You are here: Home / Archives for Modern Age

Uncivil Discourse

June 14, 2012 by

The other day I was called a “Godless Liberal” during a political debate; I pondered this before I responded. I understood my opponent was rather angry, furious if truth were told. If we had been speaking face-to-face, I suspect the ‘Godless Liberal’ would have been accompanied with finger pointing and looked something like this:

ou.org

GODLESS LIBERAL !

That said and his point made, he viewed me as ‘outside’ and thus not worthy of anything approaching civil discourse.

This entire exchange got me thinking about the state of our nation, not from a political standpoint, not from what we see in media but, from how we speak to one another. It got me thinking, outside of what boundary was I that this complete faceless stranger felt comfortable denigrating me in the most sexist terms all the while holding himself up as Christian, intellectually and morally superior?

Before I go on, by the way my response was “Yes, but you will never understand the nuance.”

Morals, Ethics, Principles, Values, Scruples, Integrity

Do these words have real meanings anymore? Can we say with certainty all societies have something akin to moral structures all members willingly agree with and abide by? When my little friend called me a Godless Liberal, what did he really mean? Did he understand what he meant or was he just parroting others mindlessly, just to have something to say because he was unable to debate the issue.

The first half of this year has been one of change for me; some of this change has been intentional and thus far challenging. Without going into detail, I have changed my mode of employment, at least for now. I have of course begun to expose deeply buried secrets. Finally, it is a Presidential election year; I admit it I love this season. I am a bit of wonk with a passion for a good debate especially if I can also dig into some research and history. This exchange though, this Godless Liberal along with other name calling got me thinking about how we have changed in our interpersonal relationships, how we have changed in our communication manners.

The question of Godliness and Godlessness, religious affiliation, worship both what and how, whether we recognize them or not, have been taking center stage in our public life for decades now. Though we are enjoined from doing so by our laws, even by our Constitution and by implication by our Bill of Rights, we judge each other by a set of Principles. Do we truly all agree to and apply the same rigorousness to our Morals, Ethics and Principles? Do we all truly walk the walk each and every day? One key to answering these questions is, are they all one and the same thing, different aspects but in fact the same thing. Personally, I look at that list and think they are not the same; they are instead building blocks.

I have been thinking about this all week.  This is what I have ultimately come up with, tell me what you think and how you would respond to the scenarios, I have posed.

Morals: Primarily derived from religious thinking, all societies have basic frameworks that seem to be consistent though some are more deranged than others in their application of the rules.

  • Don’t be dishonest (Lie, Cheat, Steal)
  • Don’t be promiscuous and be faithful in your marriage (don’t covet either)
  • Don’t murder (killing might be okay for the right reason)
  • Be compassionate to those weaker than yourself (feed the hungry, care for the sick and aged)

Ethics: Primarily defined for businesses to operate in the marketplace, organizations establish these to clarify the rules and ensure everyone knows them. Personally, I think in many cases Business Ethics are the organizations smoke screen but that is just me. I have seen these few from past employers they have rarely been adhered to when they got in the way of profit.

  • Don’t pay bribes (Influence peddling)
  • Respect for individuals (Civil and Human Rights)
  • Respect for local culture
  • Respect for environment
  • Deliver profit to shareholders

Principles, Values, Scruples & Integrity: I have combined these because they are all personal in my mind. We develop personal and interpersonal relationships within society and with individuals, how we interact is based on our own evolution. Despite what some would have us believe we are not born Principled or with Integrity. When we come into the world, we are nothing more than empty vessels waiting to be filled.

So what are these amorphous ideals some of us develop over time and where do they come from?

Scenario 1:

Gladys has been part of a workplace Lottery pool for five-years.   Each week she and ten others put $1 into the pool and purchase a PowerBall ticket with the intent of splitting the proceeds should they win. Gladys collects the money and buys ten tickets for the pool, this week she also buys a ticket for herself with $1. Well, well one of the tickets wins the PowerBall, if Gladys is principled what will she do?

Scenario 2:

Pontdre is a company with well-documented business ethics that all new employees are required to read and sign their agreement too. George developed a new product with the potential of huge profits but it will require that Pontdre actively petition for a change to current government policies affecting the livelihood of another industry or group and could also cause significant negative ecological effects on nearby towns. How does Pontdre resolve this?

I am not going to provide a scenario for Morals; we can all come up with these. I will leave you with this though; I essentially filtered the 10 Commandments down to three (similar to George Carlin) and then added one of my own. Most religions agree with these as foundational notwithstanding the simpler language I used. I find myself in a quandary as I consider the issue of Morals, Ethics, Principles, Values, Scruples and Integrity –

Circling back to the idea of GODLESS LIBERAL and my answer of YES

If I read my 4 Commandments, I walk the walk every day. Thus, I have Morals.

If I read my Ethics, as a businessperson who has worked in a variety of roles for Fortune 100 companies and as an Independent Business Owner; I walk the walk and talk the talk. In fact, I have been trouble for doing so in the past.

If I read my definitions and scenarios for the last group, I know my answers and believe I am a person of Integrity, a Principled person.

Godless, perhaps if I apply the definition as society defines it this is true; I am not religious only spiritual.

Liberal, indeed I have been and am now a Progressive to the Left of Center Liberal in most things.

I wonder though, does this mean there is something wrong that makes me deserving of the other name-calling? I wonder how we get the name-calling toned down.

Stoning, burning at the stake, dunking have all been outlawed in the US of A for many years now; with Godless Liberal and very public Slut Walking making a comeback, I have to wonder what is next?

Filed Under: Society, Sociology & Evolution Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,

History isn’t Mutable, But we are

June 4, 2012 by

Roe v. Wade, 410 U.S. 113, 22 January 1973

It is an important date, the reason this is date is important? It was nearly a one year after I lay on that cold table begging a doctor and two nurses not to perform an Instillation Abortion, while my mother waited impatiently in the waiting room. They did not have my agreement or permission, they apparently did not need it, they had what they needed, hers.

Forty years, that is how long it has been, forty years and some months. Until this weekend, I haven’t really thought about the reality that I had an illegal abortion. I guess in the back of my mind I have always known, always had in one of the boxes I kept safe from examination, but until Friday when I first started writing this trilogy in Broken Chains, I hadn’t really put the pieces together. I had always wondered why even when I begged them to stop, they didn’t; I knew the law yet they didn’t stop. I had always wondered why, what amounted to induced labor and then a D&C was performed well past my first trimester, I knew the law even in the early days of Roe v. Wade, this wasn’t the norm. I sometimes wondered how this happened, why my pediatrician the doctor who had cared for me my entire life did this to me with only my mother’s signature and why that little hospital allowed it, never reported it just turned a blind eye.

By the time I returned to and thought to ask, my doctor was dead. His practice had been taken over by two other doctors, two young and enthusiastic doctors and all new nurses who were more than willing to answer my questions. I asked for my files, they weren’t so happy to hand those over, this was 1979 and there was nothing to force their compliance with my requests. I explained my request though, what I was looking for and why I was looking. I just wanted answers; I wanted my mother’s signature and the explanation. I would have done anything, begged, crawled across fire, walked on glass, offered my body as a sex slave for those answers. I was so raw and I believed I deserved to understand why two people who should have cared for me brutalized me so terribly. Finally, one of those young doctors took pity after listening to my story, he told me I could read the file in his office but I couldn’t have copies and I couldn’t take anything with me.

There was nothing there!

Oh, there was a positive pregnancy test and a sad note, because he had known me all my life. The next entry was the night I was admitted to the hospital, February 11, 1972, it said I spontaneously aborted (this means I miscarried) a Male Fetus, there were measurements in the file, I don’t remember them anymore precisely; he was nearly 5 inches and nearly 3 ounces. I never knew, actually I always imagined, but I didn’t know they documented this information or even cared, now I had another nightmare, did he draw one breath?

Next I went to the hospital, I asked for the records. They told me the same thing, they didn’t exist I was never there for an abortion. I was never there. I gave up. I had an illegal abortion but there was no proof, only that I had spontaneously miscarried, that was all it would ever say. Perhaps only I would know the truth. No one else, only me.

Choice is being able to say NO

Over the years I had hardened my heart against the empty place in my homes, my marriages and my life called childlessness. At some point I became a misopedist; putting it out convincingly I did not want children and was not unhappy with the turn of my life. This was not the truth, not my inner truth but it was the only truth I had that would stop people from handing me their children.

I have been told many times, we are never given more than we can bear, never more than we can survive. I suspect this might be true, I even suspect there are reasons why some are forged in much hotter fires. What we do with the wreckage determines who we become and how we will live our lives. It is rare that anyone has an epiphany changes direction and turns their life around entirely. Letting go of every injury, releasing every painful memory and creating a new person to stand in the place of the old one, victim to survivor is much slower and harder.

There are many vigils we sit as we mourn our lost innocence, lost childhoods and then finally kicking in the doors protecting memories. I write these as trilogies to show clear paths not just of terror, pain, suffering or horror; but of growth, recovering and even sometimes joy (I promise). I will get there, I will write them. This was the worst of it, the hardest to write the hardest to remember. This short interval, just over 1 year of my life set my feet on a path towards so many other life choices I all too often look back at this single year and ask;

What if?

The truth of what happened, it created in me some beliefs and truths that to this day I believe, they have never changed they are immutable.

‘Forgiveness isn’t free, I don’t owe it.’

‘Choice isn’t just about Yes, it is also about No.’

‘I will never do to anyone what was done to me, that is a choice that I have.’

‘Survival is not for those without compassion, you can never live entirely inside yourself or for yourself.’

I built strong walls and I was fortunate to have a good mind. I was able to escape behind the persona I built without much challenge. Much of that person was the true me; strong, smart, hardworking, driven even and sometimes funny. Unfortunately, that person was also guarded, stubborn, quick to cut a person out of my life, quick to walk away, unforgiving even. There are many things I grew to like about myself over the years; many things though remained hidden even from my friends, there were also many things I never loved, things I believed did not deserve to be loved. Now, as I explore my history I am learning that just maybe I was wrong in my judgment.

So now I am walking down the hallways of my mind, shaking the locks and rattling the doors. I didn’t get here all alone I know that. It wasn’t all bad, it couldn’t have been. These are just those pivotal moments, those points of darkness that I decided to finally shine light into. With that I leave trilogy II in Broken Chains with this quote which I think is apt:

‘Our life is always deeper than we know, is always more divine than it seems, and hence we are able to survive degradations and despairs which otherwise must engulf us.’

William James (1842 – 1910),  pioneering American psychologist and philosopher

Trilogy II – Broken Chains

Part I – No Bastards No Choice

Part II – Never Again, I will hate you

Broken Chains – Start at Part I

Filed Under: Series: Broken Chains Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

No Bastards No Choice

June 2, 2012 by

I have circled this memory so often, shaken this box more than once to determine if it rattled or if finally what was inside had turned to dust. Close hold, this is one I keep buried in the back of the closet and under lock and key, rarely even considering taking it out for closer examination, I know how these skeletons dance. Truth, I know how hot the firestorm will burn when I finally unwrap the chains, release the padlocks and set a match to the dried tinder, I know what is in this box.

I was fourteen the first time I understood what bastard meant. I had heard the term a few times; my second (adoptive) mother had used it in reference to me on more than one occasion, truthfully though I was never that

Florence Crittenton, Courtesy HistoryLink.org

curious as to its literal meaning. In January of 1972, I was sitting in the offices of Florence Crittenton Home for Unwed Mothers aka “The House of Another Chance” and my mother was explaining to the woman behind the desk “I would not be bringing another Bastard like me home”. Surprisingly, she also told the woman this was where my ‘slut’ mother was when she was pregnant with me, ‘like mother like daughter’. She made clear one of two things would happen, I would agree to a closed adoption or the state would strip my rights from me with her help. The ‘nice’ lady behind the desk helped explain that as a child myself, I would have no say in this matter, I had no rights and could not prevent this from happening to me or my child.

Did I mention I had hidden my pregnancy? By this time, I was just past my twelfth week and already had a small bump. I sat in that office arms wrapped around myself rocking and stunned by what was happening to me.

SeaDruNar – Seattle Drugs & Narcotics

Don’t let their glossy new look fool you, back in the early 1970’s they met in the basement of an old house in a not so nice part of Seattle. They were ‘famous’ for their approach to dealing with drug addicts and ‘bad-assed’ teenagers; addict-to-addict mentoring and complete immersion techniques that stripped you of your soul, your will, your entire self and then filled the empty spaces left with something new and presumably better. Don’t get me wrong, my badass at this stage of my life included a bit of inhaling now and again, but I was far from any addictions, certainly, I wasn’t in need of hardcore intervention. I was simply a scared fourteen-year-old, with a baby bump. My mother wasn’t having this, she had her heart set on a disappearing act and SeaDruNar was the ticket. After the first session the ex-addict who ran the teenage group told her it wasn’t the right place for me, I didn’t relate to their problems and issues and didn’t ‘share’ with the group.

A few days later, we were back, this time I was shoved into the adult group. These were grown people with grown people problems, led by two ex-addicts. This is where I learned some of my mother’s story, but as part of her sharing with the group she also shared what an ungrateful and wretched child I was. She threw her head back and howled her own pain, instead of chewing off her own leg to release the trap; she gnawed at mine drawing blood as she shred me in front of her willing audience. I resisted their demands I beg for her forgiveness; I should given them what they claimed as due.

Three days of Hell – You Win

For those truly hard cases, those unrepentant hard to crack nuts SeaDruNar use to run ‘camps’. Three-day away camps, where you sit in rooms on the floor with little to eat, infrequent breaks and are verbally, emotionally and sometimes physically abused until you are broken. Sounds fun, right? Back in the early 1970’s, this was common treatment for addicts and hard-cases. There were no real medical doctors, no trained psychologists or addiction specialists present; just ex-addicts, ex-convicts and us the hard-cases who they hadn’t gotten through yet and whose parents signed permission slips for them to abuse.

Did this treatment work? I don’t know, this would be my last experience with SeaDruNar, my mother certainly got what she wanted from it.

I walked into this thinking I would sit for three days and survive. I would ignore the screaming, crying and sob stories. I did not have to give in, I didn’t have to talk to them, didn’t have to answer their questions; I knew the rules. They could scream at me, I could sit silent and there was nothing they could do. They didn’t scare me. I only had to get through three days. This wasn’t quite the truth of the ‘camp’; I didn’t quite understand the rules.

I didn’t know about lack of sleep.

Really me 1971 School Picture

I didn’t know what pressure on your bladder could do to you, or urinating on yourself can do to your ego. I didn’t know about public shaming, or being forced to sit in your own filth for hours before being allowed to change and bath.

I didn’t know. I didn’t know what fear could do under those conditions.

By day three of this hell I was destroyed. My heart, my soul, my fight was gone. There was nothing left of me. I was convinced I was unworthy to nurture life, let alone consider trying to care for it. I was shown pictures of deformed children and they were mine, because I had smoked pot, I had smoked hash and this is what drugs do I was told. I was an addict, I was a slut I was nothing, I was beneath contempt; I believed, but then I had been hanging on by a thread anyway it didn’t take much for me to believe.

“Yes, you win. You win, how could I have ever thought to want to keep my baby, that I might be worthy. You win.”

By now, I was at my sixteenth week of pregnancy. My mother was running out of time, soon my father would find out and she would be out of options.

The Abortion I never wanted was arranged. I was picked up from the “camp” house by mother dear. No time to change my mind to gather back my soul, to rethink or re-feel. No time to beg, though I begged the doctor and the nurses;

“NO, Please, NO. Please don’t do this. Please I don’t want this No.”

I curled on the table on my side. They strapped me down to keep me supine, to stop me from moving.

“No, please don’t please don’t.”

“There will be a slight pinch this won’t hurt,” someone said that just before they stuck needles into my womb.

I was given an Instillation abortion and sent home to wait.

What happens when choice is not choice and waiting is all we can do, the next box I will unlock in Breaking Chains. 

Filed Under: Series: Broken Chains Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Spare a Job, Brother?

May 24, 2012 by

John W. Geary
Courtesy of Wikipedia

Men of authority have employed all the destructive agents around them to promote their own personal interests at the sacrifice of every just, honorable and lawful consideration. 

John White Geary

Brother, can you spare a job?

Since the 1980’s we have been bleeding jobs in this nation. With every recession, recovery is slower, unemployment numbers stagnate and US Citizens sit on the sidelines as their opportunities to pursue the elusive American Dream are shattered.

Meg Whitman, CEO of HP announced there would be a force reduction of 10% due to over a billion dollars in losses last fiscal year. In real numbers, that 27,000 Americans will lose their jobs.

Since 2001, we have lost 42,400 factories, 75% of them employed over 500 people when they were still in business. Overall, we have lost 5.5 million jobs, forever since 2001.

There were 2.8 Billion cell phones sold worldwide, can you guess how many were manufactured in the US? If you guessed zero, you would have been right.[1]

We have 15.1% of our citizens, 46.2 million people in this nation living in poverty, the highest level since 1993. Without jobs, they don’t stand a chance of lifting themselves out either.[2]

Now before you get all weepy, just think all those closed factories are sitting there just waiting for the Job Creators to open them back up, create jobs and fill them with production equipment so Americans can go back to work! All we need to do is cut them some slack, stop punishing their success and give them more tax breaks so they can ‘invest’ in America. Of course, there are a few additional items on the agenda, lest we get ahead of ourselves;

  • Stop being so damned greedy you out of work Americans let those corporations pay you what your worth! How does $1.30 an hour sound? That would make you just a little bit cheaper than your competition over in China that is a whole .06¢. This is what manufacturing labor pay in China costs; the Philippines and India lag slightly behind but I am betting if you agreed to less than a living wage you could be back at work in a heartbeat. [3]
  • But hold on there, all those nasty Communist – Socialist countries way over there (China, Vietnam, Philippines, India) they have one up on us and those Global Industrialists sure do love them for it, can you guess what

    Our Factories Today

    it is? Out of guesses yet? Let me help you, the Government invests in Infrastructure! This investment includes building beautiful state of the art factories chalk full of the latest and greatest cost saving technologies, as well as, housing nearby for workers (primarily a Chinese production). All of this paid for by the government!

  • Finally, all those wonderful Socialist – Communist nations offer something we don’t, want to try guessing one more time, no? Tax breaks, that’s right those nations are acting as tax havens for the American based multinational companies. They take advantage of the infrastructure your hard work, the backbreaking efforts of generations of Americans put into this nation and the taxes we all continue to pay but have sent all the jobs offshore. In fact from 1999-2008, employment in American foreign affiliates rose 30%, creating a total of just over 10 million new jobs, while during the same time we bled 21 million jobs.[4]
    • All of the numbers above are from 2010; these were the most current I could find. They are nonetheless an accurate assessment of our situation.
    • Finally we have the drone attacks on Unions, most especially on Public Sector; Teachers, Police, Firefighters in particular. These days it seems the public sector employee (except the elected official who seems to see him or herself as above the fray) is a figure to be vilified and abused, the enemy and a person to be held in greatest contempt. The meme is these public servants, protectors, educators, first responders and  guardians are not valued members of our community but instead are leeches, sucking at the public teat. This of course is an inaccurate depiction of all our public service resources; police, firefighters, teachers, animal control officers all of them play a vital role in our communities for some reason though there has been a shift away from the respect we once held for them, now we want them to provide their services free of charge.

What does this all mean? Poverty is on the rise though our unemployment numbers are slowly going down. The recession that began in December of 2007 isn’t ending as quickly as we want or need to rebuild a robust and vibrant economy. Austerity is the name of the game; though this strategy has decimated other nations many would have us walk this path insisting it is the fault of the unemployed, underemployed and the poor themselves for their situation.

Click to Expand Image

Don’t have a job? It is your fault; you are lazy according to State Representative Josh Byrnes (R) of Iowa who had this to say in late 2011; There are jobs out there and I think the problem is that some people think some of these jobs are beneath them. When you are unemployed I don’t think there should be any job “below” you. In truth it’s probably more of an ego or perception issue than being lazy. Thank goodness our immigrating ancestors to the United States didn’t have that attitude. According to a study by Deloitte there is a skills gap in the US, this study performed late last year found 600,000open positions in manufacturing with no talent to fill the openings. Really? None, at all nowhere in the US, hard to believe isn’t it? There are no skilled workers anywhere in the US. Could this be the fault of the US worker or is it our education system is failing our children, not preparing them for trades. So here we are the first post-industrial nation and on the cliff of disaster. Our American Dreams, the idea each generation could do better than their parents a thing of the past, most certainly they cannot in this economy or with the future outlook not to change soon.  Public schools have cut out all those frivolous programs, trades, shop and the arts. College isn’t for everyone and these days the cost of a college education is staggering, but

Courtesy USA Today

wait if college isn’t the answer what is? According to Deloitte and employers we have a skills gap, is the answer Vocational or even Apprenticeship in a skilled trade? Well, shockingly, there is little to be found on either but what limited information there is, VoTech training can run into the Tens of Thousands. I found tuitions for Machine Operators at $11,999 for 950 instruction hours including books, the jobs one could hope for after completing this training? Nationally is $41,000, if you took out a subsidized student loan at 6.8% interest you will pay $28,160 for your training which includes $16,161 in interest payments.

The above is just one example, there are others but the real issue is we have no recourse. We are behind the eight ball. We have lost entire industries; we have permanently lost jobs that will never come back. We are not prepared for the new post-industrial America. We have not adapted to the future we have created through runaway greed and unrestrained Capitalism. Our children are not educated or trained and there is an entire swath of our population convinced we don’t owe them a future.

Are you one of them?

John Maynard Keynes
Courtesy Wikipedia

Capitalism is the astounding belief that the most wickedest of men will do the most wickedest of things for the for the greatest good of everyone.

John Maynard Keynes

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

Tainted Meat for $300

May 21, 2012 by

Oliver Wendell Holmes
Courtesy Wikipedia

“I like to pay taxes. With them I buy civilization.”
— Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

I’ll take tainted meat for $300.

Rasmussen Reports, in their latest poll 64% of Americans would prefer a Government with fewer services and lower Taxes. You can see the wording of the question here. Many on the Right are gleefully reporting the results, who can blame them for this, 1,000 likely American voters said they would be willing give up services for less taxes; or did they?

A search of the Internet doesn’t turn up much in the way of an answer. No polls or Blogs listing all the services American Citizens are themselves willing to give up to lower their taxes. Interestingly, there are a number of Blogs, forums and Opinions from political pundits and candidates of what government services others should do without.

We have many recommendations for what we should do without:

  1. Public Education, hie thee forth and get that child into private school! Don’t worry your lack of income is not a detriment, or is it? Of course it is. You can’t save money to put into a fund and there are limited waivers if you aren’t already saving. Never mind, throw your child to the sharks of underfunded and understaffed public schools and hope for the best. The Heritage Foundation takes a great deal of exception to anything smacking of federal intervention in education this includes establishing national standards.
  2. There are a number of politicians and hangers-on who have floated the idea we should privatize all health provisioning, this would include Medicare and those pesky Veterans benefits. That’s right, just hand them vouchers so they can all go to the private market and buy their own insurance! Medicaid? Never you mind about Medicaid, we don’t need no stinking Medicaid that is a state problem and we will just cut that one right off, let them deal with it.

Now let’s talk about all those annoying regulations and the Bureaus that go with them, the really are just a drag on the economy. Tying up all that money and creating havoc for those job creators!

  1. EPA – poof gone like the wind, who needs clean air anyway, not all the people who breathe it. Why worry about carbon dioxide, sulfate acids and the 100 Polyaromatic hydrocarbons containing Benzene; the CAPITALISTS would make certain to use their profits towards clean air and water projects without government regulations and oversight; history shows this is true.
  2. FDA – crunch right on through those irksome bureaucrats, those factory farms wouldn’t send tainted, genetically modified or poisoned foods to market; we know that, right? While we are on the subject of the FDA, let’s not worry anymore about all those Drugs that might not do what they say they will, or worse do more than expected to hasten us on our way; never mind those wonderful CAPITALISTS at those Drug companies really have our best interests at heart, don’t they?
  3. FEMA – trailers are storm magnets take your help and be gone, well until the big one hits than come on down we sure could use some of that good ole Federal money. Yes, indeed folks there are some talking heads who just think the Federal Emergency Management Agency should be taken by the undertow of budget cuts. Never you mind they have been part of the rebuilding teams for every natural and unnatural disaster in the United States since 1988. FEMA, with one exception, has done an exemplary job that exception was addressed shortly after the Katrina disaster and can be found here.

Those are just a few of my current favorites. The truth is the nation is moving to the Right, in fits and starts but to the Right we are inescapably marching. We are losing our sense balance, fair play and compassion for our fellow citizen instead taking on the tune of ‘I got mine get yours or die’.

The unbalanced barrage of Conservative Media combined with the dumbing down of America has done its work. When asked, a typical Conservative / Right Wing polltaker will gleefully pound the YES to the following:

  1. Do you believe in smaller government and less taxes
  2. Do you believe in less taxes and less restrictions on business
  3. Do you think the Job Creators should be taxed less so they can create more jobs
  4. Would you agree that government should lower taxes and deliver less services
  5. Do you agree the religion should be taught in public schools

Ah yes, our frantic Conservative has just answered YES YES YES in GODS name YES.

Now let’s us ask some legitimate Poll questions of that same Typical Conservative, middle to lower income person. They are likely living paycheck to paycheck, little to no savings with a couple of children running about the house.

  1. Are you willing to pay for Fire, Ambulance and Police emergency response as a Service
  2. Are you happy with the proposed voucher system for Medicare, you will receive $6,000 per year the rest will be your responsibility
  3. Are you happy with no road repair throughout your state, city or county
  4. Are you happy with the elimination of all public parks
  5. Do you agree the Quran, Bible, Torah and Tipitaka are to be taught as Comparative Religion in all public schools
  6. Do you believe you should have the right to sue if a company poisons you through their negligence

Do you think the answers would be different? What do you think the answer would be if you asked those questions? Did you by the way notice the graph up above, what was the first thing you noticed? What would happen if you asked the next question, what would the answer be to this one?

  1. Are you willing to pay taxes to have some of those services returned to you? Which ones?

I worry for us as a nation, truly I do. We are bamboozled by one-minute sound bites rather than facts. We are enthralled by the scoundrel and love a clown, we love a good scandal and would rather spend our time following a fool and folly than demanding ethical behavior from our candidates and elected officials.

Lord Thomas Robert Dewar
Courtesy Wikipedia

“The only thing that hurts more than paying an income tax is not having to pay an income tax.”

— Lord Thomas Robert Dewar

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Secrets Define Us

May 17, 2012 by

Yesterday the dam broke. Something roared to the surface as well, something I have hinted at in past posts.
In my industry we have a saying, “close hold”. It means things that are not revealed, instead they are held closely to the chest. I have always treated my history as ‘close hold’; it is mine and mine alone. I will often hint at it, throw pebbles into passive lake waters to watch the ripple affect but my entire adult life I have treated most of my history as a dark secret. This ‘close hold’ in part has been a tribute to those who never deserved the gift of my silence. The other part has been the lesson learned so many years ago I have simply been unable to let it go the lesson of shame and fear.

I was told by one who should have loved me should have protected me, should have taught me to speak truth, chose instead to do no such thing. Instead they flung me into a vortex; an emotional black hole demanding my silence because the alternative was my own destruction and their shame, worse even than this would be the loss of esteem from the person I loved most in the world, I was convinced if I spoke up I would be spurned, found forever wanting. They convinced me, I was not believable, that even if I were to scream my pain and hurt, tell what was done to me no one would believe me. I was less than,I was …….

Slut

Liar

Whore

These were words thrown in anger at an eleven-year-old child. Words of power. Words of anger. Words burned into a soul still unformed and open. Words that fell like the Blacksmiths Pein on the soft Anvil that was my young and untrained heart.  Words that would set my feet on a path for years to come. Convinced of my lack I would unwind what little of my ego remained and offer my heart and my body to anyone who would validate my conviction of valueless. Unable to fight back, I would accept the brutality even at times welcome it as it corroborated what I knew about myself, what I had been told; that I was less than and undeserving of love or care.

All this, all the brutality. All the loss because my mother wanted to preserve her standing. She failed an eleven year old child who had been gang raped. She failed to report. She failed even to tell that child’s father. She demanded that child’s silence and even blamed that child for the brutality of that rape.

That child was me. I knew who raped me and I would have to attend school with my rapists for two years. Because no action was taken against them I continued to be emotionally and physically brutalized by my classmates. Slut was something whispered in the halls as I walked by, not for something I did but for something my mother failed to do.

My heart was damaged, my core was broken and I retreated to an internal life, one I don’t believe I have ever quite stopped living in. My pragmatism is my strength and my defense. My views on forgiveness were formed in 1968, though I couldn’t have defined them as clearly as I can today they haven’t changed very much.

Life journeys are odd things. A family member told me 15 years ago that no one else in the family could have survived the shooting as I did; no one else was strong enough. I thought at the time, damn I don’t think I would wish that strength on anyone. I wish I wasn’t that strong, I wish I didn’t have, had never had those life experiences that made me strong enough to survive that.

The Vortex of my History, National Geographic

Not all my parents have passed yet. Some have though, my biological and adopted fathers are both gone. The mother of my heart, my stepmother is gone. My biological mother and my adoptive mother are both still in this world.

My brother has said to me my mother did what she thought was best at the time, I will never accept this answer no person with a heart does what she did to a child thinking it was best for that child. We were both adopted but our experiences were very different. I have always wondered why, I don’t think we will ever know.

Filed Under: Series: Broken Chains Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Zaftig in a Mirror

May 10, 2012 by
Fears & Tears

My 2 Fears

I have been holding this in, trying hard not to spew venom over my sisters on the fat side of the scale. Yes, I said it…..FAT. Let’s all be honest, for just a brief moment, we are out here in the world, our scales register above thin and perfect, our BMI well it is imperfect also. We shop where we can, if it isn’t in stores designed specifically for us where all sizes start at 14 and head up from there it is in designated parts of the store, usually tucked away where others can’t see the fat girls shop. Some stores, such as Neiman Marcus, don’t sell plus sizes in their stores, not even in the Outlets but they will take our money on-line; I guess they don’t want their more rotund clients wandering the aisles and scaring other customers with their succulence.

24 Hours

My 24 Hourglass

Now that is out of the way, I am Zaftig (I love that word, don’t you). Have been for years and have a sneaking suspicion it isn’t going to change perceptively without surgical intervention which I am not at this time considering. If my doctor says I must consider intervention for my health, I would do so but he has not and thus I accept my hourglass figure being more a 24 hour than a single hour. The popularity of my abundant assets went out of style more than a century ago, along with corsets and bustles. It isn’t, mind you that I am in love with the view in my mirror, I have simply made peace with the idea there are battles I am not going to win, one of them is the one with my waistline. Frankly, my ego could not withstand the struggle along with all the other things I regularly fail at accomplishing.

After Surgery and One Year Maybe

One Year After Surgery Computer Generated

I know that I am Zaftig, Well-Padded, Succulent, or hell just plain fat, I am betting if you are you know you are too. With this knowledge in mind and knowing you are out there why oh why, pray tell me this do you insist on dressing in clothing that was never intended to contain your more ample curves? Why, please help me understand when there are plenty of wonderful options in your size do you insist your size is still in single digits or worse comes with JR in from of the single digit. Help me understand; is it self-delusion on your part? Do you believe the labels on those packages that say you will shrink two dress sizes by wearing those magic Lycra All-In-One

We all want to see this in the mirror. The perfect hourglass.

panties that tuck you in from stem to stern; you didn’t check your mirror before you left the house did you? Or, do you simply have a magic mirror, one of those fun house mirrors that distorts reality and lies to you all at once. If you have one of these, may I borrow it please, my ego could use a boost.

I am not trying to be a hater; really, I don’t want to take a rubber mallet to your fragile ego. I know how hard it is to find clothes that fit and make you feel good. It is possible though to find clothing that fits and doesn’t make you appear as if you are wearing either a potato sack or a sausage casing, these are not the only two options. I will be honest with you my rotund sisters, when I see you in the mall; I feel your pain, until I notice what you have chosen to wear in public. I know how hard it is to find clothing that makes you feel beautiful and feminine. But, really, does a dress two sizes too small and so short you are unable to bend over for fear of showing every bit of your so not sexy underwear; is this really making you feel desirable? Do you honestly believe what is exquisite on an infant; you know those adorable and kissable little

www.flickriver.com

Fat Baby Thighs are kissable

rolls of fat around their thighs is also attractive on a grown woman? You could not be more wrong, I promise you those rolls of fat on your thighs is anything but attractive especially framed by a mini-dress and high-heels, it is this sight that makes me want to shake you till your teeth rattle and you cellulite realigns.

Believe me when I tell you us succulent, bigger girls are still beautiful and still have wonderful gifts to offer the world. We are not defined by society that tries to shame us into boxes with labels that are hurtful and ugly. This doesn’t mean though that we should simply ignore all decorum, throw all good taste to the wind and not use good sense and our mirrors. We should at all times, celebrate who we are, just as we are right now. But ladies, mirrors please.

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

Inside Domestic Abuse

May 3, 2012 by

The 112th Congress has refused to reauthorize the 1994 Violence Against Women Act, significant in the original passage it opened the door to what had previously been viewed as private family matters and provided both education and funding to help victims and law enforcement. Never, since its original passage has it been the subject of a partisan fight on the floor of either house of Congress, yet this year it is. The overall tone of the Right, women are of no particular value unless they are in the kitchen, pregnant and silent. The objection to the Bill, is the expansion of services, the boogie man of ‘other’; Gay, Transgender, Native Tribes and Immigrant Women are included in this years re-authorization, we all know none of us are part of humanity and should be served, right?

I wrote this several years ago. At the time, it was wrenching to write. Today it remains wrenching for me to read. To answer the question, I know first hand what it is to be a survivor of Domestic Abuse. I also know how very important this Bill is to all those Women and Men who are now and will be in the future Victims. I ran from an extremely volatile, horribly violent relationship after having been hospitalized multiple times with multiple broken bones, I knew I would not see my eighteenth birthday if I stayed. I had nowhere to go, no money and no support structure; still I ran as far and as fast as I could go.

I survived.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Why we stay, pitiful in our bruised bodies and our excuses, our fear palatable yet even before we are healed we return to the hell that is home. Why do we stay? The question is asked repeatedly, often with a tone of derision. Our answer, sometimes that we love him, sometimes worse that he doesn’t mean to hurt us he loves us. The truth though is harder for us to admit to you when you ask and ourselves; this is all we deserve and we have nowhere else to go.

How did we get here?

Is it because we seek what we believe that we deserve? Do we have a neon sign swinging over our head that says “I am here and vulnerable”; I will take it, whatever you dish out. I will take it and even be grateful to you for staying one more day, one more month, one more year.

Have we been so convinced by our mothers, our fathers, or society that we must conform, not speak out; not fight back that we will take the slaps, the closed fists, the kicks and on our knees begging for it to end still be thinking that he loves us and if only we do better it will not happen again?

Why is it that we stay? 

Why do we make excuses, transparent excuses for the broken teeth, the black eyes, the bruised arms? Why do others believe our excuses? Do they really think that we are so incapable of walking from our beds to our baths that we run into doors once a month or once a week? Is it easier to believe that we are so clumsy that we cannot walk up or down a flight of stairs? Do those who claim to care for us find it easier to ignore the truth than acknowledge that we are in danger?

Why is it that we allow ourselves to be so brutalized? What happens to us that our flight or fight instinct is entirely broken? We find no comfort, realizing even those to whom we reach out for help find us incomprehensible in our pain. Even if we finally find it in our spirits to run, to escape we are broken by the prison of our shame. Our defeat is what we carry with us; our inability to explain our willingness to take what our abuser gave; his love in closed fists, slaps, kicks, hate filled words that tore down the walls of our humanity and convinced us that we had no value in our homes or in the world.

Run, with Nothing but You

The telephone, our greatest enemy each time it rings we jump through our skin; we know it might be him. We know we are still weak and frail; that we have no defenses against his apologies and his protestations of his own weakness. Even through our nightmares; those screaming, cold sweat nightmares; we know that if we hear his sugar coated voice telling us that it will never happen again; we might believe him because we need. Who else will love us now? He has destroyed all that was ever lovable in us. We know that in our heart and soul; in whatever humanity we have left we know that we might listen and might return. It will be good for a while; as good as it was in the beginning. Then it will start again, we know that too; even knowing these absolute truths; we are weak and fearful and lonely.

Our frailty during our initial freedom, so tenuous, unreal to us because there is no one to confirm our existence and we don’t know where to begin. The slightest sound behind us is no longer the precursor to pain. The footsteps on the stairs, not a reason to fear but maybe a friend come to call instead. Bumps in the night no longer herald a rape by the person who promised to love and care for us. Still all those sounds send us into a paroxysm of fear, self-doubt and finally anger that our lives will never be without our abuser because he is inside of us; he has replaced everything  that was good with his vileness. We may have escaped him physically but we will never escape him fully, we think this now and in our hearts know this as a truth. We have lost ourselves to his definition of us, weak and of no value.

Nightmares

Our minds work in miraculous ways. If we can stay gone long enough we begin to heal and rebuild. We can begin to take the abuse he called love and place it in appropriate boxes sealing them tightly and marking them as our hated history. When the boxes are full of our past we can stack them in a room within our mind padlock the door; knowing that some day we might return to examine them to try to understand what led us there; but not today. Today just stack the boxes tightly, shut the door and turn the key. Face each day knowing that the door exists and all the boxes exist waiting for us to be strong and come back to learn; but not today. That we might revisit them in our nightmares and run screaming down the corridors of our sleeping mind; waking in cold sweats and shaking in fear; this we can escape. This will happen for some of us it will happen forever, when we least expect it sometimes at the end of what we thought was a great day. In our nightmares the maniacal horrors of our past will sneak through the cracks of that door we locked to terrorize us; to remind us of what was or what might have been.

Future Glory

Our history does not have to hold us hostage; we can shape our future we can redefine ourselves. We were somebody before they arrived to tear us down. Somewhere else in our mind we have a room with a locked door that contains the “us” before them, before the abuse. We have the key to that door also, even if it is lost in the trash that our abuser has piled on us. We have the ability to unlock that door and find the “me” that was before them. Perhaps we will find there were reasons we let them in, the neon sign that was lifted above our heads inviting them in; we can fix this. Possibly we will only find ourselves in the here and now that we are stronger now, more able to face today because of our past. Perhaps we will only find only that we can let go, say no more and look forward without fear.

Whatever we find we will ultimately know that we are precious, worth more than the blows, the slaps, the kicks, the venom that dripped from the lips of our abuser. We will know no amount of pain masked as love is the truth and abuse is not the reality that we deserve in our lives. We will roar our anger and our frustration at the waste of our days in agony rather than joy. We will cry out our pain. We will whisper our validations of self and finally scream our truths in the wind if no one else will hear us.

We will most certainly stand free of what was told to us as the truth knowing finally it was a lie.   

Filed Under: Society Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hope in Peaches

April 30, 2012 by

I have Peaches! Alright, they aren’t big juices, luscious and fuzzy skinned Peaches, but they are peaches nonetheless. They are growing on a little twig of a tree in my front yard planted just a year ago. The poor thing still has braces, but it has enthusiastically reached out and produced seven lovely little Peaches.

Now I know most people wouldn’t be impressed by this small, okay possibly minuscule crop. Nevertheless, I am in awe. First, I have a black thumb, usually killing all things green. The first three trees that were planted in my front yard died within months of their arrival. Next, this little tree really isn’t a ‘tree’ yet, more a stem with delusions of future grandeur as a tree.

But still, I have Peaches! It is spring the days are lovely and growing hotter and longer. Spring always makes me happy, that short prelude just before the furnace blast of summer in Texas.

I was outside picking up after the bad azzed neighborhood kids today; they seem content to leave their trash in my yard. So there I was wandering the front yard garbage bag in hand, looked up at my stick with leaves, there they were my Peaches!

Sometimes it is the smallest things that make you smile.

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , ,

I Am What I Am

April 30, 2012 by

All week I struggled with an idea that wouldn’t come. Honestly, the world has been on my last good nerve lately; caused my creativity to take a sharp turn towards a dark corner and remain there. For the past week, perhaps two, I have felt as if the inspiration muse has beaten me severely about the head and shoulders and then sent me to the timeout corner without my breakfast, lunch or dinner. It isn’t for lack of thoughts or ideas, no this isn’t the problem it is more than this, indeed it is something else altogether.

Lately I have been struggling with the world. I do this sometimes; the realm of politics, justice and social behaviors weighs on me, yet it is also safe to say I am a bit of a junkie when it comes to politics and world news. Though when I started this blog I swore (yes, I really did), I would not delve into the world beyond my front door, leaving these all too often controversial subjects for another site I write on. Here on QBG I would try to make friends, keep it light and join the blogosphere on a less divisive note; hiding my more contentious side under the table and behind the linen cloth.

Do we all simply have a natural bent to us? I suspect this is the truth of it. I hope I am not naturally scandalous and argumentative (though by many accounts this is my nature). I know I am by nature curious and have a deep well of compassion; maybe this is what draws me to certain issues repeatedly. I have always questioned the status quo; it drove my parents crazy and made my teachers want to set me on fire at times (they settled for sending me out to the hallway and later for suspending me).

Recently I have fought with what to say and when. This is another part of my nature I struggle with, that is my natural leaning toward privacy especially about my past. Though I want to amuse and make light of some of lifes moments and our human foibles, I would also like to be able to use my history to teach. This is hard, my history isn’t always easy to reveal, I have kept it so tightly held for decades. Part of my reasoning was there were many who would be hurt by my revelations; I wasn’t willing to do harm even where that harm was justly deserved. Now, well now I have the difficult time of unlocking the doors and breaking the walls built over so many years that have preserved my privacy and my sanity.

So, my silence has been me sitting in my timeout corner contemplating my navel, though not entirely in silence. What I struggled with writing all week finally was completed, instead of making it to QBG I decided it belonged with my other very political writing; it is titled Propaganda and the American Psyche.

I also worked through my thinking about revelations, how they affect us individually and interpersonally. Sometimes they hurt a great deal; other times well they just make things a little bit better. I suspect I am not going to change the world, maybe not even myself a great deal anymore, what I leave this entry with is the idea that “I am what I am”.

I will bet you thought this began with Popeye, didn’t you? In fact, this really started with the great Gilbert & Sullivan operetta The Pirates of Penzance and the song I am a Pirate King. So I am leaving you with my favorite Pirate King, Kevin Kline.

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , ,
«Previous Page
Next Page»