I’d planned to write comparing “transition” to “change.” But that will have to wait for another time. I find myself too much in the weeds of them to concentrate on their subtle differences. Instead, I ask for your indulgence once again. I am preparing for what I want to be a special edition of the Wut Javia blog next week.
Until then, I hope you all have a safe and satisfying weekend and upcoming week. I hear it’s Spring break in these parts. But as they say in the world of retirees, “Every day is Saturday.” I used to say that too. Now I find it hard to believe. Except I don’t have to do the shopping on weekends. Thus minimizing the stress of crowded parking lots and long checkout lines.
And let’s not forget the weather. Apparently Spring has sprung. One day we have high temperatures near 80 degrees. The next day it’s 40! The weather seems odd everywhere in the states again this year. How do we explain it now that the government insists there is no climate change?
I suppose I should stop rambling and let you all get back to your regularly scheduled lives. I hope this little place holder finds you well!
Walking the apartment building hallways during times of inclement weather is a benefit of apartment living. The scenery is decidedly less exciting than walking along a “normal” neighborhood. Yet there are interesting sights and sounds to stimulate the senses. The beeping of the elevator, barking dogs. The sound of video gaming or music behind closed doors.
Instead of concrete sidewalks traversing double-wide driveways, apartment building hallways are nearly void of obstacles. There are the occasional unique identifiers for various residences. Just like those encountered along the streets of a former home. Mostly door mats along with hanging wreaths and signs.
Door mats give a glimpse of the lifestyle of the neighbors who live within. I found this one either funny or disturbing depending on your outlook on life.
Signs and wreaths suggest religious, cultural, and social proclivities of those who dwell within. And so with walking the streets of my former neighborhood. Seasonal holiday lights and yard ornaments delighted, and sometimes disgusted me. Apartment strolling evokes much the same emotions. Some door ornaments are normal and expected. This one surely seems appropriate at this time.
Like the door mat, signs can also vie for attention.
As does this holiday wreath. Though certainly not my style.
This ones seems out of season, though still enjoyable on the whole.
Others are curious and have meanings that escape me. Like this contrasting wreath. Though it, too, oddly enough I like.
As with single/double family dwelling neighborhoods, apartment buildings have other business going on. I don’t see for sale or for rent signs here. But evidence of comings and goings abound. Houses are sold. Movers move. Upgrades abound. Maintenance is ongoing. Apartment buildings have their own evidence of changing occupancy.
I’m probably guilty of nicking sheetrock corners during my past moves. But most of the time I see “professional” movers here. I wonder if management gets upset, or just figures S**t happens! I found this patchwork on every floor.
I suppose every neighborhood has its demonstrations of human nature. There are occasional abandoned vehicles, yard clutter, unsightly yards and landscaping. Apartment buildings have their own style of individuality.
Months ago, my neighbors across the hall started putting their garbage bags outside their door. They left them there for days before taking them out to the dumpsters. Not only were they unsightly, they often began to smell. Maybe they were trying to keep the garbage away from the dog. This dog often barks at me when I leave or enter my apartment. I finally put a sticky note on their door, “PLEASE TAKE YOUR GARBAGE OUT!” It was all caps because that’s how I often write anyway.
That seems to have worked. Occasionally I find a bag in waiting. But it doesn’t stay there very long. Unfortunately, another frustrating exhibit manifested. It’s been about three months since what appears to be a uniform showed up outside their door. I’m pretty sure it hasn’t moved since.
A pair of boots sometimes keeps the uniform company. Though only for short visits. I wonder if these clothes are lonely or feel neglected sitting outside the door all the time.
I gave up trying to do anything about this neighbor. I will, however, inform management if their droppings once again start to smell!
One last thing before I go for another walk around my neighborhood. I might see something similar in any neighborhood. However, I am aware that the majority of the tenants here are much younger than I. People enjoy life. They party too fervently. I get it. The difference here is that the rain doesn’t wash the evidence away! I wonder what their apartments look like inside. No, not really. I don’t want to know!
Apparently the cleaning crew only vacuums the hallway carpet. They must not even spot clean at all. For a few weeks now, I have been stepping around this neighborhood landmark. I suspect I will see it again when I am done writing today and once again go walking the hallways.
Last Minute Addendum
As with any neighborhood, drama takes place in various ways. Often it comes in the form of sirens and emergency vehicles. Though no sirens sounded, excitement came to within feet of my apartment door yesterday morning.
I opened the door to leave for the grocery. Two uniformed policemen stood in the hallway between me and the stairwell. There was also a woman who I did not recognize, wearing a long winter coat. None seemed in a hurry or too anxious. One of the policemen walked into the stairwell, then turned and walked back. I asked if it was okay to use the stairs and was assured there was no problem.
On to the grocery and back again. I saw a fire rescue vehicle and fire truck now parked in front of the building. Another two policemen on the first floor hallway. “Is it okay to be in here”, I asked. “Yes. No danger.”
Up the elevator to the fourth floor (no stairs because I was carrying groceries in my cart). An EMT and another policeman met me as I got off. But no worries. Then, I turned the hallway corner. The original pair of uniforms were still outside the door across the hall and down one unit from my apartment. Asking again if everything was alright, one said, “I really can’t discuss it. But there is no danger.”
If I remember correctly, an older man lives(d) across the hall. I suspect this all began as a welfare check. Apparently it turned out to be more than a check.
There is a fire station just a couple blocks from here. There was a fire station on the same street as my former home, just about a half mile away. Sirens and emergency vehicles are commonplace for me. Sometimes they stop in the neighborhood. This, too, is now a part of walking the hallways.
Bemusing my inability to produce a post last week, I thought of radio silence. And just the way my mind works, I spontaneously bounced related radio topics around in my head. Still, I am approaching another week’s deadline without sufficient brain waves (or bandwidth) to get this out on time.
But let me give it a try and hopefully offer something worth reading for another week. Here are just a few of the balls that bounced through my cerebral cavity.
…Wave
“Radio waves are a type of electromagnetic radiation. A radio wave has a much longer wavelength than visible light. Humans use radio waves extensively for communications.”
We’ve all known about radio waves our entire lives. Their existence was proven by Heinrich Hertz in 1887. We’ve enjoyed radio waves through, well, radios and other audio devices. Radios were one of the most influential communicators before television (and after the telegraph). The frequency of various electromagnetic waves is thus measured in Hertz (Hz).
Of course we think of other kinds of waves. Brain waves. Waves of the ocean. Light waves. These are just a few. Come to think of it, my hair has always been wavy. I guess that’s frequent too 😉 .
Going beyond radio waves here. The video included with the above link gives an easy-to-understand explanation of frequency. Obviously, frequency has a plethora of other uses in our daily lives. I go to the grocery store too frequently! Yet I eat fruits and vegetables far too infrequently. You get the picture.
Frequency played an important role in my development during my formative preteen and teenage years. Frequency Modulated (FM) radio offered a distinct music venue. It was separate from the popular Amplitude Modulated (AM) radio stations. These stations were full of bubblegum pop and paid commercials.
KFMG radio introduced me to the deep tracks of Yes, Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, Led Zeppelin, and Pink Floyd. They played songs from many other less known bands too. The station exist still today. But I’m not sure of their repertoire now.
Transistor…
When I was born, as far as I know, all radios were powered with electricity running through vacuum tubes. Some were large with multiple speakers for high, medium, and low tones. Some were small, still using vacuum tubes, but with less power and fewer or smaller speakers. But none were portable. All were plugged in to an electrical outlet.
It turns out that the first transistor radio was built in 1954, the same year I was born. The Regency TR-1 was released in October of that year. It is “…a semiconductor device with three connections, capable of amplification in addition to rectification. A portable radio using circuits containing transistors rather than vacuum tubes.” Game changer!
Boom boxes, the Walkman, and many computerized innovations began with the development of the transistor radio. All in my lifetime!
So what?! What does all this have to do with you?
Not much really. Unless you can relate to either the strange workings of my verbose (musing of a wandering) mind. Or you relate to the nostalgia of developing technology or rock and roll music. Regardless, it’s been fun to think about and ultimately to write about. Hopefully, I can avoid many weeks of radio silence as I sway “through this fairyland of love.”
To say that I am susceptible to road rage is an overstatement. Or it is an understatement. It might depend on the day and my mood. It also depends on how many STUPID drivers I perceive on the highways and byways. Either way, I am frustrated by those who ignore simple common courtesies or are just totally inept at driving.
I’ve talked about my pet peeve of not using turn signals. Recently, I have twice been behind drivers whose vehicles turned left across a boulevard median. The rear end of their vehicles stuck out into traffic while waiting. There was ample room to fit them clear of both traffic directions. Really?!
Other frustrations include these dangerous and/or maddening things. Driving far slower than the flow of traffic and well below the posted speed limit. Driving way faster than the flow of traffic and well above the posted speed limit. The latter yahoos often change lanes directly in front of the cars they pass. Of course without engaging that long-armed toggle situated on the steering column either right or left of the steering wheel. Yep – the turn signal! Then there are also those who choose to drive in the leftmost lane until within braking distance of a right turn or exit. Often without signally, they swoop across traffic disrupting the flow, and the concentration of other drivers.
Among the most egregious lapses in judgment is causing damage to one’s vehicle in a parking lot. It is inconsiderate and irresponsible to then just walk or drive away! I have a one inch roundish ding in the right rear panel of my otherwise pristine Honda as an example.
I’m not sure what people think when they do such things. Accidents are bound to happen. Things break. Spills – spill. Wind catches a car door before one can properly grab it. Or the wind is just too strong. I get it. It’s what a person does when accidents happen that reveals their character. Pick up the pieces of glass from the floor. Offer to buy a replacement. Vacuum the carpet. Soak up the spill. Apologize at least! Certainly don’t walk away from an accident of any kind!
The Hope:
Thursday evening we met another couple at John and Nick’s Steak and Prime Rib. I’ve been there twice. I had the prime rib the first time. It was excellent! Thursday night’s special was a 40 oz Tomahawk Ribeye. I chose a crab-stuffed Tilapia. It, too, was excellent.
Well, anyway (shout out to Glenda 🙂 ), returning to my car on the slick sidewalk and still partially covered parking lot, I found a handwritten note tucked into the driver’s door handle.
I’m so sorry – When backing up, I started to slide and tapped the back of your car. My husband is home with the sick baby right now or I would try to come find you inside. Please let me know if any damage. Rachel J******* xxx-xxx-xxxx
Oh crap! Run (carefully in the slush) around to the back of the car. Can’t see anything. Check the driver’s side. Still nothing. Then I decided it was too dark to see. I’d have to look in the morning. Then I got into the car. And started to cry!
I said to Cathy, “I am so overwhelmed that someone actually took responsibility. I don’t think I can ask her to pay even if there is damage!”
All the memories of rocks thrown by others’ tires. The scratches and dents left by others in my many vehicles through the years. All angst and frustration melted away. The knowledge that this young woman took the time. She made the effort in the cold. She had the decency to take responsibility for her actions.
I’ve owned my problem with other drivers. I try hard to avoid it. Yet, I still swear and yell at them for the stupid (at least in my view) ways they try to drive. Now I have more reason to work on my attitude deficiency. Thank you, Rachel, for giving me reason to reevaluate myself. For giving me a renewed hope.
By the way. The only sign of the “tap” was some road grime and salt from the winter weather rubbed off. No harm, no foul. Yet Rachel made a difference. I will be texting her with a message of thanks and a link to this post. She deserves an answer.
I have gained weight. It seemed gradual. Yet it only took about six months to gain ten pounds! I met someone about the time I moved. Well, we knew each other way back when. So we actually reconnected last summer. Since that time we have grown a deep friendship and romance. It is good!
Apparently, I suffered from a grief diet before that. At least I must have eaten differently. I suppose meals for one and restaurant leftovers were kind to my middle. And I was exercising – a lot! Exercise was an escape. Or rather, provided me with time to think and work through my grief. Walking was a mindless task. Leaving me ample cognitive space.
Since last summer my partner and I spend more time enjoying various activities. We sip coffee, cook meals, and sit for hours talking and laughing. And we enjoy desserts – a lot! I call them happy pounds because I am happier now than I have been for a very long time!
It’s a lethal combination. More food, less exercise. Though laughing is good for the countenance, it doesn’t burn many calories. And not just any calories. Sweets! Wonderful sugar-filled frozen cream with plenty of chocolate, fudge, caramel, and – did I mention cream?
Consequently, the pounds. A bit of a rounder face. The tighter fit of pants and shirts. The grimace when looking in the mirror. It’s bad enough to see the aging face, the wider body, the age spots, the wrinkles. And now the mass!
But it’s not just that. It’s a feeling. A little sluggish. Heavier breathing when going up the stairs. It may be my imagination, but I think I can feel it in my muscles and joints. I am still working on a few medical issues that I ignored while caring for my wife. I worry that I might be compounding those problems by ignoring how I eat!
I wasn’t eating poorly before. I vastly changed the proportion of vegetables to red meat. I ate more fruits and drank less alcohol. I have continued that trend. I have not, though, decreased portions nor paid attention to the extra not-so-good foods I’ve added to my diet.
About a week ago, my partner got a wake up call, so to speak. Without any detail, suffice it to say that a change in diet is needed. And I don’t want her to do it alone. Nor will the changes be bad for me.
For the first time in my life I am seriously reading nutrition labels. Fats, carbs, sugars. Even vitamins! I’ve always been a “calculator.” Now I direct some of that energy to meal planning. Healthy proteins. Fewer carbs. Plenty of fiber. It looks like this:
The pamphlet is from NovoCare, an educational branch of Novo Nordisk. I know it’s probably big Pharma, but at least it’s educational. Here is the complete PDF document to download:
I’ve lost two pounds in a week! Most of the loss is from not eating sugary, calorie-laden desserts. But making better food choices and eating in moderation are essential to a healthy diet. I have always told people that almost anything is okay in moderation. Don’t eat too much. Don’t drink too much or often. Okay, just DON’T smoke!
All things in moderation. And for those of you who are of a younger generation, it’s better to realize it now. Don’t wait for time to knock some sense into you. It may be too late!
I have been writing this blog for five years now. Consistently for the last three. I have told you about some of my deepest pains, fears, and frustrations. All with the recognition and hope that you, my faithful readers, can relate to my joy and suffering. Or at least empathize with me. My hope is to enlighten and educate. And for us all to enjoy the writing and the reading. I have the same intent with this message.
This week marked the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in Poland on January 27th, 1945. My family background and upbringing keep me painfully aware of the Nazi Holocaust. Without even having to think of it, the words of this heading came to mind.
My public and private statements reflect my angst during and since the recent presidential election. Rhetoric from our now president and his minions echoed so closely the Nazi propaganda of the 1930’s. Though I tried, I could not contain my concern.
I uttered “The first concentration camp!” out loud when I heard the news that tridiot plans to house illegal immigrants at Guantanamo Bay. Thus elevating my fear, disgust, and concern for our future as a democratic union.
We have not completely devolved into a dictatorial regime. There are many who fight by legal means. There are many who speak up and/or contribute to the cause of freedom from tyranny. As some say, “There are still some guardrails in place.”
There are nearly as many who voted against the destructive power grab. There are more who mistakenly didn’t vote their conscience. None of us know what will come of the next four years. But we cannot let this evil prevail.
That’s all I will say about this now. I didn’t want to bring it up. But I could not stay silent.
Faith Journey – Is God real in my life
I describe myself as having a complicated faith journey. Without going into too much detail, let me give some background for this topic. Until about twenty years ago I was deeply entrenched in the congregation to which I belonged. I was active in its government. Active in worship. Active in relationships. Circumstances began to change as my wife and I started to burn out from commitment. After all, we had given an abundance of time and resources.
When we moved to another city we tried to connect with what we hoped was a similar church community. We also planned to limit our involvement. That didn’t work well. We didn’t connect with people there and they never reached out to us in welcome.
I found myself searching for tangible evidence of God, and found none. I questioned His existence. I even wrote songs about my challenges of belief. When Pam fell ill, I concentrated solely on her and just put God aside. Clearly, if He existed, He wasn’t in my good graces.
After her death, I began to wonder again whether God is real. My logical mind can’t wrap around the concept of an all-knowing, all-creating sentient being. A benevolent yet demanding lord.
Yet I wanted to believe. I still do. I clearly had in the past. There is some comfort in knowing a gracious God who watches over me and mine, who knows what’s happening to mankind (nod to the first topic), and will somehow, some day, make it right.
Recent twists and turns in my life lead me to try once again to reconnect with God. I’ve even been praying a little. I’m attending different churches in hopes of making fresh connection. Though I question the very nature of the God to which I direct my prayers. Yet I hope. I hope my prayers are heard. I hope God loves us. I hope for good things.
I won’t go into any religious dogma or doctrines. Nor will I try to parse the Bible for any reason. Let alone to twist it to my whims. I won’t, in this space, argue the socio-political issues and stances that are shaping our world today.
What I want, what I need, is to understand how God is in my life. I need to recognize His presence. I need some evidence. All the while knowing that believing requires faith. The hope is for things we can’t see. And I’m not talking about heaven or hell. I’m talking about life here on this earth!
I suspect these words will evoke many differing opinions on belief in God. I am aware that my readers believe in different forms of, or faith in God. Some may want to save me or correct my errant ways. Not my problem. Those with true compassion and empathy can accept who I am and where I am in my faith journey.
So comment if you will. But I hope you will be understanding and kind. I suspect I am not the only one with shaken belief. Not the only one with doubts welling up due to personal circumstances and our human condition.
I guess I’ve said my piece. Laid it out for you to “see.” I hope it’s not a mistake. Amen!
Have you noticed any change in my writing style? How about my vocabulary or phrasing? Over the past few months I have allowed the web host AI Assistant to suggest improvements to my writing.
Here’s an example. One of the most common AI recommendations is when I generate long, maybe run-on sentences:
Although I am interested in seeing these suggestions, I am sometimes trying to get a specific point across which has its meaning changed by changing the long, rambling sentence structure into shorter, more concise groups of words.
Here’s what it looks like after I allow the AI Assistant to make the changes:
“I am interested in seeing these suggestions. However, I am sometimes trying to get a specific point across. The meaning changes when I change the long, rambling sentence structure into shorter, more concise groups of words.“
Now that wasn’t bad! I like it. I think I’ll use it (I say to myself). However, after making the changes based on its own review, it now suggests the the word “However”, is complex. Thus it suggests this change.
“…these suggestions. But, I am sometimes…”
And I think, “What’s up with that?!” First, why suggest a change that transgresses its own analysis? Second, I happen to like the word “however” better than “but.”
Thus, it is an ongoing struggle to decide whether I should “listen” to the AI or just turn it off and trust my own intuition. Oops! There’s another long sentence! What is the AI telling me now?!
“It is an ongoing struggle. I must decide whether to “listen” to the AI. Alternatively, I could just turn it off and trust my own intuition.“
And now it doesn’t like its own suggestion to use the word “could.” It would rather I just leave out the word “could.” “Alternatively, I just turn it off and trust my own intuition.“
Are we having fun yet?
I’ve read and listened to articles about the efficacy of using current iterations of Artificial Intelligence. Some news organizations are replacing people with AI to generate stories such as (the AI is telling me to use “like” instead of the more complex “such as”) after a high school football game, giving scores, and analysis of the teams’ performances.
(“Some news organizations are replacing people with AI to generate stories after a high school football game. The AI provides scores and analysis of the teams’ performances.“)
In this case the AI changed my intent. I wanted to be more inclusive than just an article about a football game. Leaving out “such as” or even “like” totally changes the meaning.
I remember being on an accreditation committee for the college at which I taught technology courses. My team was responsible for reviewing the state of the college’s ethics and civic responsibility. I was chosen by my team to write our results, analysis, and recommendations to the larger committee for inclusion with the other required areas of self-review. (I’m ignoring another AI recommendation for long sentence.)
The college board hired a retired English professor to review all of the team reports. The goal was to bring them into a cohesive, uniform format. My team reviewed his rewrite of our draft. We clearly saw that he had changed the overall intent of our findings! Protesting, we were called to a meeting with the VP for Academic Affairs and the editor to discuss our disagreement.
I’m no English major. I didn’t even do well in that or any other subject in high school or college. Here I was arguing with these doctoral degrees that they can’t change words and sentence structure just for conformity’s sake. Not if the meaning is lost. Especially when it glossed over some less-than-complementary findings.
I later realized, after winning the day, what I had done. Then I worried about keeping my job! I had butted heads with the VP and expert. Would it end my career? Did I really know what I was talking about? “Holy s**t!”
Nothing bad happened. And, as you can tell, I continue to challenge others’ recommendations. Though designed by experts, I certainly won’t just accept the “word” of a computer over what I want to write!
We’ve all heard the potential value of AI. We’ve also heard of its dangers. When it comes to AI assistance, there is certainly room for improvement. I don’t think we will be replaced completely any time soon. I do, though, continue to remember humans being used as batteries in The Matrix! (A very innovative movie for its time, I might add.)
I have the pleasure, honor, and responsibility of chauffeuring my stepgranddaughter, Claire, to her eyesight therapy. Once or twice a week I take her to ChildeServe. I have to get up and ready much earlier than normally I would. She is always ready. Her walker waiting outside. Her backpack on as she comes out the door.
We take about 20 minutes to get there. It’s been cold and windy, but no bad weather so far. We are both still waking up as we make the trek across town. Some conversation, but mostly it’s me sipping coffee and she telling me what’s up for the day.
Wednesday she shared that the family is going to Florida in March. She and her siblings just found out about it this past week. We talk about what we’ve been eating, what’s up for the weekend. Ben and Emily took their permit driver’s tests on Saturday. It’s a big deal.
Claire is eleven. She has Cerebral Palsy (CP). She has trouble walking. She wears braces. She uses a walker, though not around the house. Claire has survived several surgeries attempting to correct the combination of variations in growth of bone, muscle, and tendon. She works hard to take care of herself and contribute to the shared needs of her family of seven. I have had the privilege of being a part of her extended family for several years. I have watched her grow.
The first time I was at their house, Claire came bounding down the stairs head first. She moved in a controlled, bumpy slide. A huge grin on her face. I’ve rarely seen her without that grin since. But now she walks, with effort, up and down those same stairs.
I have other relatives with disabilities. I’ve seen the challenges families have caring for a child with mental or physical limitations. So I was not taken aback by Claire’s condition. But I’m sure that others’ reactions and responses are different. I know that Claire is painfully aware of how others look at her.
I sit in the waiting room at ChildServe. I am stunned at the number and myriad challenges of the young people and their parents. They come for different, often multiple, kinds of therapy. Claire also receives physical and occupational therapy on a weekly basis. She has most of her life.
(I should probably explain something here. Claire’s eye work. Her eyesight is okay. She has a visual processing disorder. Her brain decides to offer a narrow window of vision. It, for instance, limits her peripheral vision. Unfortunately, the brain decides when and where to concentrate that narrow window. Thus, she is working with a therapist to retrain the brain to increase that window and help her control it. Claire is also challenged with fine motor skill difficulties. Further complicating how she learns in school.Tough stuff!)
Claire is not afraid to stand up for herself. I don’t think she’s always been that way. Wednesday she took her school work to share with her sight therapist. She wants to show her therapist what she is doing in a specific class. She also wants to share the challenges she has with a teacher. This teacher seems not to know how to accommodate her. Unlike a physical disability, a processing disorder is not noticeable to others.
Claire expressed anxiety as we rode from ChildServe to her school. She planned to confront her teacher, armed with the guidance given by her therapist. Claire had written an email to her teacher and received a reply. She recognized that her teacher had good intentions. But she also feels that her teacher’s solutions are not responsive to her needs. Suggestions to use a typing device to take notes or speech-to-text options are not effective. Claire still can’t keep up.
I don’t know yet how that conversation turned out. I’ll try to follow up in a future post.
Which brings me around to the inspiration. As I said, Claire has grown. Physically, sure. But also in maturity. Most notable in our car ride conversations is her vocabulary. And she uses it well. Claire is articulate and expressive. She knows what she wants to say and explains herself well. Sometimes it takes time to process how to respond to a question. I love that she does. She thinks before she speaks. Something we should all aspire to.
Anyone who spends time with Claire surely can see past the physical appearance brought on by her CP. It is still a tragedy to judge a book by its cover. Claire’s looks are maturing. Her radiantly smiling face is transitioning from that of a child to one of a young woman. She carries herself, both physically and mentally, with dignity and confidence. She is not afraid of who she is. She embraces her qualities. She wants, needs, and looks for acceptance by others. Not so different from everyone else.
I am so impressed with Claire. I am a better person for knowing her and sharing her life – with all of her struggles. I hope by writing this message that I can expand people’s understanding of living with disability. People’s acceptance of everyone for who they are. Whether their challenges are physical, cognitive, or emotional. Claire reminds me again that we all are human. We all have worth. We all deserve respect and understanding. I hope you understand me. I hope you join in recognition and acceptance.
Depending on whether you are a Democrat, Republican, or Other, the outcome of November’s election caused strong emotional reactions. I am concentrating on those with whom I most closely align my socio-political views.
For the record, I consider myself fiscally conservative and socially liberal. I consider each issue on its merits and prefer to use a wide angle lens when deciding where I stand. In most cases I am moderate in my views.
The outcome of the election was horrific. I can hardly believe that we elected a convicted felon. He subverted the very office for which he has been re-elected. He stated many years ago that he could shoot someone in broad daylight and get away with it. Based on how the courts have treated the many accusations against him, It seems he is right! He attempted to retain the presidency by force.
There are so many social norms that he says he will either abolish or change. Issues that have been fought for and won through the legislative process and in the courts. I won’t itemize them here. Suffice it to say that we seem to be returning to darker, oppressive times.
Economists argue that the new Republican world economic posture will not have the intended outcome. They believe it will do the opposite of what the man and his minions project. Corralling and/or deporting immigrants will vastly deplete the work force for many necessary jobs. Adversely impacting our economy. It has been proven many times. Trickle down economics neither boosts the economy nor helps the middle and lower economic classes. Deficits soar. It’s a bleak outlook for many this year and for a few years to come. Yet as time goes by we see that the world has not yet ended.
I used to discuss global issues with my dad when I was a young man. I took a stance based on bible quotes. That we are in the end days of civilization, if not the earth itself. Wars, rumors of wars. Pestilence, disease, famine. Oppression and the mark of the beast. Those who know the New Testament know exactly to what I am referring.
Dad would take a completely different stance. He argued that the prophecies about the end of the world are part of our human experience. These prophecies, those maladies mentioned above, have existed for thousands of years. The earth has gone through many changes. Sure, some have been cataclysmic. So far, we are still here.
It is true that many signs point to an exclusive political and social environment. Yet I see glimmers of hope. There are many who openly oppose the restrictive, oppressive intentions of the soon-to-be powers in Washington. There are signs of understanding and cooperation. Even some people who voted for tridiot recognize that he is inept and dangerous. Signs point to opportunities for wins in the legislature and in the courts.
Think back to tridiot’s first term in office. The wall. Tariffs. Deportations. Sure. some of his agenda was accomplished. But what the tridiot minions don’t remember is that most of his blowhard blustering was just that. No substance.
I realize that he has a favorable congress. He has stacked the judicial with politicized conservative judges. Yet somehow court decisions continue to be fair and just. Who knows if this will continue. I want to believe that saner minds will eventually prevail. I hope my dad was right!
Obviously, I have no more of a crystal ball that you. And I am by nature skeptical and, as I age, cynical. Yet I have hope and a certain level of confidence that we will survive the coming assault on our democracy. Some evidence to the contrary. In a way, I feel like I’m doing something to advance a positive outcome just by writing this message.
Continuing, somewhat, on last week’s theme, I have had hopes and dreams for my music for many years. My writing and composing flourished in the early 2000’s. I recorded some of the early music in 2013, creating the album Catching Up On Life.
During and since that time I have written a plethora of lyrical poems. For many I have composed guitar accompaniments. Subjects for these songs include close family, people I worked with, acquaintances, and personal experiences. Most have not been recorded.
I’ve always wanted to share my songs with, well, anyone who would listen. I hoped, and continue to hope, that the lyrics evoke memories and/or emotions for at least some in an audience. My music, though simple, has evolved into an easy-listening style. I admit that I like my songs and poetry. Some have told me they enjoy it and relate in some way.
But I never gave my hobby my complete attention. I never committed to learning enough or practicing enough to get really good – good enough to go professional. I have dedicated time over the last two and a half years. However, that time was not enough for me to feel comfortable going on the road. Sure. I am comfortable playing for small groups of mostly known people. But I am not “good” enough to play public venues. Now I am convinced that I never will be.
Which brings me back to the link with last week’s them of past, present, and future. My hopes and dreams are evolving. I am still creating. I still believe in my music. I like most of it and believe I have something to say and a way to share it.
Now, though, I have a new dream. Some day, someone with professional knowledge of music will listen and say, “This is good stuff. I think I can get ? (unknown artist) to record this and get it distributed for the public to hear.”
I have a hope that I can find someone to help me make demo recordings. I don’t have the means to hire a bunch of studio time. Especially considering I lack professional vocal and musical skill for a finished product. As I’ve said before, I can’t seem to figure it out for myself.
My voice and my hands have limited time to produce the songs I want to sing. I do not read nor write music. I just play it. So I don’t have hard (or digital) copy. My lifespan is uncertain. But certainly shortening. I know my songs will be my legacy to my family and close friends. I had hopes for more. I guess I still do.
A few years ago I looked into software that would transpose my guitar notes into sheet music. I was not impressed. I am taking another look for newer, more user-friendly options. If anyone knows of one that is worth paying for, please let me know. Thanks.
Short of that, I have to find a way to record. I think it needs to be better than my phone (sound quality issues). But less sophisticated than a mixer (unless someone wants to help me out 😉 ).
Well, this post has certainly turned into a personal muse and plea. But it does reflect some looks at the past, realities of the present, and views of a possible future. I wonder what it will bring. I wonder if I will dedicate myself to fulfilling more of my hopes and dreams. I suspect all of you have similar questions about how you will fulfill yours. I hope you are successful!
