A Question of Racism

I deliver things, that is what I do. A few years ago, I cooked for people, but that was a lifetime in the past. Now I deliver things.

Here is a little anecdote for your perusal and moral valuation.

Let me start by saying that I try to be open minded and do indeed attempt to overcome my shortfalls. We all have our prejudices and how we deal with them shows something of the character of the person.

Yesterday Nelson Mandela past away and his passing is on the minds of every one. He was a great man who helped to shape more than his country. Our world is a better place because of what he stood for. Frankly, our government could learn a lesson or two from that esteemed man.

Now for my little yarn:

I had been making deliveries all day long and finally made it to my last one, yey! I got to the house and waited for the gate to open. Yes, it was a place that had a gate and lots of money behind it to protect. As I was pulling up to the garage the owner came out to greet me. This is normal in many cases, the owner has been waiting for their package and wants to finally see it.

Usually I go over the steps of the delivery and begin to think about what the conversation will be like. Usually the conversation is only the mechanics of the delivery, where to put the box, where to sign on the forms, and have a nice day. Sometimes though, the customer and I will talk about things little more then the banal basics and I like to be ready for this.

As I was backing up to the garage, I saw the guy was black. This is nothing unusual, but the first thing I thought of was the death of Mandela and what this man thought of the ramifications of it.

Then I remembered that I had not felt the urge to have this conversation with any one else all day long. I thought about this for a moment and wondered if I was being a little hypocritical. Yet I was curious to know what he thought about the subject. 

I decided to wait and see if the man would open the subject and if he did, then I could query him about it. Yet it still bothered me that I felt the need to even ask the question of this man in the first place.

The subject never came up and all we talked about was where he wanted the package put. And that was that. He got his stuff and I left.

I like to think I am a progressive thinker and open minded, yet I run into this kind of thing once in a while and I wonder if I am the person I want to be, or am I merely acting that way.

What do you think?

olc 

Things for Thanks

OK, so everyone says we need to count our blessing and not the things that bring us down. This is a good philosophy. This is my take on it.

The other day, the night before Thanksgiving as a matter of fact, the weather was foul, snow blew side ways, the road was getting icy and the sun was going away and I had 20 miles down a road a road that was dark and in bad shape. There was this delivery half way to Marshall and I had the pleasure of performing it.

I called the people at the house to find out if the conditions were good for the delivery and had a general idea on where to go. She said they were up the side of the mountain with the snow coming down, but thought it was OK. I was a little concerned about my van getting up to their place, but kept going. I finally made it to the gate guarding the residents within.

My van could not even get to the keypad to open the gate.

I called the people and explained my predicament. I did not relate my concern for getting home due to slippery roads. I managed a 5 point turnaround without slipping off the road. At last I was on the way home to a nice warm fire and my Runtyun.

 I was determined to get home in one piece, but I wanted to get there, so I went slowly and made it past cars that were not as cautious as me. The police, fire department and tow trucks were on scene so I felt no need to stop and help. 

After a while, after passing a few more cars parked on the side of the road, either waiting for the sand trucks to go by, or stuck due to icy conditions, I got behind a little red sedan. By now I was feeling confident in my ability to navigate the mess coming from the sky, but this guy was going so slow and I wanted to be home. He never got gong more than 20 mph and I wanted to go faster. I could feel the frustration building as the second hand kept going slower and slower.

Finally, I just let it all go. I felt my shoulders relax and I just understood that no matter how much I needed to go faster, it would not happen. I let my mind wonder. I remembered the whole thing about thinking positively and thanking the world for all of the good things in my life.

The first thing I thought of were my parents and the love that they show me, but my immediate response was how it sucked that I was so dependent on them for so much. Then I thought about my job, especially the way the world is, “I have a job!” Then I reminded myself about the money I owed my boss in order to keep making money for him. A little smile spread across my lips as I thought of a friend in Marietta. But that thought finished by remembering she is not feeling so well and I could do nothing to help her.

All the while, this idiot in front of me was going no-miles-an-hour and keeping me from getting home to my fire and Runtyun. We came to a steep downhill and the guy slipped a little and I realized there was ice under the snow making things even more precarious.

That is when I realized it, this guy in front of me may be going slow, making me frustrated yet he refused to go any faster, even when the road was straight and clear. This ass, who was going too slow for me, may have saved me from going too fast, and not making it home at all.

I was still frustrated by the weather and how slow he was going, but I was truly thankful he was there keeping me on the road and on my way home.

olc

I am not an Atheist!

The other day a friend posted a picture of a beautiful tattoo on the back of an exquisite woman. The tattoo was an exploration of a lily vine, I think, in fantastic color. The colors and artistry used were melded together combinbg with the models natural beauty; the way her spine made the shadows dance over her skin, created an image surreal; almost a waking dream.

My friend was talking about having the work reproduced on her. My brain exploded with the thought. Her inner beauty would only enhance the brilliance of the work making the whole even more stunning than the sum of already splendid parts.

I had to go and bring up religion and how in some parts of the bible it is considered blasphemy to tattoo or cut the body. There is one passage in particular, in Leviticus, that says something like, “Don't cut or tattoo the body... Blah, blah...” At the end of my post, I did say that it would look good on her. I wonder if her eyes got that far though.

My friend, I hope I can still call her that, has had a few trials in her past and is struggling to find her way even now. She has this great big companion that barks and scratches. They are doing well. However before she found her way to her place of happiness she, like so many others including me, had some demons to vanquish.

I do not know the path my friend used to shake her demons, we all have to find our own way. Suffice it to say she found God in her process to a better way of life.

At any rate, she replied to my post saying that she would not go into a discussion of religious matters due to my atheism. She has stuck to her guns, even when I tried to explain my beliefs. 

So maybe I’ll spend a minute trying to explain my beliefs here and now. What do ya’ll think of that?

I was brought up as a preachers kid. I have a different take on religion than many other people have. My father let me decide whether I wanted to go to church after I passed the 6^th grade. I decided to stay with it, some of my fondest childhood memories are of walking home after church with him. Also, I would get the key to the youth center and take my junior high girl friends down there to experiment and stuff.

My spiritual thinking has been shaped by the writings of Richard Bach, in general and Jonathan Livingston Seagull in particular and his search for perfection. In short, perfection, or Heaven can never be attained, it is merely an unachievable goal. The path we have to follow is trying to achieve perfection. 

Also Frank Herbert’s Dune series taught me a little about the hypocrisy of organized religion, at least as portrayed in his books.

Some one once said that Religion is The Opiate of the Masses. Carl Marx went on down the thought trail in a different direction than I do. His writing about religion in the proposed work, (never published) A Contribution to the Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right, went on about stuff that has nothing to do with my take of the phrase, though his thinking and mine may coincide at some levels.

Religion is The Opiate of the Masses. What an interesting phrase for recovering addict to latch on to. I was thinking about taking the whole phrase apart word by word, but that may be a project for another post. This time I’ll take the whole of it and say that I think organized religion has been perverted onto a way to manipulate the masses, a way to control an unruly mass into conformity. 

My Father taught me love and understanding. I also learned patience. While I waited for him to finish his duties at the church, I would wonder around talking with people, or just sitting and waiting for him. When he was done, we would walk home together. The truth is I cannot even remember what we talked about, yet I remember those walks together.

I read JLS, by Richard Bach so many years ago that I may have forgotten some of the details, however the strength of the story surrounding the journey Jon Seagull took after his physical body succumbs to what we call death is profound. It is his journey to heaven or the perfect speed of flight. He learns over the course of many life times that heaven is not a place or thing or a goal achieved, but the act of striving for the goal. There is so much more to his learning in that tiny book, yet the most important lesson I gathered was to never quit, never give up, even if Life got too difficult to handle. There have been times when I have diverted my energies away for a goal I started, yet I learned another way to achieve the goal.

If any book can alter the life an of a teenager more than the book by Frank Herbert, Dune, I do not know what it would be. The scope of the battle between the government and the conniving sisterhood and the way each side used and colluded with the other opened the eyes of a jaded teenager to paranoid and delusional ideas which still influence my thinking. The way all the governing bodies used faith to manipulate the masses as well as each other is almost prescient to our world today. To this day, the name Jessica has pseudo-erotic and intellectual ramifications in my daily life.

I think I heard the paraphrase by Carl Marx: Religion is The Opiate of the Masses when I was beginning my downward spiral to substance abuse. So of course I took it the wrong way. However I have spent many a night alone since then and, believe it or not, some of it was contemplating that very statement.

The echo that mostly goes through my head goes something like this: both religion and our political leaders need to control the masses. Maybe they think we need to be lead around like sheep so we do not realize we, the masses, can rise up and over throw them, so they use religious doctrine to lead us down a path of subjugation and servitude...I do not know.

I have seen the religious fervor that some get when in the “groove,” or rapture. Having seen this religious devotion one can see how an opportunist might take advantage of the vulnerable for their own advantage, by doping their followers with the opiate of religion. This is a way of using the weakness of doubt and vulnerability of the people to gain power and control of the masses for the elite.

So what am I, You ask with incredulity?

In a word: Confused, or two: Seeking.

Perhaps, the great bard, Mr. Wagglestaff, said it best, “To thine own self be true.”

 What more could a God want from his people?

Lament

I have had delusions of grandeur for the last few years. Truth is I really don’t want to work for someone else, I want to write for a living. I think I have interesting ideas and I have deluded myself into thinking that others may be interested in them.

Seems I am wrong in that assumption.

When I post on any of my blogs; A Daddy Grows Up: A Chronicle of Our Journey, Rants and Brain Echoes, My Rantings (a journal of thoughts), or even just update my status on Facebook, I get a smattering of views and almost no comments. Much less any follows.

I spend a good amount of time writing these posts and most of the them are pertinent to something going on outside of this electronic box. I always want to have feed back from my readers and most of the time ask for it in the post. Yet I get very little. I want feed back on the content and style, yet all I get is encouragement with no editorial rebuttal.

I’ll keep on trudging along writing here and working on my fictional writing too, but it sure would be nice to get some followers and comments, so please read and let me know what you think. I even want to know if you, the reader, will never look at a posting of mine again. Just let me know and maybe an indication on better writing, or more interesting topics, anything that could help me in rise to journalistic sufficiency. 

Thanks, olc 

Requiem for Brian

When I started going through the rituals I do before writing, my iTunes list popped up. Some song came up automatically, I think it was Dream On, by Aerosmith. That song always sends me into an introverted mood. The next was Sad Lisa, by Cat Stevens.

This song brought me back to Brian.

I have written a few of these letters of memorial for important people in my life---kinda wish I didn’t feel the need. It seems like the only profound emotions I have are lose and sorrow.

Working at Doc’s brought out some of my less noble traits. My issues were not the fault of Doc’s, I have always had them. My addictions and narcissism would have come through at some point with or without that place. There were, and still are I presume, some very special people there. People who enabled me to keep ahold of the core person I am. 

Brian was one.

I cannot say that he was a close friend, though I wish I could. He was loyal and kind and even powerful in his own way. He could always come back with a smart-ass remark and a smile while he did it. How could anyone be mad at him? When talking to him, one knew that he was all about you. That guy got more women under his arm than most straight guys! (NOT FAIR!) Yet through all his joviality, there was strength and wisdom.

When he came out to me, I was going through some trivial shit with the mother of my daughter, another in a long list. Brian listened to my rants and meaningless drivel without any judgement. I don’t even remember what he said, or what the problem was, yet I remember feeling better about my life. Then he said I needed to hear what he had to say. I was able to step above my self serving morass and really listen to him.

Truth is, I don’t really remember the details of the conversation, just the feelings. Honesty was the strongest among them. Pain too. After work that night, we went to the Chattahoochee River and talked for hours. We just sat there and talked.

Working at Doc’s and being gay, must have been difficult, way beyond my understanding. Yet he felt safe enough to tell me. I wonder if I was one of the first guys to know. I’ll never know. I have never talked about this, even after it was common knowledge; he asked that of me.

During my worst times, when some one I needed to trust was betraying it thus destroying the silly dream world I was trying to build, Brian was there as a friend, a confidant, yes even as a shoulder to lean on. He gave me permission, if you will, to stop being an idiot.

Now iTunes has queued Meatloaf’s Heaven Can Wait. No it can’t. Heaven, or whatever, has taken a good man. Though I have not been in touch with him for a very long time, I always knew if I needed to, I could always reach out to him. Now I cannot. My world has been profoundly shaken. I know that I will always be able to reach out/in to memories and feel him, but he is gone forever and always. My world has been profoundly shaken.

Father's Day

I just posted on my blog A Daddy Grows up. http://adaddygrowsup.blogspot.com/  Have a look and let me know what you think.

IMHO

So I have been giving this whole situation some thought lately. It is  a really frustrating and confusing one. The question is how can otherwise intelligent and well adjusted people be deluded into following, adhering to and even propagating the salacious lies that are being pumped out by the extreme right wing?

I listen to lots of talk radio, mostly left leaning, but I also dip my ear into more conservative talk shows. Most of my credible news comes from NPR. Though many conservatives may consider NPR to be left leaning, it does attempt to keep as neutral as possible; when a reporter/journalist expresses their own opinion, the listener knows. I also listen to the right a little. Rush Limbaugh is an entertaining entertainer who is a loud mouth piece for the right wing.

I feel that if I am to make well informed decisions on important topics, I need to be informed on BOTH sides of an issue.

There seem to be two formats coming out of talk radio, when listening to the extreme left or right media. The left, or more liberal will give information as they see it. Sometimes, a talking head will give his or her opinion, shoving it down the listeners’ throat, if you will. They Talk, talk and talk about the subject, giving suggestions on how to consider the subject, they will even explain the logic of their reasoning. Yet rarely will they tell their listeners WHAT to think. The listener is supposed to think and come to their own opinion.

On the other hand, the conservative spectrum has its own way of disseminating its opinion. The talking head will define the issue and explain it several times in as many different ways as possible and in doing so will explain why theirs is the only opinion that matters. Then he will use the most extreme consequence, sometimes the most outrageous outcome to make his point, usually a mere hypothisis. After he, or she, has pounded into the heads of their listeners the problem, telling every one how dire the situation is, the talking head will then TELL his listeners how to think and what to do about the issue.

Now I am not saying one party is more smarter than the other. Honestly, I think it has to do with ones outlook. One party presents the information and lets the consumer digest it and come to their own conclusions, while the other smashes info into their listeners heads and demands they think as they should.

So which is the smarter party, the liberals for letting its constituents think for themselves, yet allowing them to have varied opinions? Perhaps the conservatives for lording over their constituents telling them what and how to think?

Unfortunately, right the now the conservatives seem to be winning the race for popular opinion. It seems to me that the vast majority of people want to be told what to think and how to react to the many important issues assailing us.

What do you think about what I have said here? Please let me know.

olc