Evolution vs. Transition

 

I read that evolution was how we crawled out of the water in Africa, learned to stand up and walk and try to stay alive. We adapted on this spinning marble in space to find food, drink and shelter while procreating the next generation.

Our recent evolution could be called our culture. We have no decision to this long-term transformation of height, eye color, hair and weight, yet we evolve to form conformity with similar looking species.

Evolution is the change in the heritable characteristics of biological populations over successive generations. It occurs when evolutionary processes such as natural selection and genetic drift act on genetic variation, resulting in certain characteristics becoming more or less common within a population over successive generations. The process of evolution has given rise to biodiversity at every level of biological organization. Other terms for evolution are Heredity, Mutation, Recombination, Epigenetic, Natural selection, Adaption and Extinction.

 

A transition is a change from one thing to the next, either in action or state of being - as in a job transition or as in the much more dramatic example of a caterpillar making a transition into a butterfly. Other terms for transition are Conversion or Transformation.

The meaning of transition is synonymous with change, move, shift, leap, progression or development. Its definition as a noun is the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another.

Transitioning can be a long and ongoing process, or it can happen over a short period of time. You might try out different things as you learn what’s best for you. The transition process is about becoming more fully you — in body, mind, and relationships. So, people sometimes call transitioning “congruence.”

I’ve been (so far) through the transition of life. The shell I inhabit has stretched and grown without my control.

Yet, much of my transition has been my decision. Choosing clothing, attending classes to find gainful employment, learning to dance, finding a suitable mate and trying to pay the bills without getting into trouble with the authorities. Some of my transitions have not been the best. Other transitions were made through outside influences and events. I’ve transitioned from child to teen to young adult to middle age and now onto senior. I’ve transitioned from student to artist to administrator. I’ve transitioned from single to married to widow. I’ve transitioned from employed to retired.

None of these transitions affected anyone else in my family or ancestry. My body has transformed through the evolution of my species but I’ve not transitioned my gender.

I also have not gotten a tattoo. 

You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone

 

Last year, I started off with too much water from a leaking meter.

This year, I started off not having any water.

It seems we had a snowfall and the water filtration system had a problem and the entire city had water shut off.

I’ve had water shut off before. Hurricanes, late payments and even a broken heater tank caused the tap to go dry. Most had been a day or two until water came out of the tap again, so it has never been a destabilizing situation. I could find a public washroom to clean and flush. I could adjust my hydration from the tap to the can. I could go to the local barista for a steaming cup of Joe.

In this case, businesses were closing due to the lack of water. Shelves were empty of the omnipresent bottle water. No one in the city was watering their lawn, washing their cars or taking a bath.

Luckily there was snow on the ground to manually make the toilet function. There were enough different liquid variations to keep hydrated. There was no cooking or bathing, but there are privileges to living alone.

The city officials tried to keep the public positive by daily reports of what guys in jumpsuits and wrenches were doing to get the water running, but there was no time line.

By the end of the week, pumps had been replaced, filters were checked and the sputter through the faucet announced the water was back.

When the daily hours of boredom and redundancy goes on and on, we forget the essence of existence we take for granted. Flip a switch and light appears. Put in a key and the door opens. Turn the knob and water comes out.

The pipes in my neighborhood were installed at the end of WWII. The pipes further downtown were installed after the civil war. The city has sent out a notice checking for lead replacement in pipes but there is no deadline or cost established.

Just like the monotony of any relationship, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Superman

 

This morning on NPR’s “This American Life” (highly recommended) was a strange story about a guy who dressed up as Superman and it made me recall a time when…

I was not an avid graphic novel reader. I didn’t even follow the daily comics in the newspaper. I had no fantasy heroes, other than the cowboys on television.

There was a television show called ‘Superman’ but I never connected it with the comic book. I never knew the background story until much later. It stared some guy who was the brother of an actor in the Claymation Greek history movies, but he didn’t have a beard.

Now this was in the days of black and white television and special effects were basic. This Superman could break through papier-mâché walls and bend rubber bars. When the bad guys shot at him with their cap guns, the sound of bullets bouncing off his chest sounded fake and he ducked if anyone threw anything at him. When he wasn’t Superman, he dressed just like every other guy and had a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on as a hidden identify. He wore his tights under his suit and would change into a super hero in a phone booth. He would jump out a window to fly and to land would just jump back in. To fly, he’d lay on a stool with a fan blowing him in the face, then the special effects guys would mask out the stool and show a stock film of clouds in the background.

I wasn’t really a fan, but somewhere along the way I got a t-shirt with the big ‘S’ on it (as you can see). About this age I also had a Davey Crockett outfit with a racoon hat and a cowboy outfit mixed from Zorro, Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel and the Gray Ghost.

It wasn’t until the early 60’s before advertisers caught on by wearing a t-shirt with an image on it was a walking billboard so today it is hard to find a piece of clothing that does not have a message or manufacturers label on it.

This wasn’t immediately I related the radio show and ‘Superman’ to. Instead, there was a valentine card years later.

A little backstory.

Valentines was always about cards. I was always drawing and cutting up construction paper and gluing original cards to give to everyone from classmates to cousins. The envelope usually had a piece of hard candy in it. This was the time when Christmas cards were mailed at the post office and displayed around the tree.

Then, as the age approached, the opposite gender became attractive and simple hand drawn cards were not as impressive as the ones at Hallmark. The messages were written by professional copywriters for at that age we didn’t have words for the hormones raging in us.

The habit grew old until I got re-married. This wife was big on romance so Valentine’s Day was as big as Christmas and wedding anniversary. The Hallmark shop at the mall was a regular spot to sneak in a card to hide under a pillow or just make a dull day special (like giving a rose).

Well, as the story goes, I got in contact with a girl I’d intimately known ages ago. A flood of memories filtered by time. My wife had become routine after a couple of decades and she knew nothing of this electronic communication with a stranger. I wasn’t trying to make a dirty secret, but she wouldn’t understand or approve of another flirting with me.

The girl came to town and we had a lunch or two. She told me how I broken her teenage heart (a story I seemed to have heard many times before) and once her mission was complete, she left.

I was smitten. I knew nothing about this person after so many years, but I was drawn into intrigue from a brief moment in time and a fantasy dream.

I sent gifts and flowers and tried to get her attention, but she wasn’t interested. I was on a quest.

Valentine’s Day was coming around, so my trip to Hallmark brought back two cards. I hid them both, but…

On the day of hearts, I gave my wife her card. Its message was I was her ‘Superman’. It wasn’t the most romantic message. Then she asked about the ‘other’ card that had some flirty mushy lovey-dovey message in it.

“Was I having an affair?” she asked.

Busted!

Through the years she made an effort to rid my life of memories of my first wife to the point where I had to lock up my previous wedding album. Any image of me and some other women were either ripped in half or thrown away.

My excuse (or alibi) was pretty much true, but I continued to be plagued by teenage hormones of puppy love and I knew it. I continued the secret rendezvous messaging, with fewer and fewer responses.

Then, out of the blue, my wife said “I was her Superman”.

When we first met, I heard tales to make any all-American lad want to protect her from this fate. She quit her job, left her ‘boyfriend’ and moved into my house and thus the die was cast.

So when I heard the radio show this morning, I did not think of walking around in tights with a cape, but remembered “I was her Superman”.

Before The Snow Comes

 

Woke up yesterday to the crow caws. The three amigos (Sheryl, Russel and Counting) are usually quiet. They are the funeral directors of the neighborhood. They come around now and then for some water and say ‘Hello’ but are too big for the yard. They usually don’t fuss, unless it is Al (my old owl friend) has come back around. My usual feather alarm are the J’s who make a fuss if Mr. Hawk is around. I never did see them but whatever it was stopped shortly. Whoever it was left me some big feathers. Did you know you cannot buy eagle feathers? You can buy goose feathers, but only the native Americans can collect the nations bird feathers for their headdress.

Went outside to the studio. No plans to ride today, but need to feed the yard and enjoy the sunshine. My bike buddy was inside staying warm from the wind. He’s got his own entrance and is always welcomed. Then I noticed the yard was full of smoke. The breeze was blowing and I figured the neighbor was stoking up the fireplace, but the smoke kept coming. I walked outside and looked around to make sure it was coming from my house. I checked all the smokestacks and didn’t see any smoke? I think the neighbor was burning spy secrets again but it is very dry and don’t need a spark to lite the yard. It didn’t get any warmer, but the smoke stopped.

Today the governor is calling for a ‘commonwealth of emergency’ and schools are closing before the first flake. The sun is shining, so I made a slow ride to the Tummy Temple to get a few items and enjoy the panic.

Stopped to pet the girls behind me and find out the electric company is surveying the area to run underground wires.

The Tummy Temple parking lot was as full as I expected, but found my spot without too much delay. What was surprising was everyone seemed friendly. With all the carts full of snow preparation for staying inside and gorging, everyone was pleasant and patient and almost courteous. I found what I was looking for without too many detours and even the check-out was pleasant. I commented to the manager that they were busy and someone must have said the ‘S-word’. She smiled and agreed. I’m sure in her mind she was thinking ‘cha-ching’.

Took a little longer to get out of the parade of shoppers, but still no signs of fighting over empty spots or honking horns. Back on the road, the additional layer was keeping me warm and there was little traffic. It must all be back in the parking lot.

Now the plan is to sit back with a warm cup of coffee and watch the weather postings for a week. I may stir outside, but don’t need to test the icy streets. Still haven’t made my New Year’s dinner of ham steak, black eyed peas, okra and stewed tomatoes soaked up by Virginia cornbread. Got a lot of wire to run and cables to connect.

Wonder if they will pick up the trash and recycling tomorrow?

Shake It Up Baby

 

New year and time for new resolutions. Scratch off the date from last year and add 2025? The routine has been constant for several years with little ‘to-do’ to be ‘to-done’. How will a quarter of the 21^st century be any different?

Evaluating my expenses and looking back on last year (getting ready for taxes) I conclude I’m an old slug. It is not for lack of money or time and the ‘to-do’ list isn’t that hard. ‘Vacuum’, ‘Clean the sink’, ‘Change a light bulb’… done of which requires special training or technical prowess reserved for the young. I have the tools that what for a turn on but I don’t have the gumption to tackle the easiest of chores.

Instead, I’ve got into a daily routine of riding in good weather to the Tummy Temple, then using a cart as a walker and collecting the daily meal (for me and the yard critters) plus 2- 6-packs of hydrations, then returning to get lost in social media and music until dark. When all the hydration is empty and placed in recycling and darkness comes, wander back into the big house to list my financial spending of the day, turn on the NPR channel and crawl under the covers.

Unless motivation by something that is broken (like the microwave that is replaced the next day after being delivered to the front door) every day is rinse and repeat. Life has become boring.

So, my 2025 resolution is the ‘shake it up baby’. Break the routine. Do something different and get that ‘to-do’ list done.

I’m not crazy to change everything overnight. I still go to the Tummy Temple, but do not go down the alcohol aisle. I don’t need it or get tipsy drinking it and it has gotten too expensive, so I can shift to tea or ginger ale. It will probably be better for me anyway, but it is only day 3 and I haven’t had any withdrawal.

Yesterday I did a bit of gardening and came away huffing and puffing as if I had done some major lifting. My still rational mind tells me that is not good and I’ve been sitting on my butt too long. Time to move these old bones around.

With that said, the beginning of a new year is the reflection of the year past. The holiday season has plenty of memories and pictures to suck me into a melancholy mood, but now snow is coming and it will be cold enough to say in the hot house. Tomorrow and next week I will not go to the Tummy Temple.

The other considerations for change from last year are:

Culture

I’ve tended to observe rather than participate in cultural events (except voting, I did that) and am not interested in where I perceive our species are going. I’ll scan the headlines and get a gist of what is popular and trending but unless it involves old folks will probably avoid it. It was easy to turn off the television, perhaps it is time to leave social media?

Food

Yesterday I ate two hamburger patties and bloated as if I’d devoured a 6-course meal. I’ve tasted most delicacies and cuisine and little interest me to culinary experiments in the kitchen.  A cup of soup or a breakfast biscuit does me for the day. Perhaps when I start moving more, I’ll require additional portions?

Community

Being a hermit seems to fit my need for socializing. I do notice when I get around others for conversation, I ramble on, for I have plenty of stories and no one to tell them to. Unfortunately, there are many I used to have interesting discussions with, but they are gone. Many of the banter I hear today are complaints about health, society or politics.

Shopping

Every holiday season I see all the advertising and marketing prompts for additional spending that I used to have a career doing and can easily avoid the latest craze or gadget that will be put in a drawer or thrown away. I do not miss going into a brick-and-mortar and coming out with bags of stuff that years later became clutter to donate to charity and have no interest in going to ‘the mall’ to waste time and go into debt helping the GDP.

Home

At this time in life, I am lucky to be where I am and with my surroundings and invisible neighbors. Without some catastrophe disaster, I should be about to live out my money and maintain my abode in semi-comfort.

Travel

I think I’ve been everywhere I wanted and some places I would not want to return. Even the voyages through the neighbor have shrunk to minimal milage. Besides I have friends who take selfies in front of some iconic ancient relic (or is that green screen?) and can reveal in the disasters of cruises or hotels.

Entertainment

Without television or movies, whatever example of entertainment I can glimpse on social media in short video clips. I do try to listen to current tunes but nothing catches my fancy. The ‘must hear’ reviews have little to offer and perhaps the music industry has gotten overwhelmed with digital downloads instead of vinyl records. The extravagances festivals or concerts do not entice me to spend enormous amounts of green to press into a mass of screaming strangers but that is what performers must present to get attention. Luckily, I have plenty of old favorites to sing along with and have plenty of toys to make my own noise.

Creativity

Part of this ‘new year’ resolution is to get back to imagination and putting ink on paper. Inspiration has avoided me so it is time to get back to sketching and doing something graphic beside telling tales on a blog. For my own gratification and curiosity perhaps take up the paint on canvas for I have the tools and a giant easel upstairs.

History

I looked back to last year to figure what entertained me. Not watching TV (which includes sports, soap operas, movies and reality shows – except for political debates) made me wonder how did I spend my time doing nothing.

I knew I spent too much time scrolling social media looking for something to attract my attention but only finding disasters, body counts and silliness. I used YouTube for my visual distraction.

There was some girl who had a Podcast of reviewing vinyl albums. She was cute and the show was short and her take on albums gathering dust in the other room was refreshing. I checked some videos on guitar manufacturing and techniques, but I searched for history.

Started out with ancient English battles and rulers as research for my Memoria, then moved into American Revolution, then Civil War, then WW1, WW2, Korea, Vietnam, Gulf War and… there is always another war. Some were recreations, some were historians’ descriptions and some were propaganda delivered to the public on newsreels to keep them paying taxes for bombs and with the country’s patriot spirit.

Then I delved into what it takes to be a soldier.

I have not had the experience of being in the military, so I had to hear the recollections and tales of the survivors.

I was given a Selective Service card with the possibility of being called up to go fight overseas in a jungle, but got a deferment by staying in school then getting a high number in the lottery. Didn’t even have to stand in line with a bunch of other boys in their underwear for a physical.

I understand those who signed up after Pearl Harbor or 9/11 out of wanting to go fight the ‘enemy’. I understood those who signed up because they had no other skills or talents and got guaranteed employment. I understood how the early armies were formed by either being donated by their feudal lords. I understood how local lads joined together to protect their land and women like gang members.

What I still don’t understand is how and why all these guys would walk into the line of fire in hopes to overtake the other guys in different uniforms?

It is interesting that of all the jobs on earth, the armies have a different procedure for training. Unlike any other job, where you go to an office or factory and work for a certain amount of time, then go home, the military has bases.

On a given time and place, the lads were lined up and place on buses and shipped into a detention center surrounded by wire. Unlike the cadet corps, they didn’t get to leave.

Then this ragtag mob started being degraded to lose their individually and separate themselves from society. Hair was cut, matching clothing was assigned, bunks in barracks became home and a guy who would yell at you started training everyone to act like a team. Everyone woke up together, ate together, walked in unison together, go back to bed together and rinse and repeat. Anyone who didn’t like taking orders were given the job of peeling potatoes or mopping the latrines until they fell in line with the others. After signing their contract with the military service had no options except the brig. To keep the units coherent, they would dress up and walk down the street with brass bands playing to be cheered by civilians waving flags. To be rewarded in good behavior, their arms were covered in strips and given jewelry. Like every organization, command was assigned by rank.

Everyone was taught to handle weapons with the ultimate goal to legally murder someone else.

In the mist of battle, it was fight or flight. Many were killed. Others were maimed. The survivors are called vets.

Today’s military are volunteers. Recruited by promises of training, education, healthcare and free housing. Don’t know when the shooting starts do they question if they had volunteered for this? In some countries there is conscription. The modern system of near-universal national conscription for young men dates to the French Revolution in the 1790s, where it became the basis of a very large and powerful military. Most European nations later copied the system in peacetime, so that men at a certain age would serve 1 to 8 years on active duty and then transfer to the reserve force.

As long as the news headlines the wars (though many miss the front page) there will be body counts, videos of explosions and the continuous grieving of killed as collateral damage. The local news will provide murders, domestic violence and mental despair. The weather will continue to become more disastrous and the homelessness will increase. Scientist will continue to find cures to mysterious symptoms while exploring the skies for unknown alien lifeforms migrating through space. Sports will become more violent and entertainment will flash to keep your attention. Politics will become so confusing that until there is a notice on your door, you won’t have any idea what our elected officials are doing. Children will wonder which bathroom to attend and why the library has empty shelves.

Welcome to the year 2025. Good luck to all.

Two Thousand and twenty-four in the year of Jesus our Lord and Savior Santa

 

To-Do

Turn the calendar page and with reflection look back to what you’ve done in the last 365 days. Did you accomplish anything special or just waste the time, space and air without causing a headline? Age does make certain things more relevant and others not as important. Still the toilet should have to be cleaned every now and then and the pile of dirty smelly laundry could take a spin in the washer. Time marches on.

Weather

If there was any snow in the winter, it came and went. There was just enough rain in the springtime and plenty of sunshine. The summer was hot. It was supposed to be hot, but when the daily reports of sizzling temperatures just made it feel hotter. All the weather reports talked about climate change, but I didn’t see fewer cars on the road or less plastics, so must adapt. The slow-moving body just moves slower and sleeping commando on a beach towel absorbs the vapor coming out of my body. The fans spin and we sweat (as the body was intended). Cold showers offer a brief reprise, but I was never a fan of air conditioning. When the temperatures drop, another layer provides enough warmth until the early months. The little space heater can contain a comfortable environment until it drops into the teens. From photos posted on social media, there have been a lot of red skies in the morning…and at night. Pretty, but signs of times to come? Time will tell how long these old bones can tolerate climate change?

Yard

A couple of trees in the front were not surviving so a professional came by, and for a price, cut them to the ground and hauled off the remains. This year will require for more thinning out of the forest, but it is like losing children you planted years ago. There is also a birch on my list to be removed for it is dropping limbs and it is too tall for me to take a whack at it. Did purchase a weed eater with a metal saw (instead of string) but have only used it a couple of times. For the most part, the yard just grows and provides shelter for the critters and shade for me. With some of the street work and the neighbor rebuilding a fence, some of the street urchins with pink tails started showing up. I chased them, but they started settling into the yard. I put out some ‘rid’ packages, but they just gobbled it up as another treat. They are not welcomed by the other furry neighbors, so a more powerful medicine was provided to free the yard of ‘pest’ so the others at the daily buffet can eat in peace. Though some of my tree monkeys are being gnarly by chewing on the house, they entertain me with their rolling and tumbling antics. Maybe I’ll hire a painter to do in a day what I’ve been putting off for years to hide bite marks. Raked once to clear the sidewalk of leaves and street cleaning seem to get most of them. The others are in piles of decomposer in the yard to be compost in the spring with the lawnmower. There are thoughts of getting one of those little chain saws on a pole, but not yet. Lost a few of the neighbors, but the J’s and Mr. & Mrs. C and of course, the tree monkeys keep me occupied as a diversion from the silver screen. The bunnies are reclusive this year, but my Bike Buddy wren is acting as a Yard Boss, keeping everyone in order. There are still last year chores, like stump removal, that will carry over to a new year of procrastination. I provide feed for they will be here long after I’m gone for this is their home. No matter the construction or destruction, these creatures adapt as they have evolved.

Clothing

Not invited to charity dinners or formal dances, fashion has been reduced to comfort and practicality. With a social structure that will wear pajamas to an outing; sweatshirts, shorts and jeans are all that fill the closet. There are more than enough t-shirts to fill the rest of my time on this planet, but for the increasing heat, there are a few that are built for ventilation. Woolen socks have been sitting quietly in the drawer due to the area avoiding the frozen tundra. The boots are gathering dust. The heavy coats sit upstairs in bags unused in years. Clothing, at this point in the adventure, will be worn until holes and tears appear to transfer stylist fashion into cleaning rags replaced by another in a storage bin.

House

The ‘new’ steps secure the walk to the yard and the mailbox without pondering if there would be a crack and lay this old body on the ground. Other than that, the power and steam that keeps this abode functioning seems to keep working. The kitchen light needs to be replaced, along with the outside lights…but procrastination provides time, like the vacuum of dust bunnies older than most people I know. I buy all the tools and machines that promise to make everything sparkling, but… They say, “Cleanness is next to Godliness” so there is no vacant chair in Heaven for me.

After my neighbor decided to trim the area between the street and the sidewalk, I noticed a leak at my water meter. A call to the city and a promise it would be taken care of. Even the neighbors noticed I was creating a lake in the front of my house. A wait as my utility bill increased and finally got an email to someone up the chain of command that got a response. A city crew came by, evaluated the situation, dug a hole in the street and after the heavy-duty machinery left and the street was open again to traffic, the leak stopped. The plus was the accountants evaluated the difference between previous bills and gave me a credit for the overcharge. 

The city sent a notice about checking for lead pipes, but the water meter fix may have already solved that. The construction on the speed bump finished after two attempts and the new neighbors don’t seem to have additional expansions to their mega-mansions so the noise has stopped (except for the occasion yarn maintenance workers with knapsack leaf blowers).

The future request for the Handyman is to patch a window of water damage that has existed for the past decade or so and I’ve not attempted to repair it. Sometimes it is better to hire someone else to come by and finish a ‘to-do’ that don’t get ‘to-done’. Hopefully there is enough money in the bank for any unexpected catastrophe in the future.

Money

Seems, I can pay all the bills and provide myself with enough substance to survive another year without breaking the bank. With the rising prices at the Tummy Temple, the basic solution is to cut back on the number of meals to consume during a 24-hour period. No real interest in snacks, but have started eating popcorn because it is all fiber and I can share it with the yard crewe.

As the property assessments continue to rise (with the constant expansion constructions of the neighbors and the overpriced sales), so does the property tax. Talked to the homeowner’s insurance agent about the increase in premiums, but understand with the policy payouts from wildfires and natural ‘climate change’ disaster the insurance companies are trying to cope. My only question is will $100,000 policy on rebuilding a structure on this plot in this neighborhood be enough?

With the help of a friend on transportation, went to the Verizon store to confront them with my cellphone bill that could not be understood online or phone and saved $50 a month. Of course, while outside my usual travel range, was provided a taxi to the local guitar store that is still opened to purchase another guitar as a reward. Rationalizes all the savings. Saved $15,000 so that was a good goal. Could even afford Amazon prime.

Health

The year started off with a cold. Nothing really bad, just under the weather. Think I got it from a gathering of friends with one sneezing and coughing. Started feeling bloated and not as regular as I should be, so started taking laxatives. Seems to be working, but have not convinced myself to visit the doctor for a check-up. Trying to make a steady diet of less food, but have formed a nice jellyroll. Still, the elastic pants fit. Exercise maintains a slow ride every day for hydration, but the pace does not help the increased effort. I hear the aches and pains of my friends and venture I have the same without diagnosis. Then, there are more that at this age are disappearing. Should dust off my ‘to-do’ to get new googles for my blurry blues.

Travel/Transportation

The daily 5-mile trip to the Tummy Temple and back is about as far as I go. I don’t explore the neighborhood or wander as much as I used to, for age is proving riding two wheels is more of a challenge. Still, I cannot rationalize purchasing a metal mobile machine to use for a few minutes and then park in front the rest of the day leaking oil or plugged in. I can rationalize forcing myself to climb in the saddle every day for exercise and to get the inner fluids moving. For the year, the cost of transportation was $40 due to two flat tires. I did get chauffeured around a couple of times and it is like being in a movie. It is faster strapped to a comfy seat and watching how the rest of the world travels. Highways make me nervous but so far, the drivers have been able to deliver me unscathed. Perhaps I should take another look at an e-bike when I take my pony in for a spring check-up?

Conversation/ Entertainment

“Brain-Rot”. The word for the year, but it fits. With no BIG screen TV providing a multitude of channels I won’t watch and video turning to streaming, YouTube has become my entertainment media (and it is FREE). I can watch the electoral debates live and listen to my constant companion of NPR for intelligent opinions. I try to avoid as many advertisements and cookies, but they are omnipresent. Logging onto sites has become much more complicated to prove we are not hackers or Ai imitating avatar presenting to another computer that you are not a robot.

Politics and War seems to be the constant ‘news’ stories, plus who celebrity is dating or dying. Short clip videos have taken over social media. Everything and everyone are caught on camera phones and shared to the world. Disasters, crimes, wrecks and most disturbing killings (yes, these are real video recordings of someone being killed. They are not actors in an Action Movie, but real dead-as-a-doornail killings for the viewers delight). The viewer has to determine what went on before someone started recording the last seconds of life for posterity. News at eleven.

This has been the lady’s world in sports and entertainment. Also noticed so many talking heads are now women. Am I listening to the ‘View’ or are they just guys in drag (they call that ‘trans’ now). Voted, but got 4-more years of Trump speak instead of a woman. No way to avoid it. With fewer physical interactions with human beings, speaking to oneself is the best intellectual conversation without conflict or objection.

For entertainment, I listen to music. I seek out new music recommended by others, but haven’t made it past a stanza before losing interest. There are plenty of old remakes and achieves to hold my attention. A few clever covers, but these are for half-a-century-old song. Stopped attending live music unless I know the players or can get back stage. Haven’t bought (or downloaded) any music in don’t know when. Still have three stereo systems to wire and plug in. Have posted some of my favorite finds on my YouTube channels. The other entertainment has been the Blogs. It is a mind provoking journal of thoughts that pop up and I post for the world to read (it’s FREE. No subscription required). In the heat of the summer, I wrote my ‘Memoria’. Just stuff I remember growing up that turned into 600+ pages. If this is my legacy, is for others to decide to make my obituary. Haven’t been a graphically inspired, but have a few tunes rattling around. I post some originals (or covers) on two websites, but haven’t recorded my ‘to-do’ list of CDs. Purchased some more tools (toys) to play the tunes just because I could. The other musical/technology I’ve used is recording conversations. A few lunches with some survivors telling their stories and take their words into the recording studio. I’ve not seen any television or movies or read any publications promoted as a ‘must’ by social media. Have I missed anything?

Shopping

Going to a brick-and-mortar store has relinquished to opening a window on the computer and scrolling to view the options never available before to purchase by credit card and have delivered to the front door. This past year I bought some underwear, bike handlebar grips, shoes, caps for stairs, hoodies, a microwave and a guitar amplifier. Not for much want for material goods, it is easy to search Amazon and come away with an empty cart. I don’t use coupons or search for deals, but I do check websites on a regular schedule to see what new innovations are available for the weak of mind.

Food

One must devour protein, fiber, magnesium, fat and the like of the periodic table to provide the energy to keep this shell we live in moving. Along with rising prices, there is ‘shrinkation’. Those oversize bags of potato chips air are now come back to the size of the 50’s. Already mentioned the mini-size cans of the soda, but it has spread to the canned vegetables. The price is the same but the can is the size of a shot glass. Probably holding a spoonful of beans or corn?

The Tummy Temple gives me an array of options, but now I tend toward the easy eats. With half of the frozen food section full of pizza, it is an easy bake for crunchy nutriments. This summer I was fed by Ukrops’ pre-pared package baked spaghetti. Meats seem to make me sick, so I avoid the butcher counter. The produce seems to rot, so I buy prepared salads to balance the starch. There is no desire to eat-out or have delivered, but some day it may be a necessity. Smaller portions are filling and the desire for cooking only comes on holidays. Cooking for one is just a taste of an ingredient to flavor the tongue and be done. Paper plates have become easier than a sink full of dirty dishes.

My Tummy Temple peeps (Keith, Hillary, Debbie, Kandi, Katy, etc.) recognize my existence under my shades and black mask and acknowledge my constant appearance to inform the scanner that I buy the same thing every day, so must move along. Nothing to see here. Do I go there every day for the peanuts to feed the yard or hydration? Half of my budget is hydration. Everyone needs a hobby.

Dreams

I enjoy the dreams now. Most are still problem solving. Some are old work unresolved conflicts that will go with me to my grave. Some are just adventures in somewhat familiar properties with no solution. Some have characters I knew and some are complete strangers. Some are stressful and some are ego boosting. Most are in greyscale with a few spot colors. I don’t eat in dreams so I have no smell or taste, but I do have skin touch recognition. Sleep does not come easy with constant naps and walks down the hall waiting for the sun to rise. Rem sleep is about 4AM when the dreams come. Some wake me up with a shock. Some just exhaust me so I remove the covers and change subjects by having coffee.

End of Year

What will tomorrow bring? Another year of conflicts and murders and disappearing friends? Another year of enjoying peace and quiet rocking on the porch as the neighbors walk by viewing through the bars. Will this be the year of less hydration? Will this be the year of ‘to-doing’ what needs to be ‘to-done’? Will this be the year to wire the speakers? Will this be the year to withdraw from the social media due to boredom? As the temperatures drop, it will be time to gather all the last year’s billings and shred them while gathering up the numbers on a spreadsheet and downloading tax forms to print and mail for refunds. Got my ham steak, black-eyed peas, okra, stewed tomatoes and Virginia spoonbread, so I’m ready. There will be champagne, but no lips to press at midnight. Ends off the year with Uncle Jimmy dying at 100 and naming a baby hippo.

 

Survivors for the Holidays

 

Time marches on. The globe still spins and the sun is tucked under the clouds. Two couples walk their dog and roll their baby down the street and all is quiet.

There are so many tales and rumors about this one day at the end of our calendar. Whether your belief is in some fable of an unwed teenage giving birth in a barn or some obese fella who lives in the coldest environment as a recluse but then on this one day invades houses and leaves gifts we don’t want. There is music played only this time of year and warm feelings of philanthropy soon forgotten. Was that hobo sleeping in the bumper car at the Tummy Temple or was he dead? I didn’t stop to check a pulse.

There are even tales of battles stopping on this one day so armies of like species can join together in a drink and conversation and perhaps a game of football before being ordered to go back and use our latest technology to show how we can shred the human body. Want a woodworking hobby? Build caskets.

Slept through the night. Sees that extra 6-pack helped pass me out. Did my usual run to Station #18 for a secret Santa gift of an apple pie and placed a bag full of doggie treats, apples (for the barn ponies) and a bottle of champagne on the neighbor’s fence and retired to the thoughts of the seasons.

There are nostalgic moments for December 25 is just another day, but… It is a special day when EVERYTHING is closed. There is little traffic for everyone is staying home celebrating their holiday with not working, but plenty of gorging and slouching down gallons of alcohol for good cheer trying to get along with people you only see once a year. Sit around the big screen to watch other people run about and then watch it again and again with instant replay on multiple platforms while listening to the blaring tunes so familiar at this time of year. Where are the surf tunes?

This is the time of year when your junk room or sewing room or art studio turns into a ‘guest’ room for the sleepovers. Usually, relatives who are to cheap to rent a room at a nearby hotel, dirty up your sheets and towels, eat all your food, and Uncle Ben drinks the bottle of bourbon you were saving for your annual fishing trip with your war buddies. Your children have grown up and left home, but they have decided to procreate and bring the little rug rats to run around, make noise, spread germs and knock over the candelabra handed down for generations and will now go into the trash along with all the torn wrapping papers and ribbons.

Along with the chaos and drama and merriment of the holiday, there are memories. Every year there are fewer who can attend the Christmas feast, but we will remember the empty chairs. It may be that the distance is too long to travel or a loose of interest in that part of the family. Maybe a flight delay or a broken axle will cause a deletion from the invitation list?

As the calendar’s numbers increase, the number of people you have known through the ages dwindle. There is only one Christmas card snail mailed each year now. He continues to use the antique process to wish seasonal wishes (and promote his latest painting). Postings on social media with memes someone else created seem so meaningless, but time marches on.

Since I have no one to shop for (or shop with), today is Wednesday. The trash and recycle removal came two days ago and the Tummy Temple is closed. There are enough options for food but not really hungry. Cooking for one only creates dirty dishes and too many leftovers. My only Christmas present (to myself) was another guitar amplifier, like I need another. It’s a tool (or toy) with the latest gizmos and effects built in the 2024 technology and it didn’t cost much. I don’t need another pair of socks or a tie clip or a funky message t-shirt, so I give myself something that will give me a smile.

A hawk came by and gave me some feathers for a unexpecting present. The usual yard monkeys are keeping me entertained while they search for the rain of peanuts. Even Al, my old buddy owl from years ago, came by for a visit, but not all survived the holidays.

It seems Rocky won’t be joining us the Christmas dinner. A Petie didn’t make it through a roll and tumble. There may be others who come and go through the neighborhood we share. I can only bury the carcasses I see while Mother Nature takes care of the rest. For the rest, we have old black and white photos or digital selfies to bring us nostalgia of times gone by.

Tomorrow will be December 26. The world will go back to distress and anger and frustration and hatred enough to kill one another in so many techniques that are too numerous to report here.

Try to remember the feelings from this day and maybe, just maybe, carry it over into say a special day in July?