Pulling out

 

It doesn’t matter how you got in. Maybe you were invited. Maybe you invaded. Maybe other suggested you should get in there, but then there you are.

Now that you are in there, what do you do? Whether you were invited or invaded, you are in another’s personal space. It can be a personal satisfaction or a communal arrangement; just being there will cause friction.

What are your plans now you are in there? How far do you go? How long do you stay?

Have others been in there and can relate how it was or is this virgin territory?

Is it working being in there? Are you accomplishing your goals or did you think that far ahead? Why did you get in here in the first place?

When is it time to bug out? Did you achieve what you wanted when you got in there? Is it time that your actions are not getting results so it is time to leave? Is it a panic pull out before it is too late?

You decide.

I don’t need that

 

After working years in advertising trying to convince you to purchase the latest gizmo or consume the latest taste or surround yourself in the latest and greatest that is offered by manufacturers as a ‘must have’ to satisfy your ego and impress your friends, I’ve adjusted my need list.

I still get as many ads as you do with tempting deals on items that can wind up in your garage or yard sale.

I’ve been just as affected by the commercials and the peer pressure as everyone else to adjust my fashion and my hair style and what music to listen to and what television programs to disgust at the water cooler to fit into culture.

Then I would buy those things that would make someone else happy and the piles of ‘stuff’ stacked up to a point of wonder.

Without having family to toss out the trash, I had to go through years of purchases and accumulations to move ‘stuff’ from closets to the landfill. Each item had a history.

So now as being indulged by messages and alerts of wonderful products that everyone needs to have to make their life complete, I pause.

I defiantly fell for the digital desktop computer. I understood the possibilities and complied with the upgrades. The cell phone was the upgrade walkie-talkie and made sense for a guy on a bike.

Now when the BIG SCREEN TV came out, I wondered why would I want to fill a wall with a flat screen that has high definition to show the nose hairs of the Super Bowl quarterback. Do I need that? Even when digital TV came out, I bought the array of conversion boxes and antennas rather than a BIG SCREEN TV.

There are items I grew up with that I needed to purchase for my edification. A refrigerator, a stove, a sink, a toilet were all necessitates. I regret how many versions of these essential items I bought and threw away.

The automobile was probably the most controversial item for a decision of purchase. I did purchase a mobile machine so my wife could drive home instead of waiting for a bus in the middle of the night in a bad part of town. It was an emotional decision but the rational purchase of a product that depreciates as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

So now, at this age, I view purchasing items with a hopeful economic mind. Do I really need that?

Should I get a gutter helmet when I don’t have any gutters? Should I get an auto warranty when I don’t have a car? Should I get the latest pill that will grow my hair or make me thin or give me some sort of sexual drive?

The one I like the best is the walk-in tub.

It sounds as interesting as the Veg-O-Matic or Ginsu knives. For about $8k a plumber can come into your bathroom, rip out your bathtub and install a tube with a door.

The selling idea is ‘an easy step in’ and ‘a chair once inside’. The ads look so enticing, but…

The walk-in tub needs to be empty when you enter. The porcelain seat might be cold as you close the door and lock it to secure leakage then dial in the water flow. As the water heats up and covers your ankles, you get to sit and wait and shiver. Once the water gets to the point of a hot tube you can sit and relax, but…

Water will cool and to add more warm water, the tub needs to be drained with you sitting there. Meanwhile all the filth that is washing off your body is forming a slick film that will coat you and need another washing.

Once the enjoyment of sitting in a cooling tub of slim is over, pull the drain BUT don’t open the door. Just sit there until all the water is down the drain, then you can open the door and wipe off.

Isn’t that refreshing?

My logic is I have a tub. I have a two-step rubber stool, which can double for a seat. I can lift my leg over the 2’ porcelain wall (so far) and pull the plastic curtain closed. I can turn on the water and let it warm up on my feet, then switch it to a shower. I can sit in a warm steamy rainfall, sudsy up and rinsing off without moving. Turn off the water, pull back the curtain, stand up and step over the edge.

I also considered a hot tub and an eternal pool but couldn’t see the constant maintenance. I did dig a 5’ hole in the yard (to use the dirt for raised beds). My wife put a blue tarp in it and filled it with water, complete with a floating canoe. Later a series of pumps and plants and koi gave a water feature to the ever-growing forest. After all the fish died, I had the hole filled with dirt.

I bought as many books as everyone else. I bought as much vinyl as everyone else. I bought as many timely fashions as everyone else under peer pressure to fit in. I bought many bicycles and did a splurge purchases on guitars, but now you’ve got to knock my socks off to get my attention.

I’ve got enough clothing that will keep me warm and covered for many more years. There are plenty of socks and underwear and towels. There is more than enough furniture and lamps and stereos for any one house to use. There are enough vacuums and brooms and mops but they are covered in dust.

The recent purging of books I would no longer read again reminded me of what I need. It also reminds me of what I want.

When I see all the offers of streaming apps for movies I wouldn’t pay to go into a theater to watch, I don’t have to think twice. When I hear the latest recipe for the foodie trend, can I taste it without making it? Would I like it? Should I buy it? Whatever the latest and greatest software innovation, should they be downloaded? Do I need to Tweet? Do I need to Instagram? Do I need to TikTok?

Does aging make me wiser or advertising less appealing?

de·lu·sion·al

 

Who are you?

Who do you ‘think’ you are?

This comes to mind when one looks at legacies (or obituaries). Who we think we are may not agree with how others see us.

I think back to school when cliques were forming. There were the jocks and the nerds and the geeks and each had to play their role. Some thought they were the smartest or the cutest or the most popular as written in the yearbooks.

I think of the folks I knew at the country club whom felt they were above or superior to others because they could buy the best fashions, drive the latest cars and have the best dance partner (who also fell for their delusions).

 

Delusional can be characterized by or holding idiosyncratic beliefs or impressions that are contradicted by reality or rational argument, typically as a symptom of mental disorder.

Delusional based on or having faulty judgment; mistaken.

 

Some can be delusional about politics or sports or religion to become fanatical. Being delusional in beliefs may mistake faulty information for truth or deny opportunities for new ideas.

Some delusions are for self-preservation. You may feel you are healthy when your body is failing. You may feel you are attractive but the truth is in the mirror. You may think you are intelligent when you miss the point.

If you delusions make keeps your self-worth and don’t harm anyone else, have at it. In the end the delusions will blow away in the sand.

 

We all have windmills to chase.

 

Go placidly amid the noise and waste,
And remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet and passive persons, unless you are in need of sleep.
Rotate your tires.
Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself,
And heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys.
Know what to kiss, and when.
Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do.
Wherever possible, put people on hold.
Be comforted that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment,
and despite the changing fortunes of time,
There is always a big future in computer maintenance.

Remember The Pueblo.
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and mutilate.
Know yourself. If you need help, call the FBI.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs,
Especially with those persons closest to you -
That lemon on your left, for instance.
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls
Would scarcely get your feet wet.
Fall not in love therefore. It will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth: birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan.
And let not the sands of time get in your lunch.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time, call 606-4311. Ask for Ken.
Take heart in the bedeepening gloom
That your dog is finally getting enough cheese.
And reflect that whatever fortune may be your lot,
It could only be worse in Milwaukee.

You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.

Therefore, make peace with your god,
Whatever you perceive him to be - hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban renewal,
The world continues to deteriorate.
Give up!

Are We There Yet?

 

The other day I heard someone giving directions and wondered? The explanation to get to a certain destination was to travel down I-95 for about 22 minutes and turn off to the 250 until you see the 141.

Now that make sense to some of you, but to me it is all ‘Greek’. Without a fossil fueled metal mobile machine very little of the transportation infrastructure do I understand without Google Maps.

For example: A few days ago I was attempting to cross-town to the north side to deliver a bag of books. I knew a few routes and headed for one, but there was construction underway. A detour to another path but after a few miles couldn’t find a connection to a side street. After a few hours of looking for a way out, I returned home and asked the person pick up the donation with a mobile machine. Even with all the new bike lanes, sometimes you just can’t get there.

Back in the days when the family would travel south for a week vacation during the summer, the folded paper map was our guide. Even thought the massive mass of concrete highway network hadn’t been built yet, the few two lanes had to make the correct turnoff of travel for more hours than the day on the road we endured.

Dad always drove. If it was the Nash Rambler or the Ford Fairlane or the Ford Country Squire station wagon, he always drove the miles down south and a week later back again. The AM radio was no entertainment because the local signal wasn’t strong enough and would fade away. We entertained ourselves by singing some old church songs or playing Mad Libs. If we needed to relieve ourselves, dad would pull over to the side of the road and we would just do our business, then climb back in the car and continue on. There was no fast food stops so we ate whatever sandwiches mom made for us before the trip. The choices were slice cheese with relish or peanut butter on Nolde white bread. No chips. No cookies. No bottled water. No fruit juice boxes. Whatever we drank came out of a thermos. For hours with the windows rolled down we had to entertain ourselves with what was passing by. When we hit the North Caroline the roads got smoother. There was the share croppers shacks with colored folks rocking on the porch with no electricity, radio, television and a small plot of land behind to work the watch the cars drive by. There were chain gangs in their striped uniforms digging on the side of the road under the watchful eye of a white man with a big gun. There were army convoys with long lines of trucks carry guys in green uniforms and bucket helmets going from one place to another but there was no war over here. On a two-lane highway there was no possibility of passing so like a good patriot you just waited. The few townships we passed through were just a blur. On the necessary occasion, we would pull off the pavement to get a refreshment of gas and maybe a soda and a moon pie.

I was a bouncer. I could sit in the back seat and bounce for hours. (Note: pre-lap restraints) I must have driven everyone else nuts, but I just had to bounce. The only time I’d stop is when I’d hide under the seat when we passed the Indian reservation.

I enjoyed road trips (when I was a co-pilot). Buses were available travel for a few miles but it was cramp, still the price was right for a weekend of fun in college. The train had a certain rhythm to it with more room to stretch out. Small boats were fine but larger boats made me think Titanic. Small airplanes were to close to open air, but even the large planes were off the ground and out of control.

If I want to go anywhere out of my 5-mile radius, I’ve got to choose one of these options because I won’t buy an automobile.

The question of the day is ‘when are we there?’

What is your destination and reason for exploration? Did you find what you were looking for? Was it worth the trip?

Be worried if out of the back of a hearse you hear:

“Are We There Yet?”

Want To Start A Conversation?

 

Walk up to a Black person and say, “My family owned your family”.

 

Elijah Leftwich Sr., son of Thomas Leftwich Jr. and Mary Moxley was born about 1731 in Caroline Co, Va. He died before 1787. 1782 King William County Taxable Land shows Elijah Leftwich 217 acres;1800 Tax List, 0 white males, 5 horses, 5 slaves >16, 0 slaves 12-16;

 

That was seven generations ago.

I don’t know if the slaves were purchased or given, but you were listed as part of my family estate.

 The only family ancestry listings I’ve read only have relative’s names with dates of birth and death, which was married and how many kids they procreated but few reference to slaves.

It seems my family arrive in the late 1600’s to “the colonies”. Don’t know why they left England? Did the King grant them land? Escaping debt? Religious persecution? Adventure in the New World?

Whether they were rewarded the land or ‘colonize’ it by running off whoever was living there is unknown. Trees had to be cut, ground plowed to grow food for everyone was a farmer (Ukrop’s hadn’t been invented yet). Neighbors were far away and unless the family had amassed able-bodied males instead of pregnant women (the other product of colonization) without huge wealth to hire workers, there was no one else to help with the chores.

 Since slavery in England had transitioned to serfdom in the Middle Ages, it is not probable you came with my family from Leftwich Hall in Cheshire?

Finding the ‘colonies’ a forest, everything had to build from scratch. Roads, waterways, homes, churches, taverns and jails all had to be constructed for the good of society and the growth of a country. The New World needed cheap labor.

The Mediterranean countries continued in the ‘human trafficking’ business and offered you a free ride across the pond and guaranteed work. What they didn’t tell you are you don’t get paid for your effort. You were now classified as ‘chattel’ like a cow or a pig or a horse. Though you were the same size as us and had the same bodies as us and could even speak and learn language, we treated you different by the color of your skin.

We didn’t understand the ‘indigenous’ people who we pushed off their lands. They had their own tribe society, language, music, religion and customs but were not compliant into becoming slaves, so we forced them into areas that no one would prefer to live on and call it ‘reservations’ (early public housing).

So you were brought into this area of chaos with no power or influence and under bondage.

My family somehow acquired your family.

The land became profitable with tobacco and cotton which all had to be picked by hand. You were chosen to be the hand as free labor.

How you were named or treated, there is no record.

What happened when the Emancipation Proclamation was issued? Did the Union Army chase you out? Did you walk away? Did you stay without a clue of what else to do? Did my family leave you alone?

According to what I can read, my family moved to Richmond (after the defeat of the war between the states) and then showed up in North Carolina. How they adjusted to former cultural changes or bias is unknown?

Were we mad at losing a ‘free’ workforce? Were we afraid of the change? Were we afraid of you? What propaganda was printed in the newspaper or spoken in the church or agreed to in taverns (the social media)?

When I got here there was a process called ‘Jim Crow’.

You were designated spaces to live (reservations), you were not allowed to drink out of the same water fountain, you were not allowed to sit in the front of the bus, you were not allowed to eat at the Woolworth’s counter (though you were allowed to served from the other side), you were not allowed to attend ‘our’ schools, you were not allowed to clean our streets or join our police.

You were not at our beach, you were not at our country club, you were not at our classroom (that taught the lesson of the ‘Lost Cause’), you were not in our church, you were not in our neighborhood and you were not at our polling stations.

When diversity became mandatory, you were hired in our office. You were a ‘token’ but like the first of the integrationist students, you changed our perceptions under force of the law.

Did you make a position on the board of directors? Were the Confederate general monuments still there? Were you still defined by cleaning the bathrooms, serving the food and taking out the trash?

You were never invited to our parties. We were never invited to yours. Even in groups, we still segregated.

Little mingling didn’t stop mix-race procreation. Perhaps this is the final solution?

How my grandfather would react to ‘Black Lives Matter’ is unsure? How my father, who read the Harry Byrd opinions in the newspaper, would react to the Confederate monuments coming down can only be speculations?

At an age when revelations of truth that were blatantly visible but avoided in polite society discussions of our cities history, wonders how two people grew apart for so long while we were working together?

 

OR

Walk up to me and say, “Your family bought my family”.

It wasn’t our idea to be here.

We were doing pretty well. We had our own tribes, our own dress, our own music, and our own food. We had created our own culture and religion, but that wasn’t acceptable to you.

In your European expansion of ‘colonization’ you gathered us up, put us on boats, shipped us across the ocean and delivered us as a product for purchase.

Don’t know if your family bought my entire family or just a few of us for we were dealt off to the highest bidder.

Once dragged to your land, mostly under bondage to prove servitude, you provided us with a space to build our own shelter. You fed us enough for we had no tools to grow or cook food. You gave us enough hand-me-down clothing until we could sew. You gave us jobs and quotas with no incentive than the whip.

We were in a foreign place with no money or transportation and nowhere to run. We were not compliant; we were enslaved.

You gave us Bibles to convert us to your Protestant belief and we learned how to read. Since we had no schools, the church was our teaching.

How your family treated us, there is no record? We were just a number on the ledger of property.

When it was announced ‘we’ were free, what could we do?

We had no money. We had no land. We had no support. You opened the gate to the barn and let us go free.

No matter where we went or what we tried to do, you restricted us by laws, prejudices and violence. It was hard to escape because we were not the same color as you.

We wanted to eat in your restaurants, attend your theaters, join your dances, and drank from the same water fountains but we were not allowed.

We wanted to share the same books in schools, swim in the same pools, get the same jobs and purchase a house in the same neighborhoods but we were not allowed.

We were allowed to die for the service of ‘our’ country, clean the restrooms, shine the shoes and beat each other for your entertainment.

We are survivors and worked around our restrictions. We created the blues. We created jazz. We danced like no one else and kept our interpretation of religion to hold us together.

Dogs, bombed, beaten with clubs but we continued to press for rights beyond the color of skin. This must have been hard for your family to adjust to, but the generation that wanted senseless wars to stop started to understand.

Maybe it was Motown or James Brown to cross the line? Maybe it was Afros and dashikis? Maybe it was Black Panthers? You read Malcolm X and started to understand.

You now don’t ask ‘who’s’ blood is in the bottle but you probably think it. You will die with your bias prejudges because you were brought up in the time when we were not equals.

Maybe someday the plantation will be remembered like concentration camps? The antebellum southern romance will be gone with the wind.

Until then, we will continue to struggle to be classified under the terms of the United States constitution “All men are created equal” to The equal protection clause in the 14th Amendment means that states must treat ‘all their citizens’ equally.

 

There are many stories untold. If we are civil to each other with respect for a different point of view and honest to listen, we can put racial bias behind us as human beings. If not…

 

Climate Change

 

Have you heard our home is getting hotter? Forest fires. Droughts. Avalanches. Glacier melting?

Has it bothered you? Have you donated a couple of bucks to some organization that pleads mercy? Have you written a letter to your Congress representative? Have you marches down the street with a sign? Did you buy the tee shirt?

Did your electricity bill rise when you turn up your AC? Do you stay inside more than outside? Is your garden wilting? Do you just switch the station when the news talks about it and move onto the Olympics?

What else are you doing to save the world for your grandchildren?

Have you dumped the gas-guzzler for an electric car? Have you captured rainwater? Have you covered your roof with solar panels? Do you wear a cap that says: “Save The Whales” (or polar bears or seals or…)?

What about your kids? Are they changing any lifestyle or just buying another car and growing a gigantic lawn and drowning in craft brewery thinking someone else will fix it?

Maybe our political leaders can write a law that will change our habits like getting a vaccine or gun control or getting off your phone when driving? Maybe we can come up with another song like “We Are The World” or attend a ‘Save The Earth’ festivals with food trucks and solo cups?

I check the weather everyday.  I check the thermometer in the house with all the windows closed. I have a thermometer outside my kitchen window to check before I leave the house. In the summer I wander early to avoid the heat and still come home and have to sit in front of a fan and towel off to cool the core. At night, the ceiling fans are turned on and clothing is optional. The bed has a beach towel on it for in the morning it is soaking wet.

This year (as of yet) hasn’t had the heat wave that the West Coast has endured, but it is just a matter of time.

What about getting air conditioning? Like sitting in the refrigerator you have to open the door to go outside.

The birds and trees and fleas will all have to adapt to a hotter day or die. Will we learn or just become extinct?

Dis-Connection

 

When the plague came, the order was to stay away from each other. Isolation, solitude, quarantine were all terms used to shelter in place. Don’t go to the office. All the entertainment and refreshment venues are shut down. All you have is television and whoever is in your abode.

Yet, it seems, our species desire to press flesh with a mass of others, scream and holler, get blitzed and record it on our websites as fond memories. Don’t forget to buy your merchandise.

We gather in churches, we gather in music festivals, we gather in theatres, we gather in marathons, we gather in sports arenas, we gather at dances, we gather… We just seem to like to be around one another.

Then Pam Demick came around and we were all told to put on a mouth diaper and stay at home, so we did. We obey orders when there are charts of the dead who don’t.

While now it seems somewhat confusing about can we or can we not, the best way to be healthy is to stay away from each other.

Now years ago, before the time of trickle down economics or the Internet, there was a girl. She had a long story and I had time to listen.

Like many couples, we had to find about each other, but unlike other couples we did not procreate. Other couples find solace in groups who also struggle with being in the family way, so we just stayed to ourselves.

Not to say we didn’t attend a few parties or occasions or participate in events, but for the most time we spent together with our emotional handcuffs. After years, others drifted away or died or lost connection and we concentrated on each other more than the rest of the world. Every weekend, every night, and a few holidays were just the two.

Then one day, one left.

Was it time to reconnect with names that are almost forgotten? Having lost addresses and phone numbers, someone invented this wire that went from the computer to the world.

Some connections were renewed and some were soon lost. Some last today and others are lost in space of memories.

So many will never be seen again face-to-face. An email or message is faster than snail mail, but only if the other person replies.

Many years have passed before this isolation mandate. I’ve become used to it. A quick chat with a neighbor or a store clerk about the weather or some such without dwelling into personal drama is just fine. No advice. No opinions. No judgment. Doesn’t matter.

In the end, you are on your own.

You might have a partner or a support group? Maybe your extended family helps out? There are lots of organizations to offer assistance for a price, but when the doctor says, “You’ve got 6-months” then you are on your own.

Other people may be affected by what happens to you, but in time, it happens to you and not them. Generations will not recognize the faces or remember the stories.

At the end of the day, we can protest our values are not being recognized by everyone else or invest in hopes of winning the lottery, not for who is providing the wealth or how the workers are treated, but to prove our esteem by our consumption or we can pleasure ourselves with community spirit or tree hugging and then go home (whether it be a mansion or a tent on the street) and we are alone with ourselves.

By dis-connection, one can find peace in one’s own decisions and actions. There is no one else to blame or give excuses. You are alone.

Should this lesson be taught to everyone rather than go to school, get a good job, have a family, get a house with a white picket fence, buy a fancy car and attend all the parties and you will be a success in the American Way?

Should the lesson say you are going to be hungry? You are going to struggle. You will try and find an answer. You will fail. You will die.

Not being around a crowd of people is a pleasure for me. Avoiding groups is more rewarding than listening (or reading) nonsense. A brief chat is fun to catch up but I have nothing to tell.

Being dis-connected is a survival technique. Some can handle it. Some cannot. Some can be alone with your thoughts. Some need assistance.

If, and when, this pandemic is over and people can gather together safely without worry of breathing on each other with a possible chance of killing them, would I desire to attend reconnect with masses of people?

You are on your own.