, and corporations all insult the population by stealing time and energy and we allow it.

           If we stop buying the products that use objectionable or demeaning advertising, and if we stop watching the channels that show those items then perhaps the advertising, corporate, media community will begin to understand that we are interested in bettering ourselves instead of dumbing down America.

Ohio State - N.C.A.A.

                If social responsibility has any relevance then Ohio State and the NCAA ought not to permit the players who sold their autographs  for "massages" play in the bowl game.

                The issue is not that they paid for "massages" the issue is truth.
If the NCAA and Ohio State choose to lie and base their reputations upon lies then the  system they are attempting to maintain is also a lie.

                 Why would anyone choose to live a lie and select lies to be their calling card.
Should we allow the institutions to educate the students, the leaders of tomorrow, in the art of deception.

                If we as a society is to flourish there needs to be rules and these rules are not arbitrary.
Yes, there is no black and white there is only gray.
And the gray of having the future generation masters at deception is a painful reality to face.

               Lies do not work, lies do not make relationships work.
Lies are illusions, and illusions vanish. Life is only time, and the little time we have here is something that will vanish if it is based on lies. Substance is the truth that is. The more truth the more time. The more lies the more weaving of unreality and fantasy and a life lived in fantasy is an illusion.

              Lies do not work.

Do not let Ohio State and the NCAA educate the next generation in mastering the art of untruths.
They, we, are accountable and responsible. There is no free lunch. Let them learn the results of their decisions, that cause has an effect, and we have to pay for or be accountable for our actions.

Friday, December 24, 2010

N.C.A.A. - Ohio State


               N.C.A.A. shame on you

                Ohio State University shame on you

               Ohio State University football players who sold their autographs for massages, shame on you

          That the N.C.A.A. is allowing the players to participate in the bowl game shows how ethical they are.
The violation of the rules is a black and white issue being ignored by the N.C.A.A,

          The N.C.A.A. is condoning their behavior by not enforcing the rules.
Anyone who has any regard for the sport of football should not watch the game.
Everyone who belives in the rule of law, eveyone who respects the rule of law should let the N.C.A.A. know in no uncertain terms that their behavior in regards to this matter is unacceptable.

         How dare you, and this includes the Ohio State University, not respond and react to this behavior with the strongest of reprimand immediately.

         Anyone who hears that these young people sold their autographs for "massages" and believes that sex was not involved is deluding themselves. Women especially should protest the negative responses of the University and N.C.A.A.

         It appears the both organizations have little to no regard for women and have voted to let the world know their positions.

         And the players themselves have no respect for themselves.
Who would want to touch them. The only way they can get women to touch them is to pay them.
This is endemic to many men, Let them make rules so they can break them . Let them make rules and only enforce them when it is convenient of financially benefiting them.

       Football is a sport that for men is primal, reaching to the core of who they are and giving them reason to feel good about themselves. Every young male wants to play football or has to watch football being played. It touches them in a way women can not understand but they do understand that these young men and the young men who are grown up, RESPECT the game.

        They too should let you know how low you have sunk for the dollar and how repulsive it is.

Thursday, December 23, 2010


          Dial-up is the slow motion of internet access. The telephone line is bombarded with data. Like a small funnel jammed with a viscous liquid that will not separate. You can take a nap while you wait for the page to turn or fry an egg in another room.

           It is the scene of the old farmer standing by the roadside watching the traffic whiz by and all the farmer does is blink. Without the investment to purchase a dish, us rural younger folks feel like the old farmer watching life pass us by.

            When there are pages with multiple photos or artwork transmitting moments pass and then it is time to shut down the computer which has frozen in cyberspace.

            The odd feeling, watching life pass you by because the technology is not affordable makes one feel poor even though owning a computer and subscribing to a dial-up connection service is a luxury and within reach. The new third world community in America's back yard.

            The Internet, the most powerful tool for the common man has done for education what Guttenberg's printing press did during the middle ages. The press moved knowledge from the hands of a select few, namely religious sects, into the hands of the masses.

           Once the masses learned to read and write they on their own, began to acquire knowledge by first purchasing books and then by borrowing them from libraries.

            The encyclopedia was a treasure trove of variety, snippets of everything to introduce you to the world. Speaking of the world, here we should mention The World Book Encyclopedia, affordable for some parent to acquire for their children to have at home to venture into the world.

           The ever expanding sources of information has informed and educated the common man beyond the poverty level climbing up from the isolation and fear of  ignorance.

            Many persons have been involved in educating freely and generously, us. These people have recognized the value of all the people growing in knowledge instead of just a few holding the treasures of the world.

            We don't often say thank you. We don't often think where we, I, you, me, would be without their generosity. A silent thank you will have to suffice, to the unknown soldiers who have shared the written work of generations, allowing us to travel to cultures foreign and new.
And as we learn and grow we may be able to return their kindness by allowing another unfunded genius to expand their knowledge and perhaps solve one of life's little mysteries or problems. Maybe something we would do would enable that individual to reach the limits and surpass them.

             happy NEW year, happy NEW age
happy technology.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010


                       Void is an interesting word. Actually it isn't really interesting. What is interesting is the uses for the word. Void is a term used to cancel a check, do not pay, not valid for payment, eliminate responsibility for the debt, which is very nice even though you still have to pay for the paper the void check is printed upon.

                       To void is to eliminate liquid waste from the bladder. Voiding the act of the body emptying, what is socially called water, the product produced by the cells during their performance of functioning to operate the body. The cells operate and generate useless matter ingested, a by product of the sorting process of the cells. Particles unnecessary to their operation and if stored, detrimental, therefore eliminated periodically during a twenty four hour period.

                       Void, and empty space absent of matter, usually referring to the physical universe and often in particular between the ears. There is not much to say here because there is nothing worth commenting about or the author is void of an opinion as opposed to being indifferent.

                        Avoid is not a particular empty space but the act of removing oneself from the presence of a person or situation.

                        In every example of void they are clear examples of eliminating, removing and preventing association with or contact with, that which  one deems objectionable, a negatively impacting force to be without. All instances of withdrawal from.

                         In summary, void is a positive negative perhaps an oxymoron. Void is a positive act of removing a negative that is, having the ability to evaluate and eliminate something that will have a injurious effect on the person, protecting the well being by removing the damaging situation. Good judgment in every instance with positive effects.

                          Void is a good/bad thing, it cannot be a good thing unless it eliminates a bad thing, bad, being something that has a negative effect and is better to do without, and good that it is eliminated.

                           Confused enough, let's void the whole thing.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Mourning the Land


                   The trip from Sedalia Missouri to Springfield Missouri is about one hundred fifty miles. It is a two lane winding in spots road with green fields, hay pastures and cattle ranches along the route. There are small stone one and two room homes built at the turn of the last century, nineteen hundred, there are small convenience stores, churches, schools, all the marks of civilization but on a much smaller scale than back east. Some towns boast a population of one hundred sixty-eight, some a thousand odd. They all have their little bits of character. The town with the house with all the windows, or the town that has that log home that they just put a steel roof on, or the big cattle spread that streatches for miles on both sides of the road, and all you see is rolling pasture dotted with cows big and small.

                    In other areas the pastures are fenced off is small acreages with trees lining gullies and small seasonal creeks, there in the trees you see hawks, sharp shinned , red tail, Goshawk and Cooper's, along with the seasonal bald eagles, overhead in the spring you spot the geese, ducks, pelicans, egrets and herons seeking water. Along the roadway there are the wild rabbits, deer, armadillos and turtles crossing the road. at night you see the raccoons.

                   More and more there is construction along the route, new homes, new businesses. There is a trend along the roadway from town to town, walmart, macdonalds, domino's dollar general, jiffy lube etc, all the chains have branched out and eliminated the small mom and pop businesses that had their own character stamped on the establishment. There is no longer the cute little shop with the curtains on the windows, or the diner with the old tools hanging on the walls. There are no more signs of old America, with the ethnic art and character. Everything now is a carbon copy of one town to the next. You never know where you  are because everything looks the same, stamping corporate America across the road.

                  Further to change the landscape is the recent activity to widen highway 65, the north south route from sedalia to springfield. MODOT, Missouri Department of Transportation is busy removing homes, fields, pastures, trees and hills in an effort to accommodate the ever increasing traffic busily moving people and goods.

                 It is all gone, all the natural beauty and the wildlife habitat. There is no longer anything to see as you travel highway 65 from sedalia to springfield. As the song says, "They've paved paradise and put up a parking lot."

                 A very sad mournful trip, a funeral cortege lasting more than two hours with no body to bury at the end, simply to turn around and revisit the funeral parlor along the way, the miles of cement and macadam with the sign posts that replace the trees, the dead animals, road kill and the same stores you saw twenty miles ago and the same food offered and the same gas stations. The people are different, the pictures look the same. The one town looks like another America, where everybody eats the same food wears the same clothes. There is no more middle America with it's personality and character, there is only the same. And it looks like we have to live with it, whether or not we like it.

Monday, December 20, 2010


                  The image of success was a wealthy beautiful famous actress with perfect hair with a perfect smile and perfect teeth, thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six with satin and silk and mink. The next image of success is a scientist who discovers something that will aid all mankind, the Louis Pasteur of the modern age, the new Albert Einstein who changes they way people think, outside the box, that is success, the whole world in awe, like a Bill Gates, the man who changed everything, banking, business, politics, education, communication, etc. with the software to begin all software opening a new world for everyone, now that is success. He, Bill Gates has made so much money he quit his day job just so he could play with his money. Hooray for him.

Now on my level success is simply not giving up what I started, a project of any magnitude.
Another success is, even though it doesn't look like I planned it to look, I finished what I started.
Still, starting something I planned to do is also a success, instead of dreaming forever about doing something, taking the first step is a big deal.
Waking up in the morning is a success, getting out of bed is even a bigger success.
Counting anything that can be deemed success is a good habit, it builds courage. And courage is what is needed to make it through the day. Making it through the day counts as a success to. All these little things add up to a great big success, feeling good about yourself. Feeling good about yourself makes it easier to live with yourself and then you can begin to have fun. Now having fun living is truly a success, no matter how much money you have and who knows that you are alive.

Yes there are some people in the world that everybody knows and we all see that as success. Everybody knows Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, even in far off Africa, and they are recognized for helping people and being rich famous beautiful people. I don't know why I am not rich and beautiful and famous like they are.

And I know I will never be rich and famous and beautiful with perfect hair but in my world I am a success. I strive to do my best all the time and sometimes it isn't good enough but I did not compromise. I did and do what I think is right, and sometimes it turns out wrong.

But I keep going, like the Timex.
And that is success.
And knowing when to stop, ie when time is wasted, that too is success.

Wasting time is difficult to define. A simple example is: trying to make some feel good who doesn't want to. Some people enjoy being miserable, enjoy wallowing in their misery, and recognizing that is success.


Sunday, December 19, 2010

Dead Animals

What did you have for lunch today, was it a ham sandwich with cheese and lettuce and mustard, or,
roast beef with swiss on rye?

If the menu heading read: Dead Animals would you choose one, for instance dead pig on rye or cow's leg on toast.

Dead animals as food for humans is an odd choice, how about a rotting animal menu item.

It tastes so good except when you are a teenager and are kind to animals, then you are vegetarian and eat plenty of potatoes or spuds.

Meat of dead animals is fattening and they say clogs the arteries yet we consume it or them every maybe three times a day, pig belly for breakfast, dead chicken for lunch and ground up cow for dinner.

If you think of the process that brings these dead beasts to your plate the idea of a meal of dead animal is perhaps repulsive. Once the cow is removed from the field he is driven in a truck, remember cowboy movies with cattle drives on the open range, well now the herd them into tractor trailers and transport them to processing plants or rail cars that deliver them alive to processing plants. Someone hits the animal on the head with a sledge hammer then slits its throat. As you think of the blood gushing consider your dinner menu.
Steak smothered in mushrooms.

They use electric saws clean I hope, to separate the stomach and remove the intestines.

Well enough for the description of the process, think about what the place must smell like, especially if it is a large facility.

Chicken barns are long buildings you have probably seen them on tv, what you haven't experienced is the odor as you drive by. It makes one want to wretch. Mass production has impacted the environment with enormous negative effects. Here in Missouri(central) at the Lake of the Ozarks the water is constantly monitored for ecoli. The animal waste leeches into the water supply, if you swim in the lake and have a compromised immune system you get sick.

Dead animals is not the problem, management issues are.

There are no answers just information.
The population explosion of WWII has made man the focus of the world and worrying about the world is second. Cleaning your home is second to feeding yourself.

That's just the way it is.
Something more to think about.
And, forget. when you order that meal.

Saturday, December 18, 2010


From the old English saeterdoeg "Saturn's day" is now Saturday. Saturn was the roman god of agriculture.

Saturnalia  the ancient roman festival beginning on December 17, which lasted seven days.

The Romans invaded England way back when, so the language and customs of the Romans have entered the English realm.

Saturday celebrated the god of agriculture

Sunday is the day of the sun

Monday is moon's day

Tuesday day of Tiu  god of war and the sky -Germanic mythology

Wednesday woden's day old English, day of Mercury - a god serving as messenger 
          to other gods as well as being the god of commerce, travel, and thievery

Thursday Thor's day Jupiter's day
the dictionary says Jupiter the supreme god, patron of the roman state brother and husband of Juno identified with the Greek god Zeus also called Jove. Jove father. Juno, the principal roman  goddess, wife and sister of Jupiter, patroness of  primarily of marriage and the well being of women, identified with the Greek goddess Hera

Friday day of frig, wife of Odin day of the planet Venus Aphrodite's day. Odin - the supreme Deity and creator of the cosmos and humankind, the god of wisdom, war, art, culture and the dead.

god of agriculture
god of war
reporter aka busybody, travelling businessman and thief
incestuous man
incestuous woman

Well if you think of everyday as a day of worship, since they are name in celebration, then we seem to have a heathen custom honoring some interesting characters. Worshipping the sun and the moon food war sex with your brother or sister and the bigmouth travelling businessman thief. How is that a way to start your day. We arrest people for doing those things and worship the origins of the crime.

These names go back to the Romans Norse Greek and Germanic cultures which are our roots except if we are black/African. Makes you wonder what the African/black culture called the day or days and if it would or could be as base.

We are calling ourselves civilized yet we adhere to heathen custom for every day of our lives. It is as though there is a subliminal message there.
I wonder what it could be.

And I have a better understanding why things are so strange, the names of the days of our week as a cycle is very bizarre.
let's change it to:
privateday - so you can do whatever you want

I prefer those subliminal messages
maybe this will be the start of something big.

Friday, December 17, 2010

The Lucky One


        Did you ever have a fine day
one that made you feel like a kid again
with satisfaction, achievement, knowledge, growth, understanding and fun
all rolled into one

        A day when everything you learned about something
finally made sense
        like the last day of school
when the last class gives you the punchline that sews together all the classes of the semester

       A day like that doesn't happen too often
an Epiphany day when all the lights bloom

        No matter how much you try to duplicate that kind of day it just doesn't happen
it is one of those days when you are doing the right thing at the right time for the right reason
sounds simple, sounds easy

        Knowing exactly what you want is part of it
knowing how to give of yourself is another part of it
and knowing who to give to

        And receiving gifts at the same time
a perfect scenario
that happens once in a while and is so beautiful as and when it happens

        And the beauty of the event is what builds the heart
and strengthens the heart
and pumps the heart

         So when you have a day like that
smile smile smile
because you have been chosen to receive a gift that makes a day special
and a special day
only happens to the child in us
and you become younger
and more beautiful
and happy that you were the lucky one

Thursday, December 16, 2010


    What is the fascination with football

men sit for hours in front of the television set yelling screaming and cursing
at the coaches referees and players

they are happy when the guy with the ball run five yards
then they are happy when the guy with the ball run another five yards, Yippee!!

for hours they sit and watch the ball pass from one guy to the other
they listen to the pregame commentary
the half time report and
the post game analysis
even though they have been sitting glued with their eyes focused for the whole game and
all the in between replays of every pass
and every questionable call
"Show me that again", they say to the tv screen
and the screen obligingly reruns the play film from every camera view

and then again they(the men) talk to the tv
telling it, "that was a bad call"
or "that was a good call"
or "that guy should have been thrown out of the game"

sometimes they say' "wow, that play was beautiful, did you see  that catch, how did he do that"
and on an on for hours because of course somebody calls, "Time out!" and a one hour game stretches for two and a half hours

Amazing, and you have to be quiet too, so they can hear everything.
and then there are the stats on the players, the teams, the leagues, the coaches and what the spread is for the chances of a team winning.

Of course winning is the all important, but the yardage with the ball and the amount of time the favorite team has possession of the ball. The All Precious Ball. It's all about the ball, the tied up pig skin with out the pig in it.

The transformation of the mild mannered man, come football season, "He's ALive!" and all that matters from August through February is whether or not there is a football game on, tv and if not has their favorite team or teams won.

They don't even get to keep the ball if they win so what is the point.
What is the magic about football.
Why do men get passionate about a team not even in their home state, or they don't own, or haven't even placed a bet on.

They have nothing invested in except their time and passion.
More than their love of women  is their love of football.
Their primal need to compete.
The nature of the beast.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010


          Life is a gift
that is why they call it the present

it doesn't matter much who gives you the present
it matters what you do with it

some gifts are worthless and thrown away
some gifts are treasures stowed away in a closet never uses never touched
  simply saved
some gifts are appreciated and used until they are in tattered shreds
while other gifts are torn and abused before they are old
and then there are the gifts  that are shared, those gifts are worth more than
    when they were first received because they have grown and blossomed
     and budded into a vine that intertwines with other vines and grows and blossoms
     into new and beautiful

new and beautiful are more than gifts because the gift of life is nothing without
    making something of it

we can exist
and it is far better to be alive
to be alive is to grow and to share
not giving
not giving
try not giving
of yourself

you will find it
a sad and lonely place
a terrible place to waste a gift

something worth thinking about

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

men's suits and ties

        suits and ties
all the men on the tv news wear suits and ties
very business like
very professional

the women on the other hand
wear whatever presents their sex to the audience
low blouses, lots of cleavage
short skirts
tight skirts

the women seem to have to present their bodies  to the audience
in order to do their job

the men are always covered
always protected

and the women are always exposed
women are still sex objects
their sex is displayed for all to see and admire
and be distracted by

the men are straightforward
their face and their voice

women wear jewels
no sleeves
almost no shirts
and nobody notices
or if they do they do not comment
they do not care
they take it for granted
that women are to parade their sex
their sex sells tv
their sex sells them short
their bodies make the news
and the news is less important
and they call themselves professionals
and they don't even realize they are selling their sex before the news
it is still a man's world
and the women don't even know it

Saturday, December 11, 2010

      Winter is upon us with a quick drop and westward wind. There is a chill in the air.
The dampness adds to the discomfort, the bones ache, the age appears.

       Winter is upon us, the dark skies, the empty trees, the frozen pond.
Thoughts of santa are filling the heads of all the children adding excitement to their nights.
Cozy blankets heavy sweaters, warm socks. The house has some heat the lights are all on.

      Winter is upon us, the doors are closed, the indoors is the place we be.
       Winter is upon us, almost time to put up the christmas tree.
Holiday cheer no matter if you care, winter is upon us, better to cheer up than not to care.

       Cheer cheer cheer

       You can tell I don't care
        Funny how fatigue hampers the cheer
       Maybe it will snow here
        and not there
        I thought I saw santa in his sled sailing across the night sky

        my sister said, there is no santa
        and that took care of my cheer

       now that I ruined your cheer
       leave your chair
       give yourself a cheer
       santa is here

       too bad he's not there

Thursday, December 9, 2010


            When will this happen
             When will you arrive
              When are you going to do this
                When are we meeting
                  When will things change
                    When is the right time
                      When I am good and ready

                        When will it be ready
                          When can I pick it up
                            When are you going
                               When will this be done
                                 When was that
                                   When will they know
                                     When will they forget
                                       When will they remember

                                          When will it happen
                                             When did it happen
                                               When they did it
                                                 When it was done
                                                    When can you come
                                                       When can you go
                                                          When will this be over
                                                            When is the right time
                                                              When is the wrong time
                                                                When will they know
                                                                   When will they win         
                                                                     When will they lose

                                                                        When can I come
                                                                          When I can come
                                                                            When is that
                                                                               When that will be done
                                                                                  When were you there
                                                                                     When you were there

                                                                                        When the time is right
                                                                                          When is the right time
                                                                                            When is is
                                                                                               When isn't is
                                                                                                 When was
                                                                                                   When will be
                                                                                                     When is never now

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Today many years ago

       John Lennon was shot today many years ago. Sadness returns with the same emptiness. One wonders about what makes someone able to erase a life. Not just eliminate what someone could have been, but eliminate someone who had a profound effect on the whole planet. Piff, they're gone. Someone walks up to you and wipes out your existence. There is the you who is wiped out and the one who wiped you out, you are now connected and separated, one in the act of the moment. And one with the rest of the world, forever linked, much as the world regects the thought. As one would always think of John and Yoko in bed for peace, the time they gave, hope to the world and the music made harmony of the cacophony of the time.

      When you think John Lennon alive there is the aura of activity, motion, doing, the young man voicing his opinion and putting his feeling out there in the world with melody and harmony and passion. We know some of his life from his words. We know another side of his life from the US Governments involvement in everything he did. And the government made him stronger. He did not understand why they paid so much attention to him and to Yoko and why they gave them so much trouble. Why would a government not like a person, like a fly on the table, annoying and in the way.

     And finally John and Yoko grew up and began to have a private life, in the big apple, they could blend and be. It is nice to think of John and Yoko living in New York City enjoying walking along the streets breathing the city air.

    Then the news media says, John Lennon was shot today many years ago and the air is filled with a bullet and the other guy who made it that way.

    We can not think about John Lennon dying as we would think about someone who has expired of their own circumstances, like so and so died. It is always that he was shot. Did the media rob us of the purity of John Lennon dying, purity being the isolated focus without the shot and the person who took his life. Did the media grandstand the event to sell our attention to distract us to pay attention to them. Could they have simply said John Lennon died today many years ago and not have told us about this other person of whom we really have no interest and who has no worth for our regard. And now these years later we still have regard for him the man that shot John Lennon. We are connected with that time and we would rather not be, as we would rather not remember that time as John Lennon was shot today. We simply want to remember John Lennon died today many years ago and we remember John Lennon alive and what he gave to us many years ago. And we must or are forced to think of the circumstances of his death as an act of a life stolen. That act is part of the sadness, that he was robbed of his life and what it would be. The images of an old man, hard of hearing so to comprehend moving slowly forcing himself to lift each leg. Whiskers down to his chin, white and gray, hair over his ears glass running down to his nose, humming a tune gazing at the diamonds in the sky. A nicer image rather quaint a cute little old man that played the music of the world many years ago. A sweeter image than the blunt John Lennon was shot today many years ago.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The Visit

          It is October 1997, Bob and I are taking mom and dad(Jean and Sal) to visit mom's brother and his wife, probably the last time they will be able to see each other. Both my parents are in their eighties and are unable to make the trip alone, my sister lives is Massachusetts so the trip for her is not practical. Bob and I are moving next month from Pennsylvania to Missouri. My medical bills make it impossible for us to live comfortably on the east coast where both our families are, so we are going west where we can afford to live a modest life.

         My parents live in upstate New York and my uncle and aunt live near the Jersey shore. We planned the trip because we felt it would be the last time we and my parents would have the opportunity to see Uncle Frank and Aunt Helen. My cousins would meet us there too.

         Aunt Helen and Uncle Frank live in a three bedroom condo/townhome in a senior community. All the streets have well manicured single level dwellings some shrubs near the houses with a touch of grass for color. There are no people out walking on the sidewalks, there is no auto traffic. The sidewalks and streets are clean. It is a very quiet community. When we arrive at nine a.m. we are greeted by Mirna their caregiver, a small Latino woman about my age with short dark hair, Uncle Frank is in the bathroom and Aunt Helen is still asleep. The kitchen is to the left of the entry, it is more a kitchenette, everything, sink stove, counter and frig line the wall and small table with four chairs in the middle of the room. The kitchen, dining area, and living area is an open floor plan, with a generous amount of space for each. Photos of the family dot the walls. In the living area is a large screen tv, couch, coffee table and Uncle Frank's electric lift recliner. The men shake hands and the women hug and kiss everyone. My mother makes a fuss over her younger brother. We sit at the table while Mirna goes to aid Aunt Helen who since her stroke can no longer walk, speak or use her right hand.

          Uncle Frank, like my dad had a stroke and has Parkinson's Disease. Both men have speech difficulties and gait problems, Uncle Frank needs a cane to get around. They are veterans of WWII. Dad's tour was spent in Paris, a truck driver delivering supplies to the front line and driving around a general. When he enlisted he was married to my mother  who was pregnant with my sister. He didn't have to go, he was married, but he wanted to do his part to fight to end the war. Uncle Frank was with the 102nd Texas Engineers. His tour went from Africa, Anzio, Casino, to Rome on up to Buchenwald. Uncle Frank received the Silver Star for dressing up as a peasant and leading his men and a bunch of sheep through a mine field. His photo with General Mark Clark pinning the silver star on his chest was always  atop the television set in Grandma and Grandpa's living room. Both General Clark and Uncle Frank have big grins on their faces. I remember Uncle Frank telling us, when I was a kid, "You know why  we're both smiling? because he said General Clark commented, "I don't know whose nose is bigger yours or mine," and Uncle Frank would laugh out loud at the joke. That was the only time ever I heard him speak of the war.

     The family always spoke lovingly about Uncle Frank and his search of  Europe for his brother-in-law Jimmy, who was missing in action. Uncle Frank found Jimmy at a prisoner of war camp near Buchenwald. Everyone seemed to have a magical relief about Uncle Frank finding Jimmy. It was a special treasure the family shared. Whenever together Jimmy always sat in the chair at Uncle Franks left side he was mostly quiet protected by uncle Frank. Besides being brothers-in-law they were buddies.

     Today, I am sitting opposite Uncle Frank, he's still a head taller than me, he still has a clarity and sharpness in his eyes. His face has changed though, medication has given him the swollen moon face, but the nose is the same. He walks with a cane and his hands have the stiffness and shake of Parkinson's. Yet, as I look into his eyes, I still see his powerful character,  his inner strength, determination and will. He was always big and strong and now in his eighties as I am looking into his eyes I see he is still strong and powerful though his body is weakened. He calls me "my Naena" using the nickname my brother gave me and he softens.

Then he begins to tell me about when he found Jimmy at the POW camp, I can see him move back in time. He says, "I didn't find Jimmy, I was looking all around for him but I didn't see him. When I was at the camp I heard my name "Frank, Frank", he said,  " I turned around and I didn't recognize him, he was so skinny and  encrusted with filth." Then, Uncle Frank raises both his arms and hands and says, "I picked him up with both my hands", and I could see the picture in Uncle Frank's eyes,  he is tenderly and gently picking Jimmy up from the floor, carrying Jimmy by his arms. He says "I carried him to a building and placed him on the floor in the center of a room. I got some gasoline in my helmet, then I got a dirty rag and dipped it into the gasoline and wrung out the rag and gently started to clean him." As Uncle Frank is speaking he raises his right arm, the dirty gasoline soaked rag between his fingers and ever so gently he strokes at Jimmy's face to clean him. Then, the tears well up in Uncle Frank's eyes, the image of the POW camp and Uncle Frank's stroke to clean Jimmy's face, is gone, we are back, in the present sitting at the kitchen table.


Monday, December 6, 2010


        She came to America from Brazil with her childhood sweetheart whom she married and their infant daughter. In Brazil they both worked in the hospital billing department.
        They both spoke little English. He took a job as a truck driver she worked as a housekeeper, every day cleaning a different house.

        Each morning at three thirty she got up, got dressed and bundled up her baby  to drive her husband to work in the used car they had bought that always broke down, then she would drive home with the baby, get them both undressed and back to bed until the alarm went off for her to get herself and the baby dressed and fed before  she went to work. She dropped the baby off at the babysitter went on to clean some one's house. After work she picked up the baby from the babysitter and then picked up her husband from his place of work.

       They lived in an apartment above a bar and had to worry about the baby and the mice in the apartment so they saved all their money to move.

       They bought a small two-family house. The first thing they had to do was put on a roof. He was handy and was going to do all the repairs himself. After he put the roof on, she borrowed a vacuum cleaner from one of the people whose house she cleaned. The house they bought had  carpeting but because the roof was damaged the rugs were soiled so she had to vacuum as much as she could then wash the carpets.

       Her husband began comparing his wife to another woman, a friend of theirs, also from the same country. She was also married but with no children. She had a good job working in a jewelry store, and was able to read and write English and was well on her way to getting her American citizenship papers.

      With the money she made as a housekeeper they were able to buy another car. She again became pregnant and had a son They bought larger two family house which they moved into and kept the smaller one.

        Finally about twenty years after they moved to America he left her and when it was time for them to divorce there was a battle over the assets. He wanted everything. She eventually got the bigger two family house and both children and continues to clean houses.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

The Transformation

      All the cousins, ages four through seven , about six of them, are running in and around the house. In the  side door up the stairs through the kitchen then the living room through the hall and back out the front door to run down the stairs of the stoop and turn around toward the other side of the house through the yard then dash across the backyard to see if there  were any figs to pick then through the driveway back to the side door to run through the house again. Running is what children do at that age, going nowhere, in a hurry to get there. Grandma is at the stove cooking food that smells good, Grandpa is sitting in the dining area beside the kitchen table. It is his usual seat by the window. At the table is his glass of water with the glass straw in it. On the windowsill is his pack of Paulombo's (we call them Guinea stinkers, little cigars the size of cigarettes wrapped so tightly in  dark brown tobacco instead of paper they remind us of prunes and smell up the house when lit.

     For lunch Grandpa usually has some wedges of provolone cheese, wedges of Italian bread and a pear or apple cut in quarters on the plate near the glass of water, both are close to the end of the table and easy for Grandpa to reach. His fingers are stiff with paralysis  from the stroke he had and the Parkinson 's disease he lives with. It takes him a long time to lift the food and even long to get the food into his mouth to take a bite. He watches out the window. Speech is difficult for him, his voice is soft, just above a whisper. He knows the names of his grandchildren and they all are among his caregivers. No matter who is running through the house they all are tuned, ready to run to help Grandpa get up from the kitchen chair to go sit in the living room or go to the bathroom. They all at an early age have learned the art of leverage even though they do not know it is physics. Each child knows to put their feet on the toes of Grandpa's shoes grab hand in hand and rock back until there is enough leverage to raise Grandpa from his seat. When they hear Grandpa's voice they stop to listen to find out if Grandpa is speaking to them. And then back to the running.

     At the sidewalk in front of the house two kids stop to take a breather. They look up the street and spot Benny walking down the street with his little black bag, that is small like a doctors bag.
Excited, the two kids in the front start to run to tell everyone Benny's coming.

     Benny is slight of build, in boxing terms he is a featherweight, with thin bones and fine features. All the children run into the dining area and stop, frozen, all eyes. All their energy is now rushing to their eyes to open as wide as possible to see everything. It is a ritual they know, they have seen it before, but they are figures, little statues, they don't even move their feet, they breathe as little as possible. Little watching machines documenting every motion. 

    Benny comes into the kitchen, says hello to Grandma and Grandpa, he puts his bag on the table, opens it and removes his jacket which he puts on.  He moves a chair away from the table and places it in the center of the room. Next Grandpa moves to the chair and sits. Benny then takes a towel, places it around Grandpa's neck, wrapping it over itself, next Benny places the apron around Grandpa making sure all of him is covered except his head. From the leather bag, Benny takes a scissor and comb and gives Grandpa a haircut. The kids watch as the hair falls to the floor. Benny removes the leather strop which he attaches to the chair Grandpa is sitting in. From his pocket Benny removes the razor which he opens from the sheaf that protects it. Methodically Benny begins stroking the razors edge up the strop, he turns his wrist and strokes the other side of the blade down the strop. He continues until he gets the blade just the way he wants it. He puts down the blade and removes a brush and cup from his bag. He adds alittle water to the cup and turns the brush in the cup until the lather foams. Benny brushes Grandpa's face with the foam and some on his neck. Then with the razor he begins to remove the foam and week's whiskers from Grandpa's face. With his fingertips he moves Grandpa's nose so he can use the razor under Grandpa's nose, he holds Grandpa's ear so he can pull the skin to smooth the wrinkles and shave from side of his face down to his chin. All the while the children are silent frozen in their places, with eyes open wide watching as Benny removes the bristles of the beard and the lather and wipes the razor through a towel to clean it and continue shaving Grandpa.

   When Benny moves Grandpa's head back slightly all eyes open wider to see the last of the lather removed. Benny takes a clean towel from his bag and wipes Grandpa's face dry. Benny then takes a small bottle from his bag, sprinkles a little liquid in the palm of his hand, he rubs his hands together then pats them on Grandpa's face. All the children's faces light up with big smiles, the transformation is complete. Benny sweeps  the hair from the floor around Grandpa then removes the apron and cloth from around his neck.

   The children all run to Grandpa and kiss him. The each love the feel of the soft clean smooth shaved skin on Grandpa's face and the smell of his aftershave. Every other day of the week when they kiss Grandpa there are scratchy whiskers in the way. Not today, Saturday when Benny the barber comes to Grandma and Grandpa's house to give Grandpa a haircut and shave.

Saturday, December 4, 2010


         Every cookbook has a recipe for pork roast and they all say add salt, pepper, onion, celery, carrot and potato and liquid. The adventurous say add garlic. That is the basic how to for making a pork roast. The more onion added the sweeter the sauce, the less liquid a burnt pot thus the name pot roast although pot roast refers to a beef roast the same result ensues when less water is used for any meat.

       Cookbooks vary as to the liquid of choice depending upon the pocketbook they are targeting, water, wine, brandy, port, and apple juice. Some cookbooks use cola as the liquid of choice, again targeting a specific demographic.

       All the books say three hundred fifty degree oven.

      No where is it published to use three hundred twenty five degrees to make an exceptionally moist  tender meal. This oversight is worth pondering. There is no reason to cook a roast at three hundred fifty degrees, it leaves the meat dry and tough. Three hundred degrees works too.

     It will take longer for the pork to cook at three hundred twenty five degrees and allowances should be made for the extra length of time.

     The cook and the cook's guests will be pleased with the results and wonder why all cookbooks use three hundred fifty degrees to make the meal. "The proof is in the pudding" and you too will agree a better meal to serve and be served.


   There's this horse I know called Star. She has a rusty complexion with tinges of brown. She stands about fifteen hands tall and always holds her head up high. She spooks easily and is afraid of everything. Her former owners wern't very kind so she needs some gentleness. Star is a Missouri Foxtrotter and dances as her name. She is afraid of the wind because she can't smell her usual five mile aroma so she doesn't know if danger is looming. She can spot kindness and responds by lowering her head and nustling up close. When she drinks water she likes to let it spill over her lower lip, maybe she is rinsing her mouth. With a saddle on she is ready to roar but likes to let you know who the boss is. Even with a bit in her mouth she has her own agenda and makes for an interesting ride.

Pretty soon she will be trained enough for trail rides and that will still be a bit risky. She would have to trust her rider a lot to do what is asked of her. Communicating with a horse is mostly done from the seat. How you sit a saddle and move your legs tell the horse what to do more than pulling on the reins. Being comfortable in the saddle takes some getting used to and overcoming the fear of falling is catamount to staying in the saddle. Looking where you want to go is also important. When you look at the ground the horse usually doesn't understand what you want. There are also special places to touch a horse as well as places not to touch. Horses can't see their mouth so you don't want to touch there. But rubbing between the eyes on the forehead is a favorite for most horses, Star included.

Star is a strong horse with good muscle tone and maybe a winter belly and a very strong neck almost like leather. She likes to roll around in the dirt and usually gets burrs in her hair that take a long time to pull out carefully without pulling out her hair. She wears shoes because she is a trail horse used to travelling the trail with cowboys. Now she is mostly used for lessons and is ridden with an English saddle.

Star doesn't often speak but has lots of friends that she meets in the fields or she says hi to when she is in the arena near one of the fields.

Meeting  and making friends with a horse is a little different than meeting and making friends with a person. Horses don't speak so you have to find another way to communicate and hope you say the right thing.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Being happy

   My goal in life now is to be happy. I have an adequate income to manage my needs so now I am concentrating on being happy.

   When ever I begin a job like housework I think about how to do it and be happy.
The toughest task was the bathroom, but I mastered that chore with Pinesol. I fill the bucket with warm water and Pinesol before I venture into the bathroom. I begin by cleaning the bathtub/shower with a cloth soaked in Pinesol and I keep the bucket of Pinesol somewhere under my nose so I may breathe in the pine scent more strongly. As I begin to scower the tile walls the whole room takes on the aroma of pine and I am in a forest walking under the trees.

   By the time I finish with the bathtub/shower area I am mostly done with the bathroom and zip through the rest of the room with ease. Once the scent of the bathroom is transformed the job is simply getting everything to be touched by the pine soaked water and every bit of soap scum is removed and everything sparkles.

  Transforming the bathroom into a sparkling forest of pine makes me happy and gets the job done too, a two fer! The job gets done, I get the satisfaction of a clean bathroom, and it smells good too. That makes me happy, like getting a bang for the buck, economically efficient in the use of time, mine. Cleaning the kitchen is a whole nother story.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The vendor

     The hot dog stand at the corner of Wall and Broad Streets in New York City is a deluxe brand new shiny cart. The chrome is polished to sparkle and gleam, the glass surrounding the hot dog rolls is crystal clear with no fingerprints.

     The vendor is a man in his twenties maybe from Greece or Croatia or Italy,  I really can't tell.
He too is clean, his face has a clean shave and his clothing is clean, jeans and a short sleeved button down shirt in summer, a cargo coat and hat in winter.

     No one really speaks with him, just the usual hello, hot dog with mustard and sauerkraut or two hot dogs with onions and a soda, maybe a thank you after being served.

    He has mastered the art of removing the bun from the package with a waxed tissue then using a two tined fork he searches the hot water for a dog, stabs it shaking off the excess water then slides it into the bun and dresses it as ordered.

     When someone orders a soda he leans over to reach into the bin with the ice and cans of soda, with his bare hand he reaches around until he finds what the customer has ordered and pulls the can out and hands it to the customer.

     There is a large umbrella that covers much of the cart and some of the vendor. He has no seat to sit on. He stands there from mid morning when he and his cart are dropped off by truck until all his hot dogs are sold or until the truck returns to pick him and his cart up. He does not own the cart, he works the station for someone else.

     What is remarkable about this young man is his hands. They are red  raw and swollen, winter summer spring and fall. They are not the same color as his complexion which is light with fair skin and sandy brown hair. His hands almost are the color of red balloons with no hair and no wrinkles, swollen fingers with the palms the same color and smoothness as the backs of his hands. He stands there and waits until someone comes to buy a hot dog or soda with always the same look on his face. It says nothing, it speaks no whisper of his life or his circumstances, no image of where he lives. The anonymous man who sells hot dogs.