The Brainless... Natural or Created?

The older I get the more disillusioned I become with the ‘people’ of the U.S. I remember being upset when I started working in advertising and was told that in order to write ‘good copy’ one must understand that the average U.S. citizen had the mind of a 13 year old child. In other words, I must dumb down my writing so that this vast number of people could understand it. “Never write a sentence over ten words, and break those up in some way if you can,” was the way it was put. Now I find that the ‘average’ seems to be even ‘younger’ in the mind... or shall we call a spade a spade and say even more stupid.

Look at what we have in Congress these days. Ted Cruz, mentioning "that great speaker, Ashton Kutcher"; Paul Ryan, a man who has never held a ‘real job’ being called ‘the intellectual of the Tea Party (a rather damning indictment of the rest of that group);’ thousands of people signing petitions to keep ‘Duck Dynasty’ on the air. Or even horror of horrors, the fact that ‘Duck Dynasty’ is one of the most popular programs on TV. My parents and all of my really intellectual ancestors are spinning in their graves.

I spent my childhood first being read to by my parents (I recall Spenser’s ‘The Faerie Queene’ as an early one), then reading my way through the family and public library, including two sets of encyclopedias. (I wasn’t alone, my sisters and I read constantly. The library of the moment was usually full of others; where did they all go?) My older sister graduated from college too young to get a job, so returned to get a Master’s. She went on to become one of the first women Captains in the Army during WWII, then after having seven children went on to a logical career in education.

I began my adult studies in art, quit after a couple of years of work under an artist I hated, became a meteorologist with the U.S. Weather Bureau, then returned to university to get a degree in English, went into copywriting and now write fiction, essays, non-fiction and poetry. My younger sister simply married well. Unfortunately I didn’t and he got the money. Nevertheless, I kept my mind and am very saddened to find that the rest of the country (well most of it) has not managed that. In all my long years of life the IQ of this country seems to have slipped almost to extinction. The TV alone has less and less worth watching. ‘Reality TV’ seems to have taken over with its cast of less and less intelligence daily, winding up with the seeming morons of Honey Boo Boo and Duck Dynasty, worshiped by the TV mob. Do they hear, do they see, do they think? I rather think not.

Having spent the final day of this past year watching the world’s celebration of New Year’s Eve, I wonder where the world is heading. I guess it’s not just our country that has given up basic intelligence. Each large city seems to be competing to see who could spend the most money blowing up millions of dollars worth of fireworks to ‘celebrate’ leaving an old year behind and welcoming in an even more ignorant one. After all, it is far easier to take the ‘education’ money out of the budget and put it into fireworks and other trash to entertain the morons. On a stage in Times Square the older morons sang what passes for music to the younger ones.

I am hoping ‘the common core’ might help return education rather than the useless ‘testing’ of the Bush “All children left behind” era, but I wonder if we can catch up with the rest of the world or will they simply follow us into the pit of mediocre schools? I do bemoan the lack of intelligent conversation in the new ‘all digital tablets’ schools, ‘charter’ schools and others, and hope that some lectures with question and answer periods remain, plus a lot of discussion in the classrooms of younger children.

As a child who moved often, I understand the difficulties of children who go from school to school, missing classes, and would therefore be better off with a common core education. Having known a great number of teachers in my lifetime, some who were bright and wonderful, some who should never have been in a classroom, I hope that an overhaul of ‘teacher’s colleges’ can help the next wave of students. Finally, I hope and pray that good teachers are not only paid better to teach well, but are at last considered superior citizens of our country.

Christmas 2013

It is Christmas Eve, almost Christmas Day, which I used to celebrate with my family, friends, neighbors... and the many people Jessie always invited to our tree trimming parties. For we always waited until Christmas Eve to drag the tree in from the front porch, generally chop off the top, as Daddy always bought the tallest one he could find. In Pittsburgh, the place I remember best as a happy Yuletide place, I sat on a chair, directing Bill Rodd, or P.B. Burgwin on how put put the lights on the tree, as that seemed to be a ‘guy’s job’ in our household. They always started at the bottom, so that there was no way they could plug in the lights... so I remember my incessant “Start at the top... no, start at the top.” They never seemed to get it. Downstairs, in the kitchen and dining room, I helped make Jessie’s “London Fog’... a lovely ice cream drink in a punch bowl that could knock you out faster than anything as it was half brandy. That and her bourbon balls left most guests staggering. I just mixed drinks for others... didn’t start drinking until much later. But I have always remembered Daddy’s and Bill’s advice... drink only the BEST bourbon... put it in a very tall glass and fill the glass with ice and water... then drink it slowly all evening. Actually after I started drinking, I could drink any one under the table, as I had a tolerance for liquor like a man’s (probably from having had so many men friends in the ad game, which is where I learned to drink).

Ah, but it is Christmas... and we have an odd year and time of news. Edward Snowden, who is a traitor/hero depending on your viewpoint. no regrets from him, though... he’s spending his Christmas in Russia. So let him freeze. Then there’s the new pope... oh, what joy to see one who doesn’t ride around in fancy dress and fancy red shoes, but seems to really feel for the poor, homeless and hungry... a sweet, real man. Then, on the other hand the continuing horror in South Sudan, Somalia and Syria. What can we do... no more war, we need to perhaps provide any help we can, but NO MORE of our children can be sacrificed. We must teach our children NO GUNS, no fighting, no bullying. I remember Mark’s wonderful ‘pod’ training in grade school, when each morning the children went to their ‘family group’... consisting of children from ages five (his age) to age 8 or even 9, for each teacher started the day with a ‘family.’ His early years were in an ideal set-up. When he was first grade ‘age,’ if one asked what ‘grade’ he was in, he merely said, “I’m in Mrs. Wedeman’s family group.” Then they met in ‘peer groups’ for reading, math, etc. Mark taught himself to read at about 3, so he was at the ‘3rd grade level’ table in first grade... but at the beginning math table, as I didn’t teach him anything about math (you can guess why). So, he had friends of all ages... and no one bullied, as they had big and little ‘brothers and sisters’ who watched out for them always. A great way to teach... ruined by parents who objected to their dumb kids going to class with '‘them little kids... why ain’t they with kids their age?” Alas, there are always parents who work at spoiling good education. They are often the ones with the guns in their houses, also.

So Merry Christmas all... and a Happy New Year... one I hope will be better not only for all of you, but also for all of the countries of this sad little world. I shall now go and watch the news and hope it is better... even a tiny bit would help. Unfortunately this year has taken one of the greatest of all from us, Nelson Mandela... but I shall try in my own life to remember him daily and hope it makes a difference in my attitude toward all people. If only the Sudanese, Somalia and Syrians could work in his manner... or I suppose I should say, if only all the people in the world could be as forgiving as he.

And on a note of humor... the UPS ofices here are full of people complaining that their packages  haven’t been delivered. Wow... did they somehow think ordering late might have something to do with it. I’d never yell at Damien for not delivering something to me. He’s too cute to yell at anyway. And we have people complaining that they can’t burn fires in their fireplaces as we are having a ‘spare-the-air-day’ for Christmas (I guess too many people were doing so earlier. Why they want a fire I do not know, as it is in the 60s and 70s daily... sunshine flooding in here daily. Why do I live in San Francisco? Guess! Well, Joe Gigante told me I’d be dead in a couple of years if I didn’t get out of Chicago and find a good mild climate where I didn’t suffer from cold and asthma all winter, and heat, sweat and allergies every summer. None of that here... but I miss my family and friends over the holidays... so remember me... and here are a few kisses for all... * * * * * * * *

What I Finally Learned Today

I guess it has taken me a long, long time to learn the most basic thing in life. Today, I think I finally learned the secret of life. I should have know it for a lot of reasons... some of which I may write of later in this post, if I can manage. But for now I shall just try to explain what I learned and how I learned it. Today I watched an hour long program on the life of Nelson Mandela... a man who took not quite as long as it took me to learn. He somehow learned while in a terrible prison... and I just learned from him... the secret of a happy life is quite simple... to be a good person and love everyone. You have only to look at the sweet, smiling face of Mandela to realize he turned an angry life around and really, honestly began to love all people, be they friend, acquaintance, old enemy, black, white, or anything in between. As he came back amongst people he daily seemed to become sweeter, kinder and more forgiving of everything that had ever been done to him or his country. He taught his coountry the great power of forgiveness to all for every bad thing ever done or even felt toward another person, with no punishment if a person confessed to a missdeed... and then, the great power of a love for all other human beings. What power that man had... for for no one else have I ever heard it said, as I did today, from a young Indian man who said, "We sing and dance today, for we must not have tears that he is gone, but joy that he was here." Of who else could this simple thing be said? No one of whom I can think. He forced a country to have a time of reconciliation... not by torture or fights or battles or laws, but by the confession of ill deeds, the forgiveness for those deeds with no jail terms, no punishment, but merely forgiveness and hopefully an end to the hatred that caused them. For such a man, who had been hated and jailed and mistreated for so long to feel this way is not only almost unbelievable it is about as saintly as one can get. Nelson Mandela was that saint, and today, as his countrymen and women gather and sing of, by and for him, I finally got it through my head that he was right. If I want to be happy and live a good life in the tiny time I have left, I had better lose all of my bad feelings I ever had for anyone else and join Mandela in loving all of humanity. 

Now about what I said in the beginning of this piece. The reason I 'should' have learned this long years ago. I had a wonderful older sister, whom we used to kid about and call "The Saint" because she was so good, really good. I only saw her yell at her kids once in my life... and if they had been mine, I might have either gone crazy or beaten them. As it was, just going into their bedroom one night when they were yelling and fighting, slapping all the beds with a pair of pajamas and saying, "if I hear ONE MORE SOUND out of any of you I WILL BE BACK!" shocked them so much that we didn't hear one more sound for the rest of the night. But I didn't learn to be a saint like my sister, and I am just beginning to learn to forgive the world. What a lovely feeling that is... particularly as I live in San Francisco, where we live close and right on top of one another, with people from all over the world, all crowded in together. I guess that helps to teach one to love others, and I guess it has helped me. So I suppose one of the easiest things to do is to imagine, when approached by anyone one could feel a dislike for, the beautiful, smiling face of Nelson Mandela and smile back with a real feeling of love and happiness. One might also extend a helping hand if needed, or at least a kind word, and a real feeling of love for each person.

I Learned 'Something' Today

Well, I think I did... the main thing I learned is that as one gets to be as old as I am, one often hears directions on 'how to do it' as a lot of 'blah, blah, blah.' I just spent half an hour looking at several how-to's for 'blogger' and got nowhere. Silly me, I never consider all those little icons, as often when I do, I get nowhere. Thank god I seem to still have a sort of intuitive feeling when it comes to how to do it (anything). I actually at last figured out how to put a newer photo of Mark and family on here. The last time I did that was when Charlie was new... and now there is Max to add to the brood. If I haven't mentioned it before, my darling son Mark and his beautiful wife, Melody are now the proud parents of four: clockwise from the top of the latest photo... Callie Elizabeth, age 12; Bella (Isabella Victoria), age 10; Maxwell Raymond, age 9 mo.; and Charles (Charlie) age 7. They are all the joy and delight of Grandma Peg, who wishes she could be with them in person for a bit. My tiny grandmother, Mama Whitney, who fit under my outstretched arm, would simply say, shaking her little finger under our noses, "You're just like all those BIG Cartwrights," as we Cartwrights do tend to be tall. Grandpa Cartwright was one of the tallest men in Port Austin, Michigan, and all of my aunts and uncles were the same... I guess Lancashire people tend to be tall and sturdy. It is a joy to look at my family and see such a bright and beautiful group. I seem to have handed down the best of the family looks and brains to Mark, who passed them on to his kidlets. Well, marrying Melody was a pretty good move on his part, as she is not only a beauty, but also the best mother I know and has brought them up in a way that not only I, but all the Cartwright and Whitney parents and grandparents would applaud. Jessie Margaret Whitney Cartwright, my mother, and their great grandmother would have loved all of these beautiful (and very smart) children to distraction... she used to say, "I like children who can talk to me." Starting with Tom Rodd, she had a lot of grandchildren who could do just that, and this crew fit the bill just as perfectly. I love these kids and miss them terribly! 

Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Chanukka, Happy weekend to all....... from the family elder!

I CANNOT SLEEP

After much yawning, and weeping through the yawns, I finally lay down to sleep, but sleep will not come. The yawns and tears have stopped, but here I am, worn out from pool exercises over at Davies... having to go back tomorrow (today) to see Michelle and do more exercises, yet I cannot sleep. Too late to take one of those lovely sleeping pills some doctor gave me, as I do not want to sleep through my appointment with Michelle... and to add to the nightmare quality of it all, Sylvia is and has been, up, yowling and getting into everything I tell her to stay out of. Going over and sticking her paws into the venetian blinds, climbing down behind the TV, leaping from chair to chair to windowsill, all the while sounding like the worst Siamese in heat. She is neither of those. Perhaps I shall soon be singing a little song similar to Loudon Wainwright III... "Dead Cat In the Middle of the Road..."  Of course, a lot of it is because I had the nerve to go out without her and be gone all afternoon... then come home smelling of pool chemicals to my little darling who now thinks since she slept all day, I should stay up and play with her. I love the night, the quiet, the moon when you can see it, the stars which I wonder if I shall ever see again, the way stories used to flow out of me... ah, will they ever again??? But not when I am expected at a therapy appointment in the early afternoon.

Besides, the night now seems to simply entangle me in all the sad memories of past love... oh, Kirkie-boo, where are you??... and burden me with thoughts of all the things I should be doing... putting together all the S.F. poems and drawing a foggy cover for a book I may never get put together... although I do have a mock-up of it lying around somewhere... or even finishing the long ago set of 35 handmade books of mushy love poems that actually were written in the old, olden days BK... the after ones are much better, less mushy and sometimes quite funny. I guess I really do write a little bit like Billy Collins. Funny that I still haven't lost my sense of humour... and remain true to my English heritage... I love to spell the English way... like the 3-Day Labour Day contest. Always cracks me up, as it is run out of Canada, but done on a U.S. holiday weekend. I wonder if Canada actually has a Labour Day... I know it isn't on ours anyway. Wonder how they will like my 100 page conversation. This year my 'novel' was about 2 people mainly... primarily done in a long conversation, the two of them meeting, getting to know one another, stuck together by circumstance, talking and talking and talking. I was always told that I write conversations well, so I decided to try doing just that in a whole book... well, the size of a novelette, but certainly LONG.

I really should try to send the Cece story out... unfortunately there aren't any of the women's magazines that we had around when I was young, where it might fit well. I can see it being illustrated by that great illustrator who worked for Cosmopolitan when I was a teenager. Funny, I cannot remember  his name, and I adored him when I was a kid. His men were all unbelievably handsome and the women all gorgeous, and I knew his name and his bio... now the only thing I remember is that he loved women who wore BRIGHT red lipstick and nail polish. Of course  he did... he drew them all the time. Should send out a lot of stuff... god knows I could use the money to pay for fixing the slats on the bed and a dozen other little things that need to be done, plus all the mice I am surrounded by and other little jade thingies I should not have been bidding on in the middle of other nights I could not sleep. Don't do it, Peggy... don't look, there will always be something precious you, like little Markie...NEED. (I need it, Ma, I NEED it!) Oh, don't we all, dear one, don't we all.

I need to go and see that adorable new baby, Max. Well, and all the rest of the crew. I do have the most adorable grandchildren anyone ever had. They are bright, beautiful, handsome and funny. If I knew how to do it, I would put the darling little videos Callie sent me on You Tube... one of my friends who saw the ones she sent me said that's where they belong. If I knew how seems to be my eternal cry these days... I have not kept up with the electronic ease one must have these days... I don't know how to do anything with my phone... it has a camera and all sorts of other stuff that I don't know how to use... I haven't hooked up the video/dvd thing Whitney got for me to use with my TV, nor the clock radio, nor the little answering machine for the phone... oh lordy I NEED a grown up GRANDCHILD... or at least a nice man friend who would come over and help me out. But no... I get a Donald, who couldn't do anything but leave a trail of cracker crumbs all over my house. I am still sweeping them up once in awhile. Where are all those engineers I turned down for years... I could use you now guys. No, not really, although .......

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow... ah your Shakespeare..... he should haf been a Russian

To die... to sleep... but in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off our mortal coil......must give us pause....

Today is called the Feast of Crispian... he that stands with me today shall rouse him at the name of Crispian...... and gentlemen in England now abed, shall count their manhood cheap, whilst any speak... who fought with us upon St. Crispin's Daaaaaaay. (I love 'whilst')

oh dear..... I am losing it. I used to know all the great speeches from Henry V... and dozens of others from Shakespeare, by far my favorite writer. Perhaps that is where I learned to write great conversations..... and I should (again!!!) get back to my play for Alec Baldwin... 2 people talking and talking and talking... my idea of fun................... say goodnight, Peggy.................. good night Peggy............................

Get Rid of Professional Politicians

I don't suppose many people will see this, as I don't suppose many people read or even see this blog, but I shall write it anyway. Now that Boehner has finally decided to stop saying he hasn't had a conversation with the president, shut up and stopped listening to the moronic part of his 'party' (the so called 'tea party' group), I just want to weigh in with my feelings. Actually, my only feelings on this are that hopefully, everyone with any brains will vote against ANYONE who has ever supported Boehner, the 'tea party' or anyone in the far right wing of the republican party. Remember, oh ye who have lived through this... who they are! Now and forever, AMEN.

After having to look at the smarmy, shiny faces of Ted Cruz (does he grease it up before he spouts his trash?) and Michelle Bachman for the last couple of days, I am almost ready to drag myself out of the house and run for office. I am not happy with ANYONE in Washington, D.C., and I personally, feel we need to clean Congress out of the building they NEVER seem to have time to go and work in. We have a Congress that is a non-working body... at least for us. They are all working for themselves, palling with the lobbyists and billionaires to make sure that they will keep getting money to keep their miserable jobs until they are able to retire on full pay with free health benefits, and a job waiting as another lobbyist, so they can stay and play in Washington... the party capital of the world. Am I disillusioned with our government and its people......

 I think you might possibly... or certainly, say that I am.

That Must Have Done it...

Here it is around a week later, and I'm fine. Happy as a lark, singing and feeling really happy. Guess getting it out about feeling miserable must work. Well... I'm back to having purple hair, so people see me again. Even had a guy delivering some poor old man into an ambulance, shout out to me, "Hey, I love your hair... nice, goes with the outfit, very pretty," when I was waiting for my cab after my therapy session. And, have had a series of wonderful cab drivers this week and last. Couple of days ago I was going up to Davies in a cab and the driver was playing a wonderful Jobim album. I told him I had been listening to Jobim at home and how much I admired his music. He said he should make me a copy of his CD... I didn't think any more of it, and a couple of days later, Michele and Monet handed me a CD from the little box at my door as they were leaving my apt. It was Jobim... and I couldn't imagine how it got there... so when I was going out to get the mail, I ran into Linda, the girl who handles tenant stuff in the building. She asked me if I had gotten the CD she left at my door... that a young cab driver came in and asked her to give it to a nice older woman with purple hair... and of course she knew it was me. Wish she had just told him where my apt was, so I could have thanked him. He was a darling. 

Then today, I had a darling Hispanic driver who lives out in San Bruno and told me all about his garden and fruit trees, and I told him how to make Hungarian fruit soup... we had a ball driving up to go to see Michelle Spicer, my terrific therapist, who almost killed me exercising. Then... amazing... the same cab driver picked me up to come home and gave me a big hug at the end of the trip. I love the Luxor Cab drivers, they are such fun. Everyone I met today was sweet and kind and interesting... life is good, after all. And Michelle got me in the pool classes for four more sessions... hooray! Now I have to do all the exercises she has given me EVERY DAY... and get out there to the lobby daily and get on the recumbent bike. My poor old back may wear out, but I promised... and I don't want to be like Kirk, and forget half the promises........

And... I have a new correspondent who bodes well to become a friend. All this exercising and letter writing will keep me very busy for some time... and has obviously cheered me up. I guess I do need to get out and see and talk to people... or at least write to someone. I probably should do something about starting a poetry group... and maybe even a social group for older people, as I have discovered a lot of old guys on OKC live in this neighborhood... what a surprize (oh, there I go being English again.) Oh, I am sure they wouldn't like my calling them old... but they are. I have to find out how to put different fonts on here!!

Wasting Away??

Doggone... sometimes I feel I must be getting close to death. First, I hurt all the time... I mean really hurt. Pain in the back, bad, and now the old feet hurt most of the time, there is pain in the hip, even my left breast hurts some of the time; it's like the whole damned left side hates me. And I’m not much good with pain, although I am sure getting a lot better than I used to be... gotta keep moving.

Next: time seems to have speeded up so much that I feel like this should still be around February (pronounced Feb-RUE-ary people!) or March and Spring in full bloom (well, this is California, after all). Amazing that I manage to get my rent and all the other bills paid, as I’m not too good at looking at the day or date, and often must be reminded it is time for same.

Then there’s the horrible fact of life that most of my friends have given up the ghost and left me standing (I know... more like sitting) here all alone and lonely. Or have gone back to live with children all those long, long miles away back East. What are they thinking?  How can they bear to go back to the heat and cold and floods and hurricanes and tornadoes and blizzards... yahhhhhhh! Not for me, if I must live and die alone out here, at least I shall be comfortable.

Last, I am falling again into a sort of lonely depression -- with me in various forms ever since my darling K deserted me, when I asked for so little. A desertion after 10 years, made even worse by the fact that he promised never to do that, but did, saying that he had made promises and had to keep them. So much for ‘what kind of promise... are there good and bad promises?’. Guess so.

With K's desertion and the death of my dear, sweet, kind Al, I have no one left even to write to, so the days lie forgotten as they fly by in the terrible wind now, and I seem merely to waste away... soon to be swept up with the days, the leaves and all the rest of the blowing about trash.......    fade to pale blue

Finally, A Sample From My Memories

Our Own Man Who Came to Dinner

    Jessie had an unending parade of people who came to visit us, particularly when we lived in Pittsburgh. We had, of course, the old school crowd from Michigan State, Daddy’s friends from years of companionship at General Motors, theatre friends from all over, particularly those in the cast of whatever was playing in town, artists, writers and friends from such organizations as AAUW or the League of Women Voters. Everyone who came to town for anything, called Jessie and often came to stay with us for a night or two. I got very used to Jess calling down the stairs, “Tell Helen (or Ruby or Lessie, or whoever was in charge of the kitchen at the moment), to set another place at the table.”

    I was generally the one to set another place, as I was often the sous chef, down there learning all I could about making magnificent dinners for our family and friends. Seldom did we have less than six to eight people for dinner. One frequent dinner guest was a writer friend of Jessie’s named George Lockart, who lived with his brother and worked for the Veteran’s Administration. When his brother moved back to Eastern PA, Jessie invited George to come and stay with us until he found another apartment. He never did find one, and lived with us until we moved to Chicago. He was then inherited by P.B. Burgwin and his family. But that is another story.
 
    George had been drafted into the Army to serve in W.W.II. He was about as good a candidate for soldiering as one would imagine David Sedaris would be. First of all, he was the shape of a cantaloupe, with little arms and legs attached. However, the Army put him in something called the “Timber Wolf Division” with a bunch of hillbillies from Kentucky. But luckily in that group he made friends with the only three other intellectuals who were also privates in that division. One was a famous writer whose name I cannot remember, the next a guy named Joe Schaller (also a writer) and a fourth a young college professor from back East.
 
    After George moved in we were regaled with stories about the adventures of those four men, who landed in France and moved with the armies that fought battles across the country, and actually beat back the Germans to win the war. Not that those four did much toward that win. We were told that they never fired their guns (one of which was constantly jammed), but apparently simply sat on their backpacks or piles of damp army blankets, playing bridge as the army moved across France.
 
    “It always rains during a war,” one of them told me, “so we were never dry.”
 
    “Yes,” would chime in another, “we sat on those damned wet blankets for weeks. Damned things never dried out.”
 
    “I got some kind of foot fungus,” one would say, “Still have it... the miserable stuff never goes away. Wet socks, that’s what did it!”
 
   The only time they were ever comfortable during WWII was one brief stint spent in a captured castle in Germany. It was also the only time any of them had worried about rescuing the ‘souvenirs’ so many of the soldiers were picking up. The hillbillies broke into chests and safes in the castle, looking for money or something valuable, pocketing any souvenirs they thought might get them a little money, tossing out great bunches of clothing and handmade lace. George managed to rescue a few exquisite linen hankies with thick lace borders and embroidered initials that one of the boys was planning to use to clean his gun, and some of the lace yardage, which later was sewn into his sister’s wedding gown, having come back in a pillow case in George’s backpack.
 
    My favorite story about these guys is actually only about Joe Schaller, who was visiting George and so having dinner with us. Our dining room was downstairs, the children’s living room was upstairs and all sound carried easily from it and the piano, down into the dining room. My younger sister had been ‘teaching’ one of her friends to play our battered, out-of-tune upright piano and the friend was practicing, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (or thumb, up all the fingers, then back down to thumb, up one note, repeat the same. Slowly, obnoxiously. 
     
     Joe finally couldn’t take it any longer and shouted up the stairs, “Hey, jazz it up a little, kid, will ya, the customers don’t go for that classical stuff.”

More Anger

After a long day of reading ALMOST ALL the columnists, both Democratic and republican (well David Brooks agrees with me, Mark Shields is too busy getting married to write of it), and their feelings on the cave-in by Boehner and the rest of the republican party big-wigs, I am shocked and awed that this could happen. What are they thinking? Where are their heads? Are they joining the DoogieBushGang in ignorance? Are they afraid of these ignorant kooks who have very little education (I don’t care if they went to Harvard, they obviously didn’t LISTEN), and less sense. I am further shocked to see that so many of them consider themselves “middle class.” They had better scrape the scales off their eyes and SEE that there is NO middle class anymore. I know, I used to be one of the upper middle class and I am now one of y’all... 90% of the people of the United States are THE POOR. Only the RICH should vote republican... and that’s the 2% who OWN ALL THE MONEY IN THE COUNTRY. Look it up people... it’s all there in Google. They will tell you exactly how POOR and STUPID you are if you vote with the 2%... you’re just handing them your taxes, plus a lot more. So here’s what I wrote in answer to all the nuts arguing about guns, healthcare and money in the New York Times:

What’s the matter with the ‘tea party’ or ‘conservatives’ or any weird non-thinkers, that keeps them unaware that most people in this world live happily and peacefully in countries that have universal health care and laws that forbid ordinary citizens from having any guns. I can’t understand why the poor (that’s 90% of our citizens) are so easily swayed by the 2% with all the money, and constantly vote to make the 2%’s will be done (make sure they keep getting more money) and let gun manufacturers, heads of insurance companies and other corporate heads rule the country.

Go to the Constitution and RE-READ the Second Amendment. It doesn’t say that every nut should have an Army gun and carry it around all the time. It says that we should have a militia with guns (kept at HQ), so we will be protected from intruders or some crazy who thinks he/she can attack others. Police and members of the National Guard (militia in the old days) are the only ones who should have guns - not for personal use, only when on duty. Period.

As long as ‘poor’ people keep allowing guns made to kill a maximum number of people to be bought at gun shows by crazies or relatives of same, you can easily figure out how many children will be killed in the next year. We need to close the gun shows, stop the manufacturers from selling war weapons in this country and impose extremely strict penalties on anyone with weapons excepta one-load-at-a-time weapon, (hunting rifle). I include the wealthy 2% in that, even the Wal-family, John Boehner, Paul Ryan, Ted Cruz and that brilliant speechmaker, Ashton Kutcher.

I Should Lighten Up... but I can't

I cannot seem to write anything positive or pleasant these days. Only one after another... depressing little notes on the terrible greedy, not too bright, professional politicians in Washington. All of them seem to come from the Ronald Raegan/Doogie Bush school of “I-wanna-wreck-the-guvment-and-make-big-bucks-doing-it” school of permanent politicians. The latest seem to belong to the dumb-and-dumber class of people. For example... take the idiot who ran for V.P. in the last election, Paul Ryan (I think I got the name right... hard to remember a non-entity), a congressman who has never had a ‘real’ job, outside of being a ‘gofer’ for an older congressman and a stint at McDonalds. How does that make him capable of ‘running the country?’ Then there is Ted Cruz, thinking of running for president, yet he holds a citizenship in Canada (doesn’t that make him a foreigner?), and quotes the likes of Ashton Kutcher as a great speechmaker. His other examples were as bad also (again, who can remember ignorance). I do love Dr.Seuss, but as a reading to Congress?

If I weren’t so damned OLD, I’d move to Sweden or the Netherlands... they not only have great systems of government, fewer crazies running around and less homeless and starving on their streets, but have learned how to take care of their old and feed the poor. Even better, they have lots of great looking, super tall guys with lots of brains. An old intellectual could have a great time finding a man to talk to over there! Sigh! Blue... blue... blue!!!

Gee, Look at Me, More...

I JUST GOT IT! Ted Cruz is Ashton Kutcher's last big practical joke before Ashton becomes the speechwriter for the 'tea party,' channeling Dr. Seuss, no doubt. At least they may make a little more sense now, to the 14 to 19 year old crowd... (couple of 'dirty words' thrown in to make them feel at home). Ah, but do they vote, Ted? (Like you would know... have you read any more of the 'Great Books' lately? Well maybe you should ask that great 'tea party' "Intellectual" who ran for VP (now what was his name, you know with the guy who was building an elevator for his cars... you know... old whatsisname). He'll probably find something for you, like maybe "James and the Giant Peach," although that one might be a bit too radical for you. "Alice in Wonderland" is nice, make you feel right at home in that big old House of Representatives where you get kinda lost and don't quite know what's going on in the outside world, where the rotten peasants of the general public are always giving you trouble, and don't fit into your idea of what things should really be like... and never fit into the numbers you guys make up to show you know what's going on. 

But be careful, Teddy, did you know that if you kids do manage to shut down the government, that means no trips for you, no nice helicopter rides to see the younger kids in the Army get shot by snipers far below you, so you can come home and tell us all about "Those Terrible terrorists who say they are defending their country, when we all know they are just getting ready to fly over here on their camels and attack our homes and kill our women and children." Yep, all you brave congressmen might have to give up all your percs for a couple of days to show what big stuff you are, 'running the country' and making sure that the people on Social Security see what a big guy you are, 'heh, heh, heh,' as dear old Georgie used to say. But then you can have a big celebration, marching around and showing up to sit in your seats for a change and show how you can borrow a bit more from the Chinese and settle things with yet another weird bill or vote to make sure the rich get richer, so you get reelected for yet another term. After all, you have to 'work' a few more years to make sure you can retire on full pay and get one of those great lobbyist jobs for more money. Wouldn't want to miss that little 'House' perc. After all, Washington is a lot more fun than having to stay home with the wife and kiddies... girls are better looking there and quite available, and the food is great, 'specially when it is all paid for by the lobbyists who work for the large corporations that pay for all your extra needs and particularly for your next campaign for Congress.

Show 'em who's boss, Teddy. Show 'em that if you don't particularly like to work at a regular job and can glad hand and suck up to millionaire corporate types, you too might be able to get into a really sweet 'job' in Washington, D.C., the playground of the East. Show 'em you can make up all kinds of great stories and statistics and talk your head off about the celebrities you know, even if they are kinda minor ones... well, hell, they're big shots and make you sound big. Hey, keep it up kid, you might even run for president one day, then you might be able to appoint Ashton Kutcher to your cabinet. Let the practical jokes begin!!!

Four of a Kind

I’ve always loved the name Jack. Given my choice, I’d probably have named my son Jack instead of Mark, but my ex won that time and Mark got what his sister considers a ‘lucky’ name, the name of the ex’s uncle. (Not that lucky... the old uncle died and left his money to an earlier generation.)

So I use the name Jack often in the stories I write. Haven’t named any of my pets Jack, but I always seem to have female pets and that name just doesn’t sound like a female. Jack is such a guy’s name, and most Jacks are pretty cute guys... like Jack Kennedy, one of the outstanding Jacks of all time. A lot of them get to be ‘Jackie,’ as in Jackie Robinson and Jackie Chan, but I prefer just plain Jack, as in ‘Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy,’ from our long lost youth (my ancient generation, that is).

And think of all the expressions using that name: ‘Jack be nimble/ Jack be quick/ Jack jump over the candlestick.’ Or, ‘Jack of all trades/ master of none.’ (That’s me, female though I be.) Jack and Jill, Jack and the Beanstalk, Jack Russell terrier, Little Jack Horner, Jack the Ripper, Jack Frost,  Black Jack, Crackerjack, Applejack, Jack Daniel’s whiskey, Jack cheese, jack hammer, jack knife, and that ever popular ‘jack off’... wow, I could go on forever, think about it, you’ll remember a LOT more.

So, I was thinking (yeah, I do that once in awhile) the other day, I seem to have acquired three Jack friends since I moved to San Francisco. The oldest (he will hate me for that) is my friend Jack Light, then my cute little buddy, Jack Kessler over in El Cerrito (or the Oakland hills or wherever he has wandered to now) and a new one, cute tall, athletic, young Jack Fisher down in Santa Monica, the soccer player. Well, you can’t win a big round with only three of a kind, so I’m adding to the mix.

Yesterday I received a darling little ‘lucky monkey water dropper’ from China. (Google it, I’m not explaining.) He is adorable, an antique, and even has a usable chop on the bottom of the square block he is sitting on. His cute little expressive face seemed to be saying “I need a name, give me one.” So I am naming him Jack Chimp. Now I figure I should go out and buy a Powerball ticket and maybe a couple of our California lottery tickets too. At last I have four of a kind. Only Jacks, you say? Well, I ain’t gonna get no Kings or Queens 'round c'here any time soon, so I figure four Jacks might be pretty good. Of course, with my luck the day I get those tickets someone with four aces will show up to knock me back down. Story of my life...

I Guess Agreeing With Paul Krugman

Today I read a short article from Paul Krugman and got completely carried away... I am sick and tired of the Washington crowd... of politics and professional politicians. I wish I could move back to the Netherlands for good. I am quite sick of the fact that our country has gone from a (Mensa) lowest IQ for the top 2% of 145 when I was already in my middle age, to a current one of around 135. The politics have become no good, the school system is failing, I miss having intelligent people to talk to - blah, here goes:

How can these “middle-class” (don’t they KNOW they are the POOR), ignorant people belong to and vote for the republicans? I guess ‘ignorant’ is the prime word, particularly for the ones belonging to the ‘tea party’ (what a laugh that is... if they knew what it was supposed to mean, their ignorance might drop a half point perhaps). Don’t they realize the people they repeatedly vote into office are simply career politicians who can’t or don’t want to work at regular jobs, but have learned they can suck up to the rich, get funding if they promise to steer all the money their way, and spend the next 20 years sitting in Congress saying ‘NO’ to any decent bill that comes up that might benefit “the people” (i.e. NOT the rich... it might hurt them), then can retire on full pay, with great health insurance and many other benefits. Further, they can go to one of their by now very good wealthy friends and get a job paying EVEN MORE with better benefits as a lobbyist, or one who goes around telling all the friends he made in Congress how to vote to be sure to get the best percs and most corporate money by voting against anything that might help the poor and the (ha, ha) ‘middle class.’ :-) ;-)

And now... how do I know you poor ‘republicans’ (all the non-super-wealthy ones... I know why they are) are so ignorant. Because you didn’t pay attention to social studies, history, math, and a lot of other stuff, in school... and you now pay more attention to voting for crappy ‘singers’ on a super-crappy TV show than you do for people running for government jobs of any sort. You are the morons who don’t pay attention to what politicians are saying and doing, haven’t learned anything since around kindergarten and never vote.  Unfortunately, you are also the ones who not only haven’t read this article, or any article of any intelligence, and have no idea what I am talking about. Further... I am afraid the educational system in this country has begun to be taken over by the republican party and its minions, and therefore, things are worse than any of us realize or know. We are becoming a nation of idiots.

When a Wal-family woman can try to give away her crappy art collection to save on her taxes, only to have it refused by 2-3 intelligent museum heads, then build a museum to house it in her home town, giving her even better reason not to have to pay any taxes... we are in bad shape. The very wealthy usually 'give to charity' a lot, but their idea of 'giving to charity' is to give to the symphony, museums, theatres, etc., in other words, give to all the people who can entertain you and then take that off your taxes. 'After all, the poor are only poor because they are lazy,' to quote Barbara Bush, and they usually can't entertain you. When many, many more of our ignorant population vote for non-entity pop ‘singers’ than vote for president, we are in worse shape. When people actually vote for ignorant ‘tea party’ nuts, some of whom have never had a real job (Ryan worked as a ‘go-fer’ for someone in Congress and for McDonalds... REAL WORK, right?), we are done for. Talk about the fall of the Roman Empire... the shooting in the streets has already begun. My dear ancestors who fought in the original Revolution must be spinning in their graves! They wrote the second amendment so that the people who volunteered to be in a National Guard (they called it militia) would have guns to use if needed... NOT TO TAKE HOME and kill your neighbors, people!!!

Since there is no god... they all were invented to keep the people in order and not objecting to the greedy overlords... I cannot now say ‘god bless you, you ignorant poor who are voting to make sure the wealthy not only keep, but also get more, wealth’... maybe I’ll just close with “May the powers that be help you all MAYBE read and Learn Something...anything, soon, please.”  Oh hell, won’t happen, we are done for.

Great Way to Keep Up

So now it's almost my birthday, and about all I can think of is that the most memorable birthday I've had since the mess that happened on my birthday (9/11 lives on in infamy) was in '02 when Kirkie came to play for the day... there was a guy who knew how to play, and how to make love and bring lovely presents. I think he taught me how to play. I don't think I had a real 'playmate' in my adult years until I found him and he was a lot of fun... I miss him. This birthday will be fun, though, as Whitney and I are going to Callistoga to the lovely hot pools and nice massages. Roman Spa I think it is called. I'm all for that and can't wait. Wish K and I could have gone up to Callistoga... it's his kind of place.

Now what have I been doing in all these long months since last December? Getting old, I suppose. I know that for the first time in my life I really FEEL OLD. My back is killing me (ah, the Whitney back!) and my balance is off completely. Nothing like staggering around being held up by a walker. God I hate this time of really finally almost 'growing up' and suddenly become almost a helpless child. Most of all, I rather dislike the attitude of most people who surround me... sometimes being treated like a three year old... having the speaker treat one like a three year old, and then having them insist that they will 'help you.' I do not WANT help... I am more of an adult than they are. I absolutely LOVE people who understand... I adore Bill Ayres for something he did. I was at a writer's group meeting and said, "Well, I am very old, but I still..." and Bill broke in with, "Oh, Peg, you're not OLD." Bill is great... he talks to my mind, not my helpless body, and never treats me like a three year old. I have a couple of friends left who treat me like a contemporary, in spite of the fact that they are anything from 10 to 30 or 40 years younger than I. I recently had a lovely conversation about our past sex lives with a 35 year old guy, discovering that men don't change much, but enjoy the same things at 30 and 60 and I guess for the rest of their lives.

And now I shall close, having said not very much. God, even my hands are looking old... and they have always been my best feature. Ah, but I have discovered eBay and the fact that one can get rings to fit large (I refuse to say 'fat') fingers, so I do have a large set of lovely rings and bracelets... most in purple (amethyst) my color. Now when I show up at a meeting or a party, I show up! Ah, well, back to the PBS mysteries, I suppose. I'm not too impressed with "Silk"... but then, I have never liked lawyers... English or American, they are bloody bores. Now soccer players... I have just discovered them... wow! Bill may just be right... Peg, you're not OLD.