Memorial Day

Good morning.  Today is Memorial Day and my thoughts early this morning are of those brave, scared, young men who lost their life defending my freedom.  I can’t imagine being 18 years old and being in a full scale war or conflict.  I think my initial reaction to being dropped by aircraft into a militarized zone would be panic.  I can only imagine being shell shocked, whatever that is, and being in the mist of bombs, mortars and shells; let alone the bullets flying by.  I’d hope I’d regain my thoughts long enough to jump into a fox hole or be pulled into a fox hole by a fellow soldier.

I’m lucky.  I don’t have to jump down a fox hole.  I’m here “safe” in the continental United States.  My thoughts are not about war, or bullets, or shrapnel.  My thoughts are about what to fix for breakfast and then what I will share at the family picnic.  My thoughts are mundane, they don’t impact any global good or strategic plans; they are just of me and how to get my baked beans and cookies over to my daughter’s house for a picnic.

This Memorial Day I am thinking way beyond the picnic and the pandemic to young boys who have quickly become men by the mere fact that they have to learn to stay safe in a zone that is not safe to be in.  Some of these men are teenagers; some of them are young men; but I bet all of them have families who are without a member of their family today.  Families who pray for the safe return of their soldier.

Some of them will not return.  Some of them will be lost, some of them will escape being captured, some of them will fall by the bullet and be left in the fields, some just will never be found.  Some will be captured by the enemy.  These are the men that Memorial Day is all about. 

Memorial Day is a day when everyone should come together and  thank the men and women who have fallen in the line of duty.  It should be a day when we pause from our busy schedules and think about those brave young boys and girls who become men and women in a war they did not create.

We lost a magnitude of men and women over the decades.  Today, as we pray over our food, let us pray for the families who have one less at their picnic; one less at their dining room table; one less son or daughter to hug.  At our festivities, let's remember the they have fallen so that our celebrations can be complete.

Today I thank everyone who has lost a loved one in the armed services.  May you know that your soldier went on to greatness.

Prayer and Meditation

 Prayer and meditation are two things that I can't do without.  Prayer and meditation are what keep me sane, calm, and collected.  I can always tell when my life gets out of wack it's because I haven't spent enough time with my Creator.  For me, prayer and meditation are ritualistic.  That's what works for me.  I get up in the morning and roll from my bed to my knees and start with praises to God and then my private prayers.  Yes, I ask God for things and He gives them to me if I can handle them or need them.  Sometimes God says no, but I don't know that or his reasoning why until I spend some time in mediation.  

When we initially start praying and meditation; we get stuck on the praying part.  We talk about things we need, we want, what we want for others, etc. and that's where it stands.  Meditation - listening to God is much harder because we have to quit talking and open our ears to God's voice.  Sometimes we don't really like what God has to say but one thing I know for sure, he won't take you places just to drop you in the middle of chaos.

Taking the Steeple off the Church

I've grown weary of people calling themselves Christians when the truth be told they are not Christ-like at all.  By definition, Christians are followers of Christ.  Jesus's time on earth was spent with sinners not the Pharisees and the Sadducees who said they knew what God was about.  How many of us are the Pharisees and the Sadducees of today?  How many of us think we have the answer to this "god thing" when we really are no different than those who thought they were on the short list to get into heaven.  

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day.  A day we take for granted until the one day that we no longer have a Mother to celebrate.  I have been without my mother for about 21 Mother's Days now and it really doesn't get easier, I've just learned to adjust things to make it less painful.  I think of my Mother almost daily and the thought of her brings me comfort; except today.  Today is the day when the impact of not having a mother hits me the hardest; so I try to remember the things about her that brought her joy and in doing so, it brings me that much closer to my own children.

My mother enjoyed family most of all.  If you asked her what she wanted for Mother's Day she would always say, "I want all of my kids around me."  Now, after having 2 adult children of my own, I know what she meant by that.  The hustle and bustle of life gets in the way and before you know it you haven't visited your mother in a week.  That is a week you will never get back.  It really doesn't take much time to touch bases with your mother and tell her how your life is going and finding out how her life is going.

Mom always had Sunday dinner at her home complete with spaghetti, sauce, meatballs and salad.  Sometimes, not always, we'd have dessert.  We all ate, hung out at mom's house for a while and then went home, leaving her and my father alone.  I didn't realize how much that "aloneness" can infiltrate the house.

What I'm learning now is that is isn't always about who is around, it's about who doesn't come around.  Each child is missed.  Each child brings to the table his/her uniqueness that makes a family a family.  It's not in the food, or the gifts, it's about your presence at an event designed to honor our mothers.

I'm lucky.  I talk to my children everyday on the phone, I see them at least one to two times per week.  They are always present on holidays (like Mother's Day).  They each bring a special uniqueness to my day.  They always bring me a smile inside that travels from my heart to my lips, to my eyes.  They are my gift on Mother's Day

Now I know that I was my mother's gift on Mother's Day.  It wasn't what I bought her, it was me all along.  

The Gift

Bill has been gone a little over 3 years but his heart beats in me everyday.   I can't smile without feeling a little guilty that he is gone and I am alive.  Yes, I have survivors guilt.  He and I assumed I would be the first to die because of the medical problems I have.  He didn't have any medical problem until Small Cell Lung Cancer (SCLC) took over his life.  He was diagnosed and 9 months later the angels came to carry him to heaven.  The one thing that is comforting to me is that I KNOW Bill is in heaven.  He was simply the kindest, most non-judgemental  person I have ever met.  He had a good word to say to the worst people.  Even if verbally attached, he kept his cool.  He was a natural arbitrator.

Mostly, Bill loved his Maker, me and his daughters, probably in that order.  God came first in his life and God was displayed in all of Bill's transactions with people.  In our 44 years of being together, I don't recall him ever saying a bad word about anyone.  He found the good in everything.

Bill, its been three years since your spirit had been alive with God.  I hope you don't miss me like I miss you.  I'd hate for you to feel this pain up in heaven.  I don't think you'd want me to feel this much grief even after three years but I just can't help it.  Even the memory of fun things we did together can bring tears to my eyes.  I can't help it.  I miss you more than I can say; more than most people understand.  

It's been three years and if I close my eyes I can see your face, your bright green eyes, your lips, your cheeks, but when I reach out to touch you it is only an illusion.  I am so grateful to God for giving me 44 years with you.  Some people don't have that much time.  I am blessed and more than grateful to God for sending you to me.  You were God's gift to me but he needed you back.  Like I said, I had 44 years with you before God needed you back.  I bet your wings are huge because I know they have surrounded me.

Does Time Heal All Wounds?

 I have a screen saver on my computer monitor.  I've had it there for a little over 3 years.  I can't take it down or replace it with another picture just yet.  It's a picture of just me and Bill.  Bill had already received the devastating diagnosis of Small Cell Lung Cancer (SCLC).  He had been through radiation and chemotherapy and had lost all his hair.  I liked his bald head.  I could rub it and wish for things that I would never receive and I liked to kiss it.  Just rub the top of his head and kiss it.  The action almost made me one with him.  

So this picture, screen saver on my computer, is of Bill and I simply looking into the camera.  It''s a great picture of he and I looking into the camera.  His chin is pressing lightly against my forehead to the side and we are both smiling as if nothing were wrong; but we both know that time is not on our side. 

On April 29, 2021, my dear sweet husband will be gone from his early home for 3 years.  It's sad of me to want him with me when I know he is in perfect health with his Maker.  Is it normal that I still feel the pain I felt when he first died.  It was then I knew that hearts can break and once they break they are never the same again.  

It's almost 3 years and I can't break this pain that surrounds me.  It's almost as if I can't breathe the pain is so great.  I have to be thankful for the pain I feel today because there are those who are alive today who have never felt the love that Bill gave to me so easily.  I had a friend tell me that she has "never experienced that kind of love in her life."  So, in a way, I need to feel grateful for my tears.  My tears are a sign that this mere mortal man transformed my life into something beautiful and wonderful.  This man gave me two beautiful children who are a constant reminder that Bill was here and he did exist and he existed to love his wife and children; but mostly he loved and trusted in his Maker.

Flashbulb

 This is a picture of me and my dog Roscoe.  I posted that picture to get  you to look my way.  Most people don't read posts that don't have a picture so that is my token picture.   This post is not about me really; it's about life and my view of it.  

In my life there has been three political "flashbulb" moments.  The first was the assassination of President Kennedy and the second was the terrorist attack on the Twin Towers.  I can remember exactly what I was doing when I heard the news of each event.  It's not either of those events that I want to talk about.  What I want to talk about is the storming of the Capitol; my third "flashbulb" moment.  

I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched protestors turn into an angry mob of rioters spurred on by President Trump words.  Trump offered to march down to the Capitol with them but he didn't, he was safe within the walls of the Oval Office watching the action on TV like the rest of Americans.  He watched as the rioters stormed through the doors of the Capitol building and chanted that it was Pence's hanging that they wanted.  He could have stopped things from progressing.  These rioters were his supporters out for a good day of lynching and pilfering information and he could have [probably] stopped them with his words.  All he needed to do was tell them to "stand down" like he has said before.  He needed to speak as the President of the United States that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated.  Instead, We The People created a monster who can't be controlled.  This coup attempt of his was defeated, thank goodness, but I fear his reign is not over.  Power spurs him on; power, like lightening courses through his veins.  He does not resign well; he does not take defeat well.  Unfortunately, he is a "movement" that may be overtaking half our population.

To Mask or Not to Mask

So, there is a lot of controversy as to whether or not you should wear a mask in public.  To me, the answer is simple.  Yes, you should wear a mask.  Not to protect you but to protect me.  A surgeon wears a mask when he is operating to protect the patient, not necessarily himself.  What if the surgeons decided tomorrow that they will no longer wear a mask during procedures because it is his right not to do so and it is so cumbersome.  Now, you might say that surgery is higher risk because of the open wounds that the surgeon is operating on; but we have open areas too.  We have a nose, a mouth and eyes, all portals for infection.  

Wearing a mask may not be comfortable but it is the right thing to do.  Recently, Governor DeWine has made the wearing of masks in Trumbull County mandatory.  As a law-abiding citizen it is your duty to wear a mask; it is the law.  If you don't wear a mask in public, are you any better than anyone that breaks the law?  No!  You are just the same.  What would be worse is if the people we elected to up hold the law are not "policing" the mask law just as seriously as they would police anyone who is breaking the law.  

Now, you might say that if I don't like that other people are not wearing masks that I should just stay home.  I say, if you don't want to wear a mask, which is the law, then YOU should stay home, not me.  If the truth be told, I wish nobody had to wear a mask.  I wish that Covid-19 didn't exist or that is was already well into our past; but it isn't.  It is here and we must protect the ones we love (and the ones we don't even know) by wearing a mask, washing our hands, and keeping a social distance.  It's should be our new normal for right now.  It should be your new normal for right now.

Wearing a mask is inconvenient.  Wearing it right is apparently even more inconvenient.  Remember wearing your mask on your chin is not helping anyone, you should just not wear one if you are wearing it like that.  Also, if your nose is exposed, you're still able to spread disease.  Particles come out of your nose too.

Please, to protect me and to protect the ones I love, wear a mask.  I wear one for you, even if you don't care that I do.  

Chimes of my Mind

It's not like I need anything to remind me of him.  It's not like I don't think of him day in and day out but these chimes bring him constantly to the forefront of my mind.  The chimes have a sweet melodious tone that even entices the birds to sing with them.  Maybe the birds sing in celebration of a new day, or maybe they sing just to serenade me in my hours of grief.

The chimes were a memorial gift given to me when my husband died.  They are his chimes because they bear his name.  These chimes gently sway back and forth on my deck.  Every time I hear them I have to stop and say, "Thank you God for giving me Bill to love for more than 44 years."  Its funny, I have several other chimes on my deck that have their own unique sound, but it's Bill's chimes that always catch my attention.  

Yes, Bill and I were able to spend 44 years together, 40 of which were wedded bliss.  We did almost everything together.  He had a special way he held my hand and I told him that if he were replaced with a clone, I'd know it wasn't him by the way he held my hand.  These are the things you cherish once they are no longer around.  It's the simple things that can't be bought that bring me to the point of tears.  It's not only the way he held my hand, but it also the way he said my name or the "pet" names he used to call me.  It's that special look he gave me when I was doing something silly or the way he used to roll his tongue if he was being intense about something.  He had so many mannerisms that I miss.  The chimes help me remind myself that these memories can never be taken but they are mine to hold for a lifetime.  Each sway of the chimes ring out those special things that Bill gave to me.  

Today is our wedding anniversary.  We would have been married 42 years.  Most of the time we celebrated our anniversary simply but sometimes he'd surprise me with a weekend get-away.  It really didn't matter what we did; we were together and that was all that mattered.  

Even after 2 years, I miss him so much; especially today when I remember our wedding day.  The day was filled with memory stopping moments.  My mother's house was filled with guests from out of state that came to celebrate the union of "two young kids" who were starting their lives together.  The day was filled with festivities.  I think I remember each detail.  Those chimes ringing on my deck sometimes bring me back to the exact moment; that exact moment when I looked him in his eyes and said "I do."  My commitment was for a lifetime, as was his.  

The wind chimes on my deck sometimes bring me to tears but most of the time they bring me comfort.  Strangely, I feel that it is not that wind that makes my chimes sing, but the movement of Bill's hand as he stirs memories inside of me.  

Two Years Ago

What a difference two years can make.  Two years ago today, in the early morning I went to see my husband who was in the hospital.  He looked good when I saw him.  He was witty, like he always was, he was grateful that I brought him in some underwear and his toothbrush and he was happy to see me.  He reached up and gave me a big kiss from his hospital bed.  I ran my fingers through his hair trying to tame the back from sticking up. The truth is is that he had very little hair left after his chemotherapy.  We had a good conversation about us, about the kids, about our hopes and dreams and about his illness.  He had extensive Small Cell Lung Cancer (SCLC) and the prognosis wasn't good.

Over the past few months I watched as he became a little more tired each day.  His bright green eyes had grown dim and reflected a man who was ready to meet his Maker if the time would come.  During his illness, he made peace with his Creator.  He came to know him on a higher level than I had ever seen.  He trusted God in all things.  He trusted God with his life but he was still a little fearful to leave me.  He told me he prayed about that fear of leaving me daily.  I'd say something stupid like, "we might beat this and then you'll have to live with me forever," but we both knew that he wouldn't.  He had reconciled to meeting his Maker, I had not.  I still had fight in me.

During that day at the hospital, I'd nod off briefly and he kept telling me to go home.  I had been up all night with him and the "all nighter" had taken its toll on me. I didn't want to go home.  I wanted to stay there until that evening and then go home to my empty house.  I wanted to crawl in the bed with him and cuddle him like I used to do when he was sick.  I wanted to kiss his soft lips and tell him everything was going to be alright.  But I couldn't do that in the sterile hospital room.  What would everyone think?  I wish I had crawled up beside him, damn what everyone thought.  This was my husband of many years, I had the right to hold him; but I didn't.  I simply grabbed his arm and burrowed my head in his chest.  If I was quiet I could hear his heart beat and he would do what he always did when I cuddled him like that - he'd stroke my hair or play with my earlobes.

He finally told me it was time to go home and since I was nodding off most of the time, I agreed.  I went home, fed my dogs and let them out and started to get ready for bed.

It was 9:30pm when the phone rang and a fire sensation enveloped my entire body.  I knew what the phone call was, I knew it, yet how?  He was good when I left him and he was getting ready to be transferred from ICU to IMC the next day.  The call was what I expected and I told them I was on my way.  My brother took me to the hospital with my daughters meeting me there.  It was a site I did not want to see and he had not want to happen.  He arrested and was ventilated.  I knew he didn't want to be on a ventilator but I didn't know what to do.  I cried.  I looked up at my daughters and they were crying too.  I looked back to my husband and told him.....cried to him.....I don't know what to do!  His eyes were the brightest green than I had seen them in a long time.  I looked at him for what seemed a long time but was only moments.  I screamed out, "I don't know what to do Bill, please help me."  He did.  He helped me even in his dying moments.  His heart rate decreased and I told the nurses, "no more."  They stepped back and I moved forward.  I lifted him into my arms and told my sister-in-law I wanted the tube out.  She immediately extubated him for me.  I kissed his lips.  I kissed his check.  I rubbed my hand across his bald head and just cried.  The day had started so well and ended with Bill moving into glory.

I have never met a man more loving, more kind and more humble than my husband.  He had that quiet knowledge that whenever he opened his mouth, you listened.  I once teased him that he doesn't have a bad word for anyone.  All he said is that everybody has something that's good in them, you just got to find it.  I asked him what was good in me, he laughed and said he's going to stick around util he finds it.

I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone in my life.  I can't describe the devastation that I experienced and at times, still do.  We had a dream.  Our dream was that we would grow old together.  That dream will never come to fruition.  Now all I have is memories and while I know memories are good, sometimes they are just not enough.  I still, after 2 years, long for his touch, his breath against my check, the odd way he held my hand and how he used to tug at my earlobes.  If I close my eyes tight, I can see what our future would have been, but that happens only in my dreams.

Just Like I Am

I woke up early this morning with an overwhelming attitude of gratitude.  I think that I woke up feeling renewed because God gave me a glorious day of sunshine and warmth yesterday so I could go outside and talk to my relatives at a socially acceptable distance.  I sat in the connecting back yard with my aunt, uncle, and cousins, each of us respectful of the distance we need to keep from each other.  The conversation was refreshingly "normal" in these abnormal times.  I couldn't help but think how lucky I am to have an extended family who loves me just like I am.

I am grateful for my daughters who love me enough to stay away from me since they are essential workers.  Each day, a couple of times a day, we face time to keep in touch.  It's not the same as hugging them but it's the best we have right now.  My youngest daughter and her wife buy me groceries every week so I don't have to go out to the grocery stores.  I stay 6 feet away while they bring my groceries into my house and put them away.  I am so grateful of the young women they have grown up to be and I'm so blessed that they love me just as I am.

I am grateful for my brother and his family.  They are always checking on me to see how I'm doing and if I need anything.  On Easter, my sister-in-law cooked dinner and we all ate outside keeping our distance.  I was more then grateful because it was a little cold outside and the weather threatened rain but they chose to eat in "uncomfortable" weather just so they could have the holiday with me.  The whole situation brought tears to my eyes when I got home because they didn't have to do that - they wanted to do that.  I am so grateful because they love me just as I am.  

I woke up grateful that I have two Doberman Pinschers who think I'm the best thing since sliced bread.  Each morning they greet me with tails wagging and precious kisses.  My male Dobie likes to press his head (which has some weight to it) against my leg letting me know he is there and happy to see me; my female nudges my hand with her head to make me pet her.  Maybe they like me so much in the morning because I feed them, but I like to think they love me just like I am.

I am grateful for friends who want to "Zoom" with me weekly just so we can stay in touch.  We live in different states and we were all suppose to meet up at the end of April to have some fun and fellowship in Colorado but the Covid-19 virus stopped that so we all talk on Zoom every week.  Each of us has our own cheese, crackers and wine and we share the moment with each other.  It still amazes me that I have people in my life who are not related yet still love me just like I am.

These are but a few things I am grateful for but mostly I am grateful for God who gives me life each day.  I am grateful that at this moment I am happy and healthy.  I am grateful that my children, my immediate family and my extended family are healthy and free from Covid-19 symptoms.  I am grateful for the air that I breathe and the yellow flowers that are growing in my yard.  I am grateful for the trees that are outside of my window and the birds that serenade me each morning.  All these things are given to me from God but no gift is more precious than the fact that He loves me just like I am.

Smash the Curve

I know first hand, as do most of Americans, what it's like to stay at home and not have contact with people for weeks on end.  The idea of opening up the country is enticing, but is it practical?  Is the cost of human lives equally important as increasing our economic stability?  In 1918, during the pandemic of the Spanish flu, the country opened up earlier than they should have and found it produced a 2nd wave of the flu which killed more people than the first wave.  The pandemic peaked in the US during the second wave, in the fall of 1918.  The highly fatal second wave was responsible for most of the US deaths attributed to the pandemic.  "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" (George Sandayana).   Have we forgotten, or have we chosen to forget, what happened 100 years ago?

I understand that this "close down" has been hard for the small businessman, and I feel bad about that, but if I had to choose to lose my business or to lose my child, the choice would be easy.  I watch the protestors on the news holding signs that say, "My body, my choice," but it's not only your body.  Your "choice" puts the rest of us at risk.  I watch the protestors standing shoulder to shoulder, without masks and realize that they are risking our lives just by protesting together.  I have not seen protestors using social distancing.

In my opinion, the protestors are giving the first line responders a slap in the face.  While first responder are on the front line helping the sick and dying,  protestors want to open the country to more illness and dying.  Currently we have flattened the curve showing that social distancing and staying at home has worked.  Before we open up our country we have to "smash the curve" (Stephen Bannon).  We have to see a decrease in the number of Covid-19 patients, not just a plateau.  We need to make sure that a second wave of this disease doesn't rear its ugly head.

FAT

What's it like to be fat in America?  Is there a difference in the way fat people are treated?  Are the obese treated like second class citizens?  I have personal experience in both realms.  I've been fat, and I've been skinny and I have to tell you that there is a difference in how you are treated by the public-at-large.  

If a person has bulimia or anorexia nervosa, they have an "illness," and public concern for them is great.  "We must help her or she will die," is the mantra of the public-at-large.  The same is not true for the person who is on the opposite end of the spectrum.  "I can't believe she let herself go like that," is the thinking of the same public. 

Fat people are often passed over for jobs because they are not aesthetically pleasing to the population.  Rarely do you see an overweight person in the front office where people can see her.  Her skills are hidden behind company walls.  "We can't lose you in the position you are in now, you are too valuable where you are," is a kind way of saying, "you don't look the part!" Fat people are often viewed as stupid and lazy; often times having to excel far above and beyond their counterparts for jobs.

Fat Americans, whether black or white, are the most discriminated group today.  I've sat and listened to the "gossip" around the work area to find that if there is a "fat person" in the area, they are being made fun of by somebody.  Even children chime in with "Fatty, fatty, two by four; can't get through the bathroom door," with little, if any, correction from their parents.

Like I said previously, I've been on both ends of the spectrum and know that "skinny" people are treated better than fat people.  When I was skinny, I got to hear all the negative things that were said about fat people.  I got to hear the "she's so fat...." jokes that everyone within earshot would smirk at.  They must not have remembered that I was once among the fat of America.  When I was fat, I didn't hear the "she's so skinny..." jokes because usually their weren't any.  Being thin in America is the desired outcome of life. 

The Center for Disease Control (CDC) has determined that obesity is a disease just the same as bulimia or anorexia nervosa.  Each is the product of an abnormal relationship with food.  Each has their own set of problems.  While bulimics struggle with their abnormal relationship with food, so do obese people. 

The real objective isn't being fat or skinny, it's being healthy.  Eating fruits and vegetables over chips and dip is, of course, the healthier choice, but sometimes you just want the chips and dip.  It's when it become excessive that it's harmful.  Unfortunately, public opinion really doesn't care if you are healthy or not; they care whether or not you are thin.  When I think about how fat people are treated, it makes me sad.  Beneath all the fat, there is a person - a human - who longs to be treated with compassion. 

One of the things I find sad is that fat people make fun of themselves before anyone else in their presence has the chance too.  They are quick to point out their shortcomings before the public has a chance too.  The public has conditioned them to not like the way they are.    How often have we heard that fat people are "so jolly."  They're not jolly, they laugh just to keep from shedding tears. 

I've used the word "fat" in this post because it is offensive.  The truth is that it shouldn't be offensive, it is just a description.  Skinny is a description and so is fat.  Which one has the more offensive connotation?  Which one invokes the more visceral reaction?

America's Trump Card

Headlines stripped from pages tattered and torn,
Not a damn thing have we learned.
Echoing a time past that man swore would never come again has reared its ugly head taking a stronghold in a country on fragile ground.
His rancid words like golden bile fill my throat; burning the tender flesh from within. If my eyes are closed I might even feel that fine gray ash drift from the furnace and touch my eyelashes; sticking to my cheeks as I cry for what was and what I thought would never come again.

But some of America smiled and embraced all that this self-proclaimed wise man had to say. They breathed in every vile word spoken from his pursed lips. Did he not have wealth and splendor far greater than most of us could gain? Didn’t his silver pen give him the right to make all he spoke true? And some of America bowed to his wealth and his words while others dropped to their knees in honest prayer.

A country, born on the ideal that all men are created equal, is on the verge of making all that our forefathers paved, seem lame. Who would have ever thought that the poem of greater than 200 years inscribed on our icon of freedom “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door,” is slowly being morphed into “two legs good, four legs better”

But some of America smiled as those “yearning to breathe free” were suffocated by a man whose mantra belied his words, “Make America Great Again.” Once again, the white Anglo-Saxon people will rise as it is meant to be and those with alternate skin colors, religions, and beliefs are herded into encampments which we are told will make us feel safe but really is intended to keep their spirits from soaring. My soul screams out, “save from the native Americans, aren’t we all immigrants born to mothers and fathers who left a homeland to make our lives better?”

I am not looking for a revolution. I am seeking a resolution. My mind can only imagine a country moving towards an evolution of all that is diverse, living harmoniously in what used to be a great country. But a trump card has been played and many have laid down before it, eating all that has been spewed before them. Perhaps this belief that the King of Spades has laid at their feet is merely a reflection of what many people have held in their hearts. I shudder at the thought.

Growing Up

Music lost a great composer yesterday; but his songs and voice will live on forever.  I remember as a young girl hanging out at my boyfriend's house listening to John Prine on the stereo.  He had a raspy voice and spoke of social injustices and the injustices of war.  My friends would listen to him over and over in an attempt to memorize every thought he had.  Along with Prine, my friends and I listened to Dylan and the Beatles just to name a couple.  Most of our days were consumed with listening to music and it something we all enjoyed doing.  We'd discuss the various styles and influences almost as if we were being paid to do so; almost as if we had the inside edge on all the stories.  Now, John Prine is dead along with 50% of the Beatles and life has changed drastically.  We are no longer 18-year old children, we are adults struggling for the legal tender like the rest of America.  Some of us are married and some of us are divorced or widowed. Some of us have children and grandchildren. 

One of the things we are universally facing is Covid-19.  The virus has captured and quarantined all of us.  We are no longer the social creatures we are meant to be.  The Covid-19 virus has turned my general personality into an anxious, scared person.  I don't like the person I am becoming.  Last night increased my anxiety because I tried to buy groceries online and was unable to do so because they had no slots and none were available in the future.  I panicked.  I freaked because once again my independence had been taken away.  What was I to do?  For a moment I couldn't think and then I realized I had other resources that I just needed to utilize.  How long can I utilize other people before they get sick?  How will I feel then?  

I mentioned that I'm scared of this virus - and I am.  I know that there are those out there that will tell me I'm afraid because I don't have enough trust in God.  I have complete faith in God, I believe that this virus will do exactly as God will have it do; but in the meantime, I can do things to protect myself, I don't have to wait for God to put a shield around me, I can build one myself by staying at home, as hard as that is. 

Gone are the days that we just hung out and listened to music trying to figure life out; now we are the adults that are trying to figure out a national disaster.  God help us all.