When you get to be my age (VERY OLD) you tend to lose friends, family, people in general. The only people you see or talk to are your doctor, well, doctors now, they're all specialists, your dentist, the people you make appointments to see, your hairdresser (or barber), the people who come to clean your apartment, but not very many others. Old people become invisible to others on the street, particularly ones with my problem... I use a walker, so I guess younger people think I am beyond bothering with. I even notice that the little girl who is our building's 'program director' tends to talk to me the way one talks to a three year old... I'm THAT old. Unfortunately, I cannot put a sign around my neck, explaining that I am a 40 year old living in a 90 year old body. I can still understand a lot more of the English language that most people. I can still read... and write, using my computers, and carry on an intelligent conversation... well, that is, if I can find an intelligent person out there. They seem to have become one of the lost races on this earth. All but about two or three of my old friends are either dead, have moved in with their children back East, have just about lost it to some form of Alzheimer's or taken to their beds for good, something that doesn't interest me at the moment.
So, I must begin a search... a search for younger friends obviously. I'm almost there. I joined my local 'Nextdoor.com' ... a lovely way to meet neighbors. I put two comments in... first one mentioned that I was a old woman who needed help with my new Macbook Pro, and getting a website started to put my podcast online, and made friends with a darling girl named Allie, who turned out to be a knitter and craftsperson like me... we had a lot in common to start with, and have discovered more as she helped me... I'm learning!! Then I commented on another note... and had several people get in touch with me... had a wonderful time last night... on of the young men and his girlfriend came over, bringing me dinner and stayed to talk... much fun. They promised to come back and bring yet another young man with to interview me. Plus... heard from some other charming girls... one coming for tea on Sunday, an older woman who invited me to come and see her California plant garden, and a dear girl with a baby who is coming to see me after her mother's visit. I do have neighbors... and looks like we will get to know each other. Perhaps I shall even get my Sunday in the Garden conversation meting I had thought about started. This is a great neighborhood... I do hope we all get together to talk. Now all I have to do is find wher the gals hid my Red Rose Tea. We were stuck having white tea last night, as it was all I could find. I love the idea of having neighbors again!
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Talking to Myself Once More
Well, since no one ever reads this, I guess it is simply me talking to myself... so me, how's the neck? Don't ask! Why do I continue to exist in this terrible shape? I suppose because I don't think I could haul myself up over the edges of the GG bridge... and besides, I hate being under water... just brings back the remembrance of the horrible waters of Lake Minnetonka where I almost drowned the one summer we went there instead of up to the cottage, where we had beautiful Lake Huron, clear and clean and lovely. Few lttle stones as you walked into the lake, but then back to the singing sands of Michigan underfoot. On shore, hot sand to sink into as you ran to keep the feet above the broiling hot sand, heated up by the hot, hot sun, so it was either run up to the right and into the shade of the birch, beech and fir trees that grew there, or into the water and run on the tiny stones. Always running down to the public beach, as the lake behind our cottage was shallow and a long way to fight through the leg length water to a place where one could swim. At least at the public beach one could get in, walk a short distance and swim... swim around the big round logs of the pier, in and out, out to the last ones, where it became over the head finally.
How I miss the cottage... and all the relatives. Useless and alone in California... well, my dear son always says, "You're the one who wanted to live in California. Yep... it's always my fault... everything... forever. Well Mark et al, California has been good for and to me. Look... I'm living forever... I have help with my housework... I have a selfish roommate named Sylvia, who is now telling me to get the hell in there and clean out her litter box... must go.......... bye me, bye!
How I miss the cottage... and all the relatives. Useless and alone in California... well, my dear son always says, "You're the one who wanted to live in California. Yep... it's always my fault... everything... forever. Well Mark et al, California has been good for and to me. Look... I'm living forever... I have help with my housework... I have a selfish roommate named Sylvia, who is now telling me to get the hell in there and clean out her litter box... must go.......... bye me, bye!
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Oh, Did God Choose Sunday for US?
Here it is Sunday and I am so sick and tired of “Christians” and their so called ‘beliefs’ taken right from the teachings of their ‘Christ,’ or Jesus? Almost always, it turns out that they are giving us something from the OLD Testament, or the Jewish bible. There is nothing there about a Jesus... that is all in the NEW Testament, which they will also drag out and quote from, but normally their quotes are from the OLD.
To my way of thinking, the Old Testament is actually the telling and retelling and retelling, and retelling, and retelling, ad infinitum, of stories made up by a bunch of old men to keep their flocks in order and doing what those old bosses wanted done. (Haven’t we all had a boss who told us “because we’ve always done it that way?”) The stories that have come down to us that were put into a ‘bible’ are the ones that benefitted the ‘bosses’ the best, and the ones that were the most interesting to majority of people. That ‘book’ has been ripped apart and retold by a lot of generations, and I think most people now have gotten the idea, finally, that no old man with a long white beard patted together a lot of dust and threw in a couple of oceans to make a place for his original pair of ‘humans’ to live some 60,000 (oh yeah?) years ago. What language did they speak? (I’ll bet most of the holier than thou in the U.S. will say ‘English.’) "Great glory, I been SAVED!!"
As to the “Christians” in the supposedly devout fundamentalist groups in our country, most do not know much about the bible, as they do not read, but simply take the word of some usually just as ignorant ‘pastor’ who tells them how to think and believe. If they had read the New Testament, they would find that Jesus was simply a minor prophet who headed a quite small group of people of the Jewish faith, who, like most Jews, were looking for ‘the Redeemer’ (or whatever your group called him in those days), to take them out of the slavery they were in, to establish them where everyone wants to be... as the bosses again. A lot of this was of course, cloaked in the pretty voices of ‘the humble,’ ‘the kind,’ etc., etc. After all WE wouldn’t treat our fellow humans badly, would we? Noooo. We are nicer, aren’t we? And all the ‘holidays were cribbed from the Pagans... Jesus was NOT born in December, the ‘elders’ needed to snatch that pagan celebration, along with all the rest.
Now if you look at the New Testament, you will find very few real “quotes” from this minor prophet, Jesus, as almost all of what is written (or made up) about him was written long after his death. Matter of fact, he probably wouldn’t even have become known if it hadn’t been for a man we call St.Paul, who came long, long after Jesus, picked up stories and beliefs about this good and kind man and spread his name and stories about him all across the somewhat civilized world of that time. Had it not been for St.Paul and his wanderings and teachings, we might have wound up with Thor or some vague Viking god as our main venue of worship. But, because of St.Paul, who most assuredly was not one of Jesus’ “disciples,” we got Jesus, the man he referred to as “the Son of God.” He did a great job, My mother, a devout Anglican Catholic (Episcopalian) always referred to St.Paul as the first great salesman.
Then there is the New Testament itself. I get very tired of the people who say it is the ‘word of god’... one would really not like to imagine that old man with the white beard lounging around on the clouds with so much time on his hands when he could be helping out some of the poor refugees down here, writing some of the fanciful stories in that book. Now you find me a quote from Jesus that says gay people can’t get married, or that a woman who has been raped can’t get an abortion.
First of all, those stories were gathered, again by the tribal bosses, to keep people in line and doing whatever work had to be done to keep the community together. Further, that whole book was torn apart by Constantine when he was converted to this new faith, who destroyed the parts he did not agree with, and put in a few little extras to keep his bunch in line. It was ever thus, no matter what all those fundamentalist preachers in their fancy, expensive suits ('God WANTS me to look good!') tell you.
There is so much information today because of computers, and the work of archeologists, and the whole EDUCATED community, that it disturbs me to see the rise in uneducated people who go to these huge fundamentalist churches and believe what is screamed at them by guys collecting enormous amounts of money from the masses. It also saddens me. I do wish that instead of all these churches and Mosques and other places full of people who are simply taught to hand their money to guys who are preaching at them, we could have small groups of people who believe like the Buddhists, not in a god, but in the quiet, good and kind teachings of a man who did not (nor did his followers attempt to) make himself a ‘god.’
Next I suppose I will do my little preaching on the division of salaries in my country... another crime against humanity. No person should make more than 250% (or I guess it is more now) than the average person who works for him/her. But that’s for next time...
To my way of thinking, the Old Testament is actually the telling and retelling and retelling, and retelling, and retelling, ad infinitum, of stories made up by a bunch of old men to keep their flocks in order and doing what those old bosses wanted done. (Haven’t we all had a boss who told us “because we’ve always done it that way?”) The stories that have come down to us that were put into a ‘bible’ are the ones that benefitted the ‘bosses’ the best, and the ones that were the most interesting to majority of people. That ‘book’ has been ripped apart and retold by a lot of generations, and I think most people now have gotten the idea, finally, that no old man with a long white beard patted together a lot of dust and threw in a couple of oceans to make a place for his original pair of ‘humans’ to live some 60,000 (oh yeah?) years ago. What language did they speak? (I’ll bet most of the holier than thou in the U.S. will say ‘English.’) "Great glory, I been SAVED!!"
As to the “Christians” in the supposedly devout fundamentalist groups in our country, most do not know much about the bible, as they do not read, but simply take the word of some usually just as ignorant ‘pastor’ who tells them how to think and believe. If they had read the New Testament, they would find that Jesus was simply a minor prophet who headed a quite small group of people of the Jewish faith, who, like most Jews, were looking for ‘the Redeemer’ (or whatever your group called him in those days), to take them out of the slavery they were in, to establish them where everyone wants to be... as the bosses again. A lot of this was of course, cloaked in the pretty voices of ‘the humble,’ ‘the kind,’ etc., etc. After all WE wouldn’t treat our fellow humans badly, would we? Noooo. We are nicer, aren’t we? And all the ‘holidays were cribbed from the Pagans... Jesus was NOT born in December, the ‘elders’ needed to snatch that pagan celebration, along with all the rest.
Now if you look at the New Testament, you will find very few real “quotes” from this minor prophet, Jesus, as almost all of what is written (or made up) about him was written long after his death. Matter of fact, he probably wouldn’t even have become known if it hadn’t been for a man we call St.Paul, who came long, long after Jesus, picked up stories and beliefs about this good and kind man and spread his name and stories about him all across the somewhat civilized world of that time. Had it not been for St.Paul and his wanderings and teachings, we might have wound up with Thor or some vague Viking god as our main venue of worship. But, because of St.Paul, who most assuredly was not one of Jesus’ “disciples,” we got Jesus, the man he referred to as “the Son of God.” He did a great job, My mother, a devout Anglican Catholic (Episcopalian) always referred to St.Paul as the first great salesman.
Then there is the New Testament itself. I get very tired of the people who say it is the ‘word of god’... one would really not like to imagine that old man with the white beard lounging around on the clouds with so much time on his hands when he could be helping out some of the poor refugees down here, writing some of the fanciful stories in that book. Now you find me a quote from Jesus that says gay people can’t get married, or that a woman who has been raped can’t get an abortion.
First of all, those stories were gathered, again by the tribal bosses, to keep people in line and doing whatever work had to be done to keep the community together. Further, that whole book was torn apart by Constantine when he was converted to this new faith, who destroyed the parts he did not agree with, and put in a few little extras to keep his bunch in line. It was ever thus, no matter what all those fundamentalist preachers in their fancy, expensive suits ('God WANTS me to look good!') tell you.
There is so much information today because of computers, and the work of archeologists, and the whole EDUCATED community, that it disturbs me to see the rise in uneducated people who go to these huge fundamentalist churches and believe what is screamed at them by guys collecting enormous amounts of money from the masses. It also saddens me. I do wish that instead of all these churches and Mosques and other places full of people who are simply taught to hand their money to guys who are preaching at them, we could have small groups of people who believe like the Buddhists, not in a god, but in the quiet, good and kind teachings of a man who did not (nor did his followers attempt to) make himself a ‘god.’
Next I suppose I will do my little preaching on the division of salaries in my country... another crime against humanity. No person should make more than 250% (or I guess it is more now) than the average person who works for him/her. But that’s for next time...
Sunday, August 16, 2015
More Tears... Another Hero Gone
A sad today today, just before 60 Minutes I heard that yet another of my great heros, Julian Bond, died today, far too soon. He was only 75. It is almost like the horror of being a parent and having one's child die before her to see so many of my heros go, leaving their sad old mother here, knowing, since she is a firm atheist, that she will never see them again. So Julian leaves, leaving me here wishing I had had the chance to meet him, that gorgeous, soft-spoken man who worked so hard at trying to make his country a better place for all of us. A kinder, sweeter and quieter person than most of the hard-driving people who fought for racial freedom in the south, one did not see him as often as the others, but I listened to his every word and watched for him at any rally. I brush away the tears that threaten to fall on my keyboard and can only say: Goodbye dear Julian Bond, I love you and I shall miss you enormously. May you long be remembered as one of our country's greatest men.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Have I Gone Completely Mad?
Or has the intelligence of the average person in this country dropped to about the same as dubya or lower? I have NOT had a good day today. First, Ana and I opened up the two pckages supposedly with the kitchen pots I ordered from a company whose name I shall not mention unless they don't straighten out the problems they have involved me in. I had opened up their sale catalog some months ago and noticed some lovely kitchen utensils advertised as being made of 'steel with ceramic coating.' Since the gals who work for me apparently don't believe in using wooden or nylon stirring utensils, all of my old pans are now scraped clean of their black lining meant to make food not stick. So, I figured the lovely looking yellow ceramic coating would be like cooking on glass and just as slippery for food, and ordered two sets -- one of 1, 2 &3 quart pans, the second of a huge hi-sided frying type pan and about a 4 or 5 quart pot. Not so good... they started to crack and peel immediately, in spite of the fact that we used nothing but medium heat and were extra careful with them. That coating was THIN and I sure ate a lot of it... little yellow flecks in the food often... then grey water from the 'steel'... and I finally sent them a long letter about what had happened. I will say they were prompt in sending me a credit (covering only just barely the cost of the pans, no tax, shipping and handling). So I got out the catalog and found two nice little iron pots, and a set of 1, 2, & 3 qt. pans with lids and a frying pan... this time all red, with what looked like black interiors and in aluminum, so I felt they would be safe. But no.... here we go again... they sent the two red iron pots, and a packing slip with the CORRECT things on it, but the package contained a set of blue, yellow interior frying pans (they also are cheaper in the sale catalog than the red pans). So I wrote them a LONG, long note saying 'remember the old adage... three strikes and you're out,' and please send me something I can use as I tossed the junk pans and have NOTHING to cook in. So they got another long, long letter today telling them I figured they would be a bit more careful and I feel that I should have my order here soon... and NO MORE SHIPPING, HANDLING, EXTRAS, TAX, etc. Of course I also told them if they screw up again, I shall use my expert skills in advertising promoting their lack of talent in the mail order business.
That was just the beginning. Ana handed me my mail and I noticed I had something from UC/SF and was amazed that they would come through with my stipend for doing the senior study with them, but pleased to think I was getting a little extra money, since my rent just went up a shockingly high amount. But, again... what on earth? It was a large bill for the weird PET scan I wrote about in my last entry... it said:
Patient: Margaret Cartwright Provider: Franc, Benjamin L. (now who the hell is he???)
Nuclear Medicine - charge amount: 2,995.00 - Patient adjustment: -2,662.96 - Patient Liability - 331.04
I guess they figured... Oh, hell, she has a hole in her head, she'll just pay it. Jeeze... they asked me to be in the study, they told me I would get paid for being in it (not even the $331.04 they are billing me for), and even took my address a second or third time, so they could send me the money... now they bill me. I repeat... have I gone mad? Am I missing something? Or do all the mail order companies and the hospitals simply hire imbeciles to do their work for them?
We are having something of the same kind of problem in our building... we have had three different managers this year... each one seems to know less about managing a building than the one before. The latest is from Sudan and speaks Sudanese French, plus English with such a Sudanese accent that I (who can understand almost anyone who can speak a little English) cannot understand a word he speaks. He called a meeting just after ordering all new furniture for his office (which was fairly new before he came) and a lot of extra junk for another room they lock up... FOR OFFICE USE ONLY... and the bathroom on the first floor is now FOR OFFICE USE ONLY (meaning for 3-4 people only... that's all we have). At the meeting, with no microphone and almost no voice, he informed us that WE had to save money (OH, he can spend?) and that we cannot use the room that used to be open, or the bathroom... and that he will no longer receive packages in the office... we should make our own arrangement with the Post Office or anyone else delivering to us... they are there only to run things, but not for our business... I have no idea what else he said, as I got up, told the gal next to me that if they asked, I simply said, "Go to hell" and left. Luckily, the gal who delivers our mail knows me well (we chat a lot) and knows my apartment number and delivers stuff directly to me. But I have had problems with stuff being just dumped at the door that should be delivered to me. I finally wrote a letter to the girl who is our so-called "Program Director" (I'd love to know what the 'programs' are... so far none), telling her I was a little unhappy to find out that we now have NO RIGHTS in the building, we simply are asked to pay more rent and get NO SERVICE at all from anyone. I will say she came to discuss it with me, dragging along the idiot, who said nothing, but did listen. I think he got the story that the tenants here are not happy with the 'I get everything... you get nothing' attitude. And I am sad to say that Mercy Housing now has a MAN CEO... Sister Lillian is gone and there are no more nuns running things... well, I'm old and I won't be here to put up with all the idiots for long. So from now on I just keep my head down, my mouth shut and go about my business with no help from anyone. Thank god I still have my wits about me... and I am sorry for the rest of the tenants. I also wonder where they find their 'managers,' and if they train them.
My poor, poor country. I wonder what the children are being taught. There was a wonderful story in the latest Atlantic about "The End of Work" --- we had better start training some of these guys on how to sweep the streets or something. If the republicans get in we are done for, as they are just interested in shifting any money to corporations and our infrastructure is rotting. We should be thinking of starting up a new WPA and rebuilding the country, and start thinking about it now... and we should start thinking about a completely different way of teaching... peer group learning, as I have said so many times before, and a lot better training of teachers, along with much better pay for the good teachers. I am a strong believer in unions, but I am also a strong believer in not having old teachers who simply float through their later years not learning new things and not actually teaching. I have seen this happen once too often. I am NOT a believer in 'charter' schools... anything with a corporation behind it shouldn't be teaching little kids. What's the answer?...... god, I wish I knew. But somehow, we had better start realizing that the average person in this country seems to be very, very, very unintelligent. We'd better find out why... and fast!
That was just the beginning. Ana handed me my mail and I noticed I had something from UC/SF and was amazed that they would come through with my stipend for doing the senior study with them, but pleased to think I was getting a little extra money, since my rent just went up a shockingly high amount. But, again... what on earth? It was a large bill for the weird PET scan I wrote about in my last entry... it said:
Patient: Margaret Cartwright Provider: Franc, Benjamin L. (now who the hell is he???)
Nuclear Medicine - charge amount: 2,995.00 - Patient adjustment: -2,662.96 - Patient Liability - 331.04
I guess they figured... Oh, hell, she has a hole in her head, she'll just pay it. Jeeze... they asked me to be in the study, they told me I would get paid for being in it (not even the $331.04 they are billing me for), and even took my address a second or third time, so they could send me the money... now they bill me. I repeat... have I gone mad? Am I missing something? Or do all the mail order companies and the hospitals simply hire imbeciles to do their work for them?
We are having something of the same kind of problem in our building... we have had three different managers this year... each one seems to know less about managing a building than the one before. The latest is from Sudan and speaks Sudanese French, plus English with such a Sudanese accent that I (who can understand almost anyone who can speak a little English) cannot understand a word he speaks. He called a meeting just after ordering all new furniture for his office (which was fairly new before he came) and a lot of extra junk for another room they lock up... FOR OFFICE USE ONLY... and the bathroom on the first floor is now FOR OFFICE USE ONLY (meaning for 3-4 people only... that's all we have). At the meeting, with no microphone and almost no voice, he informed us that WE had to save money (OH, he can spend?) and that we cannot use the room that used to be open, or the bathroom... and that he will no longer receive packages in the office... we should make our own arrangement with the Post Office or anyone else delivering to us... they are there only to run things, but not for our business... I have no idea what else he said, as I got up, told the gal next to me that if they asked, I simply said, "Go to hell" and left. Luckily, the gal who delivers our mail knows me well (we chat a lot) and knows my apartment number and delivers stuff directly to me. But I have had problems with stuff being just dumped at the door that should be delivered to me. I finally wrote a letter to the girl who is our so-called "Program Director" (I'd love to know what the 'programs' are... so far none), telling her I was a little unhappy to find out that we now have NO RIGHTS in the building, we simply are asked to pay more rent and get NO SERVICE at all from anyone. I will say she came to discuss it with me, dragging along the idiot, who said nothing, but did listen. I think he got the story that the tenants here are not happy with the 'I get everything... you get nothing' attitude. And I am sad to say that Mercy Housing now has a MAN CEO... Sister Lillian is gone and there are no more nuns running things... well, I'm old and I won't be here to put up with all the idiots for long. So from now on I just keep my head down, my mouth shut and go about my business with no help from anyone. Thank god I still have my wits about me... and I am sorry for the rest of the tenants. I also wonder where they find their 'managers,' and if they train them.
My poor, poor country. I wonder what the children are being taught. There was a wonderful story in the latest Atlantic about "The End of Work" --- we had better start training some of these guys on how to sweep the streets or something. If the republicans get in we are done for, as they are just interested in shifting any money to corporations and our infrastructure is rotting. We should be thinking of starting up a new WPA and rebuilding the country, and start thinking about it now... and we should start thinking about a completely different way of teaching... peer group learning, as I have said so many times before, and a lot better training of teachers, along with much better pay for the good teachers. I am a strong believer in unions, but I am also a strong believer in not having old teachers who simply float through their later years not learning new things and not actually teaching. I have seen this happen once too often. I am NOT a believer in 'charter' schools... anything with a corporation behind it shouldn't be teaching little kids. What's the answer?...... god, I wish I knew. But somehow, we had better start realizing that the average person in this country seems to be very, very, very unintelligent. We'd better find out why... and fast!
Friday, August 7, 2015
Mysteries and Latin Time With the Doctors
Always on a Friday... right? Well, actually it started on Thursday. I got a phone call from Dr. Rosen, who is the chief doctor on the Senior Depression Study at UC that I somehow got myself into.
In the beginning I dealt with a dear young man named who did the original interview over at UC/SF on Parnassas... at Langly Porter. I was there all afternoon and when we were finished, I was told that I had been accepted for the study... and got my original $50 for all the time spent in being interviewed. Next, I was told that they would let me know about the rest, would send an email and let me know when and where... they don't do everything over at Parnassas anymore. Now most things are done down at Mission Bay or the other area down there, whose name I cannot remember.
Of course when I did get the info, I picked up on the wrong name and gave that to the cab driver, as I had forgotten to put the printout in my purse. It was lying on my desk, of course. The people at the other named area didn't have any idea what I was talking about, but i finally found someone who did, and got there in plenty of time, as I am an early person always and had plenty of time to get lost. I found a charming young man named David... and we spent the greater part of the day doing all the things they do with old people to see how well their brains are working... numbers, names, places, objects... pictures of the objects, etc., etc. Anyone who has ever had anything to do with psych people knows what I mean. i had a great old time and was told that the next thing was to have a PET scan of my brain... and again, they would let me know... by phone or by email. Then I met Dr. Rosen and had a nice chat with him and went home.
I had almost forgotten about the study, when a few weeks ago I got a phone call from Sam, another nice young man who was taking over for David... who seems to have moved on (well, it was quite a while ago)... telling me they needed to get my complete address again so they could send my compensation... and they had gotten more funding and were ready to do a PET scan of my head. Then the email, or course, with address, area, number, all the stuff one needs to find anything in that mess that is Mission Bay. Oh... I loved what a young guard told me when I asked why I had to go all the way to the other end of the long, long, long building to walk my walker up the ramp... then walk the mile back down to the end of the building that my cab had passed getting to the address I had to give him. Well, it was because there were only steps at the end where I was expected. He then said, "Yeah, they didn't think very clearly about these buildings... it was as if they just built a very tall building, then laid it down on its side, so all the entrance stuff is only at the one end that's like a ground floor." What an apt description of a building done by an arcitect who must have been thinking of a skyscraper, but was only allowed two stories. One could just see great giants picking up the tall buildings and laying them out flat... well, after all, down at Mission Bay they had lots and lots of nice flat land... not San Francisco-y at all. More like all the space one sees in Chicago.
So, anyway, I had a lovely time with Sam, leading me around all over this very odd building... it is divided up into little tiny offices, all of which seem to have been designed for 'something else'... anything else. The last room I wound up in with Sam had a HUGE giant chair he sat me in, plus one small one next to me and a sink next to that... and four chairs along the wall across from me... but very tight, we were almost knee to knee. We chatted about the Midwest, the West Coast and families until they finally got the stomic stuff for my arm... and put it in... then Sam left and another guy took me across the hall to the waiting room across from the scanning machines. At last, across I went and was strapped into the PET machine... SO TIGHT... but I lay there daydreaming and finally went to sleep as I am wont to do in these machines. Woke up being slid out of the machine and another aide took me out to the mile long walk to the ramp, and sat on my walker and wrote a poem about the noisy people waiting for buses, until my cab came and brought me home. Both my drivers were fun chatting with, as always with Luxor cabs.
Then... yesterday morning, the call from Sam, and finally that Dr. Rosen wanted to talk to me. He started with some vague chatter about "Now, this is probably nothing... but we just thought you should know and maybe check on it... and with PET scans one really can't tell... so I felt I should call you... well, it's -- then a bunch of Latin --- long Latin words." I must have sort of giggled, as he said... "Well, it's something like a hole in your head"... at which I burst into real laughter, and he said, "I must say, you are taking this well." So I replied, "Well, I am VERY OLD... and that is an old expression from my childhood for someone who is a complete dope... as in 'he has a hole in his head'."
Well... I went through all the stuff about my doctor's name and phone number... and she called me and told me she had talked to Dr. Rosen, and he thought it was maybe... and all the Latin name... and that it was probably nothing... the usual. The upshot is that now I have to call Davies and make an appointment on a Friday morning before I go to the pool for my exercise program... this time for an MRI of the old Brain or head... whatever they have decided and THIS TIME I WANT A CD of my brain. I was promised one in the last study UC did and never got it, so now I want one.
I just can't wait to see the hole in my head... but it is Friday and I got home from my pool exercises late. I may never live it down if this gets out! Not that I have anyone to share it with... all my old friends are dead... bet none of them ever had a hole in his head.
In the beginning I dealt with a dear young man named who did the original interview over at UC/SF on Parnassas... at Langly Porter. I was there all afternoon and when we were finished, I was told that I had been accepted for the study... and got my original $50 for all the time spent in being interviewed. Next, I was told that they would let me know about the rest, would send an email and let me know when and where... they don't do everything over at Parnassas anymore. Now most things are done down at Mission Bay or the other area down there, whose name I cannot remember.
Of course when I did get the info, I picked up on the wrong name and gave that to the cab driver, as I had forgotten to put the printout in my purse. It was lying on my desk, of course. The people at the other named area didn't have any idea what I was talking about, but i finally found someone who did, and got there in plenty of time, as I am an early person always and had plenty of time to get lost. I found a charming young man named David... and we spent the greater part of the day doing all the things they do with old people to see how well their brains are working... numbers, names, places, objects... pictures of the objects, etc., etc. Anyone who has ever had anything to do with psych people knows what I mean. i had a great old time and was told that the next thing was to have a PET scan of my brain... and again, they would let me know... by phone or by email. Then I met Dr. Rosen and had a nice chat with him and went home.
I had almost forgotten about the study, when a few weeks ago I got a phone call from Sam, another nice young man who was taking over for David... who seems to have moved on (well, it was quite a while ago)... telling me they needed to get my complete address again so they could send my compensation... and they had gotten more funding and were ready to do a PET scan of my head. Then the email, or course, with address, area, number, all the stuff one needs to find anything in that mess that is Mission Bay. Oh... I loved what a young guard told me when I asked why I had to go all the way to the other end of the long, long, long building to walk my walker up the ramp... then walk the mile back down to the end of the building that my cab had passed getting to the address I had to give him. Well, it was because there were only steps at the end where I was expected. He then said, "Yeah, they didn't think very clearly about these buildings... it was as if they just built a very tall building, then laid it down on its side, so all the entrance stuff is only at the one end that's like a ground floor." What an apt description of a building done by an arcitect who must have been thinking of a skyscraper, but was only allowed two stories. One could just see great giants picking up the tall buildings and laying them out flat... well, after all, down at Mission Bay they had lots and lots of nice flat land... not San Francisco-y at all. More like all the space one sees in Chicago.
So, anyway, I had a lovely time with Sam, leading me around all over this very odd building... it is divided up into little tiny offices, all of which seem to have been designed for 'something else'... anything else. The last room I wound up in with Sam had a HUGE giant chair he sat me in, plus one small one next to me and a sink next to that... and four chairs along the wall across from me... but very tight, we were almost knee to knee. We chatted about the Midwest, the West Coast and families until they finally got the stomic stuff for my arm... and put it in... then Sam left and another guy took me across the hall to the waiting room across from the scanning machines. At last, across I went and was strapped into the PET machine... SO TIGHT... but I lay there daydreaming and finally went to sleep as I am wont to do in these machines. Woke up being slid out of the machine and another aide took me out to the mile long walk to the ramp, and sat on my walker and wrote a poem about the noisy people waiting for buses, until my cab came and brought me home. Both my drivers were fun chatting with, as always with Luxor cabs.
Then... yesterday morning, the call from Sam, and finally that Dr. Rosen wanted to talk to me. He started with some vague chatter about "Now, this is probably nothing... but we just thought you should know and maybe check on it... and with PET scans one really can't tell... so I felt I should call you... well, it's -- then a bunch of Latin --- long Latin words." I must have sort of giggled, as he said... "Well, it's something like a hole in your head"... at which I burst into real laughter, and he said, "I must say, you are taking this well." So I replied, "Well, I am VERY OLD... and that is an old expression from my childhood for someone who is a complete dope... as in 'he has a hole in his head'."
Well... I went through all the stuff about my doctor's name and phone number... and she called me and told me she had talked to Dr. Rosen, and he thought it was maybe... and all the Latin name... and that it was probably nothing... the usual. The upshot is that now I have to call Davies and make an appointment on a Friday morning before I go to the pool for my exercise program... this time for an MRI of the old Brain or head... whatever they have decided and THIS TIME I WANT A CD of my brain. I was promised one in the last study UC did and never got it, so now I want one.
I just can't wait to see the hole in my head... but it is Friday and I got home from my pool exercises late. I may never live it down if this gets out! Not that I have anyone to share it with... all my old friends are dead... bet none of them ever had a hole in his head.
Monday, July 13, 2015
WOW!!
I just spent a bit too much time looking at videos and reading articles about the spacecraft that is up circling Pluto's moon, Charon. Absolutely fascinating... so much so that I know I started when there was sunlight shining in my window... now it is dead dark... ye gods... it is after 9:00pm! 'Wired' magazine has put all its articles online, along with all sorts of videos and scientific notes written so that I and a lot of other non-scientists can understand them. I love it. I'm hooked. I'll be there tomorrow and probably a lot of other days to see everything the experts are finding and trying to explain to us 'others.' How I wish I had a telescope to look at some of the planets... of course, with all the lights we have in San Francisco, it might be hard to look at anything but our own moon. I miss seeing Orion, the one constellation I could always see wen I was a kid, looking up at the stars.
One of my favorite things to do at the cottage was to take a blanket down to the beach and make a little nest by the tree roots of the big trees on either side of the path... and lie there watching for 'shooting stars.' One was supposed to make a wish on one of those... wonder what I wished for... that I have forgotten. I miss those lovely long summers at the lake... I miss my beautiful carved wood Victorian bed that Mama threw out, so Jess took it, along with all the other stuff Mama got tired of, up to the cottage. I think I could do a complete drawing of every room in that cottage... the only place I have ever considered really 'home.' Funny... the apartment I live in now I have been in for about the same number of years I spent summers in the cottage... 18 years. When we all went off to college and various other places, Mama sold the cottage... signing Jessie's name, for it belonged to my mother, not to that mean old witch who was my grandmother, who had always hated the fact that we preferred the cottage to her. Well, the apartment is/was nice and kinda 'home' for about 17 years, but things change and we have new 'management,' all the people I knew here in SF are dead... and it is no longer home... simply a place for me to exist until I die, I suppose... god, I feel like I'm in a Trenet song... and very much alone.
Ah well... Great voyage little spacecraft... you are doing a wonderful job at letting us see almost close-up what other planets and moons are like. Thanks to all the scientists who are bringing us this exciting info. At least I lived long enough to see little Charon close up on my computer.
One of my favorite things to do at the cottage was to take a blanket down to the beach and make a little nest by the tree roots of the big trees on either side of the path... and lie there watching for 'shooting stars.' One was supposed to make a wish on one of those... wonder what I wished for... that I have forgotten. I miss those lovely long summers at the lake... I miss my beautiful carved wood Victorian bed that Mama threw out, so Jess took it, along with all the other stuff Mama got tired of, up to the cottage. I think I could do a complete drawing of every room in that cottage... the only place I have ever considered really 'home.' Funny... the apartment I live in now I have been in for about the same number of years I spent summers in the cottage... 18 years. When we all went off to college and various other places, Mama sold the cottage... signing Jessie's name, for it belonged to my mother, not to that mean old witch who was my grandmother, who had always hated the fact that we preferred the cottage to her. Well, the apartment is/was nice and kinda 'home' for about 17 years, but things change and we have new 'management,' all the people I knew here in SF are dead... and it is no longer home... simply a place for me to exist until I die, I suppose... god, I feel like I'm in a Trenet song... and very much alone.
Ah well... Great voyage little spacecraft... you are doing a wonderful job at letting us see almost close-up what other planets and moons are like. Thanks to all the scientists who are bringing us this exciting info. At least I lived long enough to see little Charon close up on my computer.
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Ye Gods....
Yeah, it's me being snarky... but I just couldn't resist. Vogue magazine can manage to turn me snarky any time I look at it online... the 'interviews' by one of their editors of people at the Met Gala are among the most hysterical things online... "I LLLOOOVVVEE your outfit!! Who made it?! ADDOOORable!!!" (Barf, barf!!!!!) "Oh is Beyonce here yet?!!!" (Double barf... she's wearing that naked lace thingy... I think they did a special article on what to wear under it........).
And then of course, a photo of Buce Jenner, pardon me, Caitlan Jenner on Vogue.com -- he had better stick to the cute curled up sitting down Vanity Fair style photos. Standing up, surrounded by at least three short men with their arms out to catch him in case he falls off the high heels, he is the joke of the century. The short skirted outfit doesn't help either. he may have had his face and neck resculpted, but he can't hide the HUGE paws clutching the evening bag and the straight legs and big feet... pure man. Even the belt placed up on the chest just looks uncomfortable. Maybe he should start dressing like Lady Gaga to hide all the faults, or at least not try to look so damned 'ladylike'... a few long dresses, sandals might help... but going overboard to look 'dainty' is not the way for him to go. Pardon me... as with Vogue, I should be more polite and say 'the way for her to go.' Dainty ain't it. Well, he does refer to himself as a 'girl' so maybe he is also trying to be terribly young again too, which is hard to do at his advanced age... but dressing a little more age appropriately might help her look also. When you are a grandmother, you should try for a little less 'youth' look. All I can say is, "Grandmother, what big hands you have..."
And then of course, a photo of Buce Jenner, pardon me, Caitlan Jenner on Vogue.com -- he had better stick to the cute curled up sitting down Vanity Fair style photos. Standing up, surrounded by at least three short men with their arms out to catch him in case he falls off the high heels, he is the joke of the century. The short skirted outfit doesn't help either. he may have had his face and neck resculpted, but he can't hide the HUGE paws clutching the evening bag and the straight legs and big feet... pure man. Even the belt placed up on the chest just looks uncomfortable. Maybe he should start dressing like Lady Gaga to hide all the faults, or at least not try to look so damned 'ladylike'... a few long dresses, sandals might help... but going overboard to look 'dainty' is not the way for him to go. Pardon me... as with Vogue, I should be more polite and say 'the way for her to go.' Dainty ain't it. Well, he does refer to himself as a 'girl' so maybe he is also trying to be terribly young again too, which is hard to do at his advanced age... but dressing a little more age appropriately might help her look also. When you are a grandmother, you should try for a little less 'youth' look. All I can say is, "Grandmother, what big hands you have..."
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Finally... Something to Write About
I just watched the US Soccer Team win the FIFA title in a GREAT game against Japan. They lost in a terrible game last time, so this was an even better evening game, as they played so well... making THREE goals FAST... then another, making it 4-nil... then missing one to Japan in the first half. They made another goal in the second half, but so did Japan, but what a game!!! 5-2 the final score. Carli Lloyd made those first two... then a third goal and a new record for a championship game getting a hat trick. They all... both sides... played so well, it was a joy to watch. Those first two goals were so fast... fastest ever in a championship game... both of them. Carli must be overjoyed.
I am fond of watching male soccer, and watched the FIFA games this year, but I will say that this game was more exciting than any of them in the men's championship. I will never understand how those kids can stay on their feet running so fast and turning so fast... and kicking so hard. Just amazing... and it is THE BEAUTIFUL GAME! I loved every minute of it... and was exhausted when it was finished... just from watching all the great work they did. God... I have to get my strength back. If I keep having to go down to the Apple Store for lessons, I just may... it's a long walk down to where a cab can pull in on Market.
Oops... "60 Minutes" is on... must go watch that now. Guess cheese and crackers will be my 'dinner' tonight, as there is a lot of stuff on KQED right after 60.
I am fond of watching male soccer, and watched the FIFA games this year, but I will say that this game was more exciting than any of them in the men's championship. I will never understand how those kids can stay on their feet running so fast and turning so fast... and kicking so hard. Just amazing... and it is THE BEAUTIFUL GAME! I loved every minute of it... and was exhausted when it was finished... just from watching all the great work they did. God... I have to get my strength back. If I keep having to go down to the Apple Store for lessons, I just may... it's a long walk down to where a cab can pull in on Market.
Oops... "60 Minutes" is on... must go watch that now. Guess cheese and crackers will be my 'dinner' tonight, as there is a lot of stuff on KQED right after 60.
Still Wondering
I just had an email from my son. I have been very, very, VERY lonely of late, kinda particularly during about the last couple of months and since I rarely hear anything from any of my family anymore, I wrote him a sad little letter about my feelings. Mistake. He simply said I had lots of friends... and even a blog, so I must have lotsa friends because of that. What a laugh... this is my little letter to myself... no one else ever sees it or reads it. I have like two or three comments... all from my oldest nephew, who apparently does read it once in awhile. He's the ONLY one. I guess I only write it because I don't have any Kirkie to write to anymore... he won't answer, so why write. So I write to myself about little things like the fact that my kids are strangers now... my own fault, as they both remind me interminably... you wanted to go to CA, where we will never go, as we hate it and it is a long way away. So, just sit back, Peggy and enjoy the nice cool weather, with a couple of warm days every now and then... in a beautiful, breezy place where you can breathe without an inhaler, never have another attack of asthma... wear the same kind of clothes all year long... never have a coat, unless maybe a rain coat if it ever starts raining again... and go out and sit and have lunch in the garden with Gloria once in awhile. I miss Bud and Al... and Al Bear and Jane and all the other Fromm people... and reading to each other... and the poets and all the people who have disappeared to die on me. Even the dear little girl who handled all the business at the 3-Day Novel writing contest has moved on to another job.... Melissa. Amazing, I can still remember some names... although that was always my worst problem... I wonder if it was because my mother could remember everyone's name... was I just reacting against that? Some names are engraved on my brain... I will never forget Leo Burnett, as I loved him so much... or Ned Travis, the same... but about half the people I worked with/for have disappeared from my memory... except in little snatches when something reminds me of them. A bell ring, a taste of pizza, a whiff of perfume... and back they all come... good lord, I have known so many people... and until the last couple of years, I could remember about half of them... but they are all fading out without the reminders. What was the name of that secretary who worked for that dreadful man who thought up 'great books' who used to douse herself in perfume before she went home? Marshall hated that as much as I did and wanted me to tell her... I told him to do it himself and he was furious about that. I do wish I could remember all of them... but what does it matter now, except that if I get back to my writing about them, it would help if I could remember their names.
Enough, enough, Peg... you have nattered along enough for tonight... take your damned pills, go to the john and go to bed. I do hope I have enough kitty food for Sunday... Ana can run over on Monday and get more... she felt she should get some... she knows better how much Sylvia can eat... and Sylvia has been eating like a horse again... both kinds of food. Wow... I have a weird cramping of my left hand... it pulls my fingers apart into a Vulcan salute... so strange, as it is now hard to do that with my right hand. God, why must I get old.... why can't I just die like everyone else?
Enough, enough, Peg... you have nattered along enough for tonight... take your damned pills, go to the john and go to bed. I do hope I have enough kitty food for Sunday... Ana can run over on Monday and get more... she felt she should get some... she knows better how much Sylvia can eat... and Sylvia has been eating like a horse again... both kinds of food. Wow... I have a weird cramping of my left hand... it pulls my fingers apart into a Vulcan salute... so strange, as it is now hard to do that with my right hand. God, why must I get old.... why can't I just die like everyone else?
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Goodbye Again.... John Hartford
I just spent almost the entire day saying goodbye again to a dear friend I lost exactly 14 years ago, John Hartford. Started yesterday morning when I was packing up the last of some old posters and I found John's picture... complete with his careful signature in the elegant writing style he so loved doing. Looked very like the John Hancock signature. John didn't write his poetry on a computer or a typewriter, but on those cards he carried around in his pocket. The house in Tennessee his children have kept up in his honor is full of John's lovely poetry, not as elegantly written as that signature, but in his very readable handwriting. I have managed to rid myself of some of my beloved books, but I shall die owning the little volume of John's poetry... and hope that someone else loves it enough to read it and keep it forever.
His wonderful song "Gentle On My Mind" is his poem only John Hartford could have set to music and sung so beautifully that many others, even Sinatra, tried to sing it. No one sang it like John... I weep through it every time I hear him do it... it has an added meaning to me, for those feelings I gave to K, though I doubt that he understands that. I am so glad of one thing... someone, I suppose his children, got John to record himself playing and singing a great many of his songs, so that he will be well remembered by those of us who loved him... and the next generation and more will be able to see and hear one of the most versatile writers and musicians of my generation... a man who could not only write great 'folk songs' for us all, but could also sing them with gusto. Who could clog dance while doing so and playing them on any stringed instrument made. Who could play the fiddle with such ability to make you weep, then turn it down to strum it like his guitar, bow still in his hand. What a joy you were, John Hartford. I loved you and I miss you, a real 'only in America' gentleman, who loved his land. One of the greatest real folk singer/songwriters of our time, a true friend, an artist of so many talents and an under-appreciated musical genius.
His wonderful song "Gentle On My Mind" is his poem only John Hartford could have set to music and sung so beautifully that many others, even Sinatra, tried to sing it. No one sang it like John... I weep through it every time I hear him do it... it has an added meaning to me, for those feelings I gave to K, though I doubt that he understands that. I am so glad of one thing... someone, I suppose his children, got John to record himself playing and singing a great many of his songs, so that he will be well remembered by those of us who loved him... and the next generation and more will be able to see and hear one of the most versatile writers and musicians of my generation... a man who could not only write great 'folk songs' for us all, but could also sing them with gusto. Who could clog dance while doing so and playing them on any stringed instrument made. Who could play the fiddle with such ability to make you weep, then turn it down to strum it like his guitar, bow still in his hand. What a joy you were, John Hartford. I loved you and I miss you, a real 'only in America' gentleman, who loved his land. One of the greatest real folk singer/songwriters of our time, a true friend, an artist of so many talents and an under-appreciated musical genius.
Monday, May 18, 2015
New 'Grandchild'... and New Computer
Oh, god, I am SO glad I live in California, earthquakes and everything... but NO tornadoes or snow or floods, etc., etc. Well, we are now praying for rain, less wind and a little warm up from our 'cool' weather, which would probably be considered warm back East. Constant 'low 60s' is cool here with the big wind, and a lot cooler after the sun goes down.
Anyway... that is not what I am writing about. I now belong to a podcast group and at the last meeting I said jokingly, "Boy, I wish I had a grandchild here in town to help me figure out how to put my podcasting equipment together and get rid of some stuff on my computer that is bothering me." But I was in luck... a dear young Irish kid offered to play grandchild and come to my apartment and help with everything. Yep, he showed up the next day, complete with all his luggage, as he was leaving for Ireland after working on my computer. And work he did -- helped me a LOT... and is a really fun kid. I am lucky in my friends... and I am sure Mark Moriarty will be a good friend for a long time when he gets back in town... I hope soon.
Then, on Saturday, I went down to the Apple Store and bought a new MacBook Pro laptop computer, which I will need for my podcast, as I will have to take it out of here for the readings, as Larry is allergic to cats. Poor Sylvia was crushed when he rejected her, but she was very pleased with Mark coming to visit. She does love young men... thank goodness he is used to cats and was lovely to her. With the computer I bought a year of weekly one-on-one meetings to help me with the computer and any app on the computer. So I signed up for "Garage Band" half-hour meeting on the 19th at 10":30am... I do HOPE I can figure it out... and will have as many lessons as it takes. I am determined to get on air.
Anyway... that is not what I am writing about. I now belong to a podcast group and at the last meeting I said jokingly, "Boy, I wish I had a grandchild here in town to help me figure out how to put my podcasting equipment together and get rid of some stuff on my computer that is bothering me." But I was in luck... a dear young Irish kid offered to play grandchild and come to my apartment and help with everything. Yep, he showed up the next day, complete with all his luggage, as he was leaving for Ireland after working on my computer. And work he did -- helped me a LOT... and is a really fun kid. I am lucky in my friends... and I am sure Mark Moriarty will be a good friend for a long time when he gets back in town... I hope soon.
Then, on Saturday, I went down to the Apple Store and bought a new MacBook Pro laptop computer, which I will need for my podcast, as I will have to take it out of here for the readings, as Larry is allergic to cats. Poor Sylvia was crushed when he rejected her, but she was very pleased with Mark coming to visit. She does love young men... thank goodness he is used to cats and was lovely to her. With the computer I bought a year of weekly one-on-one meetings to help me with the computer and any app on the computer. So I signed up for "Garage Band" half-hour meeting on the 19th at 10":30am... I do HOPE I can figure it out... and will have as many lessons as it takes. I am determined to get on air.
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Love Affair, the film..... or was it 'Our Love Affair?"
Saturday night I watched this film on our PBS station (we have 'movie night' on Saturday), mainly because it was on. Why they did the remake, I do not know... I think I remember the first. This remake with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr was hysterically 'old fashioned' and rather silly. The main reason was because dear old 'upper-class' Deborah seemed to obviously feel that she should not be working with Archie Leach, a lower class type. Such amusing 'love' scenes, where as he seemed to be coming in for a kiss, she pulled her head to the side and he got a quick hug, with the look of disdain. Through the whole thing good old Deborah played like the posh upper-class English LADY, putting up with having to work with this dreadful 'Archie Leach' character. And oh, the scenes where she is 'directing' the children singing... waving her hands up and down... silly!
I LOVED Cary Grant. He was the George Clooney of his day... a gorgeous man who looked quite posh to me, and I suppose to most of the American public. He had lost all his low-class tumbler talk and attitude. He wore clothes well and acted like he was born to be aristocracy. But during this film, Deborah seemed to feel she was the elegant, intellectual, charming lady... so why on earth did they force her to put up with this rather minor peasant. There wasn't even a kiss at the end... just good old Debbie letting that man put his cheek next to her lovely, luscious cheek while she intoned the final lines of something like, "Well, if you can sing, I can walk, my darling" all eyes shiny with Hollywood tears.
How dare she... Cary Grant might have come to this country as part of a tumbling act, or something like it, but he turned into the most gorgeous, suave leading man in Hollywood... like a man born to be not only Hollywood aristocracy, but genuine aristocracy. When given the right leading lady (like Kate Hepburn) he was great and stayed that way until he tired of acting and went to work for a cosmetics company. I saw him years ago... an old man with white hair and he was still the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He saw me gasping and pointing and laughed and waved. Kind, too.
I LOVED Cary Grant. He was the George Clooney of his day... a gorgeous man who looked quite posh to me, and I suppose to most of the American public. He had lost all his low-class tumbler talk and attitude. He wore clothes well and acted like he was born to be aristocracy. But during this film, Deborah seemed to feel she was the elegant, intellectual, charming lady... so why on earth did they force her to put up with this rather minor peasant. There wasn't even a kiss at the end... just good old Debbie letting that man put his cheek next to her lovely, luscious cheek while she intoned the final lines of something like, "Well, if you can sing, I can walk, my darling" all eyes shiny with Hollywood tears.
How dare she... Cary Grant might have come to this country as part of a tumbling act, or something like it, but he turned into the most gorgeous, suave leading man in Hollywood... like a man born to be not only Hollywood aristocracy, but genuine aristocracy. When given the right leading lady (like Kate Hepburn) he was great and stayed that way until he tired of acting and went to work for a cosmetics company. I saw him years ago... an old man with white hair and he was still the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He saw me gasping and pointing and laughed and waved. Kind, too.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Goodness, tough to get into my own blog, complete with a long list of same name with other suffix... and very cheap price, I must say. I am not very clever at naming it seems. Not very at writing also, but I was listening to the PBS show "The Italians" and heard about this wonderful man who spoke at a strike in a spinning mill -- always makes me think of Grandma C. This was one finally led by a fascinating Italian. Here is his speech... he was a very clever writer and speaker... and adapter. I have yet to find out how much of this is simply a sort of description of Giovanniutti and how much his actual words. I do know that the 'Blessed are..." lines are all his adaption for the strikers. I rather wish someone could write something like this, break into Congress... that poor old empty room -- and deliver it......or perhaps even if someone would go to Congress and actually SING John Lennon's 'Imagine" so that Cruz and all the other might really see what it means. No, they are too ignorant to understand it... and too wrapped up in theirselves...
As everyone knows, I do NOT believe in ANY GOD, but this is beautiful:
The Sermon on the Common
By Arturo Giovannitti
THEN it came to pass that the people, having heard that he had come, assembled on the Common to listen unto his words.
And they came from all the parts of the earth, the Syrians and the Armenians, the Thracians and the Tartars, the Jews, the Greeks and the Romans, the Iberians and the Gauls and the Angles and Huns and the Hibernians and Scythians, even from the deserts of sands to the deserts of ice, they came to listen unto his words.
And he, seeing the multitudes, opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,
Blessed are the strong in freedom’s spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of the earth.
Blessed are they that mourn their martyred dead: for they shall avenge them upon their murderers and be comforted.
Blessed are the rebels: for they shall reconquer the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after equality: for they shall eat the fruit of their labor.
Blessed are the strong: for they shall not taste the bitterness of pity.
Blessed are the sincere in heart: for they shall see truth.
Blessed are they that do battle against wrong: for they shall be called the children of Liberty.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for equality’s sake: for theirs is the glory of the brotherhood of man.
Blessed are ye when the scribes of the press shall revile you, and the doctors of the law, politicians, policemen, judges and priests shall call you criminals, thieves and murderers and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for the sake of Justice.
Rejoice, then, and be exceedingly glad; for so they persecuted, reviled, cursed, chained, jailed, poisoned, hanged, crucified, burned, beheaded and shot all the seers, the apostles and the warriors of humanity that were before you, for the sake of freedom.
Ye are the power of the earth, the foundations of society, the thinkers and the doers of all things good and all things fair and useful, the makers and dispensers of all the bounties and the joys and the happiness of the world, and if ye fold your mighty arms, all the life of the world stands still and death hovers on the darkened abodes of man.
Ye are the light of the world. There was darkness in all the ages when the torch of your will did not blaze forth, and the past and the future are full of the radiance that cometh from your eyes.
Ye are eternal, even as your father, labor, is eternal, and no power of time and dissolution can prevail against you.
Ages have come and gone, kingdoms and powers and dynasties have risen and fallen, old glories and ancient wisdoms have been turned into dust, heroes and sages have been forgotten and many a mighty and fearsome god has been hurled into the lightless chasms of oblivion.
But ye, Plebs, Populace, People, Rabble, Mob, Proletariat, live and abide forever.
# # *
Think not that I am come to destroy the law: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil through you what the prophets of mankind have presaged from the beginning.
For verily I say unto you, While man lives and labors, nothing can destroy the eternal law of progress which after each advancing step bids him further.
Therefore, say not unto yourselves, even as the priests and scribes and doctors of the law and fools and hypocrites say, This is the goal which was destined unto us and no further shall we go.
For even if there be before you the uplifted arms of terror and the smoking altars of murder enshrined in a gaunt temple of gibbets and fierce with shrieks of curses, ye must pass beyond.
For your feet are like the unrolling of the endless scrolls of time, not even night and silence and death can stop their march forward and upward, ever to a farther and loftier goal.
And, lo, ye shall never arrive because never shall ye cease going.
Whosoever, therefore, shall break one jot or one tittle of this law shall be called the least in the kingdom of man, but whosoever shall do and teach it, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of man.
Ye have heard that it was said by them of all times who toil not but do live of your toil, Thou shalt not rebel against thy master.
But I say unto you that whosoever soweth the seeds of patience the same shall reap the harvest of shame.
They said unto you, Question not the right of your masters to reign over you and command you. They shall have your sweat and your tears, aye, and even your blood and your life, and ye shall serve them in reverence and awe, for their power upon you is of God.
And again they said unto you, Give your masters the labor of your hands and the worship of your hearts, give them the fruits of your orchards, the grains of your fields, the flowers of your gardens and all things made by the labor of your hands and by the thought of your brain, and withhold not aught from your masters, lest your masters law and the curse of your masters God be upon you.
And again they said unto you, Bend your knees and worship your chains, kiss the whip that lashes you, bless the heel that crushes you, revere the yoke that weighs upon your neck, bury your forehead in the dirt whence ye came and whither ye shall return.
Do not cry, do not complain do not grumble, do not think, do not hope, Be humble, resigned, patient, submissive, lowly and prone even as a beast of burden, lest ye have the gaol in this life and gehenna in the life to come.
And again they said unto you, Resist not evil, for all spirit of disobedience and unsubmission issueth from the enemy of peace. Therefore if your masters, or your masters servants smite you on the right cheek, turn unto them the other also, and if they take away from you the heritage of your fathers, give unto them also the birthright of your children.
All this and more than this they said unto you before I came, but now that I am come, a new evangel shall be proclaimed unto you, that your souls may be renovated and purified in the fire of the new salvation which is not peace but war.
Therefore I say unto you, Banish fear from your hearts, dispel the mists of ignorance from your minds, arm your yearning with your strength, your vision with your will, and open your eyes and behold.
Do not moan, do not submit, do not kneel, do not pray, do not wait.
Think, dare, do, rebel, fight ARISE!
It is not true that ye are condemned to serve and suffer in shame forever;
It is not true that injustice, iniquity, hunger, misery, abjection, depravity, hatred, theft, murder and fratricide are eternal;
There is no destiny that the will of man cannot break;
There are no chains of iron that other iron cannot destroy;
There is nothing that the power of your arms, lighted by the power of your mind, cannot transform and reconstruct and remake.
Arise, then, ye men of the plough and the hammer, the helm and the lever, and send forth to the four winds of the earth your new proclamation of freedom which shall be the last and shall abide forevermore.
Through you, through your united, almighty strength, order shall become equity, law shall become liberty, duty shall become love and religion shall become truth.
Through you the man-beast shall die and the man be born;
Through you the dark, bloody chronicles of the brute shall cease and the story of man shall begin.
Through you, by the power of your brain and hand,
All the predictions of the prophets,
All the wisdom of the sages,
All the dreams of the poets,
All the hopes of the heroes,
All the visions of the martyrs,
All the prayers of the saints,
All the crushed, tortured, strangled, maimed and murdered ideals of the ages, and all the glorious destinies of mankind shall become a triumphant and everlasting reality in the name of labor and bread and love, the great threefold truth forever.
And lo and behold, my brothers, this shall be called the revolution.
* * *
Thus spake the man to the assembled multitude that had come from all the lands, over all the waters of the earth, and they listened unto him and received his words, and the dawn began to rise in their hearts, and they praised the announcer with the cheers of their mouths and they blessed him with the tears of their eyes.
But when the multitude dispersed to return to their labors and to their strifes, the dark figures that make darker the shadows of the night held council against the truth-bearer for the words that he had spoken.
And the scribe said, Verily, he is a law-breaker.
And the money changer said, Aye, and he is a fool.
And the judge said, He is a wrongdoer.
And the sage said, He is possessed of a devil.
And the chronicler said, He is a primitive sinner.
And the wise man said, He is a profligate.
And the priest said, He is a blasphemer.
And they all croaked in chorus, He is an enemy of society, of civilization, of religion and mankind. Law and order must be upheld and our sacred institutions must be preserved. We must do away with him.
And they did away with him. But nobody knows to this day whether they sent him to prison or to Parliament.
As everyone knows, I do NOT believe in ANY GOD, but this is beautiful:
The Sermon on the Common
By Arturo Giovannitti
THEN it came to pass that the people, having heard that he had come, assembled on the Common to listen unto his words.
And they came from all the parts of the earth, the Syrians and the Armenians, the Thracians and the Tartars, the Jews, the Greeks and the Romans, the Iberians and the Gauls and the Angles and Huns and the Hibernians and Scythians, even from the deserts of sands to the deserts of ice, they came to listen unto his words.
And he, seeing the multitudes, opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,
Blessed are the strong in freedom’s spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of the earth.
Blessed are they that mourn their martyred dead: for they shall avenge them upon their murderers and be comforted.
Blessed are the rebels: for they shall reconquer the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after equality: for they shall eat the fruit of their labor.
Blessed are the strong: for they shall not taste the bitterness of pity.
Blessed are the sincere in heart: for they shall see truth.
Blessed are they that do battle against wrong: for they shall be called the children of Liberty.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for equality’s sake: for theirs is the glory of the brotherhood of man.
Blessed are ye when the scribes of the press shall revile you, and the doctors of the law, politicians, policemen, judges and priests shall call you criminals, thieves and murderers and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for the sake of Justice.
Rejoice, then, and be exceedingly glad; for so they persecuted, reviled, cursed, chained, jailed, poisoned, hanged, crucified, burned, beheaded and shot all the seers, the apostles and the warriors of humanity that were before you, for the sake of freedom.
Ye are the power of the earth, the foundations of society, the thinkers and the doers of all things good and all things fair and useful, the makers and dispensers of all the bounties and the joys and the happiness of the world, and if ye fold your mighty arms, all the life of the world stands still and death hovers on the darkened abodes of man.
Ye are the light of the world. There was darkness in all the ages when the torch of your will did not blaze forth, and the past and the future are full of the radiance that cometh from your eyes.
Ye are eternal, even as your father, labor, is eternal, and no power of time and dissolution can prevail against you.
Ages have come and gone, kingdoms and powers and dynasties have risen and fallen, old glories and ancient wisdoms have been turned into dust, heroes and sages have been forgotten and many a mighty and fearsome god has been hurled into the lightless chasms of oblivion.
But ye, Plebs, Populace, People, Rabble, Mob, Proletariat, live and abide forever.
# # *
Think not that I am come to destroy the law: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil through you what the prophets of mankind have presaged from the beginning.
For verily I say unto you, While man lives and labors, nothing can destroy the eternal law of progress which after each advancing step bids him further.
Therefore, say not unto yourselves, even as the priests and scribes and doctors of the law and fools and hypocrites say, This is the goal which was destined unto us and no further shall we go.
For even if there be before you the uplifted arms of terror and the smoking altars of murder enshrined in a gaunt temple of gibbets and fierce with shrieks of curses, ye must pass beyond.
For your feet are like the unrolling of the endless scrolls of time, not even night and silence and death can stop their march forward and upward, ever to a farther and loftier goal.
And, lo, ye shall never arrive because never shall ye cease going.
Whosoever, therefore, shall break one jot or one tittle of this law shall be called the least in the kingdom of man, but whosoever shall do and teach it, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of man.
Ye have heard that it was said by them of all times who toil not but do live of your toil, Thou shalt not rebel against thy master.
But I say unto you that whosoever soweth the seeds of patience the same shall reap the harvest of shame.
They said unto you, Question not the right of your masters to reign over you and command you. They shall have your sweat and your tears, aye, and even your blood and your life, and ye shall serve them in reverence and awe, for their power upon you is of God.
And again they said unto you, Give your masters the labor of your hands and the worship of your hearts, give them the fruits of your orchards, the grains of your fields, the flowers of your gardens and all things made by the labor of your hands and by the thought of your brain, and withhold not aught from your masters, lest your masters law and the curse of your masters God be upon you.
And again they said unto you, Bend your knees and worship your chains, kiss the whip that lashes you, bless the heel that crushes you, revere the yoke that weighs upon your neck, bury your forehead in the dirt whence ye came and whither ye shall return.
Do not cry, do not complain do not grumble, do not think, do not hope, Be humble, resigned, patient, submissive, lowly and prone even as a beast of burden, lest ye have the gaol in this life and gehenna in the life to come.
And again they said unto you, Resist not evil, for all spirit of disobedience and unsubmission issueth from the enemy of peace. Therefore if your masters, or your masters servants smite you on the right cheek, turn unto them the other also, and if they take away from you the heritage of your fathers, give unto them also the birthright of your children.
All this and more than this they said unto you before I came, but now that I am come, a new evangel shall be proclaimed unto you, that your souls may be renovated and purified in the fire of the new salvation which is not peace but war.
Therefore I say unto you, Banish fear from your hearts, dispel the mists of ignorance from your minds, arm your yearning with your strength, your vision with your will, and open your eyes and behold.
Do not moan, do not submit, do not kneel, do not pray, do not wait.
Think, dare, do, rebel, fight ARISE!
It is not true that ye are condemned to serve and suffer in shame forever;
It is not true that injustice, iniquity, hunger, misery, abjection, depravity, hatred, theft, murder and fratricide are eternal;
There is no destiny that the will of man cannot break;
There are no chains of iron that other iron cannot destroy;
There is nothing that the power of your arms, lighted by the power of your mind, cannot transform and reconstruct and remake.
Arise, then, ye men of the plough and the hammer, the helm and the lever, and send forth to the four winds of the earth your new proclamation of freedom which shall be the last and shall abide forevermore.
Through you, through your united, almighty strength, order shall become equity, law shall become liberty, duty shall become love and religion shall become truth.
Through you the man-beast shall die and the man be born;
Through you the dark, bloody chronicles of the brute shall cease and the story of man shall begin.
Through you, by the power of your brain and hand,
All the predictions of the prophets,
All the wisdom of the sages,
All the dreams of the poets,
All the hopes of the heroes,
All the visions of the martyrs,
All the prayers of the saints,
All the crushed, tortured, strangled, maimed and murdered ideals of the ages, and all the glorious destinies of mankind shall become a triumphant and everlasting reality in the name of labor and bread and love, the great threefold truth forever.
And lo and behold, my brothers, this shall be called the revolution.
* * *
Thus spake the man to the assembled multitude that had come from all the lands, over all the waters of the earth, and they listened unto him and received his words, and the dawn began to rise in their hearts, and they praised the announcer with the cheers of their mouths and they blessed him with the tears of their eyes.
But when the multitude dispersed to return to their labors and to their strifes, the dark figures that make darker the shadows of the night held council against the truth-bearer for the words that he had spoken.
And the scribe said, Verily, he is a law-breaker.
And the money changer said, Aye, and he is a fool.
And the judge said, He is a wrongdoer.
And the sage said, He is possessed of a devil.
And the chronicler said, He is a primitive sinner.
And the wise man said, He is a profligate.
And the priest said, He is a blasphemer.
And they all croaked in chorus, He is an enemy of society, of civilization, of religion and mankind. Law and order must be upheld and our sacred institutions must be preserved. We must do away with him.
And they did away with him. But nobody knows to this day whether they sent him to prison or to Parliament.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Just What I Might Have Written to K.
Funny, I felt like 'Monday' today. One of those I-don't-want-to-get-up-and-go-to-work type days, and I don't have to get up and go to work... but Ana came and I had to go and find one of the microwave with covers dishes and explain to her that you have to wash the OUTSIDE of the dish before you put it away. Mindfulness is not her thing. She belongs to the 'hurry-up-and-get-the-work-done' and sit down and look at a magazine school of workers, or 'slap-dash-types' as Jessie would have said. I'm working on her, though... and she MAY learn... or may not. I still feel like Monday and I'm not getting anything done. Gee, I used to love Mondays, as I got a letter every Monday at noon. Old loves are all gone now though.
Ms. Katt gave me an amusing early afternoon. As I sat having my coffee and brunch, she sat in the right corner of the window, on top of the telephone books and enjoyed the green view outside. There is always something going on for her to see. She sits like a statue of an Egyptian cat with only the head snapping from one scene to another. We had a tiny hummingbird tap on the window yesterday... he's a constant visitor to the flowering bush next to the window. Then she can gaze at the butterflies that love the calla lillies and Aaron's roses, and since the Princess bush has pretty much died she can see all of the people and cars going by. That cute little head just turned constantly as birds flew in and out and butterflies fluttered back and forth... until she had a bit too much sun. Sylvia is just like her mother, cannot stand too much sun, so she jumped down and curled up in the shade for a nap. Now she came to sit next to me to say that she is unhappy with the new old lady food we are trying out (failure) and CLEAN the litter box!!
She can wait for Jovita tomorrow! I have to send my darling granddaughter a small check to spend when she is in NYC. My sweet little Bella, all of 11 years old, has won a dance competition for jazz and lyrical with her dance group and will be going to New York. She gets to see two Broadway shows and have a dance lesson with the Rockettes after touring Radio City. She is so good and works so hard at her dancing... always has. I can remember Bella watching her sister and doing all the steps better than the 'big girls' when she was only three years old and not 'old enough' to take the class. They finally let her come and dance with them the next year, in spite of the fact that they didn't take children until they were five. Her sister turned to more interesting things for her, but Bella stayed, she has always been a dancer, so it is only natural that she has won the trip to NYC. I hope that someday she goes to Julliard. So I congratulate Isabella Victoria Saperston -- never stop dancing my beautiful little star.
I wonder how long I am going to have to NOT SEE my favorite programs on PBS... they were doing the money bit all last week... and they are still doing the damned musicals stuff on 9-2, so it looks like I shut off my TV as soon as the News Hour is over. I am not happy with the news... it shows the present younger generation acting like their grand or great-grandparents in their terrible bigotry. I'm sick of john boner and his idiocy... I'm sick of Netanyahu and his disrespect of Obama... I am horrified at the stupid Sigma Alpha Epsilon boys (also younger gen) acting like they did back in the 1950s. I'm tired of fighting, I just want to see people being peaceful -- where is the new John Lennon to write another "Imagine" or why aren't the kids picking up on it and acting as he said. We need desperately to get rid of the old white republicans in Congress and get some real thinking, bright, understanding younger people in their seats. Not more like them... no Ryans, who never had a real job, or boner, who should be back sweeping old his father's saloon, or McCain, who has passed himself off as a hero all these years, when he was nothing but a guy who wrecked a lot of planes and wound up in a prison camp... that doesn't make you a hero. Weed them OUT. Yesterday was two anniversaries... that of the march in Selma, Alabama, a town that is broken and crushed now... a sad thing, and showing again the stupidity and lack of education in this country. But it was also that for Women's Day... again the need for world-wide education for women as well as men. For the equality issue, the equal pay issues still not fair... and the world-wide need for even fair treatment of women.. ye gods... there are still stupid little boys saying terrible things about women. The Google page was full of the most childish and silly comments by males... unbelievable.
I still say we need to go to the POD system of education, where children learn with their peers in each class. Readers go to class with other children who read at their rate, not because they are the same age; math class must be for children who are at the same place in their learning... every class must be with children of any AGE, but at the same rate of learning for that particular subject. I don't care if a kid is any age from 4 to 10, if s/he is reading at 3rd grade level, s/he belongs in the 3rd grade level class... and no child should be told what level their class is... they are just with peers, that is it! Until the schools are run like this, we will always have bullies and kids being pushed back or ahead because of a failure to understand where they really belong. Mark was at his best when all he knew was that he was, "In Mrs. Wedeman's Family Group" if anyone asked what grade he was in. He was in three or four different 'grades,' depending on the class.
Another wasted day... but, as I watch how other states stretch and often fail to take care of older people, I am so happy that I moved to California when I did and worked constantly after retiring as a volunteer at several senior centers... so that I am in a comfortable place and well taken care of by Ana, Jovita and Altesha, which reminds me... have to go and look up some of my recipies for the big cook-out on Friday when Altesha comes... she's the great cook and we plan my meals for the next week so she can help me by taking over and cooking them for me.
Ms. Katt gave me an amusing early afternoon. As I sat having my coffee and brunch, she sat in the right corner of the window, on top of the telephone books and enjoyed the green view outside. There is always something going on for her to see. She sits like a statue of an Egyptian cat with only the head snapping from one scene to another. We had a tiny hummingbird tap on the window yesterday... he's a constant visitor to the flowering bush next to the window. Then she can gaze at the butterflies that love the calla lillies and Aaron's roses, and since the Princess bush has pretty much died she can see all of the people and cars going by. That cute little head just turned constantly as birds flew in and out and butterflies fluttered back and forth... until she had a bit too much sun. Sylvia is just like her mother, cannot stand too much sun, so she jumped down and curled up in the shade for a nap. Now she came to sit next to me to say that she is unhappy with the new old lady food we are trying out (failure) and CLEAN the litter box!!
She can wait for Jovita tomorrow! I have to send my darling granddaughter a small check to spend when she is in NYC. My sweet little Bella, all of 11 years old, has won a dance competition for jazz and lyrical with her dance group and will be going to New York. She gets to see two Broadway shows and have a dance lesson with the Rockettes after touring Radio City. She is so good and works so hard at her dancing... always has. I can remember Bella watching her sister and doing all the steps better than the 'big girls' when she was only three years old and not 'old enough' to take the class. They finally let her come and dance with them the next year, in spite of the fact that they didn't take children until they were five. Her sister turned to more interesting things for her, but Bella stayed, she has always been a dancer, so it is only natural that she has won the trip to NYC. I hope that someday she goes to Julliard. So I congratulate Isabella Victoria Saperston -- never stop dancing my beautiful little star.
I wonder how long I am going to have to NOT SEE my favorite programs on PBS... they were doing the money bit all last week... and they are still doing the damned musicals stuff on 9-2, so it looks like I shut off my TV as soon as the News Hour is over. I am not happy with the news... it shows the present younger generation acting like their grand or great-grandparents in their terrible bigotry. I'm sick of john boner and his idiocy... I'm sick of Netanyahu and his disrespect of Obama... I am horrified at the stupid Sigma Alpha Epsilon boys (also younger gen) acting like they did back in the 1950s. I'm tired of fighting, I just want to see people being peaceful -- where is the new John Lennon to write another "Imagine" or why aren't the kids picking up on it and acting as he said. We need desperately to get rid of the old white republicans in Congress and get some real thinking, bright, understanding younger people in their seats. Not more like them... no Ryans, who never had a real job, or boner, who should be back sweeping old his father's saloon, or McCain, who has passed himself off as a hero all these years, when he was nothing but a guy who wrecked a lot of planes and wound up in a prison camp... that doesn't make you a hero. Weed them OUT. Yesterday was two anniversaries... that of the march in Selma, Alabama, a town that is broken and crushed now... a sad thing, and showing again the stupidity and lack of education in this country. But it was also that for Women's Day... again the need for world-wide education for women as well as men. For the equality issue, the equal pay issues still not fair... and the world-wide need for even fair treatment of women.. ye gods... there are still stupid little boys saying terrible things about women. The Google page was full of the most childish and silly comments by males... unbelievable.
I still say we need to go to the POD system of education, where children learn with their peers in each class. Readers go to class with other children who read at their rate, not because they are the same age; math class must be for children who are at the same place in their learning... every class must be with children of any AGE, but at the same rate of learning for that particular subject. I don't care if a kid is any age from 4 to 10, if s/he is reading at 3rd grade level, s/he belongs in the 3rd grade level class... and no child should be told what level their class is... they are just with peers, that is it! Until the schools are run like this, we will always have bullies and kids being pushed back or ahead because of a failure to understand where they really belong. Mark was at his best when all he knew was that he was, "In Mrs. Wedeman's Family Group" if anyone asked what grade he was in. He was in three or four different 'grades,' depending on the class.
Another wasted day... but, as I watch how other states stretch and often fail to take care of older people, I am so happy that I moved to California when I did and worked constantly after retiring as a volunteer at several senior centers... so that I am in a comfortable place and well taken care of by Ana, Jovita and Altesha, which reminds me... have to go and look up some of my recipies for the big cook-out on Friday when Altesha comes... she's the great cook and we plan my meals for the next week so she can help me by taking over and cooking them for me.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
No One Is Listening (Reading?)
I just noticed that I have 3 followers. I wonder who they are. No one ever writes a comment after any of my writings... I don't think my children or grandchildren have ever taken a minute to look at my blog... and I doubt that any of my friends have, as most of them are dead. Which is, apparently, what I should be by now. I obviously should be, everyone who ever knew me is either gone (dead usually) or completely uninterested in anything I have to say. I cannot get old Kirkie to even read my emails, let alone answer them. I MUST get my podcast going, but now I haven't heard from Larry for several days, so I wonder if he is going to read with me. I have been careful as hell about spending any money at all and I think I have enough to buy mikes and earphones, a new computer, plus whatever else we need. Most of the podcast people say you can start for almost nothing, but I might just as well buy good mikes to start with. Also, I have decided to go to a podcast MeetUp group on March 23... long wait, but hope I get some good info. I am bound and determined to put this podcast on the internet... the letters are good and it should be done... and should be fun... wow, I'm a poet! Well, I may be depressed and I may be through with life... but I don't think I have lost my sense of humour... or my penchant for writing English English.
I am tired... I am tired of just getting up... I am tired of watching my beautiful country go down the tubes... I am tired of stupid people... I am tired of hurting all the time... I am tired of new allergies all the time... I am tired of my nose running because of the allergies... I am tired of just staying up... I'm going to bed. (And I can't even put my writing in Comic Sans anymore, as they won't LET ME!!!) Forgot... I'm tired of having to learn a whole bunch of new Mac stuff... and I'm tired of having no one to teach me... after all the hundreds of people I taught how to use computers... even on the rotten old PCs I had to teach on.
Do these silly notes have dates on them....... I am also tired of things I seem to be forgetting... many.....
3/3/15
I am tired... I am tired of just getting up... I am tired of watching my beautiful country go down the tubes... I am tired of stupid people... I am tired of hurting all the time... I am tired of new allergies all the time... I am tired of my nose running because of the allergies... I am tired of just staying up... I'm going to bed. (And I can't even put my writing in Comic Sans anymore, as they won't LET ME!!!) Forgot... I'm tired of having to learn a whole bunch of new Mac stuff... and I'm tired of having no one to teach me... after all the hundreds of people I taught how to use computers... even on the rotten old PCs I had to teach on.
Do these silly notes have dates on them....... I am also tired of things I seem to be forgetting... many.....
3/3/15
Thursday, February 12, 2015
A Sad Day... the Passing of Bob Simon
I shall have a hard time writing this, for I must stop to wipe away the tears I cannot seem to stop. This afternoon a heard a few words on the early news program that caused me to stop in disbelief, then realize what I heard... Bob Simon is dead... a senseless death... killed in a cab that had rear-ended the car in front of it. In my first moment of shock I thought, no it can't be. That wonderful man, who had been captured in Iraq and come out of that incident alive, had been killed by a bad driver. I do not know what to think. I have admired and loved this man for years... he seemed to me the last of the great reporters of the sort of Eric Sevareid... the kind who actually go gather the news then present it in a great and honest fashion -- not like the men and women who simply read other's news stories, sometimes embroidered to make them more exciting, on the TV. He was my favorite on 60 Minutes, with the most interesting stories, for he seemed to do the kinds of stories I would have loved going on... stories he obviously chose himself and loved doing. There are none like him anymore, nor will there be. He was one of a kind and one of the best. A man of intellect with a good heart.
When he was captured by the Iraqi years back, I, an unbeliever, actually prayed for him to be released and even wrote to his family to tell them that I did, and was sure that he would be returned to them. What a relief when he was. Now, I shall not pray for him (for I have the feeling he thought rather as I do about other's gods) but for them once more, for they have lost a magnificent husband and father, as life is hard without those you love around you. The world has lost a wonderful man and will miss Bob Simon, as shall I. His death will mark the death of real reporting on television. The world will be smaller and a lot more boring with his passing. Goodbye Bob... bless you, dear man.
When he was captured by the Iraqi years back, I, an unbeliever, actually prayed for him to be released and even wrote to his family to tell them that I did, and was sure that he would be returned to them. What a relief when he was. Now, I shall not pray for him (for I have the feeling he thought rather as I do about other's gods) but for them once more, for they have lost a magnificent husband and father, as life is hard without those you love around you. The world has lost a wonderful man and will miss Bob Simon, as shall I. His death will mark the death of real reporting on television. The world will be smaller and a lot more boring with his passing. Goodbye Bob... bless you, dear man.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
The "Prayer Breakfast" in Washington
I am an atheist -- I have no religion. But what is ‘religion’... my simple little dictionary says a couple of salient things: “details of belief as taught or discussed” and “a particular system of faith.” Well, I was taught by my parents and teachers (particularly the dear Sisters of Mercy) to be a good person, be kind to others, to not be destructive, “don’t be mean, dear, be nice.” So I suppose that my ‘religion’ is goodness... perhaps to strive for the sweet goodness, kindness and generosity of my dear Grandmother Cartwright... who lived through hell as a child and came out of it with such a goodness of the heart and spirit, to raise a large family full of kindness.
I say ‘spirit’ instead of ‘soul’ for soul is a word used by religions, and I simply mean the being that one is. I am not always the good person that I can and should be, but as I get older and realize all the horror that is going on in the world, I know that I must strive to be as good as I can to those around me. I do not say ‘love’ all others as do all the religions, for they have almost ruined that word. The word ‘love’ is sacred to me, when I really love I love forever and with all of my spirit. I love my family and a few others with all of my being. But I do not need to love everyone. I do need to be good to all beings and I can at least hope for peace in this world. Perhaps I believe as the Dalai Lama does, “Treat thy neighbor as thyself,” for, although he is one of the kindest, best of humanity, he is not, nor does not have a “god.”
I do not pray to anyone’s ‘god’ for I know that all of the many ‘gods’ out there are simply a thing made up in someone’s mind to get what they desire, either from the earth or from the other people on that earth. If the other people of this earth wish to create a persona to worship, it is fine with me, as long as they do not use that ‘god’ to attempt to do acts of horror on other people or societies, or even to persuade me to believe as they do.
I have been reading President Obama’s speech at a prayer breakfast for Congress. I was impressed and brought to tears at times by his comments. I do not believe in his god, but I do believe in the strength and faith he has for our country and I am so sad that some of the supposedly religious old white men who have come to call themselves leaders of our great land condemned what he said and, as usual, attacked him for his words.
I was impressed by most of what he said, particularly this:
“And so, as people of faith, we are summoned to push back against those who try to distort our religion -- any religion -- for their own nihilistic ends. And here at home and around the world, we will constantly reaffirm that fundamental freedom -- freedom of religion -- the right to practice our faith how we choose, to change our faith if we choose, to practice no faith at all if we choose, and to do so free of persecution and fear and discrimination.
“There’s wisdom in our founders writing in those documents that help found this nation the notion of freedom of religion, because they understood the need for humility. They also understood the need to uphold freedom of speech, that there was a connection between freedom of speech and freedom of religion. For to infringe on one right under the pretext of protecting another is a betrayal of both.”
And so, I am ashamed of so many of the purportedly religious old white men in Congress who roundly criticized what President Obama said when he spoke of the fact that the early Christian religion had committed much the same crimes as the fanatic Muslims have recently. Perhaps they should go to their fabulous church and kneel and pray that their supposed ‘god’ give them a little of that ‘love’ for all others that they constantly profess to believe in. Ah, but I must not say this, for I have just said that I believe in goodness and kindness for all. Ah, but it is so hard to love most of the members of Congress. No, I cannot love them, but I suppose I must learn to attempt to think kindly of them, and definitely not to swear at them when I write and tell them how absolutely disgusted I am at the selfishness and lack of real work for the people they do while saying they are there to help all of us. Often they seem to simply ‘work’ to line their and large corporations pockets, and do other such unkind and unchristian acts.
I say ‘spirit’ instead of ‘soul’ for soul is a word used by religions, and I simply mean the being that one is. I am not always the good person that I can and should be, but as I get older and realize all the horror that is going on in the world, I know that I must strive to be as good as I can to those around me. I do not say ‘love’ all others as do all the religions, for they have almost ruined that word. The word ‘love’ is sacred to me, when I really love I love forever and with all of my spirit. I love my family and a few others with all of my being. But I do not need to love everyone. I do need to be good to all beings and I can at least hope for peace in this world. Perhaps I believe as the Dalai Lama does, “Treat thy neighbor as thyself,” for, although he is one of the kindest, best of humanity, he is not, nor does not have a “god.”
I do not pray to anyone’s ‘god’ for I know that all of the many ‘gods’ out there are simply a thing made up in someone’s mind to get what they desire, either from the earth or from the other people on that earth. If the other people of this earth wish to create a persona to worship, it is fine with me, as long as they do not use that ‘god’ to attempt to do acts of horror on other people or societies, or even to persuade me to believe as they do.
I have been reading President Obama’s speech at a prayer breakfast for Congress. I was impressed and brought to tears at times by his comments. I do not believe in his god, but I do believe in the strength and faith he has for our country and I am so sad that some of the supposedly religious old white men who have come to call themselves leaders of our great land condemned what he said and, as usual, attacked him for his words.
I was impressed by most of what he said, particularly this:
“And so, as people of faith, we are summoned to push back against those who try to distort our religion -- any religion -- for their own nihilistic ends. And here at home and around the world, we will constantly reaffirm that fundamental freedom -- freedom of religion -- the right to practice our faith how we choose, to change our faith if we choose, to practice no faith at all if we choose, and to do so free of persecution and fear and discrimination.
“There’s wisdom in our founders writing in those documents that help found this nation the notion of freedom of religion, because they understood the need for humility. They also understood the need to uphold freedom of speech, that there was a connection between freedom of speech and freedom of religion. For to infringe on one right under the pretext of protecting another is a betrayal of both.”
And so, I am ashamed of so many of the purportedly religious old white men in Congress who roundly criticized what President Obama said when he spoke of the fact that the early Christian religion had committed much the same crimes as the fanatic Muslims have recently. Perhaps they should go to their fabulous church and kneel and pray that their supposed ‘god’ give them a little of that ‘love’ for all others that they constantly profess to believe in. Ah, but I must not say this, for I have just said that I believe in goodness and kindness for all. Ah, but it is so hard to love most of the members of Congress. No, I cannot love them, but I suppose I must learn to attempt to think kindly of them, and definitely not to swear at them when I write and tell them how absolutely disgusted I am at the selfishness and lack of real work for the people they do while saying they are there to help all of us. Often they seem to simply ‘work’ to line their and large corporations pockets, and do other such unkind and unchristian acts.
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