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Shadows and Resolutions

January 1, 2024 by

I have not made New Year resolutions in decades. They are a form of self-flagellation in which I find little purpose and much to be afraid. What possesses any of us to sit down at the end of each year and make a list of all our ‘failures’ and then make a list of all we will do ‘better’? Really, are we demented? Or maybe we are simply defeatists at heart.

I say this, especially to women: our lists are long and weighty. Our lists are driven by social media and all the faults we find with ourselves daily in the mirror, storefronts we walk by, and catalogs that don’t carry our size. For some reason, our lists always start there, in the feckin’ mirror:

  • Our hips are too wide;
  • Our asses are too big;
  • Our stomachs are too flabby;
  • Our tits fell another inch;
  • Our thighs touch instead of gap;
  • Our arms jiggle;
  • Our necks, oh shit, our necks aren’t smooth, and neither are our faces anymore.

Our friends don’t help; they have the latest diet locked down and don’t see any harm in telling us that if we would only buy their products, maybe we could lose weight and be beautiful again. The worst thing is, we think perhaps they are right, maybe we could. Or maybe they could STFU and remind themselves they are as imperfect as we are.

Then there is that shadow in the mirror that reminds us of all our failed relationships, friendships lost, marriages ruined, lovers in the wind, jobs vanished. It is impossible not to look. Impossible not to lift the covers and ask, what could I have done to change the outcome? The shadow of unbearable bullshit stares at you, and the blame game begins, the coulda, shoulda, woulda;

  • I could have said yes, even if it meant I was unheard;
  • I could have spoken up, even if it meant a fight;
  • I could have not held everything so close;
  • I should have listened more;
  • I should have fought for balance between us;
  • I should have told someone;
  • I wouldn’t have been less if I wasn’t so afraid;
  • I wouldn’t have been afraid if I didn’t see myself as unworthy.

You see? Self-flagellation.

Before you can write a resolution, you must look into that mirror and tell yourself what you want that is different from what you have today. Specifically, you have to own your own shit.

What do I want that is different than what I have? Honestly? I am entirely uncertain that I can affect what I want at this point in my life. I think the things I want, the things I believed would make me happy or contented in life, are no longer aligned with my personality dysfunction.

It took a lifetime to get to where I am, to this place of quirks, quiet, heartbreak, and strength. A lifetime of pain, fear, aloneness, and sometimes unremitting loneliness. It took a lifetime of giving everything I had to everyone else, only to be told it, and I was not enough. It took husbands and lovers leaving. It took parents turning their backs in my darkest hours. It took days of never hearing another human voice. It took friends forgetting me, it took siblings turning away.

All of these losses taught me the power of love.

That love was unending, that heartbreak and loss doesn’t stop you from loving those who hurt you. That love simply teaches you how much you can endure and how powerful silence can be. The other lesson is how hard even the softest heart can become if it is hurt often enough.

You see? Self-flagellation.

That mirror shows what is not within your reach. In the silence of my prayers I often ask for grace. I think, though, that I what I seek is something different than grace. It is more, that I don’t hate myself for all my mistakes, for the things I could have done differently, for the secrets I could have told and choose not to. I know that too frequently, I put myself in the way to be hurt as retribution for the wrong I believed I did. In retrospect, I didn’t deserve that, yet I did it anyway at great expense to an already savaged spirit.

So now, though I will not call it a resolution this year, I will spend some small part of the year stitching together some of my heart with stronger threads than I have used in the past. I won’t say it will make me a better person, more loving or kind. I won’t promise that this attempt to heal myself more fully will allow me to find and be loved by another person as I wish; honestly, I believe that ship sailed a decade ago. But perhaps by looking into those shadows without self-flagellation, I will find the pieces that still need healing and will be better able to live the life I have more fully.

Filed Under: Things I know Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Heart Reflection

December 30, 2023 by

Some days, I drag you out of the place I store memories

I have entire conversations with you;

In them, I consider how things might have been;

What should I have done that I didn’t do?

If I had been easier, more compliant,

Or maybe just less than;

Would it have been different for us?

Then, when I finish the conversation;

Between you and I, in my head;

I realize the outcome is always the same;

If I were less and you were more;

You would still have walked away.

You would have still been you;

The you that always sought more than me;

The you that didn’t see in front of you;

Beyond your own need to be more;

The you that didn’t feel my heartbeat;

And I know that I would have still been shattered.

But you that couldn’t love me;

Because you only loved you;

And I was never the reflection you wanted;

I was the mirror, your gaze turned away from.

When I finish my conversations in my head;

My heart hurts for lost time and pain.

But like so many other things in life;

I let you go back to the place;

Where I hold other things of memory;

The demons of past loves and destruction;

I know I will drag you out again;

If only to remind me why I let you go;

It is my nature to dance with my own demons.

30-Dec-23

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: , , , ,

Dear God XII

December 27, 2023 by

Dear God, Happy belated Birthday. Most of us know December 25th isn’t your birthday but a pagan holiday, but whatever floats the Christian boat is just fine, and it does result in some good after-Christmas sales. Okay, now that is out of the way, can we talk? I have a few bones to pick with you. I know, when don’t I, right? But really, God, don’t you think this is getting a bit ridiculous? I know, tis the season and all that jazz, but come on, can’t you blast some folk for special effects if for no other reason? I bet you think all those weather events are making people stop and think, but God, you, and I both know people are especially stupid these days.

Dear God, did you plan it this way? I know the Bible says so; however, as anyone with half a brain knows, the King James Bible was written by a bunch of European men with agendas, and not good ones. I know that it wasn’t your intention to create this level of ugly, this schism within humanity.  So, let’s talk about the Old Testament for just a quick second. Can we do that without offense?

Dear God, have you looked down on Israel, on your Chosen People? Have you seen them in their fury and what they are doing? I am not pretending to know all the truth, but one truth I am certain of babies are innocent, children are innocent, and many others who are maimed, dying, starving, and living in fear of the next bomb or next bullet are innocent of this unrelenting war of retribution. They say, God, that given enough time, a people can become what they fear or what they hate; maybe it is time you hold up a mirror for your Chosen to look into. What did you tell Abraham, oh yes, that he would be the father of nations (Genesis 17) through his sons Ishmael and Isaac, and thus the lines were drawn from then to now. You set them up and knock them down. Maybe it is time to remind all the people that your names are many, and the children of Abram all worship one God, not many, not different, but One.

Dear God, let’s talk about the unrelenting and terrible mess we have made of it here in the speck of dust we call the United States for a minute, if you don’t mind. For a brief minute, we appeared to have made some progress; you know, people were beginning to act like they had sense; they weren’t so hate-filled, so fear-filled, so damned scared of the ‘other’ that seemed to loom around every corner. It seems we have taken several large steps backward, and it is just plain ugly. We have the self-righteous leading, the self-pitying into pits of fiery hate and embracing ignorance. Compassion is considered a weakness; these monsters that once hid in dark rooms now preach from pulpits and scream their sacrilege through the televisions of every home in this nation. Their poison infects the hearts and minds of millions, even calling your greatest commandments weak and your word incompatible with today’s world while continuing to call themselves Christians (albeit White Nationalist Christians).

Dear God, I know many say it is the End of Days. Maybe it is. I was never a big fan of that part of the Bible. It was rather dreary. Maybe I will go back to my Torah and Talmud and read what those pesky Europeans left out. I don’t know if it will make me feel any better about all the nonsense being spewed by those who get their information from television preachers with 5th-grade reading levels, the comprehension of fire ants after a rain storm, and a propensity to hate rather than love. I am about as weary as it is possible to be with scallywags and cocksure conmen leading the nation into ruin, in your name. Aren’t you tired yet?

Dear God, just a little prayer for myself at the end of this. I know I make fun of it, laugh about it, and play strong for the crowd because what else am I going to do? But God, I grow tired of being constantly alone and I don’t want to burden my sons when they have so much else to worry about. I feel my body fail some days, and I am afraid. If this year has taught me nothing, it has taught me I can’t do it all, and being by myself all the time isn’t healthy. I know I chose this, if I could I would unchoose, but that isn’t possible. So maybe God, look down and help me find the necessary grace, loosen the fear on my heart.

Filed Under: Series: Dear God Tagged With: , , ,

Anything for Love

December 26, 2023 by

I always loved Meatloaf; I know it’s a strange way to start this, but it’s fitting. Take my word for it. In the song, “I Would Do Anything for Love,” four promises are made; most don’t realize this when they listen and constantly wonder what the singer won’t do for love.

If you pay attention to the chorus of the song, each time there is a promise and in that promise is what the singer will not do. Most people never realize this twist in the song written by Jim Steinman and released by Meatloaf in 1993.

“Oh I would do anything for love
But I won’t do that, no I won’t do that”

Well, I can tell you without a doubt that these tired men out here have a litany of things they will not do, not for love or anything else. But whooee baby, do they want to know what you (me) will do for them, and damned if they don’t want to know in great detail.

What is this dial-a-babe? I think you have the wrong number, but I have some spare time so let’s play who has the best imagination, shall we?

Him: I am looking for a long-term relationship. Someone with morals, standards, and values. Someone I can trust and tell my secrets to, who will have my back and wants to make a life with me.

Me: What does that look like for you?

Him: I have six grown children and fourteen grandchildren; I want to find a woman who can be part of my family. Who has humor, can embrace a large family, and wants to make me part of hers. I also enjoy travel and want someone who enjoys seeing new places and cultures.

So far so good, right? This guy is kind of great. Right up my alley. Polite, articulate. Big family, so he understands family dynamics. His profile is funny and articulate, so he had me at the humor! He is a little younger than me, but only by a couple of years, and bonus he is rather nice on the eyes.

The conversation continued with some back-and-forth chatting for a bit, and then he dropped a bombshell.

Him: Usually, women your age don’t want sexually intimate relationships. What is your stance on this?

Me: Have you dated many women my age, or is this simply your online experience?

Him: Only my online experience.

Me: Well maybe it is your approach to the subject. Most of the women I know my age love sex. The problem is that men our age are incapable of accomplishing the goal.

Him: I don’t understand.

Me: Right. Mentioning a woman’s age in the same sentence as you approach sexual intimacy is usually not going to get you very far. That’s like saying to a woman, “I think you are a brilliant conversationalist, but you are too old to fuck.”

Him: Oh. Got it. I don’t think you needed to be that crude though. But I do see what you mean.

Me: I tend to be blunt when it is called for. I think beating around that bush wasn’t going to get the point across.

Him: So, you like sex?

Me: I love sex. With the right person and when the time is right.

Him: Do you like oral sex?

Me: Do you know how to perform oral sex?

Him: Oh, I meant do you like to perform oral sex?

Me: Yes, I know what you meant; the sword is two-edged, though, isn’t it? You are far too old to believe that you should receive without giving. With six children, you should also know how real sexual intimacy works; it starts in the mind. If you catch a woman’s mind, the heart follows; after that, you can ask for anything. But true sexual  intimacy is reciprocal. It is never all about one partner, or about what you like or what you get, while your woman is left wanting.

Him: I don’t like doing that. It doesn’t turn me on.

Me: Well, that is where your problem will always start and stay. Especially at this age when you can’t always depend on your little soldier coming to attention on command.

I haven’t heard back from him; I don’t expect to either. He made me laugh, though, and I thought I would share this one with you. At least he didn’t cuss me out when I challenged his manhood. This is the world of online dating at the getting-to-know-you phase. Delightful, isn’t it?

This is just one of so many. I can be snarky when it is called for. I try not to be, but there are days. What is wrong with these men? Really, what is wrong with them? These are not twenty-five-year-olds with an abundance of testosterone and decades of life ahead of them, these men are 55+, but you surely would not know it by they way they act. Oh well, maybe it is true; maybe some men never grow up.

Next up, the two actual dates I went on and why I wanted to find a brick wall.

Filed Under: Series: Single Life Tagged With: , , ,

This time of Year

December 24, 2023 by

Did you use to love this time of year, the entire spectacle of it? Getting ready, decorating the house, putting up the tree, preparing cookies…..you know, the whole Christmas thing.

I think there was a time when I liked Christmas, maybe not as much as others did. But I did like it. There was a time when I looked forward to going to the Texas Hill Country, where my beloved father and my heart mother hosted the family at Hearts Home. Where our Christmas traditions, both frivolous and heartfelt, were lovingly embraced? There was a time when my strangely dysfunctional and blended family came together with love, laughter, and acceptance of our quirks, and we felt blessed we were all there, together.

This was the time in our lives when we baked cookies that filled tubs and made rum balls that might have been more rum than anything else. My sons and I spent days taking orders from family for what kind of cookies we should bake that year; we always made too many, yet they were always gone by the end of the holiday weekend. Grandma always got her special order of Russian Tea Cookies in a special tin we selected each year just for her. One year, my eldest was in charge of the Rum Balls; he just kept pouring until he could work the dough; when those tins were opened several days later, you could get drunk off the fumes; they were the hit of the Christmas candies that year.

Christmas Eve was special. Homemade Eggnog so rich it made your toes curl, and the adult version had us all giggling once we got around the entire table with our gratitude toasts for the year. We never did find a dipper that worked, so there were inevitable spills. What we did do, was find a perfect plastic runner that made clean-up easier. The Gratitude Toasts were a special family tradition; every person in the family, from the youngest to the oldest, said what they were most grateful for, and all the family toasted, loudly then drank. It was inevitable that one of the men would always toast the women of the family, and much cheering would ensue; it was recognized that we were the heart, especially my beloved stepmother, who held us all together for many years.

Another special part of our Christmas Eve tradition was reading the Christmas story. It was always read by the youngest of the grandchildren, and if that child couldn’t read, Grandma read it to that child. No matter your particular persuasion, this was always a special moment for some reason. Perhaps it was simply the connection across the generations.

My family wasn’t big on gift-giving when it came to adults, but we certainly knew how to have fun. The children were given gifts on Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning. We played games; we spent time with each other. We ate far too much, and we talked. The most important thing, we talked. For those who played golf, my parents hosted the Valentine Family Open and even awarded a jacket to the winner each year; it was a weird big deal and full of pageantry and hilarity.

I miss Christmas with my family. I miss my parents desperately during this time of year and the kinship they built between all of us, coming from different places and people. I miss the love that flowed through Hearts Home and my gratitude for being part of that.

I think I use to like Christmas. I don’t think I like it much anymore. I hope you are with family and friends this year. I hope you find things to be grateful for and that you tell your family and friends that you are grateful for them, for their company, and that you are with them this day and the days to come.

Filed Under: Family Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Mud, Muck and Fear

December 23, 2023 by

Do you wonder sometimes what is wrong with people? Do you listen to what others say and think, “Do you believe what you are saying?”

I do.

There are days when I hear the words that fall from the mouths of strangers and people I thought I knew, and my head tips to the side in astonishment and dismay. Sometimes, I want to scream at them, “What is wrong with you? Are you stupid?”

I realize this isn’t a good response. I know in my heart I shouldn’t do this, and I don’t because it wouldn’t do a bit of good. Besides, they might actually take it as a challenge.

The truth is, though, I think people really are losing their ability to reason. I believe a large swath of the population has decided to accept blatant lies as unimpeachable gospel as long as those lies support their desired outcomes. This same group will say anything, do anything, and sacrifice anyone to gain and hold power over those they fear or despise.

Those with power play on the fears of those who want power. Those who want power, even false power, reach out toward the lies told with open arms and embrace it as if it were manna from the lips of the God they pretend to worship. When you listen to them justify their stance and reasoning, it is difficult not to weep or shake them until their necks snap. When you question them, and all you get is soundbites with zero truth, zero logic, and even less real-life foundation, it is nearly impossible not to scream at them, “You are a fecking idiot!”

We are a land of terrified White Men who see the world they once knew changing and who are willing to do anything, up to and including giving away democracy. What is fascinating and terrible about this is that most of those White Men are poor, under-educated, and under-employed. Truthfully, they are no better off and in some cases, worse off than the people they despise. What they know is that their hero has promised them a better, whiter world where they will thrive because they will once again be at the top of the food chain.

He has promised them a world where they are Kings once more. A world where they aren’t competing with Women, Black people, Hispanic people, Asian people, or any other Vermin. He has promised them a world where their sperm is safe, and they are free to impregnate without consequence. He has promised them a world where their insufficiencies will be rewarded without question. He has promised them a world where they are free to shoot to kill without paying a price for their fear of others. He has promised them a world where their ignorance, hate, greed, and inconsequential contributions to the betterment of society matter and everyone else’s lives will not.

He has promised them paradise.

Naturally, they are so ignorant they are incapable of reading between the lines of his rhetoric. What is truly stunning? His most devoted are nothing to him; they are cannon fodder in his war against the United States, against the Constitution, against democracy. They are nothing more than money to feed his never-ending need to pay his lawyers. But they don’t care; they just keep giving and giving as if a self-proclaimed billionaire would need their last $5.

Four indictments and ninety-one counts. It’s a witch hunt.

Business fraud? They lied and cheated; it’s a witch hunt.

Sexual molestation, guilty! They lied; it’s a witch hunt.

Nevermind their God-Hero worships the very worst autocrats and dictators of this century and the last. That he quotes them and exchanges love letters with them. He had friendly meetings with them before, during, and after his first presidency. Well, for some reason, his worshippers seem to think this makes him all that much more worthy of respect and worship.

I sometimes sit in disbelief and wonder what the Hell is wrong with these people, these pseudo-Christian pretend patriots. What in all God’s love happened to them that made them go this wrong?

I have no answer. I only know this. The soul of this nation is on the line, and these people have lost their way; from the top down, they have sold their souls to power and are willing to sell this nation into Hell to keep it.

I know this, we are in a fight for our lives and our freedom. We cannot afford silence. We cannot afford complacency. We cannot afford to sit back and laugh at the ignorance of those on the other side any longer. It easy to hope the Devil will be found guilty of at least some of the charges brought against him. That hope isn’t enough to keep him off the ballot or out of the White House.

It is easy to complain about the age of Joe Biden or that you didn’t get everything you wanted in this administration. Okay, so what! That is what democracy is: negotiation and compromise all day and every day. I can only say this, maybe if more of you got out and voted at the local level and for every single mid-term, Joe Biden would have gotten more done.

Here is my one truth. I am terrified for my children, for my grandchildren and for all the young people I see every day at the High School behind my house. What kind of nation will we leave them if we don’t fight?

Filed Under: Op Ed, Presidential Election 2024 Tagged With: , , , , ,

Men & Women

November 25, 2023 by

Do you think we are fundamentally different from each other? Men and women, that is, are we different? I mean, other than the noticeable differences, do you think we are genuinely different on the inside? Don’t you think we have the same needs, desires, and wants?

We thirst, hunger, seek shelter. Most of us seek comfort when we are sick. We seek companionship when we are lonely. We seek friendships, people with whom we can form relationships to sustain us. Many of us want to procreate at some point in our lives. And come on, let’s be honest, most of us like sex.

I said it; I just threw it out there, SEX. Most of us like SEX. I won’t lie; I miss sex, I miss intimacy and lying in bed talking and touching, but dammit, I also miss sex. Maybe we aren’t supposed to say these things. Maybe people would be more comfortable if we didn’t say them. I know this mystical wall seems to come down when we hit a certain age, and if we aren’t married or at least partnered in some meaningful way, we seem to regrow our magical hymen as if we are reborn virgins suddenly.

The truth is, sex is more fun once the fear of pregnancy doesn’t burden you, the exhaustion of childrearing doesn’t wear you down, and you have more free time. Sure, it changes because your body changes, but the fundamentals don’t change, and everything is still in the same place and works. Women are funny like that; we don’t require chemicals to help us get where we are going; we simply need patience and extra lubrication.

What does change when we reach a certain age? For me, at least, I don’t want just any Tom or Harry with a Dick in my bed. There are rules to the game these days. I want someone who works to engage my mind before they tell me they want to engage my body. It isn’t that I think I am such a fabulous creature the pursuit should be costly, but there should at least be a willingness to pursue, to show interest in ME.

Thus far, in the interest of fair play, I have tried hard to make myself as transparent as possible on the dating sites I chose. In fact, I read what I wrote after my divorce and used some of that in my profile to create a picture of what I was looking for (links below). I chose sites that serve my preferences and have larger pools in my geographic area and larger pools of people in my age range. My profile pictures are not tasteless club shots; yes, a couple of my tattoos show, but the only way to hide them would be to dress like a nun. Again, I am transparent: if you don’t like tattoos, I am not the one, so move along.

Bachelor #1: he was cute until he opened his mouth to let me know I needed someone to take control. Pass and Block.

Bachelor #2: handsome man, well dressed in his profile picture and, according to his write-up, well-educated too. His first message was very polite; I thought, ‘Well, this is nice.’ His next message is, “Well-endowed and ready to swing.” Hard pass and block.

Bachelor #3: sent 15 messages over the course of two days, all demanding I meet him immediately if I ever wanted a relationship with a ‘good’ man. His messages got increasingly aggressive. Pass, report, and block.

Bachelor #4: we had several relatively comfortable conversations until he asked me if I would relocate across the country for love. I answered that it would be a difficult choice since my life is here. So, I asked him the same question, and he responded that it was a woman’s duty to support her man. I burst out laughing, which was the end of that one after a few choice words. LOL

Bachelor #5: Interesting conversation that reminded me of why I have to always stand up for myself and never again be silent when someone tries to shut me up or shut me down. I am great with a good debate; I love a great debate about anything you want to debate. I am a font of useful and useless knowledge, and most people’s opinions will never stand up under the scrutiny of my facts, so please bring it on. Understand me; I love our soldiers and respect their service. I have too many in my family who have served not to respect those who serve in our volunteer military. Nevertheless, thinking your service in any Armed Forces branch’s enlisted ranks makes you an expert on geopolitical issues is simply foolishness. Unless you have spent all those years of service at the CIA, being an Army Drill Sergeant was just your cover; you are no more expert than the next person. You have a unique perspective if you served in battle, but this still doesn’t make you an expert on geopolitical issues, only on the battlefields you served. When he combined his disdain of my opinion because of my ‘lack’ of service with his quoting of Fox soundbites, his quotes from 45, and his sprinkling of Biblical stands on a woman’s place, well, let’s say…. HARD PASS and BLOCK.

A few others didn’t make it to the point of a conversation or weren’t worthy of noting here.

Maybe I am fated to be alone. That would be a shame, I think there is still life in me. I think there is something still worth loving in me. I don’t think I am done yet, but boy, oh boy, if this is what the world has to offer, I sure might be.

So, back to my original question: men and women, are we really all that different? It seems we are not different in our desires, but how we go about it, dang.

From April 2014: https://valentinelogar.com/2014/04/13/served-grown-up-please/

From July 2014: https://valentinelogar.com/2014/07/03/served-grown-up-part-deux/

From Oct 2014: https://valentinelogar.com/2014/10/12/imprinted-for-life-attractions/

Filed Under: Love & Marriage, Series: Single Life Tagged With: , , , ,

Dating at an Age

November 4, 2023 by

I just re-read this series to see what has changed. Not much except that I am four years older, still single and maybe just a bit more unhappy with the situation than I was. Truthfully, the thought of growing old alone and unpartnered gives me a certain sadness and increasing fear as I look into the future.

Looking back, I know I must own most of the choices that brought me here. Not all of them, but many of them. Strangely, I only regret some, but not all.

Do I wish sometimes I could take some things back? Absolutely. Yet, I also know it wouldn’t have changed the ultimate outcome and may have made it worse.

Oddly, I chose to spend years in a relationship that wasn’t a relationship to protect myself from looking for anything better. Did I know he wasn’t the one? Of course, I did. Not because I didn’t love him, but because in my heart I knew he didn’t love me. Did I know he would never be the one? I expect I did; I allowed myself the blinders to not see what was uncomfortable so I could exist in a relationship that would ultimately hurt me and shove me further into solitude but allow me the comfort of my introversion without explanation. I spent seven (7) years waiting for my heart to heal with a man who broke me more. Does that seem counterintuitive?

Did I learn anything? Many things, some of the things I learned, would help me to survive without partnership. Some made me even better as a future partner to that mythical being that may exist somewhere out there. Some of them, well, some of them likely making it harder for me to find that unicorn.

So here I am, finally ready to jump back in and search for that glade of warriors, who just might be ready to find me too. I know they will be battle-weary, have been out in the world just like me, and scared, just like me. I get it; we all have our war chests, filled with all the medals of wars won and lost, swirled with all the bullshit of lies told and hurt survived. I promise you I am not looking for pristine; that would be the most ridiculous ask I could make. I am just looking for that person who can match my energy, fill the empty spaces, and wants to be a true partner in what is left of this journey.

What is all this leading up to? Good question, and I want to share. Well, those who have followed in the past know I share, sometimes too much. With everything going on in the world, all the terrible and terrifying, there has to be something we can laugh at together, something we can smile about and even find the occasional ridiculous in. As I re-read this series, I thought, well, why not my experiences trying to find love at sixty-six.

No, I won’t share sex with you, not that there is any sex happening, dammit.

What I do plan, though, is the lighter side of online dating and otherwise. Dating sites are a treat to the senses once you find your humor about them. Yes, I signed up for several online dating sites explicitly promoted for my age and preferences.

I will tell you now: I have not found that mythical unicorn. I have discovered many trolls, and they can either destroy any last vestige of faith in possibility or in inciting hilarity, depending on your state of mind.

So, for now, I search and hope. I watch the world and wonder. I plan how to share the tribulations of dating at sixty-six without overwhelming you with the ugly, and begin to consider living the rest of my days as I live now if that person I hope for never emerges from the mist.

I hope you will follow the journey.

Filed Under: Series: Single Life Tagged With: , , , , ,

Let’s Talk, Dysfunction

October 22, 2023 by

I know most of us don’t know what to say anymore. I surely don’t have the words, well that isn’t entirely true; I have the words they just aren’t used in polite society. We have two parties, one presumably taking the high road, the other rapidly taking the road to hell. Both are frankly leading this nation into a pit of despair, one without true direction or the ability to dig us out of this quagmire we find ourselves in today.

On June 16, 2015, the man who would be king rode down the escalator with his bombastic rhetoric about how he would save America from itself. The ignorant, the fearful, the fools afraid they were losing their place at the table bought his promise to return them to the top. With each rally, each gift of another interview with Fox, he pushed further outside of everything normal; every value we once thought of as America and the underbelly was exposed for who they were. The America that had hidden their bigotry, fear, and ignorance were ripped open and given permission to be themselves after decades of living in closets and shadows. They marched on the streets of our cities and violently attacked their enemies; anyone who did not look like them, love like them, or challenged their narrow view of what the world should look like were targets of their vitriol and violence.

On January 20, 2017, much to the dismay and shock of so many of us, that same ugly, ill-equipped, and unprepared charlatan was sworn in as the forty-fifth president of the United States of America. In his Inauguration speech, he painted a picture of this nation that was nowhere near the truth, but his loyal followers faithfully latched on and repeated it. American Carnage was the start of what would become America’s downfall.

(AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)

His disregard for America ended up costing millions of lives, yet still, they sing his praises.

Then we came to that critical day that divided us even further as if we could be further divided: January 6, 2021. The President of the United States of America proved beyond a shadow of a doubt he was not fit to hold any public office. This man who for four years had destroyed our international relationships, killed millions of Americans, robbed the public coffers, and treated the office as an extension of Trump Enterprise, LLC. What happened? After months of stoking the fire with his lies about stolen elections, his attacks on private citizens and public officials. He invited the worst of his followers to Washington, D.C., for a ‘protest party,’ in real terms, an insurrection to overturn the election of a New President because he lost.

He LOST.

During his months of whining, pissing, and moaning about how the election was stolen his acolytes stuck to him like glue. Fearful of his rage, they encouraged his lies; they told more outrageous lies of their own. Some of them even planned their own nefarious means to help him steal the presidency. They planned their anointing of the would be dictator; against their oaths of office, against their fealty to the Constitution; these eight (8) Senators and (139) Congressmen and women voted against certifying the election, among them Kevin McCarthy, Jim Jordan, Steve Scalise; all of them traitors to the United States, all of them within a hairs breath of the presidency if only through the Speakers gavel.

So, with that tiny bit of history, let’s focus on today. The fallout of Donald J. Trump’s Presidency and how it has shaped America and the Biden Presidency. During the first eighteen months of his term, the Senate and House were controlled by the Democrats. However, in both cases, there were slim majorities in the Senate and outliers like Joe Mansion and Kyrsten Sinema, who constantly threw in their two cents of hackery and nonsense like fire bombs. Then came 2022; what a year that was in the history of elections. We saw more fools, charlatans, and outright frauds running for office than I think we ever had before. The Democrats maintained control of the Senate, with Trump’s hand-picked candidates losing everywhere they ran. The House went to the GOP, but by such a narrow margin, they couldn’t afford to expel George Santos, a Jr member under indictment with 24 separate federal crimes.

I remember when Republicans told Richard Nixon it was time to leave office for far less.

Now we come back, full circle to the chicanery and pure, undiluted fuckery of that which is the cult of MAGA and Donald J. Trump. The ruin of American Democracy, the burn-it-down party and their nihilism. Led by a handful of MAGA Senators and Congresspersons, we no longer have a working government. They don’t want to legislate; they want to parade in front of the camera, grin and create soundbites for Likes and Dollars. They put our nation at risk with their tricks, and worse, they’re playing up to their twice impeached, four-time indicted, facing ninety-one criminal charges, not to mention the civil cases he has already lost. With all this, their feckless leader pushes them to make the government his defense shield.

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Filed Under: Dysfunction Tagged With: , , , , ,

Dear God, XI

October 8, 2023 by

Dear God, have you noticed it getting worse down here? Your name is being used not just in vain but to create a new religious order based on hate, fear, bigotry, and exclusion. I don’t know about you, God, but I have read the bastardized version of your roadmap a few times, and I am confident this was not the message you sacrificed your son for.

Dear God, have you been getting your rest lately? You must be taking a break, maybe gearing up for the big one. That is the only conclusion I can draw from all the terrible and terrifying going on down here. We are more divided and less trusting of each other today than we were even fifty years ago. We have failed to move closer to the dream, and there are those among us who are committed to a return to the nightmare. God, this dedication is in your name, from pulpits and State Houses, in your name. Haven’t you rested enough?

Dear God, I recognize you have been taking a hands-off approach for several thousand years, letting humanity do what they will, how they will and seeing where they will go with it. But have you been at least taking a peak down here? Do you see where this is going? The Morning Star is winning, and I mean winning big time. The pack is rising, ugly, and mean down here. It might be time to pay attention before it all blows sky-high, maybe even taking a piece of heaven with it.

Dear God, I know plenty of folks down here thinking the Apocalypse is near. God, fools are standing on the side of the road holding up signs and waiting to be Raptured as if they are holier than holy and have lived sinless lives. Some of them need to be scrubbed up and prayed up for days, if not months, before they are worthy of even stepping feet across the threshold of your house, never mind being lifted up on judgment day. But there I go, being all judgey; some days, I can’t help myself and you and I both know I am far from sinless myself. But God, at least I know I have spots on my soul, and at least I know I may not be a first-round draft pick. I am honestly good with all that.

Dear God, I remember when I thought it was getting better. Oh, I know there were always those fools who would stay in their pockets of ignorance and hate, but I honestly thought we were getting better. There was a time when I was younger and far more idealistic when I thought we were ripping away the centuries of hate, bias, prejudice and becoming better than we had been. I guess I was just young. I saw what I wanted to see and believed what I wanted to believe about humanity. Worse, I saw what I wanted, even about people I thought I knew well.

Dear God, bombs are dropping, children are dying, and there is a rise in authoritarian governments who claim your name as their purpose, not just in this nation but across the world. In this nation, we have a rise in the illiterate, a disdain for science, for facts, even for books, and the truth of history. A distortion of your Word is entering our classrooms and public spaces at an alarming rate. Hate seems to be the new coin of the realm, and people are storing it in their souls as if it will save them. The marginalized, disenfranchised, those outside of what has been deemed normal, or maybe better stated ‘White, Christian, Heterosexual,” are all being attacked with a ferocity not seen in decades.

Dear God, are you there, are you listening? I am not asking for myself; there is plenty I might ask for myself, but I don’t want to bother you with the petty stuff. But God, this world could use just a bit of attention right now, just a poke or a prod to get these people using your name to suck the life out of the easily misled, the foolish and the furious who believe their lives can only be better at the expense of other peoples misery. Maybe you could strike a few pulpits with lightning? Flood a few rallies during their speeches? God, I would even take skywriting, just big letters in the sky:

“THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID YOU DUMB FUCKS!” 

Dear God, I know it might feel like too much for you to take on all at once, after all, you have been watching this unfold for a very long time. I get it, I do. I am exhausted after only sixty-six years. But really, this is your job; you signed on for it. So, could you kindly take it a bit more seriously? People are being hurt and dying for no reason other than the color of their skin, the person they love, or how they express their gender. God, I know you don’t make mistakes, so maybe you could just remind others of this one small thing: stop these fools in pulpits from cherry-picking your Word to serve their personal bigotry. Stop those in power from serving up their love of power with a side dish of hate. Just this, God, would go a long way toward bringing back those who have turned away from you.

Filed Under: Series: Dear God Tagged With: , , ,
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