Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Rest Homeless

We all would like to believe our parents will settle in to their paid-for home after all the kids had gone and would revel in the peace and quiet and celebrate growing old with each older.
Unfortunately, this does not often happen.
We would sure like to believe gramps and granny would while away their days rocking on the porch drinking lemonade with their old dog Shep and sleeping on duck feather filled pillows. Grandchildren would run in the yard and sit and listen to stories of families and tales of wonder. Children will fluff their pillows as they nap and make sure they get enough to eat. Grandmothers would pass down secret recipes and grandpas would reminisce old war stories. The neighbors will look in on them every now and then and no one minds that they wear the same clothing everyday. They might wave at them but don’t remember their names.
Still the realization that time takes its toil.
The legs start to give out, the knees hurt, and opening a jar becomes difficult. Mobility and cognition fade.
Our grandparents and then our parents and then we decay to a point of inability to care for our daily life. We fall and can’t stand up. We drop things and can’t pick them up. We forget where we put our keys. We forget to close the front door.
An industry of marvelous wonderlands has grown to offer an alternative living at home for old folks. They offer warm comfortable living spaces with easy access to elevators instead of steps. They offer caregivers who will prepare healthy nutrition and push the wheelchairs. Recreation and entertainment are offered and planned weekly shopping trips present a vacation atmosphere. The appearance of hotel suites with all the amenities of home, but it is not home.
This is just a way station until bedridden and then deceased.
The ‘rest’ homes are necessary due to the time restrictions on families and the lost interest of taking care of the elderly. Much like other mentally or physically impaired, we move them out of the way
Not being totally uncaring about our ailing parents, there is a prescription for every ache and pain. Even with all the tubes and pin pokes and monitors, we keep the body going as long as money holds out.
Once the sheet is pulled up another one will be wheeled in. 
The problem is, rest homes are prisons. The freedom to wake up when you want or eat when you want or watch a television show or go outside is all regulated now. On the days when you want to be alone, you are prodded to join into participation because that is what rest homes do.
The participants know their families have released responsibility to someone else. Some corporation with a strange sounding name has promised their loved ones will be care for by marginally skilled under paid staff that have no concern on the well being under their care.
The worst part is being taken out of the familiar. Where is the coat hook? How many steps to the bathroom? Where are the towels? Where is my favorite mug?
Years in one home create those special memories the elderly cling to. Remember when this was the boys room? Remember that wallpaper? Remember the summer that tree was planted?
Photos can share some of the memories but there is nothing like walking into a room and be flooded with all the antics and dramas and those special moments in time that happened in that room while you lived there. 
If you had built the house, those were your memories. If you moved into a previously owned and now vacant house, there were memories in each room that you didn’t know.
So in the big scheme of things, we all just move from shelter-to-shelter creating memories along the way and then they are gone. We will all rest homeless.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

The Log

Puppywood’s Log 7.24.16.
9:38 - Load noise awakes me. Low flying jet. Don’t like low flying jets. Sheets and pillows wet. No bugs.
10:40 - No blood in mouth. Choose music for the day. 81° inside. Hotter outside. Trio of bunnies get blueberry breakfast. Still air.
11:10 – Last small cart. No fresh blueberries. Parking lot packed. Meet a Pretty woman at the freezer. Will they let me sleep here? Credit card worked today.  Note: the tar on the road is boiling.
11:45 – Fence gate is broken. Nail broken. Fix it some other day. Too hot to work. Sit in front of fan. Towel off. Towel off again.
12:00 – Put out watermelon. Forgot seed.
12:45 – Finally cooler. Hydration begins. Radio is on for stories and music.
13:00 – Put out first load of frozen blueberries. Celtic music mixed with bird’s songs. Hotter temps. Refer to social media but no mass shootings yet. Theory: Maybe too hot to shoot?
13:28 – All watermelon gone. All peanuts depleted.
14:50 – Potty duty done. Almost wilted salad covered in pepper and Russian dressing consumed. Second six-pack started. Maybe should turn on a fan since it is 86° in the house. It is radio time for news and political observations.
16:10 – Last of the frozen blueberries today. Quiet around. Smart people are staying inside with air conditioning. Some have 105° air blow. Seems tomorrow will be the same.
16:45 – Getting sleepy. Staying wet. Seems the same tomorrow.
17:00 – Another low fly jet. Scratching beard. Maybe need a trim? Eyes keep closing.
17:40 – On to the next six-pack. Yard is getting quiet. Time to empty the recycle and then cool down again. It is that hot.
18:00 – Two bunnies disappointed there are no more blueberries. Flies are out and getting in the way. The radio presents onto the subject of social psychology after WWII. Still quiet out and appreciated. Poor kids stuck inside.
19:35 – Interesting respect of my hometown selling people to other people. Close eyes and rest on elbow. Still very hot.
20:22 – Darkness starts to arrive. Onto Opera and classical music. Quick attempt to rest or nap but it is 88° in the house.  A fine dinner of mixed beans and buttered bread fill in the heat. The bugs are back but they will go out with the trash.
21:35 – The simplest effort produces sweat. Eliminates any desire to create thought. Eyes won’t stay open. Wet shirt and pants.
22:51 – Fading fast. Heat, even in the dark, is unrelenting. Inspirational hymns and a college friend preaching.
23:30 – Enough for today. I give up. Heat you win. Tomorrow will be the same so I will relent to you for the night and struggle under the blanket of summertime knowing there will be fall not too far away.

A New Religion

How is that praying working for you?
There seems to be a lot of wars and killings over religion. It seems to have gone on for year, decades, centuries, and eons. Much of our history is about religions.
So it would seem that we Homo sapiens need a religion to survive or to continue to evolve.
Religion, as defined, is a cultural system of behaviors and practices, world views, sacred texts, holy places, ethics, and societal organization that relate humanity to what an anthropologist has called “an order of existence”. Different religions may or may not contain various elements, ranging from the “divine”, “sacred things”, “faith”, a “supernatural being or supernatural beings” or “...some sort of ultimacy and transcendence that will provide norms and power for the rest of life.”
Religious practices may include rituals, sermons, commemoration or veneration (of a God or deities), sacrifices, festivals, feasts, trances, initiations, funerary services, matrimonial services, meditation, prayer, music, art, dance, public service, or other aspects of human culture.
Religions have sacred histories and narratives, which may be preserved in sacred scriptures, and symbols and holy places, that aim mostly to give a meaning to life. Religions may contain symbolic stories, which are sometimes said by followers to be true, that have the side purpose of explaining the origin of life, the Universe, and other things.
Traditionally, faith, in addition to reason, has been considered a source of religious beliefs.
There are an estimated 10,000 distinct religions worldwide. About 84% of the world's population is affiliated with one of the five largest religions, namely Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism or forms of folk religion.
With the onset of the modernization of and the scientific revolution in the western world, some aspects of religion have cumulatively been criticized.
Though the religiously unaffiliated, including atheism (the rejection of belief in the existence of deities) and agnosticism (the belief that the truth of certain claims – especially metaphysical and religious claims such as whether God, the divine or the supernatural exist – are unknown and perhaps unknowable), have grown globally, many of the unaffiliated still have various religious beliefs. About 16% of the world's population is religiously unaffiliated.
So it seems so many of us must have a religion.
Even with all the different variations, religion seems to fill a void in our being. Faith explains all that is unexplainable.
Unfortunately it also seems we do not like those whose choice of beliefs differ from us are bad. Difference is bad enough to slaughter them.
Then ‘they’ respond by killing us.
And now every killing or mass murders or explosions that fills our daily news are assumed caused by a religious zealot. A religious zealot from the ‘other’ religion caused all the carnage.
So here is an idea!
Let us form a new religion.
Let’s scrap all that old text and paintings and obvious has been ideas and come up with a new religion.
Shoot, we wrote all the old ones so we can do better this time.
It seems we need a ‘God’ or an omniscience (infinite knowledge), omnipotence (unlimited power), omnipresence (present everywhere), divine simplicity, and as having an eternal and necessary existence. Many theologians also describe God as being Omni benevolent (perfectly good), and all loving excuse for our mental or emotional malfunction.
So however you want to visualize this supreme all-knowing being that is either a super hero or a cloud, there has to be a name.
Maybe instead of a name, we could come up with a letter or a symbol. No, that didn’t work so well for Prince. A letter would have to look good in any cursive writing from any language and not sound offensive because we don’t speak the same.
Now if we pick and choose lots of good things from all the deviations this “new religion” can become wonderful and everyone will want to follow. Don’t kill people is a good point because no one wants to die because that place in the sky might not be there. Don’t steal and rape and mess with your neighbor’s property or wife seems pretty good points.
Some of the stories are nice and inspiring but there is so much that some angry persons put in to create prejudice between us. If we have a single religion how can be disputing each other.
With the global environment, can we all agree to get along with each other? We don’t mind tweeting with people on the other side of the globe. We don’t mind posting photos of our families and our pets to the world. We don’t mind uploading embarrassing videos or making repugnant comments on others political ideals.
So why do people die because they believe they are a Christian or Muslin? Or a Methodist or a Baptist or a Jew?
With only one religion, a global religion, we couldn’t use that as an excuse to kill each other.
So if this ‘new religion’ was accepted like air or water could we get along?
Probably not because you have a big nose and she has red hair and that one is short and who colored you?
Well it is a good idea and maybe someone can make it work.
Now let us move onto the political circus.

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Empty Pockets

Seemed like a usual day of routine waking and then sleeping and dreaming and waking again. A cold shower because those who say said it will be real hot today.
Leftover blueberries for the morning feeding and the usual route to the Tummy Temple while everything seemed very normal. A few folks were out walking early and a few poor souls lined up to put on a new roof.
Grab a small basket with my soiled canvas bag and gather the blueberries and raw peanuts and then walk the store to cool on the air conditioning when an announcement comes over the speakers in the ceiling.
“Our credit card system is not working so you must provide cash or a check. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
I don’t carry cash or a checkbook. I’ve gotten so much into this easy plastic card thing that I don’t know how to respond to this limitation on my regular routine.
I wander the aisles past the pasta and the baking soda wondering if they will announce they have fixed it and I can go on my merry way. The announcement doesn’t come.
Suddenly I remember there is an ATM machine in the store.
There is already a line forming for recovery of cash to purchase grub so I find my place. One by one the frustrated shoppers with their carts full of huge boxes of sugar cereal or rotting meat punch their plastic cards and extract cash to move along.
Now it is my turn.
I have not personally used an ATM for many years and was unfamiliarly with the process on the screen. Sure knew how to shove it in and punch the numbers but then I got into a loop of preferences and couldn’t move on. After a few minutes, I canceled the transaction (I hope) and went in reverse to return all the items in my basket to there appropriate positions and left.
Should I go home and get my checkbook? Should I go to the bank and explain my technical confusion? Should I take another hour while the temperature is rising?
I decided to try the bank.
The bank is next to a Chic-Fil-A and is very popular so there was much traffic. A scooter was parked where I normally lock my bike and some vagabond hanging around so I move further down to lock up to a trashcan.
Instead of going into the bank and acting like some wussy who couldn’t figure out the ATM machine, I manned up and inserted my card.
Just as I remembered the instructions were clear and precise and I got my cash and I got my receipt and I got my card back. What had I missed at the other ATM?
Now with a pocket full of cash I retraced my steps. Blueberries, peanuts, and of course hydration were on the list.
Standing proudly in line with a hand full of cash, the checkout lady says the computer problem has been fixed.
Leaving with all my items and a pocket full of bucks I declare this as a learning lesson on a hot day. Don’t underestimate the inevitable.

Why don’t we party at funeral parlors?

These places have large rooms and pretty good soundproofing and not much going on at night. They have these cool stretch hearses that can load the DJ’s stuff in. There are these big long boxes that would be great bars. Those that are empty could be filled with ice and be really great coolers.
Now while your jaw has already dropped, companies have to make every moment be profitable, so why not?
Remember the folks who are there won’t mind the loud music or rowdy behavior.
If the property owners time it out right, there will be time to get the drunken mob out, clean up, put the chairs back in and start all over again with the maudlin act of bereavement for those who have passed.
If it becomes a Goth party, things could get out-of-hand, but while the family is at home mourning the deceased, think about the party they are going out with.
After that is just a hole in the ground with a party for the worms.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

I’m Not Putting You In My Movie

Are you worth it? What are you worth? Did you accomplish something during your time taking up space on this planet or did you just fill in a gap left by another with another one filling in when you are gone?
Did you fulfill your parent’s dreams? Were you the maternal satisfaction of your mother’s needs or just a mistaken night of passion on your father’s part? Did you get good grades and have perfect attendance scores in school? Did you wear goofy clothing and get bad haircuts due to outdated taste beyond your control? Did you perform stupid acts of silliness to entertain the elders? Did you eat everything that was placed upon your dinner plate? Did you get a letter for your sweater by playing basketball or cheer for the team? Did you listen at the bedroom door while you mom and dad were making your baby brother or go through their underwear drawer? (Ewww factor) Did you date a person your parent’s hooked you up with and were miserable? Did you sneak out at night and sneak back in without getting caught?
So then the old folk kick you out of the house and you are on your own. How did you do? Did the formal education you were not paying attention to sound good on your employment application? How about your grade point average? Where any of your references other than family? Did you smarten up your look to become more appropriate to the potential employer? Did you hush your thoughts to agree with political speak? Did you earn your pay?
Did you follow your dream career or settle on a job for pay? Did you give into the American dream and purchase whatever the advertising stream suggested? Did you fall into the acceptable modes of your workmates and your neighbors and lose your original values? Did you teach your children a proper path of exploration or fill them with your prejudices and bigotries?
So if you cast for my movie, could you portray beyond your personal limitations? Could you become a character that has emotional attraction or will your physiological disabilities overwhelm the audience?

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Scared of Children

As a kid I watched hundreds of movies. Most were black and white and many were sci-fi or horror movies. Some had profound affects on my view of the world.
Earlier, in 1956 there was a sci-fi movie called “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”. Its plot was in the nearby town of Santa Mira, Dr. Miles Bennell sees a number of patients apparently suffering from Capgras delusion – the belief that their relatives have somehow been replaced with identical-looking impostors. Returning from a trip, Miles meets his former girlfriend, Becky Driscoll, whom has herself recently come back to town after a recent divorce. Becky’s cousin Wilma has the same fear about her Uncle Ira, with whom she lives. Psychiatrist Dr. Dan Kauffman assures Bennell that these cases are merely an “epidemic of mass hysteria”. The alleged dopplegängers are able to answer detailed questions about their victim’s lives.
That same evening, Bennell’s friend, Jack Belicec, finds a body with his exact physical features, though it appears not fully developed; later, another body is found in Becky’s basement that is her exact duplicate. When Bennell calls Kauffman to the scene, the bodies have mysteriously disappeared, and Kauffman informs Bennell that he is falling for the same hysteria. The following night, Bennell, Becky, Jack, and Jack’s wife Teddy again finds duplicates of them, emerging from giant seed pods in Dr. Bennell's greenhouse. They conclude that the townspeople are being replaced while asleep with exact physical copies. Miles tries to make a long distance call to federal authorities for help, but the phone operator claims that all long-distance lines are busy; Jack and Teddy drive off to seek help in the next town. Bennell and Becky discover that by now all of the town's inhabitants have been replaced and are devoid of humanity; they flee to Bennell's office to hide for the night.
The next morning they see truckloads of the giant pods heading to neighboring towns to be planted and used to replace their populations. Kauffman and Jack, both of whom are “pod people” by now, arrive at Bennell's office and reveal that an extraterrestrial life form is responsible for the invasion. After their takeover, they explain, life loses its frustrating complexity, because all emotions and sense of individuality vanish. Bennell and Becky manage to escape, but are soon pursued by a crowd of “pod people”. Exhausted, they manage to hide in an abandoned mine outside town. Bennell leaves a little later, coming upon a large greenhouse farm, where he discovers giant seedpods being grown by the hundreds. When Bennell kisses Becky after his return, he realizes, to his horror, that Becky fell asleep and is now one of them. As Bennell runs away, Becky sounds the alarm to any nearby “pod people.” Bennell runs and runs and eventually finds himself on a crowded state highway. After seeing a transport truck bound for San Francisco and Los Angeles filled with the pods, he frantically screams at the passing motorists, “They’re here already! You’re next! You’re next!”
Dr. Hill and the on-duty doctor dismiss Bennell’s account until a truck driver is wheeled into the emergency room after being badly injured in an accident. He was found in his wrecked truck buried under a load of giant seedpods. Realizing that Bennell’s story is true, Dr. Hill calls for all roads to be barricaded, and alerts the FBI.
Being an urban kid never seeing any farmer’s produce, going to a rural area and seeing a truck loaded with watermelons scared the bijous out of me.
This was also the time when adults and their authority were making an impression on me. Between school and church and scouts and camp, there were these strange adults who pressured me to do their bidding. They were not my parents or even extended family but strangers giving me instructions and punishing me for not obeying their commands.
Maybe these ‘adults’ were from another planet?
In 1960 I saw “Village of the Damned” and it affected me.
The plot of the movie is ten months after Midwich, California was struck by a mysterious event during which everyone in the village fell unconscious at once, 10 local women give birth on the same day. As the unsettlingly calm and unemotional children grow at an abnormally fast rate, it becomes clear that they can read adults’ minds and force adults to do their will.
Unlike the vampires or monsters or giant lizards breathing fire, these were kids. Kids my age. These were kids who looked like my schoolmates.
This was also a time when peer pressure was taking over the teen years. Kids were finding their identity and molding their interaction skills with strangers. Kids were forming social groups. Some kids were shy and other kids were assertive and most kids just bounced around like pinball’s trying to make new friends and form associations.
So walking out of the darkened theater I look at my friends squinting their eyes in the sunlight and wondered?
These films can be seen as a paranoid warning against the tyranny of McCarthyism and shown along with the propaganda films of how we won WWII and how the U.S.A. was the greatest, most productive nation on the earth influenced the young minds.
So the adults in our surroundings may also be clones or robots especially if you lived in a dysfunctional family of the 50s. Along with the threat of destruction at any time, this was the new reality.
As I see the little ones on social media and being wheeled around the neighborhood listening to their screams and unintelligible ramblings and unlimited energy I wonder? What will they grow up to be? Will they become doctors, lawyers, scientist, preachers, social outcast, welfare recipients, and murderers, alcoholics who may reproduce another generation of unknowns?
These are just little people, not midgets or dwarfs, but little uninformed people exploring life. With all their frantic activity, screaming and constant need for attention, they will stop and become fascinated with the smallest item. There entire focus is on a minuscule thing and they become quietly fascinated.
Or are they just fooling us?

Wednesday, July 13, 2016


Let me preface. I am not a cat person.
With that said, I have lived most of my life with cats.
I did have some ‘pets’ when I was growing up. There was a blue parakeet in the dining room that scratched all kinds of stuff onto the floor and pecked at a little mirror. Then the cage went away. There was a big brown boxer that I could have ridden. We didn’t have a fenced in yard so he just wandered as he pleases. People didn’t pick up doggie poop back then. He would scare the postman with his drooling face, but as I remember, was a sweetheart and would let me roll and tumble with him. He would sit down in the middle of the intersection on two busy roads. My dad would pick ticks off of him and drop them in a cup of gasoline. I don’t remember him in the house but we had an open back porch. I don’t remember how long we had him but one day he disappeared. I do remember my father having to drive a distance to pick him up from his wanderings. Later he left again and never came back. I got a turtle from one of those drug store pet shops. Got a little plastic tray with a plastic palm tree and the proper food to feed my little reptile. Little did I know about water and sun and soon my little turtle became covered in algae and died. I think there was even a burial. Then I got a hamster from a friend. It came with a wire cage and a wheel and it was pregnant. The next day she had her babies and then ate them. Then she died.
I asked my parents for a dog but didn’t have a real good history of pets, so I got a stuffed dog for Christmas. It didn’t need to have a walk or a bowl of water or some biscuits and it didn’t come running when I came home.
So what about ‘cats’?
As my parents were trying to get me out of the house, they found a long ago friend to become roommates at the local college. Everyone agreed to a third floor row house, so I gathered up my stuff and moved out of the house. I didn’t move in the first night but the next day I wandered into my new home to find a cat.
A Siamese cat welcomed to my new home. A cross-eyed Siamese cat was my new roommate. A Siamese cat in heat had already declared my empty bed hers.
I had little experience with cats before but now this horny and very loud cat was my unintended pet. I didn’t feed or clean up after this cunning beast but she was always around and I had to deal with it.
Even when we all moved down the street for the summer, I felt sorry for this beast entrapped on another hot boring third floor. My roommate was getting married so we split up and I moved back home and didn’t have a cat in my life for the next two years.
Then I met this girl. I know that is how it happens. She moved out of a dormitory to live in an apartment with friends so there were no curfews. Unfortunately they also got cats.
Now the little feline furies seem good enough but they come with friends. Fleas decided to abound in the apartment and welcomed everyone who entered. Between the fake attempt of stinky sprays and the constant attacked on the legs, it was not a pleasant place to stay.
So I decide to marry one of the girls and move into another two room apartment and sure enough the cat comes along.
Now let me stop and admit none of these cats were bad cats but they were just cats. They were cats doing cats stuff. They were cats being cats in my house.
So I buy a house and the cat comes along. Lots of room and windows and laced curtains to claw on and a litter box in the kitchen. Yum.
When we divorced, she got the cat. For a brief time I was cat free again, until a friend asked me to take her cat while she moved. All the ‘cat stuff’ came back.
So I meet this other girl and after some trying times decide to offer her (my bad) a cat.
Of course they all start out as cute kittens. Then there are the toys and the food and the litter and the blankets and the…..well the list goes on and on. Most important there are the vet bills.
So one cat turned into another cat and a rabbit and a bunch of fish tanks and some more cats and then some more cats and a couple more cats and some ferrets and a squirrel in the bathroom and then a dog. Animal house has nothing on me.
With that said, I know cats.
Those little purring cuties require attention and demand it. No matter how many toys scatter the floor, they always want more. Occasionally they will sleep on your lap but you are just warm. They run to you when you open food but for the most part you are ignored.
So do I miss the cats?

Saturday, July 9, 2016

Sometimes I just don’t get it?

So as a somewhat educated and fairly read person of this world with some experience of dealing with people through a for-profit service industry manipulating their psychosis and convincing them to part with their profits in an overpriced somewhat useful manner that was available at the time when print ruled the world.
Even to be of the age of observing cultural shifts through the years, I awake to amazing visions and news of our current society and wonder why.
Now there is ultimate research than can immediately be examined and data compared to what is presented from established news agencies as truth yet there is a flavor of prejudice in the talking heads.
“….At least….dead….” the reports says. Do they not know how to make a body count? Are they so busy trying to put a spin on the news that they can’t do the math? Are the weapons used so destructive now that the parts have to be reassembled to number the dead?
And when does friendly celebrity smiling faces that also present the weather and traffic reports present these daily reports of death and carnage and anger. Understanding the new media has to struggle to attention they start to give messages of regret and offer condolences to the families of the departed. Along with offering videos from viewers to announcing what dogs and cats are available from the local shelters, when did the news producers become churches?
So old anger festers and revives what used to be not spoken about. People seem to feel it is right to carry a weapon to the coffee shop and I wonder why? We as a society seemed to accept the military and the police to carry weapons but the common neighbor? Are we all to strap on like the ole Wild West and have shot outs in the street? Seems like it since the nightly news reports on the numbers shot the day before.
So we turn to the political race only to be insulted by insults and accusations from persons never highly respected but it seems to be the best choice this nation can come up with and the general public eats it up like some reality show. For some reason beyond my comprehension there are still reports of what Sarah Palin says? What about what Kim Kardashian thinks?
Shift to entertainment and violent movies reign with nudity and loud music trying to sell more stale popcorn, but no one needs to go to the theatre anymore for there is the cell phone. Even with the huge home entertainment screens and the endless variety of bad programming, it seems we prefer to be constantly connected to watch a 2” x 2” screen while walking, talking, eating, sleeping, driving; as if the next text or tweet or message or….will be the most important life changing event?
There is so much I just don’t understand.
Why would people run with wild bulls to be gorged or trampled only to sacrifice them later before cheering crowds? Why would people of one religion have to impose their will on another religion to the point of starting a war? Why is half of our population treated so badly because of their gender? Why are animals kept in cages when it is their world too?
The list goes on and on and never stops amazing me with how incredibly insensitive our supposed superior race have clogged up our waters and cluttered our heavens with little concern for each other?
Soon I will be gone and another generation can apply their take on this thing called life….unless a meteor comes crashing into this blue marble and ends it for all.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Sign Here…


Suppose the application looked more like this?

1.    Been Married
2.    Been divorced
3.    Been remarried
4.    Been widowed
5.    Fell in love
6.    Gone on a blind date
7.    Danced till the music stopped
8.    Touched the opposite sex
9.    Touched the same sex
10.Skipped school
11.Failed a grade
12.Watched someone give birth
13.Watched someone die
14.Been to Canada
15.Ridden in an ambulance
16.Been to Hawaii
17.Been to Europe
18.Been to Las Vegas
19.Been to Washington D.C
20.Been to Nashville
21.Visited Florida
22.Visited Mexico
23.Seen the Grand Canyon in person
24.Flown in a helicopter
25.Been on a cruise
26.Served on a jury
27.Been in a movie
28.Danced in the rain
29.Been to Los Angeles
30.Been to New York City
31.Played in a band
32.Sang karaoke
33.Laughed so much you cried
34.Laughed so hard you pee’d
35.Caught a snowflake on your tongue
36.Had children
37.Had a pet(s)
38.Been sledding on big hill
39.Been downhill skiing
40.Been water skiing
41.Shot the pier surfing
42.Rode on a motorcycle
43.Tried drugs
44.Became addicted
45.Had withdrawal
46.Gotten a speeding ticket
47.Wrecked a car
48.Fired a gun
49.Shot a bow and arrow
50.Been shot
51.Taken care of a sick patient
52.Been taken care of
53.Joined a church
54.Joined an army
55.Wore a tuxedo
56.Brush your teeth
57.Had a bad hair day
58.Popped a pimple
59.Wore dirty underwear
60.Woke up in the afternoon
61.Stole something
62.Passed out
63.Destroyed property
64.Been robbed
65.Know your shirt size
66.Wear comfortable shoes
68.Been fired
69.Been bullied
70.Had a fist fight
71.Walked in a parade
72.Rooted for a team
73.Forgotten where the keys are
75.Couldn’t pay the bill
76.Picked up the tab
77.Changed your sex
78.Crashed your computer
80.Had a brother or a sister
81.Was a single parent
83.Watched porn
84.Filmed porn
88.Had a bad haircut
89.Got a raise
90.Got a pay cut
91.Made a loan
92.Made a friend
93.Fed a wild animal
94.Swam in the ocean
95.Jumped out of an airplane
97.Got lost
98.Attended a funeral
99.Rode a bike
100.               Sign here_________________

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Explosions In The Night

Last night rocking on the veranda listening to the fireworks, I thought what it must have sounded like 150 years earlier.
To the east there were blast after blast after blast of explosions. I could not see the fireworks but could hear the sound as it echoed through the calm neighborhood. Then to the north there was another series of loud explosions. To the west another explosion and then another filled the air. In the breezy night I could smell the smoke.
There were no motions of other neighbors around the hood as this war was going on around us.
Everything was far away and had no impact on my street or disturbs our self-being of safety through all these disturbing sounds. Nothing here was any different.
Then there was a pop. After that was another and another and a whistling sound and another pop that could be rifle fire or pistol shots. Then an explosion that sounded one block away drew this war closer.
Meanwhile the afar explosions continued to grow in intensity.
Back in the civil war, many did not live on the battleground. It was a distant sound of explosions without even hearing the moans and cries of those who were fighting and dying. Their neighborhoods were not destroyed and the next day life could go on as it did before.
The newspaper would not report in a vague description on what was heard until a week later. Word of mouth was the news media. Unless soldiers marched down the street with wounded there were no videos or text messages describing what was heard the night before.
Unless one would wander down to where the sound had come from to look at the destruction and carnage, one could only imagine what all that sound was about and why it had stopped. Word of mouth would translate what they had seen and groups of worshippers would consume the interpretations of the politic and religious opinions.
Personally I hope I never have to experience what this town went through so many years ago and know others who are today must try and survive and get away and become immigrants in another’s land.