YouTube - Marvin Gaye "What's Going On / What's Happening Brother"
A dear friend came by with gifts and I found myself empty handed. I thought of Marvin. He's too young to remember him but somet songs are timeless. (We don't need to escalate for only love can conquer hate) I told him that if left on a desert island this was one of the five CD's I'd take. Nearly forty years and Marvin is still saving my soul.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Your Face Reveals It
As I watched the crockodile tears flow from your eyes - for a woman you openly hate - I knew what a talented actress you had become.
You mimic emotion. (or as Zelda said "practice your emotions) and stage events to demonstrate your humanity. You cry over lost puppy commercials and then kick the dog.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uR0LRSr9rBA
Is your cruelty and lack of empathy because of an attachment disorder rooted deep in your childhood? Feeling abandoned by the birth of your brother? Being terrorized by the malicious Aunt? Being traded for the step daughter? Did a life that started off full of love and acceptance and then quickly left you feeling abandoned and betrayed turn your heart to stone? Will destroying all that is worth loving ever ease your pain? Will you create in the person who loves you the most - that same kind of wound? Will history repeat and repeat and repeat? Will the chicken always blame the hen? What of your chicken now?
Or will finiding that splinter and removing it set your free from the path you're on? Open your eyes and your heart.
The journey begins with the truth. Find your truth.
Jesus loves you and so do I.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Building A Global Village Summer 1996
Over the years I've noticed - not just a dumbing down of America - but a numbing of America. Where once goodness, kindness and decency were the role models for our society - now we have jackass and cyber-bullying. Even our politicians encourage citizens to act like a lynch mob. They send out instructions on how to interrupt a town meeting. Not how to be informed citizens - but how to stifle debate and silence opposing voices. We can blame political pitch me, we can blame video games or online social networks. But the truth is - it starts at home. It starts with each parent taking the time to listen to the sounds outside their window.
Join me now in the wayback machine - to 1996 and the beginning of Rove politics.
It is the end of another scorching day. I am sitting in my darkened living room waiting for the sun to go down and for the heat to retreat. Outside are the sounds of the children from my apartment complex playing in front of the building. It is a joyful noise that echoes thought the evening. I close my eyes and lean back, remembering my own childhood. Suddenly the sounds outside my window change and I look out my window to investigate. An older boy has joined the group and he is bullying the younger ones. I watch for a few moments as he goes from child to child, teasing and tormenting. Just as my daughter walks into the room I stick my head out the window and start to reprimand the boy. “Hey!” I say, “Knock it off!” The boy heads back to the other side of the apartment complex and the younger children go back to the game they were playing. When I pull my head back in my daughter is looking at me as though I’ve lost my mind. She asks, “Mom, are you turning into one of those grumpy old grandmothers who is always yelling at the kids in the neighborhood?” I didn’t answer. I was slightly embarrassed and surprised at myself. I hadn’t thought about it before I did it, I just did it.
For the next few days I kept thinking about my childhood. I remember those deliciously long summer days but most of all I remember the nights. There must have been twenty of us baby boomers gathered on the front porch, playing flashlight tag or telling ghost stories in the dark. Seems to me, that everyone felt they had a right and a responsibility to “make the kids mind.” Even when we thought we were running wild in the street, just inside the picture window, somebody’s Mom, somebody’s Dad was keeping an eye on us. We knew we were in trouble when someone’s parent left the comfort of the easy chair to make their way out on the lawn. No one ever laid a hand on someone else’s kid, just gave him the stern talking to and went back behind the window. If one of us really got out of hand, then some parent might take you by the arm and walk you back to your house to explain the problem to your parents. Not only would you be in trouble with your parents, but the other kids would tease you about it.
We expected discipline, not just from our parents but also from our friends’ parents. Somehow it made us feel safe. In school were doing the “duck and cover atomic bomb drill” and were grew up knowing that the world could end in a flash. We knew that the world was a dangerous place but our neighborhood, with our parents standing watch from the easy chair, was safe. My grandchildren have no safe haven. The war has come to our front lawns and their bedrooms at night and it is dangerous everywhere.
For days I’ve been listening to stories about Bob Doles’ hometown on the nightly news. I’ve heard the story at least a thousand times of how Russell, Kansas, with it’s boundless love and financial support helped a broken soldier, a home town boy, become the man he is today, a United States Senator and candidate for President. I want my grandchildren to live in Russell, Kansas. I want all children to live in Russell, Kansas,
As Dole gave his acceptance speech, I was particularly offended by his abrasive remarks about Hillary Clinton’s book, “It takes a Village.” It seemed odd to me that after spending a week paying tribute to the “Village of Russell, Kansas” he would casually dismiss their contribution to his success and claim that it doesn’t take a village it takes a family. Doles’ family didn’t have the resources to rescue their son. They had to rely on the generosity of the community. In the cost analysis of the totally capitalist society, the investment in Bob Doles’ recovery would have been too high a risk. In other words, he wouldn’t have been worth what it cost to fix him. Mr. Dole, you sir, are living proof that the community, the collective good will of the citizens of the community, plays a vital role in our society. And that it really does take a village.
Later as I was putting a “Clinton/Gore 96” sign in my window I noticed that same older boy was again bullying the younger children. I stuck my heard out the window, “Hey!” I said, “If you don’t behave I’m going to talk to your parents!”
My daughter looked horrified. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m building a village!” I replied.
Join me now in the wayback machine - to 1996 and the beginning of Rove politics.
It is the end of another scorching day. I am sitting in my darkened living room waiting for the sun to go down and for the heat to retreat. Outside are the sounds of the children from my apartment complex playing in front of the building. It is a joyful noise that echoes thought the evening. I close my eyes and lean back, remembering my own childhood. Suddenly the sounds outside my window change and I look out my window to investigate. An older boy has joined the group and he is bullying the younger ones. I watch for a few moments as he goes from child to child, teasing and tormenting. Just as my daughter walks into the room I stick my head out the window and start to reprimand the boy. “Hey!” I say, “Knock it off!” The boy heads back to the other side of the apartment complex and the younger children go back to the game they were playing. When I pull my head back in my daughter is looking at me as though I’ve lost my mind. She asks, “Mom, are you turning into one of those grumpy old grandmothers who is always yelling at the kids in the neighborhood?” I didn’t answer. I was slightly embarrassed and surprised at myself. I hadn’t thought about it before I did it, I just did it.
For the next few days I kept thinking about my childhood. I remember those deliciously long summer days but most of all I remember the nights. There must have been twenty of us baby boomers gathered on the front porch, playing flashlight tag or telling ghost stories in the dark. Seems to me, that everyone felt they had a right and a responsibility to “make the kids mind.” Even when we thought we were running wild in the street, just inside the picture window, somebody’s Mom, somebody’s Dad was keeping an eye on us. We knew we were in trouble when someone’s parent left the comfort of the easy chair to make their way out on the lawn. No one ever laid a hand on someone else’s kid, just gave him the stern talking to and went back behind the window. If one of us really got out of hand, then some parent might take you by the arm and walk you back to your house to explain the problem to your parents. Not only would you be in trouble with your parents, but the other kids would tease you about it.
We expected discipline, not just from our parents but also from our friends’ parents. Somehow it made us feel safe. In school were doing the “duck and cover atomic bomb drill” and were grew up knowing that the world could end in a flash. We knew that the world was a dangerous place but our neighborhood, with our parents standing watch from the easy chair, was safe. My grandchildren have no safe haven. The war has come to our front lawns and their bedrooms at night and it is dangerous everywhere.
For days I’ve been listening to stories about Bob Doles’ hometown on the nightly news. I’ve heard the story at least a thousand times of how Russell, Kansas, with it’s boundless love and financial support helped a broken soldier, a home town boy, become the man he is today, a United States Senator and candidate for President. I want my grandchildren to live in Russell, Kansas. I want all children to live in Russell, Kansas,
As Dole gave his acceptance speech, I was particularly offended by his abrasive remarks about Hillary Clinton’s book, “It takes a Village.” It seemed odd to me that after spending a week paying tribute to the “Village of Russell, Kansas” he would casually dismiss their contribution to his success and claim that it doesn’t take a village it takes a family. Doles’ family didn’t have the resources to rescue their son. They had to rely on the generosity of the community. In the cost analysis of the totally capitalist society, the investment in Bob Doles’ recovery would have been too high a risk. In other words, he wouldn’t have been worth what it cost to fix him. Mr. Dole, you sir, are living proof that the community, the collective good will of the citizens of the community, plays a vital role in our society. And that it really does take a village.
Later as I was putting a “Clinton/Gore 96” sign in my window I noticed that same older boy was again bullying the younger children. I stuck my heard out the window, “Hey!” I said, “If you don’t behave I’m going to talk to your parents!”
My daughter looked horrified. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m building a village!” I replied.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Know nothing vs Do Nothings (pampered progressives vs right wing nuts)
Sign in Betty's kitchen "Once I had ten theories on raising children, Now I have ten children and no theories."
The pissed of pampered class of progressive is just as bad as the right wing nuts. They both want to make sure that Obama fails. Then they sit on their oh so self righteous asses and feel smug. They do love smug. And snark.
But little girls, it is so much more dangerous than you think. When I was a kid, some white girl got pregnant and they grabbed the first black boy" they found and tied him to the back of a train and poured gasoline on him. He lit up the sky for miles. When I was a teenager, we had tanks in the streets because cops shot a black soldier for being black. Later riot cops stormed a shop on Sunset Blvd in riot gear (there was no riot) and beat a couple of guys bloody as they dragged them through the streets.
There are plenty of local elections. Mayor, state rep, state senate, US Representative or Governor, Senate. I didn't like Jimmy Carter, but I really hated Reagan (he was the Gov who ordered the riot troops) But you are more like Bush - my way or the highway - with us 'er again us. No room for democracy amid the Progressives. No allowance for differing views amid the Liberals.
Mark my words, when we invade Iran and they dismantle the New Deal and you're panhandling for a living - then will you just stop the damn whining? Life is not fair, you don't get what you deserve, some people have all the luck and the rich just keep getting richer. There is no Utopia. Grow up. You're not standing on principle - you're just a poor loser.
The pissed of pampered class of progressive is just as bad as the right wing nuts. They both want to make sure that Obama fails. Then they sit on their oh so self righteous asses and feel smug. They do love smug. And snark.
But little girls, it is so much more dangerous than you think. When I was a kid, some white girl got pregnant and they grabbed the first black boy" they found and tied him to the back of a train and poured gasoline on him. He lit up the sky for miles. When I was a teenager, we had tanks in the streets because cops shot a black soldier for being black. Later riot cops stormed a shop on Sunset Blvd in riot gear (there was no riot) and beat a couple of guys bloody as they dragged them through the streets.
There are plenty of local elections. Mayor, state rep, state senate, US Representative or Governor, Senate. I didn't like Jimmy Carter, but I really hated Reagan (he was the Gov who ordered the riot troops) But you are more like Bush - my way or the highway - with us 'er again us. No room for democracy amid the Progressives. No allowance for differing views amid the Liberals.
Mark my words, when we invade Iran and they dismantle the New Deal and you're panhandling for a living - then will you just stop the damn whining? Life is not fair, you don't get what you deserve, some people have all the luck and the rich just keep getting richer. There is no Utopia. Grow up. You're not standing on principle - you're just a poor loser.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
The healing power of Cheesburgers
During the crazy of last month's move - I was madly dashing around packing when I whizzed through the hallway and managed to wrap the plug for the battery around the hinge for the closet door while wrapping the O2 tubing around the axle. I pulled the wiring from the joystick and the chair would not move. Trapped in the chair, unable to breathe, exhausted and scared...
Luckily I had my phone in my pocket. I called my friend David Murphy. He arrived along with a friend my son sent over. They extracted me from the chair and I called the chair fixer people. Before it was over I broke down sobbing "I can't do this!" David jumped up and said, "YOU need a cheeseburger from Dick's Drive In!!"
Anyway - the chair has a new joystick and I have a new appreciation for a great friend. And the healing power of cheeseburgers.
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