Reflections

   

     The founder of Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg and his colleagues, want everyone in the world to have access to the internet.  That is a grandiose dream and plan, but I hope, within the process of achieving such high endeavors, they take the time to teach people how to be kind to each other. 

     After the election, along with the fact that the sun actually rose the next day and the earth did not quit spinning, I realized that I needed to take some time off from social media.  During this sabbatical from drama, I began to reflect about the past few months.  The clock, that we humans so eloquently measure our days upon the earth with, has consistently ticked off the seconds, minutes, hours and days without the least bit of care as to what we, as the human race, are doing......and that got me to thinking about certain inalienable rights that we grow with, believe to be true and pass on to our offspring......

     The older one gets, the faster time goes by....Mother was right about that one.

     Spending a holiday with someone, other than blood relatives, is a good thing.  Especially if they did not have any blood relatives to celebrate with either.

     Procrastination loves company.  Keeping it as a friend will take away second chances, keep dreams just out of reach and cause one to miss that last conversation with a close friend.

     Do not judge others.  It is said that we are judged by the same measure we judge others with.  Think about that.

     Unless you are making enough money to be on an episode of "Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous", learn to live with less and teach your children the same.  Retire in your 30's or 40's, step out of your comfort zone, see the world and meet new people.  No one will remember you because of your living room furniture and big screen TV.

     Live your life.  Take chances.  I've known many people who never stepped outside of the box or put anything unhealthy in their bodies and still died of some nasty disease.  Like it or not, we all have a numbered amount of days, live them like there are only a couple left.

     In a large metropolis, if one has the time, a person could learn a foreign language just by reading the labels in the supermarkets. Aluminum is still aluminum in Spanish. 

     Stretch denim will only stretch so far.


     
    

Weeded Out

     Teaching a child how to weed a garden can be a harrowing experience.  It takes a strong countenance to not show disappointment when the child proudly shows their efforts and the prized tulips are on top of the pile.  Showing them once is usually not enough, it turns into a labor of love and patience.

     Riding along with my young friend, Jazzy, we came to an intersection and the light had turned red.  As we waited for green, Jazzy looked at the vehicle to her left.  She studied the driver, an older, white haired woman, probably somewhere between 60 and 75 years of age.  Jazzy said, so very matter of factly, "That woman should not be driving."  This woman, who did not seem to have a problem herding her SUV down the road, had most likely been driving more years than Jazzy has been breathing.  I replied, "Careful, you'll be that age someday." Then I checked in the mirror to see how much regrowth of grey hair was showing.  

     After the election, there was a chart posted on social media by some people who were not happy with the results.  The chart stated that the majority of young adults, aged 18-25 had voted for Clinton. One person stated this was how the future voted and to keep the flame alive and it was followed by several approving statements made by parents.  
  
     The only way to change a nation is to start with the youth.  Massive upheavals in what people believe do not change in sixteen years, it takes a generation.  How long is that?  The Bible tells the story of the Israelite's coming to the land that had been promised to them.  The trouble was, there where giants that lived there and the people who were old enough to go to battle and take the country were afraid.  So, they had to wander in the desert.  Not so much as punishment, but to weed out, or die off, the non-believers. Then, the time was used to teach and encourage the youth that they could do it and the process took 40 years.

     Today's youth are stuck in their cell phones.  There are children as young as eight who have a cell phone along with internet connection.  There are scores of young people on Facebook, even though a person is supposed to be 18 years old to open an account. Sadly, most of the parents are on their phone too. If they believe they know what their children are doing on their phones, they are sadly mistaken.  All children come to a point in their lives that makes them believe their parents are not the sharpest crayon in the box.  When that mindset kicks in and they are unrestrained from the vast amount of information sitting in the palm of their hand, who do you think they are going to talk to?   

     My point to all of this is, who is teaching and changing the country's youth.  What will they think is acceptable in 40 years and do their parents really understand just how old they, themselves, will be in that length of time.  Will they be willing to give up their driver's license because 'anyone over 60 should not be driving' has in fact become a believable truth?   If the population needs to be controlled, who will be the first to go? Grandma?  Hogwash?  That sort of thing doesn't happen?  Go ask a twenty-something year old if the milk is okay past the expiration date.

     With a little research, the above stated chart turned out not to be factual.  Since so many people live with the idea that, if it was on Facebook, it surely must be true, I decided to use it anyway.  I will not worry about what it will be like in 40 years.  If I'm not dead by that time, I hope to be windsurfing somewhere warm. But in the meantime, just to be safe, I'm going to hop in the little black truck, drive it like I stole it and go buy some hair color. 

     

The Gift

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.  Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."  (origin highly contested)

     Beaver Lake (aka Pond Biggie) may only be a man-made catch basin, but it is teaming with life.  There are scores of turtles and one of those, a snapping turtle, looks to have the circumference of a snow saucer.  The surface of the water is alive with several species of water fowl and its shallows provide many a meal for the Belted Kingfish and the Great Blue Heron.  

     Below the ripples live a variety of fish and although I had been told there were some big ones in there, I had yet to see the proof.  The other day while scanning the lake, I noticed on the far side, the water looked like it was boiling.  Grabbing my trusty binoculars, another treasure from home, I zeroed in on what was causing this disturbance.  What I'd been told was true.  There, before my eyes, was a school of some ma-honkin' grass carp, the size of which I had not seen for a long time.  They all seemed to be at least two feet in length.  Having not fished in quite awhile, I was thinking I sure wished I had a fishing pole.  

     Wanting a closer look, with binoculars in tow, I headed out the door.  On my way to the far side of the lake, I came across Juan and Pablo, our new friends and co-workers with my husband.  Since it was about quitting time, Juan came with me to get a closer look at the fish.  He was as excited as I was and before too long, one of the supervisors had joined us and we all talked about how much fun it would be to catch one of those 'bad boys'.

     About thirty minutes after I had arrived back at the apartment, there was a knock on the door.  My husband went to answer and when I turned around, in walked Juan and Pablo with brand new fishing poles!  The supervisor, after hearing the banter about fishing, had gone to the nearest big box store and purchased the equipment for them.  Juan is 33 years old and Pablo is 27, but they looked like a couple of  10 year old boys with their new gifts. What was even better, they did not have a clue how to use them!

     We sat on the patio and both watched as I laced the line up through the eyelets on the pole, tied a swivel clip on the end, added some weight and attached a hook.  Then we were off to the pond.

     Juan speaks English, something he taught himself, but Pablo does not. The only way they knew how to fish was with a gig.  It began to look like a game of charades as I demonstrated how to hold the button down on the reel, lean back, cast and release the button on the follow through.  I explained to Juan that the way I liked to fish was after the cast, set the pole down, take the slack out of the line and wait for the bite.  I also told him I had yet to see a member of the human male species, regardless of age, be able to do this for more than 60 seconds.  Juan translated for Pablo and when they were satisfied with this new information, each took a pole and a place on the bank.

     I do not think I have laughed so hard as I did watching two grown men trying to cast a rod and reel for the first time.  Their first attempts were met with the baited hook slamming into the ground a few feet in front of them.  The next few actually got in the water, about a foot from the bank.  Between their own fits of laughter, they finally began to get the feel for it and the casts were going further and further out.  

     Then it started.......cast out....reel in.....move down the bank.... and repeat....it must just be a "guy thing".  

     Did they catch one of the monster carp?  No.  Pablo caught a sunfish, that measured a whopping 1 1/2 inches long and Juan caught a pillow, but the gift of  fishing poles sure made for a splendid afternoon.

      


     

The Incongruous Cormorant

     Of all the things that seemed important, one was a book.  A small field guide of Illinois birds.  Its pages have been turned and returned many times and the cover is nearly loose from its spine.
Funny thing about birds, they do not know there are state lines, or boundaries, and fly wherever they wish.

     The return trip was greeted with a wonderful sight.  Bluebirds.  Eastern Bluebirds, which makes sense, North Carolina is definitely east.  The trees beyond the patio were full of them, busily scouring the pine needles in search of a tasty morsel.

     The pond, Beaver Lake....silly city names, had a new visitor.  It was an odd looking avian and the pages of the field guide began to flutter.  Found it......a Double Crested Cormorant.  Not the fairest of birds to admire and its Latin name literally means "Sea Crow".  The field guide stated that the Double Crested Cormorant will strike a pose with wings outstretched, facing the sun, to dry off. It also said they are often seen flying in a large V-formation and roosting in large groups in trees near water.  Not this incongruous Cormorant, this one is a loner.

     He shows up early each morning, when the water is empty of all activity.  He dives for breakfast, staying under the surface for nearly 20 seconds and resurfaces far from his initial entry.  Then, he waits, and he waits, and he waits.  

     He waits for the geese, the Canadian honkers, to come and break the smooth surface of the water with many a beating wing and the occasional plop of a failed landing.  Sometimes he waits for hours, but he is patient and almost seems excited at their arrival.  Because then it is time for some fun.

     The incongruous Cormorant likes to play "Duck, Duck, Goose" and takes full advantage of the last word in the game.  He disappears from sight and comes up under as many unsuspecting geese as possibly possible.  Their reaction is as hilarious as his antics.

     Then, this  brown bird with the long snake-like neck,  does something that is truly incongruous.... he stays.  He stays all day, with the geese.  He swims with them, and sits on the bank with them.  Sometimes he stands with wings stretched out to the sun and the geese do not seem to mind.  They seem to have forgotten his most unfavorable game of goosing a goose.

     Just before sunset, the geese began to gather in formation and fly out of Beaver Lake, always heading to the north.  When the water is still and the incongruous Cormorant is satisfied they are not coming back, he takes flight.  It takes him three revolutions around the perimeter of this water hole to gain enough elevation to clear the surrounding trees.  On the third turn, he always heads to the east.

     Where he comes from or where he goes is anyone's guess.  Maybe he decided he needed a new set of friends.  Perhaps he had always aspired to be a goose.  Whatever the reason, this drab colored Sea Crow does not see any racial lines drawn between himself and the rest of the bird world.
   

GUBU

     Next week it will all be over.  Although I do not like politics, I have come across a couple of things that have me quite perplexed.

     The first is the fact that members of congress have been privy to insider trading information.  How can this be right?  How can this be justified?  Is this what happens when one gets to Washington and begins to cater to high profiles who then pass on information about an up and coming stock that will probably take off like a rocket?  Is this why their net worth is so high?  I find this extremely unsettling and I would hope that others would too.  Maybe it is time to let our elected know that we really can get our nose out of our phones and pay attention.  But, maybe that is just a crazy thought and they know we will not take the time.

     The second thing is a video I watched about the voting machines.  Without going into a whole lot of technical jargon, that I would not understand anyway, I will put it into the best layman terms I can come up with.  The machine was given nine votes.  Seven of those were yes and the other two were nay.  There is a special card that is inserted into the machine to read and count the votes.  After the card was inserted, the machine printed the outcome.  Seven no votes and two yays.  One of the female ballot casters, who had volunteered for this, sat down and cried.  She was totally in shock and disbelief that this was even possible.  She said that when common people try to explain that these kind of things are really happening, they are labeled conspiracy theorist and mocked.  What she had witnessed with her own eyes, left her feeling ill.  I understood her pain.

     A friend, I have always considered family and who now lives in Ireland, shared with me what the good Irish do for their elections. He said votes in Ireland are counted in public, in front of politically interested people, the candidates and their staff.  He said it is a big deal to get involved and that it keeps citizens in contact with the democratic process.  Their government tried to force voting machines on the people some years ago, but the people resisted their introduction and the machines were eventually sent to recycling.  He said the government wasted millions of dollars, but in the end it had the best result.  I think this is sounding like an excellent idea for things on this side of the pond.

     He also shared with me that the Irish had a word they used when politics got out of hand.  GUBU, it stands for grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented and it just might become a new catch phrase here in the good ole' USA.

     So, to end on a lighter note, here is a new petition I thought might come in handy for the next election...."We the people, here, therefore and what the hell ever, do declare that from hither on, or this point forward from this date on, to infinity and beyond, have decided with sound mind and maybe some croutons, that all candidates for any election from this point hither on, can only state what their freaking plan is and, with out a doubt, nothing more. They cannot from now, or forfreakingever, say one nasty comment about their opponent.  Therefore from this point forward, to infinity and beyond, no order of dirt or otherwise unsightly crapola can be mentioned about or thrown in the direction of, said stated above opponent."

     Happy voting.

The Long Good Bye

     As the work that brought us to the rolling hills of North Carolina comes to an end, the decision was made to "go where the work takes you".  With this decision, came another one.  One a bit more difficult, renting the house back home.  With this reality staring me in the face, I knew another long road trip was resting on the horizon of my life.

     I left, with Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier in tow, in the early morning hours.  The wispy outer remnants of Hurricane Matthew provided little comfort as it cast a heavy mist from Raleigh to the western edge of the state.  It was five hours later, at about 7:30 in the morning and across the Smokey Mountains, before the sky gave the slightest hint that daylight was somewhere up ahead.

     We drove straight through, again, something I said I would never do, again.  Well, Runtly did not actually do any driving, but when we neared the border between Kentucky and Illinois, he thought he was brave enough to sit in the front seat, instead of his small crate.  We had made one last stop for fuel and a pit stop and when we got back to the car, the front passenger seat was his choice.  We discussed this idea, with me telling him I did not think it would work, but his face told a different story.  We made it about one mile down the interstate when he began to shake and shiver.  I glanced in the rear view mirror and calculated I had just enough time to do a "fire drill" before the approaching traffic caught up with us.  I pulled to the side, grabbed the Runt, jumped out, opened the back door and stuffed him in his box.....slammed the door, jumped back into the driver's seat and away we went.  At least it was some good exercise to loosen up the joints, that had become achy and stiff, from lack of movement.

     Pulling into our home town, I saw the new construction for a new business coming in.  It made me sad because I knew it had a very high rate of success at putting another business out of business.  I turned the corner and made my way up the street that led to the house.  

     I had eight days to complete my mission.  I spent the first two walking from one room to the next, wondering where to start and  I exited each room with a heavy sigh.    

     By the third day, the kids showed up and the adrenaline kicked in.  We went through years of items that had absolutely no real use or value.  Some I kept, some I sold and most were donated.  We rolled with fits of laughter when the top popped off the box of old photos and pictures of my 'big hair' era skidded across the floor.  

     Eight days turned into ten and the time had come to head back east.  Even though we had spent the last few days saying goodbye, it was time for the real deal.  There were many tears and hugs that I did not want to end, then I sent them on their way.  There was one last thing to do before I left, and I needed to do it alone.  I watched as they loaded into their vehicles and drove away, knowing all of our tears were still falling.  

     I walked back into the house.  It was so empty that my footsteps echoed against the bare walls.  It was just a last minute check, to make sure I had left nothing behind.  I already knew I had not, but I just needed to walk, one more time, through the rooms that had been my constant for 58 years.  Then I picked up a small white box, walked out and locked the back door.

     Inside the box were the ashes of a beloved pet.  Pussycat.  She had roamed the back yard for nearly seventeen years.  It was her kingdom.  Taking out the plastic bag, I let her ashes fall into all the places she had claimed as her own.  Through the garden, under the hostas, where she spent many a sunny day, around the garden pond and down the long hedge, whose many birds gave her a chance to hone her feline skills.

     It was a long good bye.

No Going Back?

     In six decades, I have seen many changes, as most people my age and above will attest to.  I started out watching television on a black and white TV set.  I also served as the remote control when Dad wanted to change the channel.   There were only two channels to choose from, unless the atmosphere and the antenna were just right, then there were three.    I played outside for as long as possible and roamed the entire neighborhood without a care, or fear, in the world.  Our first telephone was a party line and my best friends' phone number was 8....please do not ask me what I had for lunch yesterday.

     In school, the curriculum included such subjects as how to address an envelope, how to introduce yourself, or someone else, to another person, how to write in cursive and how to be polite.  When it was time for P.E., we actually changed our clothes and exercised   our bodies with great gusto, running races, touching our toes or doing somersaults on a mat. 

     When I was old enough to get a job, I was taught by the owner of the establishment, what was expected of me and how to perform whatever duty I was assigned.  If the job, and there were many, included working with the public, I learned early on the cardinal rule was, "the customer is always right"....even if they were not.

     Fast forwarding to the present, there are few people who do not have a television, most of which are the new flat screen models, and they have over 300 channels to choose from on just about any topic the mind can fathom.  If you happen to have a TV that is shaped like a large square and weighs a ton, no one wants it, even if it's placed out on the curb with a "free" sign taped to the screen. 

     Few, if any, people have a land line phone and most young children would not even know what one was, let alone how to use it.  The cell phone has become an extension of ourselves and many believe it is as valuable as two arms and ten fingers.  It has literally become a new body part.  I still cannot get used to the people who use the headsets for their phone.  When I grew up, anytime you saw someone standing around talking to themselves, it was a good idea to go in the opposite direction.  Then there are the drivers on their phones.    I thought it was scary, back in my rural area I call home, to meet cars on the road with the driver looking down at their lap. Here in the city, it is rare to find someone who is actually looking at the road. 

     Standing in the checkout line at a super big box store, I scanned over the rows of people waiting.  If there were 50 people, 45 of them were on their phone.  Many of whom stayed on their phone while placing their items on the counter and continued to chat while the cashier rang up the total.  I watched the young mother and her daughter, who was probably about 7 years old, in front of me.  The mother was in a conversation with some unseen entity with the use of her headset.  She talked the entire time, even when the clerk tried to engage her in a conversation about her shopping experience. She was oblivious to the clerk and to her daughter.  My first thought was how rude she was being and my second thought was the example she was setting.

     The other day, I walked into a small business to purchase two items.  I was the only person in the store except for the young man behind the counter.  He was on his phone, with the speakerphone turned on.  As I stood at the counter, he continued to talk.  He finally walked over to me, smiled, informed me he was talking to his brother and asked what I needed.  I told him what I wanted and as he apologized for being on his phone, he went to grab my items.  I stood patiently, listening to his brother drone on about how his ex had shown up and caused a scene.  The young clerk placed my two items on the counter, apologized again about talking on the phone, stating he did not get to talk to his brother very often, and rang up my items.  I paid, took my goods and left the store while he continued on with his brother.  I guess I should have stomped my feet and demanded his attention.  I should have explained to him what 'customer service' actually meant and lectured him on how lucky he was to have a job, but I did not.  I drove back home with thoughts of what kind of society are we becoming, swirling in my head.  

     No, I do not believe we can go back to a time when technology did not rule our lives and most people would not want to.  But, I do have to go back to the store because when I got home, one of my items was the wrong thing.