Memories are burgle-proof!

I was able to make peace with the theft in realizing as valuable (to me) as the mementos were, they are still just things. Some people don’t have any ‘things’. I’ve a roof over my head and I do not go hungry. And the memories that those lost items represented are still mine and cannot be taken away by anyone. Peace, all.

We Deserve Better

So it's election time once again.  Time to turn in and turn on the rants, the soundbytes, the out of context quotes, the unflattering pictures and the worst case scenarios.  All from commentators, no legitimate journalist  in sight.  I'm a political junkie.  No, correction, a rehabilitated political junkie. I can't stand it anymore. Why? Because the times, they are a-changing.

Look at the campaigns.  Look at your party, left or right and if you've ever had the argument of "the other side just wants the worst for you!" or if you justify mudslinging with "well the other side started it first!" therein lies the problem.  There's no room for moderates anymore. No middle ground and compromise is seen as a weakness.

I'm an independent.  I've pulled the lever for both parties, depending on the issue, the candidate and the general state of the Union.  Some may say that's disloyal to party but the last time I looked, it was about the welfare of our country, not about a single party.

I just despise the single mindedness of the campaigns.  No one is even asking you to vote for them anymore, have you noticed that? It's more or less just another round of "don't vote for my opponent." I want more than that.  We as a country DESERVE more than that. The blood of our service men and women have paid the price for more than that.

There are cries of  "smaller, less intrusive government!".... but not when it comes to marrying the person you love. How much more intrusive can a government be?? (I'm of course speaking of same sex marriage.) What the heck, live is hard. It's cold and brutal, the government has absolutely no place to dictate or define love. This flies directly in the face of the pursuit of happiness, not just mentioned but GUARANTEED by the U.S. Constitution. And the government restricting access to planned parenthood? Here's the lowdown, dear readers.  Planned Parenthood does more than abortions; they're the last bastion of quality healthcare for women with no other financial alternatives.  And if you think promoting safe sex equates to abstinence? You obviously don't remember your teen years.  The wind, sunshine, clouds and or the moon was enough to get the mind thinking about sex.

There are cries of "help the poor!" but not a SINGLE candidate on either side has mentioned the plight of families in Appalachia; families caught so deeply in the crushing circle of poverty that generation after generation has been forced to settle for living conditions that the middle class wouldn't tolerate for a weekend. I'm all for tax incentives for getting older cars off of the road for cleaner air, but how about running water for those in need? How about funding our food banks or better yet, getting rid of the NEED for them. I'm a huge proponent of military spending; I want our troops safe and the best equipped in the world. I can also show you how those contracts equate to civilian jobs and actually boosts the economy.  I'm just saying that one less stealth bomber could fund the food banks of West Virginia, without civilian donations, for two years.

We are still the leaders in the world in things. Only now it's buying things instead of making them. iPads, luxury cars. We measure our importance in square footage and tax brackets.  We have the military might to crack the planet in half a thousand times over but our veterans sleep under bridges.  Our children go to school not for learning but because it's their only hot meal in a day. We still have people forced to choose between healthcare and food on their table.

We can do better. We have to do better. I'm not telling you to vote left or right; just vote. Scream to your local and state representation.  Make them put the unsavory issues on the table; that's how solutions are found. The easy path is easy because it's been done. The hard path is rocky because no one has taken it for so long; but at the end of that path is where I want to be.  I want to say, "I mattered somewhere. I fought for SOMETHING."

I'm sorry. Late night dealing with numbers and thoughts just poured out.

Good night dear reader. As always, thank you for taking the time to read.

A steward of the land and of life

It's been awhile since I've blogged, busy with life in general but I'm dusting off the blog tonight.

Today is October 5th; my grandfather has been gone 12 years today and yet not a day in that time has gone by without me thinking of him. Sometimes briefly, sometimes deeply, often with regret but always fondly.

I'm writing this blog entry more for myself than anyone, so I will take no offense if you choose to move on to more entertaining and well written blogs.  If you do continue to read, I will try my best to tell you the tale of farmer's son.

My grandfather had twelve siblings as was not extraordinary for the period or the place, the land was big and hands were needed to till the soil.  Sadly he lost most of his family during the influenza outbreak; I think that's what instilled within him the need to care for others as an adult. Despite hardship and pain in his life, he remained a family rock; even when burying a his first grandchild in tragedy and later a daughter through illness.

He was not formally educated, but brilliant in his own way.  A funny anecdote: The University of Arkansas' head of the horticulture department twice approached him, wanting to know why this lone sharecropper produced twice the cotton yield as his neighbors, who had hired hands and larger acreage. My grandfather couldn't tell him anything more than "you have to care for the land." The professor left feeling snubbed and my grandfather, bewildered. 

My gosh could that man make things grow!  I often think his greatest frustration came from the sticks that he used to support saplings, they would inevitably take root and need to be replaced. He just could not help but make plants grow.

He was quiet, not in a shy way but rather as if words were gold coins, to be spent only when necessary.  Some of my fondest memories are fishing beside him on a riverbank, hours of conversations without a single word being passed.  That was the thing; in silence he could convey his thoughts and feelings far better than the most eloquent speaker.  Walking along atop of a fence, holding one end of a stick as he held the other, was the safest feeling in the world. And when the world was crumbling, that worn and giant of a hand on your shoulder was a far better balm than any medicine.

He taught me that everything in life is connected;  the water, the land, you, me, we're all part of one giant ecosystem and if one part fails, you help. You don't break the chain; you dig in and give, not for some reward but because it's the right thing to do. He taught me to stand up for what I believe in and that courage and kindness are gifts to be shared.

He taught me that a person's value isn't determined by wealth or possessions, that we're all made up of the same material. He had no tolerance for racism or bigotry and for someone born deep in the Ozarks at the turn of the century, that was quite a rarity. As was he.

Whatever fine qualities I may arguably possess, are all attributed to him. I never told him of the tremendous impact he'd made on my life, but I desperately hope that he knew. 

I loved him dearly.

Thank you for taking the time to read.

I want to walk where the fireflies dance.

"Walk with me where the fireflies dance; that's where dreams live." - Grimagination.

Yes I know, the quote is more than a little pompous and filled with hubris but .... I miss fireflies. I miss the warm night air with crickets chirping, that misty feeling with the scent of jasmine in the air. I won't necessarily say it was a simpler time but certainly more comforting than concrete, car stereos blaring and exhaust fumes.

Believe it or not, seeing fireflies once more is on my bucket list. Yes, I have one. It's not long and to be honest, the simplicity would be more alarming than that of the wildest daredevil but it's mine.

Someday, many things :)

No way to slow down.

"Oh he feels the pistons scraping, steam breaking on his brow, old Charlie stole the handle and the train, it won't stop going. No way to slow down."


One of the lyrics from Jethro Tull's "Locomotive Breath".  It's a song in heavy rotation on my iPod these days.


No I don't relate to the theme of a man's entire life unraveling, but I do relate to when the pace of life seems to quicken, building up speed and pressure faster and faster until it's all you can do to just keep up and hold on tight.  The last month or more has really been a wild ride at a breakneck pace, from the moment my feet hit the floor until my head hits the pillow. So many things to do, many more and more obligations to meet and I'll be honest, I get tired. I get cranky. I have a lot of responsibilities; those who know me well, are aware of a few of them but really nobody knows all of them all. Nobody. They're all responsibilities I assumed by choice, no one forced them on me so I do not have room nor right to complain.  Admittedly sometimes I do and I'm usually embarrassed by it.


I've blogged a good deal about having patience for others, trying to see what the other person is going through and not to judge.  I mean that. You have to stop for a moment; take a deep breath and consider the other person and the burden they carry.


And if you're wondering why I am telling you this? I'm not.  I'm telling me.  I've been so short of patience lately and been letting stress, pressure and a heavy load (again assumed by choice) get the better of me.  I've argued with people who didn't deserve it and been less than patient with others.  Stress is no excuse, that's simply no way to treat people.  Ok telling Mr. LittleShoes to go f-himself twice this month...? Yah, no I would TOTALLY do that again. I won't lie but then I feel I've earned that one :)


If you are one of the many, many that I've pissed off and have yet to apologize, come talk to me.  I'll eat a bit of crow and maybe mend a fence or two. 


I've always said I'm not yet the man I want to be but I get closer every day.  I slid a little this month but I'm not nearly done yet trying to be better.


Be happy.  Live, love, laugh and be kind.


Thank you for taking the time to read.

There is a better life.

For those that follow my blog, may recall my September 14th post "Monsters Are Real".  It was a short blog filled with statistics and hotline numbers on the subject of domestic violence. This week I said goodbye to a good friend; she was the inspiration for that blog and as she makes her way towards creating a new life, she inspires again.


Like many in an abusive relationship, she made excuses for her husband's behavior.  She believed him when he promised "never again".  She felt she was to blame for "getting him mad" and deserved the abuse. She gave over control of finances and suffered in silence and isolation. That's the pattern of an abuser; the transference, the control and the lies. "You're the cause. You made me do it. You pushed my buttons. It was only once. I said I was sorry."


She was still making excuses as I held her hand while EMT's tended to her broken nose and fractured orbital bone.


I've known abusers in my life; their paramount need is for control at any costs.  Physical, sexual, verbal and mental abuse is most common but certainly not the only forms. An abuser may attempt psychological manipulation or controlling finances, they may stalk or attempt to remove you from friends and family in order to better secure control.


As I said in the previous blog, "you don't have to leave a bruise to harm someone".


As much as it saddened me to say goodbye to my friend, my heart swelled with pride in knowing she was bravely forging her own path.  She made choices for herself and her children to relocate somewhere far away from the horrors she endured and would contact friends and family when she felt ready.


When she felt ready.


For someone leaving an abusive relationship, that one sentence was worth every volume every written about personal enlightenment. Not fearing a blow for making the wrong decision. Not having to walk on eggshells or keep quiet. Feeling something other than pain at its worst and numb at its best. No longer fearing to just live. 


If you're in an abusive relationship, there is help; you do not have to suffer in silence.  You don't have to live in fear and you're not alone in the darkness. 

If you're in immediate danger, call 911. If you looking for a way out, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) . There's someone there 24 hours a day and can help you for both immediate and long term plans.

Above all, please know you didn't ask to be abused and it is not your fault. There is a better life.


Be kind. Be well. Live, love and laugh.


Thank you for taking the time to read.


For safety plans and additional information, please visit the following websites:

http://www.domesticviolence.org/
http://www.ncadv.org/

"Don't go where I can't follow."

"'Frodo, Mr. Frodo!' he called. 'Don't leave me here alone! It's your Sam calling. 'Don't go where I can't follow! Wake up, Mr. Frodo! O wake up, Frodo, dear me. Wake up!' 


It's one of my absolute favorite passages from J.R.R. Tolkien's works. Specifically "The Two Towers" although many people associate it the "Return of the King" movie.  I'm so very glad the script writers left that line in. (FYI a rub for me is that Frodo NEVER went to Osgiliath. Sorry, but I had to mention it.)


"Don't go where I can't follow."


Samwise Gamgee's unwavering loyalty and love for his friend is put to the test and there is so much within that short plea. Entire volumes could be written about Sam's loyalty.


Despite hardship, despite the maliciousness of the One Ring, Samwise never falters in his duty.  Not so much in his task of escorting the Ring to Mordor, but in keeping Frodo safe. He risks physical danger, suffers the rebuke from his most trusted friend and yet.. his loyalty prevails. Is not tempted by the Ring. He is not deterred by hunger, wounds or lack of spirit. He keeps his friend safe because of love. 


If we had (and indeed were) friends such as Samwise Gamgee, what a truly beautiful world this would be.


Thank you for taking the time to read. 

Perfect Writing

Every once in a while (every year, actually) I purchase a copy of my favorite novel by my favorite writer and make a gift of an awe inspiring tale to a friend.  I'm speaking of Charles Dickens, of course.  I know, his characters may be somewhat predictable and his villains tended to be highly exaggerated  but his themes and cadence have always spoken to me.  It's truly beautiful writing and if you've not revisited his works since middle school, I highly encourage you to do so.


Dickens was one the writers that made me want to pick up every book in my youth, hoping that within those covers would be a work of equal worth.  Sadly few have met that high expectation. (Larry McMurtry is quite brilliant, as is Stephen King, James Patterson, Patricia Cornwell and Shelby Foote.) As you may have surmised, I do enjoy a diverse genre.


But Dickens? Who can resist the words so perfect they might well never the like be seen again. It has every element of what we strive for in each of ourselves. Self discovery, romance, redemption, selfless love and sacrifice. Carton who is known as "The Jackal" and by everyone's estimation has led a wasted life. Yet in his waning hours, faced with his own mortality, ensures the happiness of the one he cares for, knowing he can never share in the joy. What scifi fan does not recognize his final thoughts of "it's a far, far better thing I do...".


Carton left him there; but lingered at a little distance and turned back to the gate again when it was shut, and touched it.  He had heard of her going to the prison every day. "She came out here," he said, looking about him, "turned this way, must have trod on these stones often.  Let me follow in her steps." - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.


The beauty of pure, unrequited love sparked merely by another's lingering presence. I wish authors today strived for such excellence. Instead we're treated to the same banality served under different scintillating titles. Gore versus horror, techno-babble in place of genius science fiction borne from imagination. A work should be more than just a thirty second advertisement; it should grab you, shake you to your core and leave you with thoughts of the characters for days, even years afterwards.


A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.


My thoughts for this evening.  Thank you for taking the time to read.

Hope Lives On

HOPE LIVES ON. 1/24/12


"What a wretched corpse hope leaves behind."


I wrote that.  Yup, that was me during my "I'm Grim and I write <really bad> brooding poetry" phase. Dark glasses, black on black attire and fearing to make a connection with anyone lest I be disappointed and hurt again.  I was actually pretty distrustful of everyone, which often surprises people today.


"I suppose nice guys are lucky to be in the race in the first place." Another one I wrote.  Are you seeing a pattern here?   I was a pessimist throughout most of my mid to late 20's and I do not mean sort-of or kind of, I mean hardcore. 


It's been awhile since I leafed through old scraps of short stories and prose.  A lot of it came from a pretty dark place and writing was my outlet for exorcising emotional demons.  As I read it again, one thought came to mind.


What a self absorbed tosser, I was.


Hope doesn't die.  Hope is something that lives in each of us, whispering our hearts desire of the little things that we may never tell another soul.  We may hope for a better life, for the safety of friends, for riches, for health, for love.  We never really stop hoping; through disappointment we sometimes simply stop listening.  Hope may weaken and grow hoarse but it's still there, trying desperately to be heard.  It lives in the corners of memories of days past and in the most remote possibility of things to come.  It's a gentle caress  of a lover's hand, a sleepy sunrise,  shared laughter,  a piece of music.


Life isn't easy and it's not supposed to be. Life can be a cold and incredibly lonely place and the journey is going to grind you to your knees at times, there's no shame in being knocked down.  It's what you do when you're feeling lost and disheartened that matters. I choose to embrace hope as a beacon in the night rather than a flame by which to burn.


Maybe that which we desire most may never come to pass but there's always hope. 


I'm a steward of hope.

"What a wretched corpse, hope leaves behind."


I wrote that.  Yup, that was me during my "I'm Grim and I write <really bad> brooding poetry" phase. Dark glasses, black on black attire and fearing to make a connection with anyone lest I be disappointed and hurt again.  I was actually pretty distrustful of everyone, which often surprises people today.


"I suppose nice guys are lucky to be in the race in the first place." Another one I wrote.  Are you seeing a pattern here?   I was a pessimist throughout most of my mid to late 20's and I do not mean sort-of or kind of, I mean hardcore. 
It's been awhile since I leafed through old scraps of short stories and prose.  A lot of it came from a pretty dark place and writing was my outlet for exorcising emotional demons.  As I read it again, one thought came to mind.


What a self absorbed tosser, I was.


Hope doesn't die.  Hope is something that lives in each of us, whispering our hearts desire of the little things that we may never tell another soul.  We may hope for a better life, for the safety of friends, for riches, for health, for love.  We never really stop hoping; through disappointment we sometimes simply stop listening.  Hope may weaken and grow hoarse but it's still there, trying desperately to be heard.  It lives in the corners of memories of days past and in the most remote possibility of things to come.  It's a gentle caress  of a lover's hand, a sleepy sunrise,  shared laughter,  a piece of music.


Life isn't easy and it's not supposed to be. Life can be a cold and incredibly lonely place and the journey is going to grind you to your knees at times, there's no shame in being knocked down.  It's what you do when you're feeling lost and disheartened that matters. I choose to embrace hope as a beacon in the night rather than a flame by which to burn.


Maybe that which we desire most may never come to pass but there's always hope. 


I'm a steward of hope.

Floyd!?

So I've found out that my cousin (Let's call him Floyd in case he discovers the "portal to the intenetteds" and I would hate for my rant to embarrass him.) is now married.  Floyd. The man who would offer to eat oddities for beer money.  The man who never met an itch he wouldn't scratch in public and who once said to me "David Lee Roth don't need them Van Halen assholes."


Don't get me wrong,  I'm actually pretty happy for Floyd and if he's found someone whom he loves and loves him in return, that's a beautiful thing.  I'm not jealous or resentful;  it's just difficult to put my initial reaction into words. 


Just... Floyd?!?


I was counting on Floyd.  As the only other bachelor in the entire family (Not including "Earl" who can now get married in several states), Floyd gave me a cushion. I had padding.  I had time and a distraction to all of my aunts, elders and married friends. "Go pick on Floyd, he's not married either!"  


Yes I verbally kneecapped Floyd on more than one occasion. If you knew my family, you would too. Don't judge me.


Oh the devious machinations this will put into motion.... Thank goodness the holidays are past so I do not have to fear the "fix-up, the set-up and the mix-up" for awhile yet.  (See my October 2010 'He's Single' entry for details.) 


I don't really have much contact with my father's side of the family anymore but I can practically smell the smoke from the phone lines crossing the country, from the Southland to central California back to the Southland and finally to here.


"Floyd got himself hitched. When is Grim going to get married??"


"He's too old to still be a bachelor!"


"Is he catting around? Fornicator!"


"Well you know how they live out there, they're all hippies."


"I will put his name on the church's prayer list and we will pray for his wicked, wicked soul!"


And so on... and so on...


Basically Floyd just made my life a little more difficult for the interim. So if you see a child with overly large gums, permanent baby teeth and hair in places no human should have growth, that'll be my new second cousin, Floyd Jr. or little Floydette.


And all kidding aside, Floyd is really a terrific guy and will make a heck of husband.  He's loyal, trustworthy and generous. I really do wish him all of the happiness in the world.


Damn it.


Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Life goes on.


Thank you for taking the time to read.