1. Make Plans on Paper for The Future, Any Future. Writing it down helps pull you out of the muck you are now kneedeep in.
2. Write to your elected representatives and complain--loudly--they are currently deaf to the needs and concerns of the people.
3. Take whatever gold you may possibly have acquired and bury it--you may need it to buy a loaf of bread after the Federal Reserve puts inflation in full drive.
4. Plant tomatoes--preferably nice big juicy varieties--softball size--so that come September when the candidates come back to town trolling for votes you have a cache ready to aim and fire.
5. Practice your aim daily, substituting future presidential candidates with a good color blow-up of Bush and Cheney. Refine your anger. Practice makes perfect.
6. Buy maps of border states--of Canada. They're watching the Mexican border so there has to be at least a few places between Vermont and Washington State where no one will notice.
7. Call your Congressperson's office (local, it's cheaper) and insist that they hold a town hall meeting--soon.
8. Take a look at the Congressional payroll and note that although it took 10 years to raise the minimum wage, no member of Congress missed a pay increase in those said 10 years.
9. Go for a walk in the park--preferably not on a snowy day in April--which tends to lead to brooding thoughts.
10. If it is still snowing out there (this is from Ohio) hug your cat or play tug of war with your dog. Watching the hamster spin his wheel doesn't count. You need to connect with something warm and furry to regain any semblance of sanity.
11. Make plans for your big bonus $600 check from IRS. Whoops--no make that UP TO $600. May not be enough for a tank of gas, but a couple of items from the $1 menu at McDonald's will keep you from swooning from hunger.
12. Sign any and all petitions to impeach. Will do absolutely no good but will make you feel better-for about a minute.
13. Find a peace rally and attend it--even if there are only 5 people there. Somebody has to stop this abomination and it doesn't look like the Democrats are interested either.
14. Watch the network news and notice how little is actually being reported (aside from entertainment news).
15. Turn off the television and open the window. Listen to the birds. Listen to life.
16. Learn how to plant a garden, survive without a computer, bake your own bread, tap maple trees and find edible greens in your lawn.
17. Start collecting firewood. Winter isn't that far away.
18. Trade that copy of "The Long Emergency" (too depressing) for a copy of Euell Gibbons "Stalking the Wild." Much more practical. Better pictures.
19. Go to YouTube. Look up silly cat pictures.
20. Take up Taoism.
21. Start walking. By the time gas hits $5 you will be fit enough to walk to work--provided it isn't a 50 mile commute. In which case you'll have to walk faster.
22. Write your Congressperson again--especially if you haven't received a response to the last letter/email. It's just possible they have forgotten you (and a few thousand others). Do not put cash in the envelope--it is doubtful it will be enough to matter anyway.
23. Make the rounds of local dumpsters. People are still carelessly tossing out valuable things--like pizza. And overripe bananas.
24. Make friends with the local gendarmes. And find out when they check out the local dumpsters.
25. Go to your local parks. Start looking for a place to hide or reside. In case "The Long Emergency" really does start happening.
26. Go to JoeBageant.com and read his blogs. It will give you comfort and make you not feel like you are going crazy. It will not change things. It will just make you feel like a part of something.
27. Take a walk down the road. Carry a bag. Collect all the aluminum cans you encounter. Note how many fewer there are than there were a year ago. Avoid eye contact with other persons carrying bags.
28. Memorize Mein Kampf. Notice similarities to Homeland Security.
29. Go to the park. Start observing how the deer survive.
30. Write to the White House. Ask them if the Executive Order Blocking Property of Certain Persons Who Threaten Stabilization Efforts in Iraq is still in effect. Ask them to translate it to the King's English.
31. It's dark. It's late. It's raining. Bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch and eat them straight from the oven. Invite a friend. Ask them to bring milk.
32. Finally start reading Will and Ariel Durant's "History of Civilization" that has been anchoring your bookshelves for the last 30 years. History can be comforting. It has all happened before. The costumes are different.
33. Attend a political rally. Make sure you get a receipt from security for the nail clippers you forgot were on your keychain.
34. Superimpose a photo of Goebbels on a picture of Dick Cheney. Note similarities.
35. Ask Mr. Cheney if you can go fishing with him next time on the Sultan of Oman's royal yacht.
36. Start a garden. Know your tools. Familiarize yourself with mulching techniques. Note just how pitifully little you can grow yourself.
37. Ask Mr. Cheney if he would mind sharing some of his catch. So you can fertilize your corn crop. Like the Pilgrims.
38. Write/email your Congressperson. Ask them if they are enjoying their vacation.
39. Buy a lotto ticket. Ask for a raise. See which one works.
40. Post your resume at Homeland Security. They're looking for a few good people. Hope they don't call your references.
41. Really look at the pictures of the soldiers who have died in Bush's War this week. See them as people, not fighting machines. See their families.
42. Plant tomatoes. Plant peppers. Survey your acreage.
43. Attend the local Memorial Day Parade. Research the meaning of Memorial Day. Wonder if a volunteer army means that the rest of us get off scot free. Ask that a draft be reinstituted--for politicians. With them on the front line, we can't lose, either way.
44. Go back to work. Ask your Congressperson if they are going back to work today. Time is wasting.
45. Sign another impeachment petition. Never give up. He may slip up and have an affair instead of a war.
46. Pay no attention to "debates" unless they really discuss issues.
47. Turn off the tv and watch the sunset instead. Better for your blood pressure and more true to life.
48. Look for trilliums in the woods. A patch of ethereal beauty sustains the soul.
49. Thank God for the rain. At least you don't have to shovel it.
50. Call your Congressperson. Ask them to define democracy. Make sure you are registered to vote in the fall.
51. Keep reading as much history as you can--from all perspectives. There has to be an answer somewhere in there.
TO BE CONTINUED
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Bread, Salad and Circuses
It's 50 degrees out and I can hear the wind in the trees through the open window. I sit here with hot pepperoni bread fresh out of the oven and a salad on the side. My son walks out in the kitchen, "Poverty supper. Bread and salad." he grabs half a loaf and a salad and goes back to his computer. Poverty? This is a meal fit for kings. At least kings with good taste.
Polly, the youngest tabby, waits hopefully for spilled pepperoni--or bread--she loves both. Since when does it take an 8 course meal to fill our stomachs? Most of the world subsists on rice and gruel or whatever is at hand. The average American would not survive on the diet most of the world lives on.
Though, if our politicians keep ignoring things, we may end up a third world country yet. Somehow, I keep comparing today's economy with that of the 20's. Bush and Paulson declaring that the economy is "fundamentally sound" sounds too much like Hoover's "prosperity is just around the corner." The economy may be fundamentally sound for the 1% at the top, but for too many it is faltering. So, what to do? Like the old song, "No more money in the bank. What to do about it, let's put out the lights and go to sleep."
Things may be bad in this country and true the economy is terrible slanted but it's no time to run for the hills. Yet. People in our "advanced society" have forgotten how to endure the inevitable bad times. Long ago, people observed how animals in the wild endured storms and fires and droughts. Have you ever noticed how the deer disappear when a blizzard is about to pounce? You will find them hunkered down in deep brush, waiting the storm out. And that may be our only option for the storm that is beginning to break all around us.
Some may prefer to run, heading for Belize or Morocco, thinking that simpler places will be easier--even without cable and McDonald's. But for me, running is not an option. I'm no hero.
I'm just a scaredy cat old lady who has been getting increasingly nervous about this country since the Bushies have taken over. But my family is here in this great big misbegotten country. Add to that, I'd have to figure out how to transport a herd of cats across long miles and difficult borders.
So, I'm trying to figure out how best to hunker down all the while knowing that in truth there is nowhere to run to. The only thing to do is continue screaming at the politicians in hopes that somebody somewhere wakes up and barring that, find deep brush.
Polly, the youngest tabby, waits hopefully for spilled pepperoni--or bread--she loves both. Since when does it take an 8 course meal to fill our stomachs? Most of the world subsists on rice and gruel or whatever is at hand. The average American would not survive on the diet most of the world lives on.
Though, if our politicians keep ignoring things, we may end up a third world country yet. Somehow, I keep comparing today's economy with that of the 20's. Bush and Paulson declaring that the economy is "fundamentally sound" sounds too much like Hoover's "prosperity is just around the corner." The economy may be fundamentally sound for the 1% at the top, but for too many it is faltering. So, what to do? Like the old song, "No more money in the bank. What to do about it, let's put out the lights and go to sleep."
Things may be bad in this country and true the economy is terrible slanted but it's no time to run for the hills. Yet. People in our "advanced society" have forgotten how to endure the inevitable bad times. Long ago, people observed how animals in the wild endured storms and fires and droughts. Have you ever noticed how the deer disappear when a blizzard is about to pounce? You will find them hunkered down in deep brush, waiting the storm out. And that may be our only option for the storm that is beginning to break all around us.
Some may prefer to run, heading for Belize or Morocco, thinking that simpler places will be easier--even without cable and McDonald's. But for me, running is not an option. I'm no hero.
I'm just a scaredy cat old lady who has been getting increasingly nervous about this country since the Bushies have taken over. But my family is here in this great big misbegotten country. Add to that, I'd have to figure out how to transport a herd of cats across long miles and difficult borders.
So, I'm trying to figure out how best to hunker down all the while knowing that in truth there is nowhere to run to. The only thing to do is continue screaming at the politicians in hopes that somebody somewhere wakes up and barring that, find deep brush.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
sign of the times
Outside of the For Lease signs hanging everywhere on a whole batch of real estate projects that had so hopefully sprung up in the last 6 months here in town I noticed a curious transition last night on the way in to work that may set the stage for a change in our local economy..
An old house had fronted for the last two years as an EBay reseller business--with the theory that you bring your treasures in, they sell them immediately and you pocket the cash minus a fee. But Ebay isn't what it used to be--selling items now is a chancey thing--only about thirty percent of the listings actually becomes a sale. Too many people trying to unload too many things. Grandma's Depression glass isn't necessarily money in the bank anymore. Seems like the whole economy is like that. Too many sellers, too many goods. Not enough buyers. Scary. The last time we had a situation like that was in the 1930's. Is thus a sign of the times?
Back to the Ebay reseller. A few weeks ago, the sign was taken down and a "For Rent" sign went up. Last night, the sign had been replaced. With a neon ad for "Psychic Readings". Does this mean that we're running so scared and so distrustful of our illustrious government that we need to have the advice of a tea leaf reader?
On the other hand, maybe the swami's advice beats Bernanke and Bush.
An old house had fronted for the last two years as an EBay reseller business--with the theory that you bring your treasures in, they sell them immediately and you pocket the cash minus a fee. But Ebay isn't what it used to be--selling items now is a chancey thing--only about thirty percent of the listings actually becomes a sale. Too many people trying to unload too many things. Grandma's Depression glass isn't necessarily money in the bank anymore. Seems like the whole economy is like that. Too many sellers, too many goods. Not enough buyers. Scary. The last time we had a situation like that was in the 1930's. Is thus a sign of the times?
Back to the Ebay reseller. A few weeks ago, the sign was taken down and a "For Rent" sign went up. Last night, the sign had been replaced. With a neon ad for "Psychic Readings". Does this mean that we're running so scared and so distrustful of our illustrious government that we need to have the advice of a tea leaf reader?
On the other hand, maybe the swami's advice beats Bernanke and Bush.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Much news, all bad
I was feeling rather well this morning until I turned on the news. Murder, mayhem, the whole economy is collapsing and the world in general is going to hell in a handbasket
That's what is so reassuring about reading history. Reassuring and depressing at the same time.
Depressing in that mankind has not made one iota of progress in the time he has spent on this planet. Oh sure, technically we are far advanced ffrom caveman days. But technology isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Technology just means bigger and better bombs. More innovative ways of amassing great fortunes at the top of the heap.
What of civility? Whatever happened to looking out for the other guy? What happened to "it takes a village?"
Not only do we not know how to look out for each other and respect the other guy's point of view (no matter how screwy his thinking). But we don't seem to realize that we aren't the owners of this ball of mud--we are only the stewards (renters). Maybe, that's the problem. We're just sitting back and waiting for the super to take care of the leaky toilet and the broken window. Maybe God should give us ownership. Maybe we would take better care of things.
That's what is so reassuring about reading history. Reassuring and depressing at the same time.
Depressing in that mankind has not made one iota of progress in the time he has spent on this planet. Oh sure, technically we are far advanced ffrom caveman days. But technology isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Technology just means bigger and better bombs. More innovative ways of amassing great fortunes at the top of the heap.
What of civility? Whatever happened to looking out for the other guy? What happened to "it takes a village?"
Not only do we not know how to look out for each other and respect the other guy's point of view (no matter how screwy his thinking). But we don't seem to realize that we aren't the owners of this ball of mud--we are only the stewards (renters). Maybe, that's the problem. We're just sitting back and waiting for the super to take care of the leaky toilet and the broken window. Maybe God should give us ownership. Maybe we would take better care of things.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
trees of our fathers
While walking today I noticed that part of the gloom of an Ohio winter is provided by the trees. Not the bare ones that shiver pathetic little straggles of leaves out on the furthest branches. It' s the sometimes majestic but mostly misplanted Norway Spruce.
Pices Abies grows to 150 feet in the northern Baltic region it is native to and is frequently seen at 75 to 100 feet tall here in Ohio. Unfortunately what is majestic in a northern forest setting does not look that way when paired with a 50's tract house in Cleveland.
The pioneers of the Western Reserve brought the Norway Spruce west with them to provide shelter from the winds off Lake Erie. Soon their lacy dark green fronds marked homes everywhere. A lonely farm in the middle of a field and a city bungalow. Actually, the spruce looks kind of nice and unassuming when it's planted at about 12 to 18 inches tall. At about 4 years it starts to take shape as a baby Christmas tree. By the time it is 10 years old it is, if professionally sheared, the perfect pyramidal tree to enhance a holiday living room. Glossy and dark green with slightly drooping branches, some Christmas tree growers are planting these trees for future harvest because they look nice and grow reliably fast. Unfortunately they also tend to lose needles faster than their relatives the White and Blue spruces which can be a problem if you want to keep your tree up past Christmas so the lights will make you forget the gloom of January.
In their zeal for "landscaping" the old homestead, people generally buy those cute little potted trees and either plant them 3 feet away from the foundation or if they are particularly flush, plant a whole line of them on 6 foot centers down the edge of a driveway. That's what the previous owner of my old childhood home did-marked the driveway with a nice little conga line of spruces. The lady that lived next door, a longtime gardener herself, tried to get Mr. Ware to plant the trees further apart. "Six feet is too close, they'll grow into each other before you know it and take over the yard, not to mention the drive." she told him. So, the trees grew and probably looked quite fetching when they were younger, growing into a nice green line marking the gravel drive. Ah, but we all tend to look fetching, if not green, when we are young. It's when we keep on growing past our limits that there is trouble. Too many chocolate chip cookies and ice cream sundaes make our waistlines bulge past the boundaries and planting the Norway Spruce on six foot centers tends to make for a short life for a long green line. The stronger trees take over and leave the others stunted and warped looking until the unfortunates wither away. The whole process can take forty years or more (Norway spruces should be planted on 20 foot centers), leaving a raggedy line with the trees on the end (and maybe one in the middle) towering over wizened little creatures in between.
Of course, there's the other guy. The one who thinks that a little pine tree on each end of the house will define it from the rest of the little boxes on the block. Which is great. Until a few years later, when the trees are approaching 50 feet and simultaneously growing into the foundation and dwarfing a modest little ranch, making it look like the victim of a double Godzilla verde.
So where does that leave us on this drab January day? On a sodden street pockmarked with grossly overgrown forest trees that overhang little gardens and filter through the bare branches of other (unclothed) forest trees. No sun, no proportion. Just a runaway forest in a long-ago cow pasture filled with row upon row of little boxes .
At least the wind sounds nice whispering through the old girls in my parents yard.
Pices Abies grows to 150 feet in the northern Baltic region it is native to and is frequently seen at 75 to 100 feet tall here in Ohio. Unfortunately what is majestic in a northern forest setting does not look that way when paired with a 50's tract house in Cleveland.
The pioneers of the Western Reserve brought the Norway Spruce west with them to provide shelter from the winds off Lake Erie. Soon their lacy dark green fronds marked homes everywhere. A lonely farm in the middle of a field and a city bungalow. Actually, the spruce looks kind of nice and unassuming when it's planted at about 12 to 18 inches tall. At about 4 years it starts to take shape as a baby Christmas tree. By the time it is 10 years old it is, if professionally sheared, the perfect pyramidal tree to enhance a holiday living room. Glossy and dark green with slightly drooping branches, some Christmas tree growers are planting these trees for future harvest because they look nice and grow reliably fast. Unfortunately they also tend to lose needles faster than their relatives the White and Blue spruces which can be a problem if you want to keep your tree up past Christmas so the lights will make you forget the gloom of January.
In their zeal for "landscaping" the old homestead, people generally buy those cute little potted trees and either plant them 3 feet away from the foundation or if they are particularly flush, plant a whole line of them on 6 foot centers down the edge of a driveway. That's what the previous owner of my old childhood home did-marked the driveway with a nice little conga line of spruces. The lady that lived next door, a longtime gardener herself, tried to get Mr. Ware to plant the trees further apart. "Six feet is too close, they'll grow into each other before you know it and take over the yard, not to mention the drive." she told him. So, the trees grew and probably looked quite fetching when they were younger, growing into a nice green line marking the gravel drive. Ah, but we all tend to look fetching, if not green, when we are young. It's when we keep on growing past our limits that there is trouble. Too many chocolate chip cookies and ice cream sundaes make our waistlines bulge past the boundaries and planting the Norway Spruce on six foot centers tends to make for a short life for a long green line. The stronger trees take over and leave the others stunted and warped looking until the unfortunates wither away. The whole process can take forty years or more (Norway spruces should be planted on 20 foot centers), leaving a raggedy line with the trees on the end (and maybe one in the middle) towering over wizened little creatures in between.
Of course, there's the other guy. The one who thinks that a little pine tree on each end of the house will define it from the rest of the little boxes on the block. Which is great. Until a few years later, when the trees are approaching 50 feet and simultaneously growing into the foundation and dwarfing a modest little ranch, making it look like the victim of a double Godzilla verde.
So where does that leave us on this drab January day? On a sodden street pockmarked with grossly overgrown forest trees that overhang little gardens and filter through the bare branches of other (unclothed) forest trees. No sun, no proportion. Just a runaway forest in a long-ago cow pasture filled with row upon row of little boxes .
At least the wind sounds nice whispering through the old girls in my parents yard.
Monday, January 28, 2008
caught in a corner
This morning as I was feeding the cats in their various little territories it occurred to me that we are all warped by the jobs we work, the places we live, the country we live in, the friends and family that surround us (or don't). Which puts us all, humans and other animals in the same category as those cypress trees you see pictured in the Sierra. The trees are trained by the wind. We are trained by each other for the most part since very few of us (myself included) are strong enough to fight the winds that surround us. It is easier to give in.
Last night I started reading "The Four Day Win" by Martha Beck. It's a book on dieting (which of course I would have no use for) and also on changing your whole outlook on life--four days at a time. According to the author, the Rule of 4 seems to be hardwired into the brain--she found that if she could get a client to do anything consistently for four days--writing, exercising, eating a certain thing-an internal barrier seems to fall and progress is made--progress that sticks to the psyche.
So maybe I have found a new tool to fight the winds around me. I don't want to die in this miserable little hole. I don't want any more of my little cat friends to die without tasting freedom and a wide blue sky above them. I want to be able to see the sky myself, and have time to enjoy the wonder of a full moon night and the vastness of the stars.
Will I be strong enough for this battle?--maybe--four days at a time. The author says we can only truly win in increments. If you try to take on the whole set of problems the mind shuts down in despair. I've dealt long enough with despair. It makes for a difficult life. A life without options. A life without life.
Martin Luther King also knew of the wisdom of this process. He said, "Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step."
Last night I started reading "The Four Day Win" by Martha Beck. It's a book on dieting (which of course I would have no use for) and also on changing your whole outlook on life--four days at a time. According to the author, the Rule of 4 seems to be hardwired into the brain--she found that if she could get a client to do anything consistently for four days--writing, exercising, eating a certain thing-an internal barrier seems to fall and progress is made--progress that sticks to the psyche.
So maybe I have found a new tool to fight the winds around me. I don't want to die in this miserable little hole. I don't want any more of my little cat friends to die without tasting freedom and a wide blue sky above them. I want to be able to see the sky myself, and have time to enjoy the wonder of a full moon night and the vastness of the stars.
Will I be strong enough for this battle?--maybe--four days at a time. The author says we can only truly win in increments. If you try to take on the whole set of problems the mind shuts down in despair. I've dealt long enough with despair. It makes for a difficult life. A life without options. A life without life.
Martin Luther King also knew of the wisdom of this process. He said, "Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step."
Friday, January 25, 2008
back again
Catchy title, Back Again. But when I received the news that the cancer was back two days after Christmas, being the optimist, I naturally thought that this was the end. I keep forgetting that somebody else is calling the shots.
I've been through the surgery, awaiting chemo or radiation or whatever they decide but relatively at peace. Got to take my first real shower in a week (it's the little things that really do count) and took a walk on the bike path this afternoon--freedom! Even thoough it was only about 10 degrees outside the sun felt wonderful. We're not used to too much sun up here in Ohio during the winter. Spotted two red-tailed hawks which I took as a good sign. The hawk is a kind of symbol of the connection I feel with this area and the people and animals who inhabited this space in the past.
The two hardest things in life are waiting--waiting for results, Christmas morning, a baby, a vacation to begin, a vacation to end. The second thing is letting go--letting go of old friends, children, and fear. I keep remembering learning to swim--my uncle kept telling me to let go and float--don't worry about going under--just relax and float, relax and float. So naturally I would flail away and sink. And fifty-five years later I still haven't learned to float, to trust in the forces underneath me.
There is no real safety anywhere. George Bush promised to keep this country safe from the terrorists and maybe on the surface he has succeeded, but at what cost. We are building democracy in the Middle East while at the same time tearing it apart here in the homeland. Our economy is in shreds and the general feeling is that we're all on this sinking ship together. So where is the captain and crew?
I keep thinking that this is all illusion. There is no real up or down. It's time to learn to float.
I've been through the surgery, awaiting chemo or radiation or whatever they decide but relatively at peace. Got to take my first real shower in a week (it's the little things that really do count) and took a walk on the bike path this afternoon--freedom! Even thoough it was only about 10 degrees outside the sun felt wonderful. We're not used to too much sun up here in Ohio during the winter. Spotted two red-tailed hawks which I took as a good sign. The hawk is a kind of symbol of the connection I feel with this area and the people and animals who inhabited this space in the past.
The two hardest things in life are waiting--waiting for results, Christmas morning, a baby, a vacation to begin, a vacation to end. The second thing is letting go--letting go of old friends, children, and fear. I keep remembering learning to swim--my uncle kept telling me to let go and float--don't worry about going under--just relax and float, relax and float. So naturally I would flail away and sink. And fifty-five years later I still haven't learned to float, to trust in the forces underneath me.
There is no real safety anywhere. George Bush promised to keep this country safe from the terrorists and maybe on the surface he has succeeded, but at what cost. We are building democracy in the Middle East while at the same time tearing it apart here in the homeland. Our economy is in shreds and the general feeling is that we're all on this sinking ship together. So where is the captain and crew?
I keep thinking that this is all illusion. There is no real up or down. It's time to learn to float.
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