No real choice

"They beat up Mandy...ah...Andy today!" Sally exclaimed as she burst through the door.

Her father Sam, sat up a little straighter. He had been reading the paper, having a short beer with the radio on some driveling news report...actually he was just trying to let the workday escape. IT ended at 3 o'clock, which was nice because he could be home for Sally while still doing a little work via computer."What? I thought all that crap was behind us, what happened honey?"

She crumbled into her beanbag chair, the sound of the Styrofoam innards crushed away by her sobbing words, "They had to take him to the hospital..." Her words trailed off, replaced by  muted tears filled with anguish.

"We need to go to the hospital, honey. Do you know where they took him?"

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During the ride up to the hospital, Sam heard his daughter sobbing. He tried to get her to talk, but she was having nothing of it. They finally got to the ER and found out that Andy was going to be OK. He had scratches and a broken rib. His nose had been bent the wrong way and both of his eyes were severely bruised, but the doctor said in time the boy would be OK. 

Sitting and waiting for the boy to be discharged Ed began to wonder what really happened. He hoped that kids in high school did not just attack each other randomly. It was not like that when he was  in school. He did remember the knife fight on the school lawn...was it about drugs, or a busted relationship? He could not remember. 

"What's this about honey?"

"I don't know Daddy, it's complicated," was Sally's reply.

Sam knew when is daughter was not telling the whole truth. He kept looking into her eyes, trying to pull the whole truth from her.

Sally's eyes shifted from her father's as Kammie walked into the family lounge. The two girls sobbed into each others  arms. They worried over it all, whimpering and moaning, tears flying. Sam watched as the two talked out their fears and feelings.

Sam's mind began to wander while he waited and watched. Sally had told him a while ago that she did not like boys, that she was gay. When she had said that Sam had swallowed deeply and tried to accept it, but he knew, deep inside that he did not want to believe it, that she was merely trying to get a reaction from him. This is what he wanted to believe. Yet he knew, that her words were really how she felt, they were the person she really was. He also knew that in time he could embrace them,

He tried to accept this, yet in truth it was harder than he thought it should be. He kept reminding himself that it was not about the "traditional" relationship that mattered, but how one felt with the person they loved. That conclusion always stopped his thinking right there.

When Sam was younger, maybe 12 or so, he remembered going to his sisters high school and catching a girl and boy making out, being the fool, he asked her what they were doing and were they really going to do IT. He remembered she got flustered, but answered honestly that they were making out, but not doing IT.

Sam asked his older sister if they were in love. He remembered that she looked back at him laughing a little and said, "Teenagers don't fall in love, they just make time together."

This was one of those incidents which stuck with Sam throughout his life. Even now, during this crisis at the hospital, he thought of that conversation. He wondered why. He knew that mind wondering, or daydreaming was a coping mechanism for when times got rough, so he let it happen. 

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Hatin' Life

I am learning that I am not the open minded person I have striven to be. It is a hard lesson.

Memorial Day 2015, My rant.

In a past life I was in the United States Navy. My time serving our country was a difficult one, at least for those of us serving. It was post Viet Nam, and moral was low, one may say it sucked. As we all know though, "Life is what we make it."

I am not a good creator, though.

When I was assigned to the USS Wainwright, I was young and naive. The truth is, I have not grown very much since then. Now I am older and am still kinda stupid, yet I have an understanding of the roll my ship had in the global theater. It was minor, yet my ego makes me wonder just how critical.

The Wainwright, while I was aboard, made many political manoeuvres, yet we never really did anything overtly aggressive. We participated in the subversive and closed wars of Reagan. I don't know what would have happened if my ship had not been where she was, yet I know we would not be where we are now.

Yet, looking back at our choices back then does not change the reality that we live in today. Our world is even more fucked up than in those desperate days of the early '80s. We cannot deny this obvious fact. It truly is not the fault of the military,  they have executed their orders faithfully. They have done their duty without a hitch. We have the best armed forces in the world, bar none.

One of my closest friends participated in the Panama fiasco, another was critically wounded in a "training mission" in "South America" as a SF member, And another was in Iraq and was wounded while on patrol and even now deals with PTSD and other related brain injury issues. They all have wounds which will never be healed. What did they sacrifice their bodies and minds for?

Like religion, our political outlook is manipulated by those whose selfish interest supersedes those they serve, that would be We The People. 

I salute those who serve. I salute those who have made the choice to self-sacrifice for our way of life. I was a fuck-up back in the day, and maybe still am. Yet I understand that my country needs young women and men to step up and fight and sometimes kill, to keep our way of life a real and evolving dream. Those who have served did what they were told to...without question. They did as they were told, without without reservation. 

Do you, the reader know why?

Maybe it is because our country, our ideals, before being perverted by self-interest groups, ARE the ones everyone should strive to achieve.

Our country, The United States of America, is the greatest place in our whole wide world, bar nothing. We should never forget this, we need to live it and earn the privilege of saying those words honestly...Every single day of our lives.

We are the best because we earn that privilege. We are the most important nation in the world, not because any deity has said so, but because we work for it. We are the best because we earn it. It is not a god given right, but one that we work for.

Our men and women fight for our right to say these words, they give their bodies and minds for the privilege we take for granted. Let's think though, what did those young and somewhat naive solders and marines and sailors and airmen do to ensure our freedom?

They trained for so long in a formal school while training in the field, sweating and bleeding. Then they get sent to an emotionally and physically dangerous environment with little instruction. When they come home, they are stigmatized and labelled as outcasts.

These people gave all of themselves to protect our way of life.

By Definition, they are heroes. So, let's treat them as such. When you see someone on the side of the road, please remember the choice they made and please don't just pass them by thinking, "Oh there is a guy. It is so sad that they live like that." Just remember he or she, may have done a profound act to protect our way of life and possibly suffered for it.

Every single one who has served is a hero, they would have done as they were told. Many gave more than we can understand, more than their lives...they gave their very essence as a person. They gave for US, and our way of life and now it is time for us to return their honor, to show them that their duty and service was worth their personal and group sacrifice.

My salute and respect is what I can give to those who have given of themselves. I stand in honor to all of you who have given yourselves to the glory of what we call THE UNITED STATES of AMERICA.

Thank you, Neil M. Turner.

olc

Yesterday was a gorgeous day. It started put sunny and ended starry. The air was crisp and clear. The kid had a thing with her choir at some early hour, so I dragged her out of bed. After dropping her off, I walked around downtown and maybe got a few good pics.

I was able to get the bike started and ride a little a little later in the day. Then I went home and wrote a little more on the profile on yourcaring.com. Finally I have completed it and can restart our moving campaign, Yeah!  

The Runtyun got home and we had some supper. I was moved to mount the Grinner, camera in hand, and take some pictures. The Blue Ridge Parkway is a great place to ride. I know it well enough so I don't have to worry about the technical side of the ride, so I can let my eyes roam a little and really enjoy and unwind.

Having been lucky, I pulled up about 45 minutes before sunset. I finally found the turnout that has a wonderful view. Sometimes fate works in my favor.

I pulled my camera gear out and started to take a few shots of the bike. In the back ground was Looking Glass Mountain. The sky was had some clouds which are pretty incredible. I'll post something soon at From the Wondering Lenz of OLC, in the next day or so.

About this time a beat up old pick-up pulls in and parks on the other side of the area. Being the paranoid that I am, I kept it in my peripheral view, but thought nothing more about it. After a bit a lady and child got out of the pick-up. The kid was young, maybe 8 and the lady, his mother, I assume, was short and attractive. 

I only noticed these things because they where the only moving things in the area. They meandered in my direction and we talked a little. She spun a story about camping and being wary of bears. We talked more, then she finally dropped the Boyfriend bomb. I don't think I was being suggestive in our conversation. Actually, I was trying to pull away trying to get good pictures of the world.

She said she was not sure what she was going to do, so I made a few suggestions on where to stay for the night. During our talk I made no overt, or subvert attempt to coerce her. Yet, again she found it necessary to tell me that she had talked with her BF. I squelched the urge to tell her that by saying these things about her BF, she was making herself more vulnerable to people with less scruples than me.

She kept trying to go, but then coming back and asking questions. I began to wonder what was going on with her. I built a story of a woman who was trying to escape from something. I tried to come across as safe and trust worthy. I even gave her my card and told her to contact me for some pictures if she wanted.

Finally, she got into her pick-up and started to go. But when she got to the road, she just at there for a long time. It seemed like she was trying to decide something. She must have made up her mind because she finally drove off.

Guess I didn't make the cut.

Yet, I wondered what was really going on in her life. I feel it must have been something pretty profound to put her out in the middle of no place contemplating throwing in with the likes of me. I feel that she was reaching out to me, but I was unable to make the connection.

I went on and played around with the camera and got some interesting shots of the moon. While I was taking those pics, some guy pulled into the pullout and talked my ear off about shooting the moon. He had several portfolios of his work. It seemed he showed them all to me.

Actually, they were interesting in their own way. It seems he uses an inexpensive Point and Shoot camera. But his technique was what was most interesting to me: He would shoot the camera at the view finer of a telescope and take his picture. 

His images came out amazingly well!

Finally, it was time to go, yet, I could not get that woman and her child off my mind off. I guess I was wondering what was really going with her. Yeah I know, there is a little stalker in me.

I tried to put myself into her place to figure out where she would have gone. I considered her alternatives. Finally, I it put all aside side and just rode the Parkway home. After all, it really was not any of my business. If she really wanted me to help her out she would have asked, right?

The ride home was totally uneventful, kinda like a dream where nothing happens, but when you wake up there is a smile lingering. The sky was darkening to the deep purple of night, yet no stars were out. The bike flowed through the curves smoothly. Though I felt a little concern for the woman and her child, I understood there was nothing I could for them. That feeling of inability lingered.

Finally, I made it home to the loving embrace of The Runtyun. I woke up a couple of times in the middle of the night a little curious about the fate of my short-lived friend and her child, but I quickly fell back to the slumber I so needed.

That is it for now. Let me know what you think. Should I have been more forward in my concerns with her? Should I have even talked to her in the first place?

Let's have a discussion.

OLC

An Amazing Moment

I have been going to the local (franchised) Bagel shop for a long time now. One of the reasons I go to this specific place is because it is close to the Cathedral where my beautiful Runtyun sings for the choir. 

I have stated many times my opinion of the filter of organized religion on this and other places, so I will not do so again at this time. However, there is no denying the wonderful things parishioners have done because their God has deemed it right. The music alone, the way it wafts through the air and messages the ear is proof enough that a god exists and has direct control of our lives.

But, this is a discussion for another day. 

As I was saying, I was sitting at the shop when a wonderful lady walked in, in tow was an incredible little redheaded munchkin. I know it is corning, but this child is amazing. She is sweet and has not been infected by the cynicism so pervasive in more mature folk.

This corny little child saw me and my iPad the moment she walked in, yet she was smart. She waited for awhile before coming over to me. Eventually though, I saw from the corner of my eye a shadow slinking in my direction. I ignored her.

After all, I was in the middle of something. This logic did not work for an intrepid 2 1/2 year old with corn husk hair. She reached out to touch my computing space. I looked her in the eye and said that I was kinda busy, could she please wait a minute while I finished what I was doing.

Kids are wonderful beings, she persisted in trying to get my attention. I promised her that I would talk in a minute, but to please let me finish. I am not sure how she took it, but she left me with a smile that lightened my heart for a moment.

I finished what I was doing and found an image of an african dwarf frog and pulled it up. There was a movie too. My Runtyun had just invited two of these frogs into her aquarium. 

All of a sudden, through the corner of my eye there was a familiar shadow.

"Frog! Ribbit, ribbit!"

Being kind of a dolt, I was not sure what this amazing child knew, so I let her tell me what she wanted. She wanted to explore. Somehow she knew that my electronic thing could bridge gaps, bringing fun things to her. I don't think she had the sophisticated thinking to know how the flow of knowledge  my iPad could open for her. But her eyes filled with excitement when she looked at the screen and I felt her rush of excitement and wanted to help her find the wonders of the world.

At one point, she looked me in the eye and said, "Push Button?" her finger lingered over the home button. I ignored it, but she persisted. "OK, " I said. The light of happiness flashed through her pretty pink cheeks. Her eyes opened even wider when the screen changed to the home screen. She giggled. 

We played Clumsy Ninja until it was time for her to go. She could not read the instructions, but learned what to do when I told her. Her attending adults gathered around and watched for a moment. Her Mother said it was time to go and I saw this amazing child's resistance to leave this moment of excitement, and I hoped, learning. I looked at her and saw her amazing excitement and promised we would see each other again.

olc

A few thoughts about money and compensation

I have done no research on what I am about to rant about. I have not even talked it through with any one except my inner, crazy brain. But I feel qualified to write about it nontheless.

So deal with it my loyal readers. Meh!

I have talked about my financial woes a few times in the past. I have also talked about my additive past a little. It is a funny yet sad thing though, back in the daize when I let my addictive tendencies rule my life, I could live an OK life and not worry about money too much.

Now I am not controlled by the need to spend money on drugs, yet I worry constantly about making it to the next pay check with any money left over for food,clothes, much less a movie and popcorn, for the Runtyun and me. It wears me down.

So, when I got straight and moved here from the poisonous world I lived in for too long, I decided I would go to school and redefine who I was as a person. It worked to a degree, yet my earning potential seemed to decline. I do not regret my choice to restart my education nor my abstinence and would do it again given the chance. However, an Associate Degree is a nice thing to have, but opens few doors. 

I felt the need to get back into the working world again, but could not go back to cooking for reasons I have stated before. I found a job as an independent contracting courier. The position sounded good, even though I knew the money was less than premium. I thought I could do it for a New York Minute, then move on.

Well, a few years later and I am still at it. Not because this is a field I want to retire from, but because I owe too much money to leave. I need this work to pay off debts to my employer before I can get another job. I blame no one but me for the decisions I have made, yet I am frustrated with the fate I have created for myself. 

I have had many conversations with my employer about the need to earn more money and pay off my debt, yet my sales pitches go to deaf ears. So, I feel compelled to explain motivation and rewards here. This action may help me to solidify further conversations.

As I see it there are 3 levels of payment in the world I live in. 

The first is the one I am in. It consists of barely enough to live off of. Having to juggle bills on a monthly basis; robbing Peter to pay Paul, if you will. Now employers like this because the employee needs every scrap of work to get as much pay as possible. This means working through every inconvenience, all the while sacrificing family obligations just to make a buck.

This mode is good for the employer, because he or she, has people motivated to work whenever something is thrown at them. However, the workforce is poorly motivated to do the job well. They just need the money and have little motivation except the money that is portioned out. There is little gratification and nothing but work and constant worry. While the employer is satisfied, the employee lives in a world of frustration, never achieving anything. Stuck in a swamp of debt and worry. The employee is distracted and may not do the job as well as he or she could. This distraction, when taken to its extreme, leads to poor workmanship and silly mistakes because he or she, just does not care. 

Now, the next level of recompense allows the employee to get ahead of bills and live in our material world, yet fosters a laziness in the worker the employer may not want while generating a lack of purpose for the employee.

The employee feels he or she makes enough to skip working sometimes because they have enough to get by on, so there is little motivation for the employee to work harder than is absolutely needed. Their life's view is filtered with blinders and they do not want to work more, they feel they have done enough to get by and are not motivated to do more, or maybe he is doing some other work and finds it difficult to find time beyond his normal work hours. "What is the purpose?" they ask themselves, "I have enough and all I'll get, if I inconvenience myself, is little money. But my boss gets a nice big payoff for my inconvenience. And furthermore, this extra work takes away from my time doing things I want to do, like spending time with family."

This attitude is not good for any one.

Finally, we get to the third tier of reasonable payment for services. This one motivates the employee to work and makes the employer happy because his people are working and doing a quality job all the while making him money. The workforce is happy and motivated, thus it is willing to work more---making their boss more money in the long run.

In my humble opinion, this level of payment works for everyone. While the employer does not make as much as either of the first two, he or she, gets a loyal workforce that is motivated to go beyond the regular call of duty, thus performing at a level that is not only fair to him or her, but makes the employer a satisfactory amount of money. This model of recompense works for both sides.

Needless to say, I am in the first tier recompense and wish to elevate myself to the last. Yes, greed does have something to do with my desire for more money, but I also know that my job would be done better, to say nothing about my attitude would be improved. I would take on extra work more often if I knew I was being compensated all the time at level that allowed me to live a more fulfilling life.

olc

A sorry feeling, or the way I deal with it

O how I long for the taste of Crack on my tongue.

olc