"Last night I had the strangest dream, I'd never dreamed before..." ~~ Ed McCurdy

I remember feeling hot ... sweaty hot, like it was the middle of August. I got out of bed and opened a window, but there was no breeze and it was just so hot. Somehow, I made it down the stairs [which is odd since I live in a one-story house] and out the door onto the dusty road in front of my house. [which is also bizarre since I live in the suburbs and there are paved streets]

I have the sense that I was standing there for quite some time before I heard it ... the noise in the distance. So I started moving toward the noise. The closer I got to the crossroads, the louder the sounds became. Pretty soon, it became apparent that it was a carnival or circus of some kind, with caliopies, animals, clowns, a ferris wheel, and all kinds of "gyp joints" on the midway. And then there was the voice. 

It seemed to come out of nowhere, but it rang out above all the crowd and noise. "Yowser-Yowser-Yowser!! Step this way and behold the mystery of the ages!!" I found myself in front of a wagon ... sort of like a covered wagon, but with boards enclosing the back instead of canvas. On a stage beside the wagon I looked up and saw a figure in a black and white checkered shirt, with long flowing white hair and a top hat ridiculously perched on his head. Two dogs stared devotedly up at him and seemed to hang on his every word.

"Ladies and gentlemen I am here to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime. For the price of one United States dollar ... a mere four bits worth of change ... I will provide you with all the answers to your problems. Do your bones ache? Do you suffer from dropsy? Is your "love life" [heh-heh] not all that you would want it to be? Well I hold in my hand the solution: All in this one little bottle. It cures everything from augue to zits. And you have my personal guarantee that it will work, or your money back!!"

I fought my way to the front of the crowd now pressing around the odd little man, and shoved my dollar into his hands, and was rewarded by a little brown bottle all my own. I broke away from the crowd, went behind the wagon, uncorked the bottle and drank it all down ... and almost immediately, I puked it all up, along with everything I'd eaten for what appeared to be six months. I can't ever remember being that sick.  I laid down on the ground, for how long I really don't know.

After awhile, I got up and realized that the wagon was gone. All around me there were the bodies of all kinds of folks in various stages of consciousness. Little puddles of puke [and quite a few not so little] were everywhere. People were holding their stomachs, their heads, and still dry-heaving. And all around were scattered little brown bottles, empty bottles as it turns out, and all said the same thing:

"Professor Bob's Miracle Medicine" ...

Tags: This and That

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That's what you get for loving me ...

That's what you get for loving me ...

Everything you had is gone, as you can see ...

That's what you get for loving me.

I ain't the kind to hang around ...

With any new love that I've found ...

Moving is my stock in trade, so I'm movin' on ...

I won't think of you when I'm gone.

So don't you shed a tear for me ...

'Cause I ain't the love you thought I'd be ...

I've had a hundred more like you, so don't be blue ...

I'll have a thousand 'fore I'm through.

Now there you go you're crying again ...

You should've known how things would end ...

But someday when your poor heart is on the mend ...

I just might pass this way again.

That's what you get for loving me ...

That's what you get for loving me ...

Everything you had is gone, as you can see ...

That's what you get for loving me.

by: Gordon Lightfoot

Tags: Dedicated To All The Dogs We've Loved Before

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In the movie, "Wyatt Earp", the patriarch of the clan [played by Gene Hackman] had what would become a famous credo: "Family is everything. Nothing counts more than blood. All the rest are strangers." Having just returned from a family reunion, this thought is right at the front of my mind, so I thought I'd jot down a few thoughts. Hopefully, you will enjoy them and they will spur you own to add your own reflections.

My maternal grandmother had 10 children, 9 of whom lived to have families of their own. The smallest number of kids of any one of them was 2, the largest 6. This would eventually lead to a group of 27 first cousins [all of whom lived to have kids, too] We have lost 2 first cousins over the years, but we still have 25 and just about all of them have spouses or "significant others".

All the time I was growing up, we had a yearly family reunion in the town where my grandmother lived. Always the 4th of July. Always at a local park down from where her house was. Two of my uncles and one of my aunts lived in this town all their lives. One is in a nursing home there, and another just recently lost her husband [my uncle] and still lives in the same house she's lived in for as long as I can remember.

Then, after all of us first cousins were up and gone, the habit of the family reunion just kind of died out. We had our own lives, our own friends, and were busy making memories with our own families. About the only time we ever got together as a full group was at weddings or funerals. Oh, certain ones of us would see other certain ones every now and again, but it's surprising how easily we let ourselves slip out of each others' lives.

Then, about 20 years ago, my grandmother was gravely ill and soon to die. She expressed her sadness that "the family" was so spread out and fragmented, and that she feared she would never see us all together again this side of the grave. One of her sons had already died and it had been 8 years since she'd seen him before she "saw" him for the last time at his funeral. He had been divorced from his wife for almost 25 years at that point, and she hadn't seen her grandchildren from THAT marriage in the entire time since the marriage had ended.

Well, that got us to thinking. We knew that everyone would come from far and wide to attend Maw-Maw's funeral, but what good would that do her? So we decided to have our first family reunion in over 20 years. It took a great deal of planning, but we managed to do it. And before she died, my grandmother was able to see all but a handful of her children, grandchildren, great-grandchilden and even touch the tummy where her first great-great-grandchild was waiting patiently to be born. And when she died 7 months later, she died contented and truly at peace.

As for the rest of us, we had such an amazing time at that reunion that we decided that we were going to start up the "habit" anew. At first, the location would "round-robin", with each of us sponsoring it from year to year. We'd make all the arrangements, book the rooms, prepare the food, plan activities, etc. And the date changed from year to year. Finally, when my cousin and his wife retired to their lake house, he volunteered to make his place available as a permanent spot for the yearly reunion. So, for the last 9 years, that's what we've done. Always the last weekend in July. Always at his place. Some years we have more folks show up than other years. But we all know it's there. If we can make it, we make it. If we can't, we know there's always the next year.

Then, 4 years ago, all of the first cousins decided that "just us" wanted to get together ... no kids, no grandkids, just the original core of first cousins. So, again, my cousin volunteered his place and our "first cousins" reunion is held the first weekend in October. We come with just ourselves, or those with spouses can bring them, but it's a smaller, much more intimate grouping. We pick a "food theme" in advance, and everybody brings stuff, so that the "host cousin" is not too burdened. This year it was cajun cooking. Next year it will be Italian. And so it goes ...

I think what I am trying to impart through all of this is how very important I think it is to not lose that family connection. I know that there are those of you out there who have had real, legitimate concerns about your family. Some of the stories I've heard are really horrendous. But you know, that's true in all families. I have my own stories I could tell. But one or two bad people don't constitute your whole family. I would hate to think that the only time I could "see" my family again would be when I am looking up through the daisies instead of down at them.

I urge you all to take a look around. Don't wait until it's too late to re-connect with your family. I know these reunions can be a headache to put together, but trust me ... once you get the routine down, it really isn't a diffcult thing at all. And no, not everybody is going to be able to come every time, but I think you would be amazed at just how many folks you would draw. I know we were. Remember those cousins I mentioned...the ones my grandmother hadn't seen in 25 years since my aunt divorced my uncle? Well, THEY came to that first reunion, and when they could, they've been coming ever since. They were both at the reunion I've just come from!! [and one of them came all the way from Washington state to Texas!!]

Anyway, that's all I have to say. I now return you to your regularly-scheduled life!!

Tags: Random Thoughts

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You're on a bus, riding to work, or wherever, just minding your own business. Maybe you're reading a book, or just contentedly gazing out the window ... not bothering anybody. Just occupying your little space on the bus, waiting for your stop to come up.

Then, all of a sudden, the "quiet" of your ride is ripped assunder. Some guy with a big old "boom-box" gets on. Someone who thinks that if it isn't loud, and it isn't grand opera, it isn't music. So through the next 17 stops you are subjected to noises that [in your personal opinion] are rarely heard outside slaughterhouses, and the worst of it yet is that it's all set to so-called music. Finally young Mr. Mozart gets off and your peaceful ride resumes, but ...

You log onto your favorite social networking site. Moving directly to the status page, you think it would be nice to catch up with the snippets your friends post there ... see if there's anything going on that might warrant a personal comment or in-box message to that person. But wait ... what's this? You hunt, and hunt, and you can't find your friend!! No ... no ... wait!! There they are!! Tucked in-between huge pictures of Sunbursts, and Smiley Faces, and Coffee Cups, and Flowers, and Angels ... And then, when you try to leave greetings for your friend a lot of times you find that if they've got one of these huge pictures in their status stream, further comments after the fact can't be placed. In other words, because of them, you can't even tell your friend hello!!

Folks, please don't get me wrong. I think the talent, care, and patience that you guys put into those comments is really, really neat. I don't have those kinds of computer skills and I truly envy those of you who do. But just because you CAN do something is not saying that you SHOULD do something.

The status stream is supposed to be just for a quick check-in, a few words to catch up ... sort of like "Twitter" entries. If you want to send these wonderful bits of art to your friends, then why not send it to their in-boxes, or put them as comments on their individual profile page? I mean, we all share the status thingie, sort of like we all share seats on the bus, or seats in the living room. Wouldn't it be more thoughtful and courteous to keep in mind that there are other folks here, too, who might not share "your taste in music"?

Well that's all I have to say ... I now return you to your regularly-scheduled life.

PS: Oh yeah. One more thing: Considering that I have never responded to or passed along chain letters in the "real" world, why on earth would I consider passing along "chain memos" or "chain graphics" in my "cyber" world? ... Just saying.

Tags: Courteous Consideration

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This month, you're likely to get bombarded. Pink ribbons will be everywhere. People will walk walks, and march marches, make endless speeches, constantly pester you for money, and a great bit of "to-do" will be made of those two hanging bags of fat on a woman's chest. [Some people will even use pink ink to write their blogs...LOLOL] Yes my friends, October is here, and with it, "Breast Cancer Awareness Month".

Ever since the red ribbon showed up for AIDS, seems like we have a color for everything. Pink ribbons for breast cancer. Green ribbons for the environment. Yellow ribbons to support our troops. I'm surprised that we haven't seen brown ribbons for people with chronic diarrhea. Because of this "phenomenon", lots of people trivialize the whole thing...turn a blind eye, a blind heart, and a blind mind. And that's really, really unfortunate.

So let's stop this for a minute, okay? I want to talk about cancer ... "female" cancer. In the past, women pretty much defined themselves by their body image, and their "function" in the whole scheme of things. For years, women avoided having yearly pelvic examinations for one reason and one reason only: fear. What if they had cancer? What if they had to have a hysterectomy...to have their insides scooped out like seeds from a melon? Sure, it might mean they'd "live", but what kind of life would it be? After all, take away their uterus and ovaries, and what good were they after that? I mean, if a woman can't have children then why have them around? That's what men thought ... or at least, that's what women THOUGHT that men thought. Silly as it seems, that's exactly what most women believed. So cervical cancer was epidemic, when with a simple PAP smear, early detection, and suitable treatment, this scourge could be eliminated. Thankfully, through aggressive "advertisement" [if you will] women began to see the truth of things and now death from cervical cancer is the exception, not the rule.

However, taking out a woman's uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes is one thing. I mean, other than a scar on the tummy, nothing "shows". It's quite another matter to convince a woman that she should slice off one of her tits, or maybe even both of them,  to give herself a shot at a longer life.

I don't know how we developed into such a breast-obsessed society. It's easy to blame men, but women have played their role in this, too. For some reason, after having overcome the "if I can't have a baby I'm not a woman" bullcrap, we've given in to the idea that those two hanging bags of tissue on our chest somehow are the "be all and end all" of what makes us, well, women. Because of that, and because of the fear we'll lose them, thousands of women ignore that little lump when they find it...if they even bother to look. And by the time their fear of death overcomes their fear of "disfigurement", it's usually too late to save their lives.

So I think that's why all of this hullaballoo comes up in October. It's just a time to remind women to think about what's really important, to take care of what really needs to be taken care of, and to ask others to help out monetarily and morally. In late 1995 they found a lump in my sister's breast on a mammogram she had put off having for 6 years. By 1996 she had lost both breasts and all of her internal female organs to cancer. Thank G-d, and through aggressive medical care, this year she will celebrate her 15th year of being cancer free. But how much less would she have lost if she hadn't waited those 6 years? And it's not just for women, you guys. Men get breast cancer, too.

Some people resent the fact that October is designated BREAST cancer awareness month, and I can see their point. All of this money, all of this time, all of this effort, just for one particular type of cancer. Well, I say it's up to all of us to make October simply CANCER awareness month. Don't fall prey to the "my kind of cancer is more important than your kind of cancer" nonsense. And why stop at just one month?

Cancer awareness should be a 24/7/365 endeavor for all of us. Know your body. Know the signs. Be aware. Don't wait. Even if it turns out to be nothing, isn't your peace of mind worth the expense of a trip to the doctor? Whether it's boobs, or balls, or anything in-between; whether you're male, female, she-male or he-she. You are important to somebody. Please take care of yourself.

I now return you to your regularly-scheduled life...

Tags: Cancer awareness

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NOLI SINERE

NOTHOS

TE OPPRIMERE!!!

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"noli" [be unwilling/don't] ... "sinere" ... "nothos" [illegitimate persons] ... "te" ... "opprimere" [crush, grind down, oppress]

In other words, my precious friends: Don't let the bastards wear you down!!

Tags: Encouragement ...

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It seems lately that several people I've grown fond of through our contact here have made the decision to leave ... to cancel their pages and just mosey off into the sunset.

The reasons they give me are as varied as the people involved, but mostly it boils down to the fact that someone have come down hard on them, so to speak, because of some sort of position they've taken, or because of their religion, or because of some quirk in their personality [or in the personality of whoever it was who complained] This pisses me off no end ...

I was dragged into this computer crap in 2008 by my loving daughter. Before that, I never had one, never wanted one, didn't see a need for one, blah-blah-blah. Even today, I am one of the most ignorant so-n-so's when it comes to anything computer. I laugh at my friends who tell me that I should just "cut and paste" this or that since the only way I know how to cut and paste anything is using a pair of scissors and Elmer's glue!!

But there have turned out to be great advantages to having this infernal machine...the most important of which are the ease at acquiring useless information [which I have always loved], and the acquisition of some truly remarkable people in my life whom [despite all the warnings I was given against it] I have grown to love.

Even in the "real" world, not everybody is going to like everybody. There are some folks who aren't going to like you 'cause they don't like the color of your hair. They don't like your religion. They don't like your politics. They don't like the way you respond to their "advances". They don't like it that you seem to like this person better than that person. Why would you think that anyone would be any less "petty" in your cyber-life?

And then there's those who can't seem to get happy themselves unless they're running somebody else down. They don't have any real valid reason at all to go after you, but they do anyway. These are probably the hardest of all to cope with. I mean, whether we like to admit it or not, we really want everybody to like us, and when they don't we want to know why. What is it that we've done to make that person not like us. Why would someone want to be so hurtful and hateful to us when we are such nice, sweet people? Then we start thinking of ways we can "bring them around". Maybe if I swallow my tongue. Maybe if I tone down my beliefs. Maybe if I apologize for being "me", then they'll like me again. Could be. Could be not. But then, would you really be happy?

Anyway, I've walked around this field long enough, and I'm not sure I've made a whole lot of sense [I wonder that a lot...LOLOL] But anyway, the point is this: Most likely, by just being you, you've made some "enemies" along the way here. But I'll bet you've made far more friends. By packing up and leaving, you're letting your "enemies" play a more important role in your cyber-life than your friends. Where's the "fair" in that.

If someone is giving you grief, then either grow an extra layer of skin or hit that button: delete them, not yourself. Just remember...There are folks out here who love you. G-d only knows why. LOLOL

Tags: Don't let them chase you off

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My maw-maw always taught us that there was no shame in being poor. She said that G-d made rich people and G-d made poor people, and both had their place in the world. In studying history, you'll find that throughout humankind, it pretty much was just those two choices: You were either rich or you were poor.

Oh, you might have enough food to eat, but you were getting full on grits and gravy, while Mr. Gottalotta Bucks and his family were feasting on champagne and caviar.

You and your mamma and daddy, and your 6 brothers and sisters, and most likely, at least one set of grandparents, might all be crowded into a 3-room shotgun house, while Mr. Gottalotta Bucks and his family went to bed in a 20-room mansion, but the rain didn't fall on anyone's head.

In the winter, you shared a bed, not being able to move from the weight of the home-made quilts pressing you into the home-made goose feather mattress, while Mr. Gottalotta Bucks and his family just turned the dial on their central heating system up a couple of notches. But everybody stayed warm.

In the summer, you all went bare-footed. You swam in the creek. You froze your butt off sitting on top of that old crank ice cream freezer. You ate fresh watermelon out of the field and catfish caught on a trot line down from Uncle John's place. And Mr. Gottalotta Bucks? Why he and his family vacationed at the seashore in a house only marginally smaller than the one they lived in day-to-day. They gave parties on the lawn, wore crisp summer clothing, met with others of their kind and mapped out the futures for their children.

And at night, sometimes by the light of a coal-oil lamp [because you couldn't afford to use electricity willy-nilly] you'd sit around and talk. Sometimes somebody would pull out the Bible and read for a bit, out loud so all could hear, or take you on a magical journey to Treasure Island, Shiloh, or all the way to Paris to hear of the trials and tribulations of Jean Val Jean. At the same time, Mr. Gottalotta Bucks was in his study, pondering "big deals", with the missus quietly sipping her medicinal brandy in the parlor, and the children in their respective rooms, dreaming of nothing short of escape.

Looking back on my life, I see so clearly now that while I grew up in a "poor" environment, I was never, ever poverty-stricken. I had clothes on my back. I had a roof over my head. My belly was never empty. But more important than that, I think, was that without even really trying, I was learning how to never let myself become "poverty-stricken".

I learned that you don't instantly get everything you want. You have to work, and save, and wait. And even then, you might not [and probably won't] get it all, but you'll get some. There will be times in your life that you really, really, want something deep down in the core of your being and you're not going to be able to have it. That is sad, but it is the reality of life. I don't know how we came to the point where so many of us feel that we're in some way "entitled" to each and every thing our little hearts desire.

The fact is, nobody, rich or poor, ever gets out of this life alive...and I'll bet you've never seen a U-Haul truck in a cortege on its way to the graveyard ... just like I'm sure you've never heard anyone say with their dying breath "gee, I wish I'd spent more time at the office" ...

So, you might ask, what's the point to it all? In Judaism, we have a saying that the reward for living a good life is the good life itself. I think we are all here to live, to struggle, to do the best we can [through hard work and dilligence] with what we find along the road ... to carve out the best life we can for ourselves and those we love ... to help others when we can, with the full knowledge that we can't do it all and that it's really okay [and proper] when we have to look after ourselves and our own first. Then, at the end of our journey, we can lay down our heads with the satisfaction of knowing that we helped when we could, let things be when we couldn't, carved a few steps to make trip easier for the next guy, things like that.

Also in Judaism, the concept of a "heaven" and "hell" really hasn't ever taken hold. We believe that one should do the right thing, not because we expect some heavenly reward, and not because we fear some hellish retribution if we don't. We are taught that we should do the right thing simply because it is the right thing to do. Our "immortality", if you will, is achieved through the loving thoughts and memories of those we leave behind. One of the worst curses you can put on anyone, in our way of thinking, is to say his/her name followed by "may his name and memory be forever erased". On the other hand, one can only hope that when the time comes, someone will say of me "may her name be of blessed memory" ...

Tags: Being poor -vs- being poverty-stricken

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I was reading earlier today about the story of Marine Sgt. Dakota Meyer, who will, later today, be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor by President Obama.

Sgt. Meyer was part of a group of 60 Afghani soldiers, 20 border police, and 13 Marine and US Army soldiers when they were ambushed by Taliban fighters. They were pinned down and under constant fire and rocket attacks. Repeatedly, those in command on the ground asked for air cover to help them out of their desperate situation. However, the US command, citing new "rules of engagement" to protect against possible civilian causalties, continually and consistently denied the requests.

Totally disregarding his own personal safety, Sgt. Meyer exposed himself to the enemy fire on numerous occasions to recover the wounded and dead. Ultimately, he was able to save all of the American causalties and many of the non-US forces. For his actions in the field, this young American hero will get the recognition he deserves, but surely never sought.

Since the beginning of warfare, combatants have always been faced with this conundrum: "At what price, victory?". No civilized person ever likes to visualize dead women and children littering the battle site. Only a barbarian relishes washing himself in the blood of innocent victims.

However, what about the blood of the soldiers? These young men [and now women, too] are the ones on the ground, following the orders of their government. And who makes up this government whose orders they are following? Usually old, fat, comfortable men who sit in their ivory towers of power, far removed from the fear, deprivation, and sheer horror of war. Most have never been to war themselves...have never had to make the split-second decision that will be life or death for either themselves or one of their own.

Munching on their breakfasts and sipping their coffee in the air-conditioned Senate cafeteria, it's easy to pontificate about the necessity to ensure "civilian safety"...to keep up appearances so that the world press will still think highly of us and write nice things about us....put just the right amount of PC/PR on what they say we're doing and why we're doing it. To them, civilian "noncombatants" are the "big picture", and our soldiers are the "little picture"...collateral damage, if you will. Oh if the son or daughter of someone in their district gets blown away, they'll make some noise, shake their heads, maybe even go to the funeral ... but that's the extent of their concern ... and I always have the suspicion that such actions on their part are more about votes than valor.

We have seen this all over and over again. We saw it in Korea. We saw an awful, awful lot in Viet Nam, especially in the later stages of the war, and we see are seeing it in abundance now in our conflicts in the middle east. We are way past the time when we need to acknowledge that there is no such thing as a "politically correct" war. If we have made the decision to go to war, we have got to stop ham-stringing the very people who know about the war first-hand: those actually fighting it.

I know I'm probably not saying this right ... and I apologize for my lack of ability ... but basically it's this: War is a brutal business. People lose everything. People get maimed. People die. Charlie Beckwith's philosophy toward all those on the "other side" was direct and to the point: "Kill them all and let G-d sort them out." General Douglas MacArthur once said that it was a good thing that war is such a terrible thing, or we might grow to love it too much.

Even though I initially supported our reasons for becoming involved in our current conflicts, I am not so sure any more. However, I am 100% sure of one thing. If it is this country's decision to be at war, then let's BE at war. Get in there, get the job done, and then get the hell out and bring our troops home. If we are not willing to do that, then we should end it all now, before even one more soldier is sacrificed.

In other words, America, it's time to shit or get off of the pot.

Tags: An historic conundrum

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