Votes and Assholes

It has been several weeks since I posted on my blog, and every few days I say to myself. "Self, you really need to write something profound for your legions of followers to have for hope and inspiration."

Then I laugh, because at most 15 people may read this.

Unless you live in Narnia or a constant state of ignorant bliss you are more than aware of the impending presidential election, which true to form has ignited maelstroms of debate and acrimony across the nation. This year seems to be especially acrimonious, which I am speculating has to do a great deal with the addiction many of voting age have for social media. Say what you will of the medium, Facebook has definitely provided an almost unfettered platform for the passionate, the impassioned, the educated and the uninformed upon which fierce battles are waged constantly. 

I am trying to stay out of the way of the majority of the posts and links and clips. Not because I am not an active citizen, but because I do not see the benefit in the process. 

I registered to vote as soon as I could, and have voted in every election I was able to since. I have voted in local, state and national elections. I have seen the election of candidates I supported, and the defeat of candidates I truly thought would have been capable. I have been proven wrong in my beliefs, and I have been right about issues and concerns. None of which gives me any special ability or knowledge that results in being able to force my opinions down someone's throat. 

Truth be told, it is very challenging to vote and do it right. The sheer magnitude of information and disinformation available to the American public is at an all-time high. There are network and cable and syndicated "news" programs. There are print and online newspapers and magazines. There are unsolicited phone "polls" and "surveys". There are flyers and pamphlets starting to trickle in through the USPS. There are yard signs and bumper stickers and the impassioned handing out literature in shopping centers across the country. 

We cannot know which choice will end up being the correct man or woman for the job.

There. I have said it. Let me repeat that.

We cannot know which choice will end up being the correct man or woman for the job.

There is no clear choice, no flashing red or blue arrow saying this one. 

The right person today may be a mistake next week, and the mistake we make today may end up being the best mistake ever made. 

We need to trust more, we need to have faith in the ability of our fellow citizens to do the right and good and decent thing at least 51% of the time. We need to remember that life is a multitude of colors, not just black and white. We need to look for and cultivate the good in one another, and understand that the most any of us can do on any given day is try our best with the resources we have at hand. 

When someone, ourselves included, falters, we need to remember that no one person carries the weight of all of life, we share that burden among ourselves. 

Sure, I would prefer 100%, or even 75%. But I am pragmatic, realistic. So I am shooting for 51%, maybe 60% on a good day.

I have one vote come November and I will use it to the best of my ability, I have an asshole too. Doesn't mean I have to be one. 

Life Wearies Me - Or Perhaps It Is Just People

A damaged soul, for reasons that may never be known [ and if known will probably not make sense or be coherent] commits a reprehensible act. Almost before we can process, the crap starts to fly around the blogosphere, drip down the Facebook feed, scream at us from the "news".

Conspiracy theorists. Gun Control. Terrorists.

Cameras and microphones and livefeeds as the friends and families and shattered lives are hounded relentlessly.

Religion and psychology and psychiatry and education reform and media influence and popular culture are all prodded and poked by the talking heads on the television screen, spouting theories and spinning lies and truths into a fabric that will be cut and sewn and ripped apart ad naseum in the days, weeks, years to come.

Connections are made where it is convenient though implausible. The unscrupulous suck the tragedy dry like insatiable vampires as they desecrate the private pains for their own gains. Why not? they self-justify - my cause, my beliefs, my candidate, my agenda is what really matters.

There is a book  I read about six years ago for the first time that speaks to the idea that we create our own reality. As invincible as we go about life thinking we are, our current incarnation of energy that includes the ability to think, reason, dream, communicate is a very fragile and fleeting thing. Since according to Don Miguel Ruiz we create the reality we walk in each day, why not make it a reality of hope, of joy, of dreams, of possibilities?

I am not naive - one does not get to be 54 years old and go through the events of my life and retain a childlike innocence and naivete. I am firmly committed to the belief that life is about balance, light and dark, good and evil, yin and yang. That being said, we are sentient beings. Why are we (humanity as a whole) not able to function in a manner that is less base? What benefit is history, all the volumes of recorded history, if we continue to repeat the same actions and continue to get the same results?

There is greed, avarice, discord, hatred, cruelty in this world. Life is a cycle, and what becomes ceases to be. There is generosity, compassion, love, gentleness in this world. Life is a cycle, and what becomes ceases to be.

Embedded in the here and now for each of us is a chance to choose, to make a difference that matters in good ways.

Yet once again, when the incomprehensible has occurred, the lowest common denominator rises to the forefront.

Life wearies me, or perhaps it is just people.

One Person Can Make a Difference ... I Did

I realized something the other day. I made a difference in someones life. 

This story goes back in time a bit, and may be longer than my usual posts, but I feel compelled to share.

When I was 24, and too young to have better sense, I left my beloved mountains. I was heartsick, feeling adrift in life. I had a friend who had relocated to Fort Pierce, Florida, about 50 miles north of West Palm Beach on the Atlantic coast. She invited me to visit her, and I left Virginia in the Spring of 1983. I would not live here again until the Spring of 2001. Eighteen years, and so very much happened to me during that time.

I met my first husband the first few weeks I was there, and was living with him soon after. Details are not important there, that tale can be told another day.

We were married in October of 1986. I was working at a large truck stop as a cashier and he had begun work as a heavy equipment operator for the state. Previous he had been a truck driver. In the course of his work he had become acquainted with a gentleman I will call MB. MB was a very likable person, and had come to Florida from Ohio to make a fortune in trucking, { Everybody thinks they can make a fortune in trucking, and it is not that easy! }

MB's business had fallen on hard times and he had taken to driving a dump truck for a local contractor. In Florida there is a tremendous amount of moving dirt and sand around from one place to another, dredging out swampy areas, filling in swampy areas, like ants in an ant farm. 

My husband came home one day and said a terrible accident had occurred. MB had blacked out while driving the dump truck and wrecked. He was in the hospital and it had been discovered that he had a brain tumor. Now I am not in the medical field, and do not have proper terminology or understanding, but I will try to explain the way it was explained to MB and his wife. This particular type of tumor was like a spiderweb on the surface of his brain. It spanned from almost the center in the rear, along the left side above the ear and over to just above the right eye. It was growing rapidly, like the tentacles of an octopus wrapping around the brain. Surgery was a necessity, not an option, and as soon as possible.

As I previously said, MB's trucking business had fallen on hard times and he had let his insurance lapse. He did not have health insurance with the company he was working for and his wife was on Medicare. 

MB was the kind of man who would pick up a strangers tab in a restaurant, pay the utility bill for a friend in need, give clothing and shoes to the homeless. He was a good person. People had taken advantage of his kindness, and prospered. Now he was in need. His wife was having a very difficult time, and getting doors shut in her face at every turn.

"Ellen, we have to do something to help them. They are decent people, they do not deserve this."

"What can we do? We barely make our own bills."

"I don't know. Put a jar out. Do Something"

So I wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper.

They sent a reporter to interview me, ran the story, and I started getting mail. Letters, cards, plain envelopes. With checks, cash, money orders. I opened a special account for him at a local bank. I received an offer from a person familiar with 'the system' to help expedite his social security and Medicaid approval. 

He received enough in donations, five and ten dollars at a time, to keep a roof over their heads, cover the urgent bills, and keep the dark specter of worry from the door while he recuperated.

I made a difference. All I did was write a letter to the editor of the local paper, and I made a difference in one life. Not a big life altering difference, but enough of a difference.

I made a difference.

Anybody can. You can.

What is wrong with people?

Yesterday evening, I was catching up on the news on MSNBC and read this story about Mark Zuckerberg. I felt good, reading the story. For me, it was about someone who has priorities in order. Mark Zuckerberg is a billionaire, his new wife just graduated from medical school. They have been a couple for seven years.

Dr. Chan and Mr. Zuckerberg lead very low profile lives. That cannot be easy for someone with his business, and the publicity that tends to hound and haunt the very successful and very wealthy. From my perspective, having a level enough head to be the founder and CEO of a juggernaut like Facebook and yet live a life that is not ostentatious is a feat in an of itself. To be in a long-term relationship with the head of a internet success story like Facebook and have the focus and tenacity to earn a degree from Harvard and then go on to graduate from medical school speaks volumes.

MSNBC has comments open on their story. The content of some of those comments is what baffles me. Mean-spirited, snarky, judgmental, racist, bigoted ... I do not even have the  adjectives to begin.

There are several websites I read on a regular basis, one of which is Pantheon, "where Star Foster attempts to be clever regarding all things pagan". She is a quick-witted, well read young woman who has a gift for researching a subject well and standing by her words. The comments section of her blog used to be as educational and thought-provoking as the articles themselves. Used to be.

Star had comments open Pantheon up until right after Easter of this year. This was posted, because of "cumulative negativity" that came close to killing her blog. Even so, it is drastically different. Still very enjoyable, and I still read whenever there is a new article. There was a lot of trolling in her comments section, more than a few posts that were hijacked, and even I as a reader found this distressing. I cannot imagine how Star felt.

I follow community pages on Facebook that have to be ever vigilant to keep the hate at bay. They bravely soldier on, still allowing comments and posts on their walls because they value the freedom of expression that is guaranteed in the Constitution and is one of the cornerstones of our country.

I have made no secret of my support of the LGBT community. I just received this message :

Dear Ellen - This is ***** checking in with you.. I appreciate all of the wonderful words that you have taken the time to write. I send my LOVE to you with regard to Chuck. He will be missed but not forgotten. like you, he was my friend ! Your words have touched my heart. I feel that I have fallen victim to a HATE CRIME . Please keep me in your prayers and thank you once again for standing up for the LGBT. LOVE, *****

So this is where I am tonight, wondering what is wrong with people? I wept when I read that message, because a kind and caring person, who has had to battle everyday in ways I cannot imagine just to live a life naive people like myself thought was guaranteed here, has fallen victim to a hate crime.

Comments are still allowed on here, but they are moderated now. Because with freedom comes responsibility. And at least one person has shown me that I have "haters" as well.

Power. Jealousy. Hatred. Xenophobia. Abuse.

These are our enemies. What is wrong with people that they cannot see this?

LGBT and Equality - To me, it is personal

I posted this on my Facebook Wall earlier in the week:

"So there is this event for which I sent invitations out to everybody on my contacts list. Basically, it is to either wear purple if you are LGBT, orange if you support LGBT on August 1. Personally, I think if you are LGBT and in the closet to any degree it would be understandable to wear the orange... Anyway, I sent out the invitations to everyone on my contacts {friends} list, and I must say it has been quite the education to watch the accepts and declines roll in. To me, supporting the LGBT community is taking a stand against hatred, bigotry and discrimination. I do not see this as an overtly religious or political issue, though some use it for that purpose. Throughout history, various "groups" or segments of the population have been considered "fair game" as far as unequal treatment is concerned. Jews, blacks, women, the mentally and/or physically impaired or disabled, various and sundry ethnic groups. The list goes on and on. If we are honest, the problem of treating one segment of the population as being inferior or less in some way while elevating one's own is rampant worldwide. In the rawest form, it is about power. I am naive, you see, because I honestly thought people were evolved and educated enough in this day and time to see what a fruitless and self-destructive exercise participating in any sort of hatred, bigotry or discrimination is to the human race as a whole. Sadly, I am wrong, at least as far as the "friends" I have on Facebook are concerned. To date my naivete is losing the poll, because the declines exceed the accepts/maybes. That is all. It makes me sad."

I started to say I am not writing this blog post as an explanation, but that is not a truly accurate statement. This is an explanation of sorts, a bit of back story, some personal history. A tale of how I arrived where I am today as far as the issue of gay marriage is concerned.

I can remember participating in the laughter and jokes as a child. The school yard talk of "homos" and "queers". I am not really sure how old I was when I reached a true understanding of the meaning behind those terms. I do know I equated the slang names as being similar to the names used in a derogatory manner towards the other "groups" I reference in my Facebook post ... 

Jews, blacks, women, the mentally and/or physically impaired or disabled, various and sundry ethnic groups. I remember the curiosity I held in regards to what being a homosexual entailed, and hearing the whispers about a female phys-ed teacher, the thinly veiled slurs directed towards a local department store owner.

Then I met Chuck. Chuck and I struck up a friendship based on a shared problem - we were both chubby teenagers. At least I think that is what the first impetus was. That was all so long ago. I did not really have a boyfriend in school, though a great many of my friends were boys. I was more prone to stay a part of group activities, and though the group was fluid, he was often part of it. There were several guys, and a couple of girls, about whom there were rumors as to their sexuality. Chuck was one of those.

Soon after I met Chuck, I met 3 other guys  - I will not *out* anyone, so they shall be A, B, and C who were victims of the same rumor mill. I had a rather verbal exchange with my mother at one point about the things that were said, because I overheard her discussing A with someone on the telephone. I can still remember asking her how she thought it would feel to be judged and convicted of being less that equal to others based on who you are, not on your contributions or abilities, but who you are. I was maybe 17. A, B, C and Chuck all went to great lengths to mask their sexual orientation. It was the 1970's, and we lived in a small town in rural Virginia. I imagine they had no choice.

A 'came out' to me the summer we graduated, the first of several friends to do so. B, C, Chuck, and others followed. I already loved these people and assimilated this aspect of their lives into that love. I listened to their tales, they cried on my shoulder at times, I worried about them.

All of this was not easy for me, but I do not doubt it was much harder for them. Chuck was special, had he been straight we would have probably tried to make a life together. He and the others all settled in larger cities, and I lost touch with all but him for years. 

Because I knew and loved these wonderful people, as I set out upon the series of adventures and misadventures that comprise my life, I have been able to be more accepting and understanding of people. I have worked with and for people in the LGBT community, I have been amazed at their courage, and wept for them. I have seen that they are no different than you or I. 

I stand by my original statement that it is my opinion that supporting the LGBT community is taking a stand against hatred, bigotry and discrimination. I do not see this as an overtly religious or political issue, though some use it for that purpose. Throughout history, various "groups" or segments of the population have been considered "fair game" as far as unequal treatment is concerned. Jews, blacks, women, the mentally and/or physically impaired or disabled. various and sundry ethnic groups. The list goes on and on. If we are honest, the problem of treating one segment of the population as being inferior or less in some way while elevating one's own is rampant worldwide. In the rawest form, it is about power.

I am slightly bemused, and not a little bit pissed, to have been the target of backlash since my statement of support. Apparently, I have been calling people racists and bigots. That was not my intent, and I did not realize supporting friends and loved ones would generate such a reaction. My first inclination was to engage, and I did a bit of that. Then I remembered my Daddy telling me not to stomp on fresh cow shit because then it would get on me as well.  So I am trying to be nice. 

This is personal to me. I have friends who are gay, and I love them. Several are in long term monogamous relationships. They own property, they hold down jobs, they vote, they buy American when they can, they are good people. But they cannot eat in public as a couple without being pointed at, talked about and at times "witnessed" to. 

I want to understand how people can unilaterally deem a segment of the population that contains individuals of all religions, ethnic identities, social and economic classes, political affiliations and professions not deserving of the same rights as the rest of the citizenry. It still escapes me. 

Sisters, Daughters, Mothers and May

May is a month of days about women.

Mothers Day.We all have one, and whether they have passed or are living, whether the relationships are/were healthy or dysfunctional, we have an awareness of the day.

Teacher Appreciation day - Yes, I know that not all teachers are women, but I never envision men when I think of the teachers in my life. I think of women.

My sister's birthday, the birthdays of both of my grandmothers and Mothers Day are all in the first two weeks of  May.

I have written here about my daughter, my mother, my mother-in-law, my mother's mother and my sister in previous posts. I do not think I have written very much about my father's mother, my Granny Smith. Let me tell you a bit about her.

Mattie Mae Ernest Smith. She passed away when I was in the seventh grade, in the Spring.

She was a gentle soul with an iron backbone. She was the center of the family, holding together all of them as her husband was away from home most of the time. He was an engineer for the railroad. She had two sisters, Okie and Maude, and a brother Harry who also lived in the same county. Her family was originally from Sugar Grove in Smythe County. She met her husband when she was working as a seamstress in Bluefield, WV.

They traveled by passenger train to Bristol to marry, and had eight children. Sons JT, Poss and Norman. Daughters Zelma, Fay, Sue, Geraldine and Christine.

I grew up within walking distance of my grandparents home, and have enough memories of them to fill a book. She loved flowers, and sewing. She would drink hot tea and eat cucumbers in the afternoon. She had long hair that she wore in a bun. Her hair was snow white. She kept a leather change purse and a handkerchief in her bra and she always smelt slightly of lavender.

Granny was a loving person, and soft spoken always.

I hope in some small way I can be like her.

Lesson from a tree

There are no unsacred places. There are only sacred places and desecrated places.- Wendell Berry

This is one of my favorite quotes. We have a creek - well really two - that run along our property. They merge and flow on to the river, less than a quarter of a mile from our house. There is a weeping willow tree at the corner where they meet.

A couple of years ago, in the spring, we had some fierce storms. There had been a great deal of rain, and the winds pushed the willow out of her soil. Were it not for my husbands shed/workshop we would have lost her. The willow forked, and the heavier and stronger side was splintered off and lying against the shed. He took a saw, and completed the division. The most amazing thing happened.

The tree sprang back, and the root ball settled back into the waiting earth. He then took the amputated limb and planted it along the creek near another corner of our property. Roots took hold, and now we have two willows on the creek.

I believe that we learn best from life when we understand the contrast of the fragility and transitory aspects along side the ability of all living things to adjust and accommodate.

This is our miracle weeping willow. You can see where the division occurred. 

Our little creek has minnows and frogs and turtles and crawdads and snakes. We have squirrels here, all manner of birds and butterflies, and cats. We grow melons and grapes and vegetables and flowers. There is no aspect of this little ecosystem that is independent, they all nourish and devour, thrive and perish. For me, that is what life is. The difference, the fulfillment for humans is the ability to adapt, learn, exalt and contemplate in the midst of what was, is and will be without our input or neglect.