THE CORNERS IN MY LIFE

How in the world did I manage to live so long and transition from a teenage adrenaline-junky to an 86.6 year-old with a case of terminal wanderlust? For most of my life I’ve been writing in self defense, never knowing how the puzzle pieces fit but never giving up. In my 40’s I stumbled onto music. No training just listening to stories unfold in three verses and a bridge. I wondered how I might tell my story in three verses and a bridge, then I discovered it had already been written. In 1989 Willie Nelson recorded ‘There’s Nothing I Can Do About It Now.” With 35 years of hindsight my spirit’s not as wild or restless as Willie’s but the rest of it could belong to me just as easy. The bridge goes; Running through the changes; Going through the stages; Coming ‘round the corners in my life” and it ends with “I’m forgiving everything that forgiveness will allow and there’s nothing I can do about it now.” As I reflect on those changes, those stages and the corners and forgiveness; the thought of being something, someone other than who I am; not a good thought. My Here & Now is pretty good considering the years and the miles and I don’t think another path would be so forgiving. 
If one gets this deep into a long life I think pondering the journey with its stages and corners is important. Having a real job with a boss and responsibility is necessary but terribly time consuming. It’s really true, after you’ve been retired a year or so one wonders how they found time for work with so many other important things in play. Making decisions based on my own wants and needs came natural until a decade or so ago. Now the first criterion is; How will this affect the way I would be remembered? I have no confidence in the ‘Hereafter’ myth, none at all. The promise of what I leave behind is as good as it gets. I hope that would be a legacy of fair play, tough love when needed, compassion, affection and generosity.
I am healthy considering; some folks inherit better genetics and others make a serious effort to live a sustainable life style. I fall into both categories and I attribute my good fortune to those elements. Those changes, phases and corners in my life have been exciting as well as difficult. Nobody had to tell me; ‘when you fall down, get back up.’ As often as you fall, keep getting back up. Life is unforgiving. If you need help then get it but you still have to do the getting up. Then, today is the only day you can put your hands on so do something with it. I learned that from my mother and as long as I cling to that then her legacy is alive in me. 
I am making a legitimate effort to be positive and work on my own character rather than bemoan the politics and divisive powers that beset present times. By now I don’t have to elaborate on my values or ideological convictions and, I can discriminate between being judgmental and having an educated opinion. I refuse to be intimidated and attempts too normalize bad behavior will not weaken my resolve. So I wake up to a new day every day and make it my business to find the joy. Spring is just around the corner and my wanderlust has me exploring maps and weighing destinations. A 10 -14 day roadtrip will do wonders for my spirit; who knows who I’ll meet or where I’ll find them. 

PULL TO THE LEFT

My writing recently has been pulling to the left like my truck with low pressure in the front tire. My truck won’t fix itself, I have to do the fixing. February has been a challenging month. I am too old to be taken seriously but I can live with that. What little leverage I have is limited to mundane muttering over issues within my grasp. I know that and it’s alright. But February has been a month of reprehensible behavior by my country’s CEO and my mind keeps going there against my wishes. I don’t want to focus on his mischief as I cannot change his ways. I must have started this entry 6 or 8 times and never gotten to the 2nd paragraph.
I am missing a big lower tooth in the very back. That leaves the back-side surface of the next tooth exposed. It has a sharp edge that had been out of reach but now my tongue keeps going there without permission and I don’t notice until it makes a sore spot that I cannot ignore. Here comes the metaphor; my conscience is like my tongue and all the Trumpfuckery is like the sharp edge on my tooth. The term is defined in the Urban Dictionary as; . . . involving racist, misogynistic, hateful speech & actions masquerading as patriotism. I love my country and I’m sure that DT Disciples do too but the irony seems to be, we don’t want to live in the same country. 
I have friends who delight in beating up on the man but when I go that way all I get is a sore spot on my conscience. I’m old and life is short, too short to be pissing in the wind over a broken system. I choose not to think of it as being in denial but rather, spending my energy on things where I can in fact be an agent of change. I can help with feeding hungry people who cannot meet their own need, and I do, it's a good thing and I don' know who would step up if I didn't. Best of all when I get home I feel better than before. When I can, I make small contributions to Planned Parenthood, National Public Radio and the A.C.L.U. They put my few pennies to work with other donated pennies to make for a fairer, more equitable society. 
Somewhere in the middle years of my career I had a revelation so to speak. I became aware that being an educator made me a moving target. Students, administrators, parents, other teachers; I never know who is paying attention or what they notice. If you care at all what others take from your example then you have to wear the hat you want to be associated with all of the time, every minute of every day. I like to think I don’t care what others think but I do care about the quality of their experience when I am part of it. I still think about the hat I’m wearing. 
This life is truly a journey and we know its destination, the ride stops with a eulogy. That makes every day more precious than the day before. I’m not going to let an egomaniac at the wheel spoil my day; that bears repeating, I’m not going to let an egomaniac at the wheel spoil my day or the next, or the next. American poet Emily Dickinson wrote; “Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.” I like that. I don’t know when the dawn will come but I have to believe that it will.  

LIKE A ROLLING THUNDER

     This summer will make it fourteen years that I have been writing this blog. All along I’ve made a habit of going back to reread articles. I used to belong to a writer’s group where we brought new eyes to each other’s work and that peer feedback is important if you want both your process and skills to improve. Haven’t had that support for a long time so I improvise with my own new eyes. More often than not I will leave an article dormant over-night or a day or two, so when I see it again I’m coming back around and it has to stand on its own legs. When I’m satisfied I can share it with others. I’ve deleted a lot this winter. The most recent blog post got away from me without the follow up revision and it was awful when I saw it with new eyes; a rant on DT that felt good with the writing but not what I want for the blog. I had addressed that situation sufficiently the blog before. He is a diabolical scoundrel but my scorn isn’t going to change either him or me. So I pulled it down a couple of days later and today is another day. 
    For over twenty years I have created a letter/story for the holiday season, sending it to 80 or 90 friends and family. The purpose was partly in the writing but also to reaffirm that I remember and I care. I am moved by the idea; if you love someone then you should tell them and this was sort of that. But I didn’t send my usual holiday greeting in 2025. I sat down and went through the motions but the words didn’t come; wanted it to read authentic but it just wasn’t there.       

    I am thinking a road trip would do wonders for me. But right now there are two doctors, a dentist & dental hygienist, optometrist, audiologist and the guy who services my truck, all wanting a spot on my winter calendar. My health is better than most at 86 and my pit crew all want the good health to stay good. There is a point when a promising idea becomes a plan and I haven’t quite reached it. But neither can I imagine spending a full winter in Kansas City. Still, other than a bitter, week-long, below zero cold snap in mid-January the weather has been a pleasant surprise. The road trip will happen, the when & where is still up in the air but I can pack and be out the door in a couple of hours. 

    The old Greeks has five or six different words to discriminate between all the different kinds of love. ‘Eros’ was passionate, physical love, ‘Philia’ love was dispassionate affection between equals or brotherly love, ‘Storge’ was familial, between parents and children, ‘Philautia’ love is love of self, etc. But most of us Love-speak without splitting hairs and draw from the context what the feeling is. So I can say without reservation that I love being on the road. What is it about keeping it between the lines, checking gauges and mirrors that gives me a dopamine hit? I do take satisfaction in the protocol but I suspect my love for driving is more about being in motion through time and space, watching signs and billboards slip by; certainly topping the next grade for a glimpse of where the road unwinds. I love it.

    I'm giving a shout-out to The Australian band, ‘The Waifs’ from their song, ‘How Many Miles’. It speaks to moving on, even whethe destination doesn’t meet expectations. The chorus goes: “How many miles did we wander, how many nights did we drive on through. We traveled that road like a rolling thunder; Yea but none of them led to anywhere that we wanted them to.” 
Back when I was a regular in my writer’s group with monthly meetings and seasonal workshops I learned a trick to offset writer’s block. You just start writing, about anything, random nonsense, descriptions of the wallpaper, anything at all. Before long that process of pointless wandering will spark an idea that should be explored. That is what I’ve been doing now for almost two pages and the only accomplishment I can boast is two pages of random rambling. I’m not giving up, just taking a break. I’ll come back tomorrow but I won’t throw this out and I’ll know where I’m going or I won’t sit down. 

THE DAMNED THING

  Edna St. Vincent Millay was an early 20th Century poet and playwrite. In 1930 she responded to an article titled “Life is one dam thing after another.” She said, “It’s not true that life is one damn thing after another—it's one damn thing over & over.” For two months now I have neither written in my journal nor made a blog post. Like Edna I knew my hangup wasn’t one thing or another, it was the same damn thing over & over. In my case writing is therapeutic. Framing ideas and organizing language to meet those needs feels good. Likewise, the process itself helps me to correlate and remember both the order and rationale of those ideas. It’s a win-win. But that same damn thing is depressing and I just didn’t want to dig in that hole. To avoid bad news I played computer games or went for long walks, listened to I-Tunes on my cell phone. Still, if I don’t process the damned source of my anxiety I’m afraid I’ll never move on. 
It is no secret that my truths and values are rooted in a progressive, liberal ideology. I didn’t choose to be this way. Those who tout ‘Freewill’ as the driver of belief and behavior would have it the other way. I do believe in the perception of freewill but it is no more credible than believing the sun revolves around the earth. The subconscious brain is programmed to react (choose this or that) and that program resonates with our emotional core faster and with more weight than the conscious mind. But this is getting away from my issue and better left for another day. 
Today that same damned thing is the current administration and its damned leader. I voted specifically against Donald Trump in the past three general elections. Who his opponents were didn’t matter. My vote was a firm rejection of an ultra-aggressive, irreconcilable, narcissist-billionaire. Every news broadcast, every media headline is in response to DT’s need to be the center of attention, to project the image he is peddling and to bully his way to dominance. I cannot pretend that his style and intent are in the nation’s best interest. They are unique to his self-obsessed sense of grandeur. They run parallel to the backstory that propelled Adolph Hitler through a decade of pillage & plunder in Germany from 1934 to 1945. Hitler used hatred of inferior races, Jews in particular to fuel genocide and global war, to ‘Make Germany Great Again.’ Hitler’s Gestapo broke down doors and dragged families away, deported them to prison camps in conquered countries and disappeared German citizens who resisted publicly against his tactics. What I see going on in Minnesota and California are the actions of Trump’s Gestapo. What else would you call masked white men with guns, breaking into houses and disappearing the residents, exercising deadly force against citizens who protest too loudly. I am not saying that DT is another Adolph Hitler but he is following the same patterns to the same ends. It’s not that I object to our borders being controlled and unregistered aliens being sent home. What makes me shudder is the way it is being done.
After 9/11/01 there was a shift in national sentiment against aliens and moslems in particular. The Department of Homeland Security was created to conduct criminal investigations, enforce immigration laws, preserve national security, and protect public safety. In the past quarter century Homeland Security has been focused on those President’s priorities. DT’s priority is his own unchecked authority. Hitler crushed Eastern European countries to expand German territory, gain resources and conscript a labor force to build his war machine. DT is turning his back on NATO and century old allies. Beyond that we have invaded Venezuela, seized its President and his wife, holding them for trial in the USA while capturing oil tankers from Venezuela in the Caribbean. Not to mention posturing a takeover of Greenland, all neatly packaged in the MAGA model. I fear that his slogan, “America First” is no more than a coded message that translates, “DT First”. His perception is that if you’re not #1 then you are just another loser. 
This is the damn thing that discourages me from writing, over and over. One could go on page after page of the Trump method vs. democracy as the founding fathers intended. He is a dangerous force in this culture. If I’m correct about Free Will, a public that has grown accustom to prosperity without sacrifice is at high risk of falling. Socrates among others noted that an uninformed or misinformed populace will give way to tyranny. Democracy (self rule) has always been and continues to be slow moving, messy, expensive and full of dead ends. But when people are well informed and employ critical thinking skills, it works. Today in my homeland there is a huge element that wants governance to be faster, less expensive, neat and clean with no dead ends. That chemistry is the working model for authoritarian autocrats around the world; just conform and obey. They are burning the candle at both ends, vulnerable to a Strong Man Overlord who rules in his own personal best interests rather than the Greater Good. Just because one’s feeling are strong it does not constitute a worthy purpose and that goes for me as well. So I keep going back to a fundamental truth that logic has never been able to disqualify; do unto others as you would . . . . . ! I think DT is just another wanna-be Despot (oppressive, authoritarian ruler) who would rule the world. 
I don’t know if this dive into my comfort zone will ease the struggle to keep writing. We’ll see.