My Brother, My Brother

My Brother, My Brother

My Brother,

My Brother.

You come home

to us now.

I ask

not how you died

in a land

so far away.

But how did

you live,

in so short

a stay?

Would we have laughed

at the same silly things?

Would we have

shared a beer

on a hot summer day?

Would we have talked

the talk of dreamers,

and philosophers,

and solved our woes

along the way?

I will never

have the pleasure

to share the things

you may have thought.

You were Lost

to a political agenda

that Human Beings

cannot understand.

Now a plane of people

gaze out the windows

sorrowful

and glad.

Isn’t it sad?

No one they knew.

No one they knew.

But you are

My Brother,

My Brother.

Faceless and nameless

you may be to me.

But i cry for you

still.

Embarrassment

What we do when we are embarrassed says a great deal about who we really are and how much we accept who we are. The other day i was to meet a man with whom i wanted to give a good impression. As i was getting ready, i dug through my closet trying to put together an outfit i thought appropriate. He’s a film producer who has worked in Hollywood and i figured has seen just about everything imaginable. I went through this mental list in my head, ticking off the kinds of things i thought an artistic but professional and successful producer would look on favorably. Should i be completely artsy? Completely professional? Something in between? Ugh. I kept putting outfits together then discarding them. I couldn’t make up my mind. Not my usual mode of getting dressed. I tend to be practical and neatly casual. In the end, i settled on what i was comfortable with – a long skirt and tank top with an artsy jacket.


Now – what shoes to wear? This is always a problem for me. I like bare feet the best. Next, sandals. Followed closely by a favorite pair of Vans – which is to say ALL my Vans as they are without a doubt my favorite full shoe. But none of these were appropriate. And the heels i had did NOT go with what i was wearing. Men never have this sort of problem. Curses. After a bit i drug out a pair of shoes i hadn’t worn in a couple of years. They used to be one of my favs but somehow had managed to be buried under purses and various whatnots deep in that dark hole we call a closet. Who designs these damn things anyway? Oh yeah, men. Who never have a problem with shoes. Right. So i happily donned my cute shoes, twirled in front of the mirror a couple of times and headed off to my meeting with Stardom.

I met with the producer at a local Starbucks. He turned out to be a very pleasant, easy going, and funny man and i ended up having a wonderfully informative, hour long chat. But there’s always a point in any conversation where you need to wrap things up before it gets awkward. (Some people have no clue about this). So when the conversation started to lag, i knew it was time to sum things up, say my thanks, and head out the door. But just as these thoughts were flitting through my head, i had this strange sensation on my left foot. Like cold air. Where it shouldn’t be. I tried to look down, without looking like i was looking down. My shoe, from the toe all the way down one side to the heel, had fallen apart. Yikes! I wriggled my left foot – no way it would stay on – it was ready to fall off at any moment. I wriggled my right foot. Oh for Heaven’s sake! My right shoe was doing the same thing though not quite as bad as the left. No way in hell i was going to be able to walk away without my shoes literally falling off my feet. My smile froze on my face. Crap! Crap!! Crap!!!

Embarrassments like this are Life’s way of laughing at our insecure egos. The whole game of “dressing to impress” – just a mask we wear in our desire to be accepted. I find it amusing – and sad – that we work so hard to be someone we’re not to impress someone who is doing the same damn thing. Who ARE we? For me, it’s such a terrible state because i am aware of what i’m doing and why i’m doing it but am afraid to stop. The fear of not being accepted is too great.

I tried to keep a straight face as all this was avalanching through my brain but the urge to laugh was creeping its way out my mouth so i quickly smiled and mumbled some inane and appropriate verbal camouflage to bring the conversation to an end with the excuse that i was going to stay for a bit and take notes on our conversation. Thankfully – he stood, shook my extended hand, and left. I sat there for a good ten minutes. I got up and ever-so-slowly shuffled my way out the front doors of a very crowded Starbucks. I could only imagine i looked like Tim Conway doing the old man shuffle. I felt every eye upon me as i casually took off my shoes – and threw them in a garbage bin outside the door. By this time, my humor – the best of what is real – had bubbled over. I threw back my head and laughed and cared not one wit who heard me or if anyone thought i was crazy. I laughed all the way home. And it felt great.

I vowed that day to not be afraid of not impressing people. To work even harder at “being me” – whoever that might turn out to be. Because if “being me” felt as good as that moment when i laughed at my own embarrassment, then that’s one damn fine thing to be.

Occupy What?

I’ve watched the Occupy Wall Street and various Occupy spin-offs with a mix of serious interest and amusement.  Add the Tea Party, the American Dream Movement, or whatever flavor-of-the-month political-civil group that pops up, and not even the dead can deny that Americans across the board are angry, unhappy, and have itchy voting fingers.  It doesn’t matter if you walk the far Left, the Right, or jog straight down the middle, there’s a boiling volcano ready to burst and we need to be nimble and strong enough to leap across the fiery chasm when it comes.

I’m no doomsayer.  But i don’t own a pair of rose-colored glasses either.  Minorities, who have been the voice of change, are being consumed by the angry Middle Class.  It isn’t that the Minorities aren’t equally unhappy; it’s just that the Middle Class is drowning them out with their own confused tales of woe.  The Rich are the only ones who are keeping silent – and keeping their heads low in hopes they’ll dodge stray bullets and whatever unpleasantness that comes their way.   

News articles, blogs, YouTube, and social web sites are rife with claims of an impending civil explosion.  The Tales:  We are headed for a serious depression; the US government has deployed 20,000 troops to handle civil unrest; Left vs. Right is being replaced by Young vs. Old; high unemployment will continue; we are pre-revolutionary.  So, what does this mean?  I’m not saying anything new.  I don’t believe anyone we vote for will make much of a difference other than to postpone, and possibly worsen, the inevitable. 

What do we do?  While we have no idea where or how violent the outburst might be, we don’t want to be like before the recession with our heads in the ground ignoring the signs of a swiftly down-turning economy.  We need to educate ourselves. Be pro-active.  Watching the news isn’t enough.  We need to be informed.  Read the journals of all sides and read them without bias.  We need to be prepared.  Civil unrest disrupts our lives.  Often the disruption hits these three sectors: communication, transportation, and utilities.  Think emergency preparedness – squirrel away spare cash, keep the car gassed, stock up on water and food – enough for a few days.  Keep a hard copy of important account information in a very secure place.  Memorize important phone numbers – current phone technology has spoiled us with speed dial and other short cuts.  Know the physical location of your closest police and fire station as well as hospital and emergency care services. 

72 Hours Website: http://72hours.org/go_bag.html

Red Cross: http://www.redcross.org/portal/site/en/menuitem.53fabf6cc033f17a2b1ecfbf43181aa0/?vgnextoid=537b218c37752210VgnVCM10000089f0870aRCRD&currPage=6057d7aada352210VgnVCM10000089f0870aRCRD

This website has a lot of opinions, read with caution and common sense - however - the last bit of the article is what's important - BE PREPARED!  Have a kit ready for emergencies!
http://www.backwoodshome.com/articles2/wolfe118.html

But more than anything, we need to be unafraid.  There are no countries, no states, no cities, no communities, no families that exist without the cyclic turn of the wheel going from prosperity to chaos back to prosperity again.  Americans have had it good for a long while; we’ve spoiled ourselves.  Now we need to dig deep and locate our spines.  Be courageous.  Face the known and unknown with certain conviction that we will pull through no matter how bad it gets.  This country was founded by men and women who understood how to push through fear.  Courage.  It’s All American. 

The Social Network Hype

I’m going to thumb my nose at the Media and psychologists who have touted for the last handful of years that social networking makes monsters out of people.  That tweeting, texting, blogging, and posting on Facebook will create a nation of social misfits whose only identity and personal interaction is through a computer – that we will become dark, twisted and lonely creatures. 

Nah.

I just don’t believe all the psychological Armageddon hype.   Yeah – i’ve seen the articles on people who have posted their wacked out diaries of their sad lives on the Internet and have taken out their frustration on the masses – the acts of George Sodini comes to mind.  But i don’t believe that social networks made people like Sodini do their crazy acts of violence.  I am not convinced social networking turns ordinary people into loyal members of the Lonely Hearts Club or candidates for schizophrenia.  Crazy people were crazy before the Internet – social networking is a result not a cause.   

Yet the Media – ever vigilant to promote drama – sells the social networking hype as if it came from outer space, as if it wasn’t created by us – like a plague that popped out of a black hole from some other universe.  But social networking was born from our desire to stay connected with one another by taking advantage of current technology.  It’s a bit like the argument on guns – “Guns don’t kill people.  People kill people.”  People may argue that if the guns – or social networking – weren’t available we wouldn’t have a problem.  That’s an irresponsible argument.  One – we will not get rid of the myriad ways people have found to kill one another, two – we will not banish technology.  Does having technology make it easier for people to act out their own brand of craziness?  Most likely.  Just like office doughnuts make it easier to gain weight.  But the decision, act, and responsibility lie firmly on the individuals’ shoulders.

Recently i had a wonderful experience with social networking.  It was my birthday and i was overwhelmed with “happy birthdays,” well wishes, and funny jokes.  It was heart-warming, endearing, and put a smile on my lips.  Now i’m not so naïve to think everyone remembered my birthday; i’m completely aware that this social network is programmed to notify people of upcoming friends’ birthdays.  But no one made them respond except that dearly, most cherished of human traits, the need and desire to be social.  To reach out and connect.  It cost them not one penny to be kind.  Yet it gave me a happiness that has no price. 

So i stand by the thought that social networks, and other various networking platforms, are good for us – provided what we give to others is good.  The seeds of positive or negative action lie within us and we will reap what we sow – the choice has always been and always will be ours. 

Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves

The Sun rises

pale and cold.

Her Light shines brilliant

through dew drops

on red-gold leaves.

Old words

vainly recall an idea

of perfection.

Tree frog green.

Butter warm yellow.

Smiling heart orange.

Finger toasty red.

Hush puppy brown.

See?

Old words.

Yet everywhere i look

is a new colour.

One i have never seen.

Never experienced.

I am bedazzled.

Spell bound.

I am in Love.

And all the more

because tomorrow

it will be gone.

When We Had Halloween

 I’m not much for one to yammer on about “the good ole days” when everything we touched was golden and life was all smiles and laughter.  That’s a load of poop if there ever was a load.  But now and again my mind wanders from the Now and reminisces on “days of yore.”  Some trigger is pulled and my past drifts up from that deep well of memories and i recall a life’s moment with illusionary clearness – as if it was really happening.  The Mind is a powerful, seductive thing. 

One such trigger for me, every year without fail, is Halloween.  I love – LOVE – Autumn.  Each turning leaf, gust of wind, and honk of the migrating geese is like a new experience for me – and i greet these wonderful moments with great joy.  But Halloween.  Ah.  I miss the costumes and scary faces that came from dime-store makeup and old clothes from the back of your mother or father’s closet.  When scary was what your imagination did to you as you walked to a dark house with only the lights of the jack-o-lanterns aglow.  It wasn’t WHAT you saw that scared you – it’s what you THOUGHT you saw there in the shadows.  It was being able to walk in just a small group of two or three, and not see another soul on the street, or if you did, they were too far to give a sense of security.  It was that nervous possibility that someone would trick you, not treat you.  Because there were those who tricked and did not treat.  Never done in maliciousness, but in the spirit of fun and chaotic madness that is the soul of Halloween.  How can “trick or treat” have many meaning if you don’t know what it is to be tricked?  We never knew, and it made it that much more delicious, that much more nail-biting, that much more fun – to not know.  One of my fondest memories is of a girlfriend and i tip-toeing down a long, dark, tree-covered driveway.  The wind was blowing cold and we huddled together arm in arm.  The only lights were the carved, candle-lit pumpkins lining the porch railing and one dim house light.  Beneath the light sat a dark figure in a rocking chair.  The figure said nothing as we approached.  It didn’t move.  The front door next to the figure opened into a dark house.  No sounds could be heard but the blowing of the wind, our pounding hearts and worried whispers.  Just as out little shoes touched the bottom step of the porch, two boys dressed in rags smeared in red and darkened eyes jumped from the porch roof screaming like a clan of banshees.  Another figure that we couldn’t see but could hear running hard, came at us with a loud horn blowing.  The figure in the rocker – a man – moaned ominously – slowly rose, and came shambling towards us.

That was more than enough  – we screamed like only two little girls can scream and ran as fast as our feet would take us back to the street where my Mom was waiting – laughing.  We could hear laughter from the boys behind us.  Then we laughed too.  That relieved, that-was-so-fun-let’s-do-it-again kind of laugh. 

I miss that kind of Halloween.  That scariness that comes from the imagination.  Those memories will be with me forever – long after the candy is gone and the costumes worn away. 

Flying

Despite TSA, despite extra charges for everything from luggage to leg room, despite long lines and long waits, despite uncomfortable seats, and despite sinus headaches from altitude changes and stale air – i like flying.  Really i do.  Each time, as the plane rolls down the runway, i get this flutter in the pit of my stomach.  The runway flashes by faster and faster and then that final kick of the engines – i am pressed back against my seat – and we are airborne!  It never fails to feel like a new experience no matter how many flights i have taken. 

"Oh.  I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth, And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings…”* I am transfixed as the Earth spreads out beneath me.  The plane banks and turns away from the airport.  The city i know so well, the place i call home, becomes a mosaic of pretty-colored tiles in dusty browns, gold, and forest greens, and roads the grout that holds the city together.  From the city we turn again.  Below us the rivers and lakes shrink as we climb to cross the snow-laced mountains.  The Grand Canyon is but a small textured line that meanders across the red desert and is but a tiny wrinkle on this vast face of Earth.  We fly over miles upon miles of fields.  They stretch to the horizon looking more like a giant’s game board than the food that graces our plates.  And the clouds!  Mmmm, home-churned ice cream!  They seem so solid then – whoosh! – we fly right through them.  Others are flat and thick, like a heavy morning fog while some are so soft, their edges blurred in muted colors, are just a painter’s dream.  Surreal. 

Seeing the Earth this way, is like being reborn.  I am a child again.  Amazed, delighted, broadly smiling at each new sight.  And the night – oh – the night.  How lovely the Moon shines on the Earth!  It becomes a game for me to find the reflection of the Moon twinkling from one body of water to another.  Bayous, flooded fields, lakes, rivers, the Ocean – they sparkle like city lights beneath us and i follow that dazzling trail to the edge of the Earth – where Skies and Land meet. 

I wish i had wings – great, big, white angel wings.  I would fly so high – and so low.  To see every detail of the Earth in that bird’s eye view.  Nothing exists out here.  No worries.  No problems.  Just the beautiful Earth.  So precious.  So amazing and new – every time.     

*The lines are the first stanzas from “High Flight,” by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.




Below is a video of Yves Rossy, "Jetman," making a historic flight over Grand Canyon West on May 11, 2011.  Watch it!