Yes, I realize that getting older happens every day. That isn’t really what I mean. It’s late, and here I sit contemplating whether it’s safe to go to sleep. See, my 81 year old father lives with me, and he has been making me crazy today. OK, crazier than I usually am. It started last night, or rather, early this morning...
At 4:25 a.m., I hear his LifeAlert alarm go off. It’s a little button he wears around his neck that he is supposed to push that will signal the phone to call the LifeAlert people. It makes a really loud screeching noise. It’s enough to bring you straight up out of a sound sleep. The LifeAlert people, in turn, check to see if he needs assistance and call for help, if needed. I get up, I’m half-asleep, hear the phone dialing, can’t quite figure out what’s going on. Father is in bed, has the LifeAlert button held up to his ear, and he is clicking the button. The LifeAlert guy is now talking over the phone, I’m trying to get Father to stop pushing the button and tell the guy on the phone that we are OK at the same time.
The guy on the phone laughs and tells me to have a nice night (yeah, right!). I foolishly ask father what the devil he was doing. He says “I dunno!” Oh, good. Ask him if he feels all right, if he was having a bad dream. “I dunno!” Then he says he needs some toast. It’s now 4:45 am. I make toast. He has toast, then needs a drink of water.
I go back to bed about 5:20 am. About 6:00, I hear noise in there, again. He appears to be dreaming, and is having one heck of an argument with someone. For my sanity, he needs to wake up. He doesn’t wake up gracefully, (I come by that honestly) get him settled down and try again to go back to sleep. Gave up about 7:30, got up and decide to go out to the adoption kennel. Go check on him. He is snoring up a storm. Figures. He can sleep, I can’t. He wakes up before I leave, and he appears to be fine.
Get back from the kennel, feed Father, then settle down to read and, hopefully, take a nap. Of course, since I want to nap, he wants to talk. Eventually, he gets up, heads down the hall, and I hear a crash. He has decided he is going back to bed. At 3:00 pm. He tried to sit before he was close enough to the bed (did I mention that he has really bad vision, has had a stroke, and his balance stinks?) Pick him up off the floor and try to convince him it’s too early to go to bed. No dice. He is going. End of story.
I sit and read and wonder if I should be concerned. About 9:30 pm, I go check on him for about the 10th time. He is getting undressed. Asked him what the devil he is doing, he says he is cold and he is going to put his clothes on. He wears a sweatshirt and sweat pants for pajamas. Told him it’s 9:30 at night, and he decides maybe he will just go back to bed.
Now it’s almost midnight, he is talking in his sleep again, and I’m wondering if he will stay in bed, or if he will be giving me more excitement that I don’t need. I can’t get mad at him, I know he can’t see, doesn’t hear well, and while he is still able to do the basics, he doesn’t get around well. I know he is frustrated at his life, and there really isn’t much either one of us can do about it.
Don't misunderstand. I don't regret for one minute having him live with me. I just worry about him. A lot.
Then I wonder, how will I handle life if my life becomes like his? Hopefully, that’s a long way down the road yet, but it’s something I think about. How would I handle being forced to leave my home. Not be able to drive, to go where I want to go. Couldn’t cook my own meals. What if I couldn’t see well enough to watch the 42" TV I have hanging on the wall about 10 feet from his chair? Couldn’t hear well enough to listen to TV or the radio?
Many have heard me say, in jest, that I’m saving a .38 bullet in case the time comes when I just can’t stand my life any more. I’m not so sure I’m kidding.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Do I Believe in God?
I’m sure Mom worried about that question a lot. Yes, I grew up going to church and Sunday school regularly. Unfortunately for Mom, we were members of the United Church of Christ when I was growing up. The “slogan” on the church logo says “That they may all be one.” When I was younger, I delighted in telling people I was a “protesting protestant,” and questioned everything and everyone. Guess I still do, in many respects. I had a great time when I was in a philosophy of religion class in college and asked the adult Sunday school people at church if God was inherently good, or whether “evil” would be “good” if God had defined it that way...Yeah, I know, kind of ridiculous.
I remember asking many times if a person was a good person, but didn’t belong to whatever particular religion was seen as the “right” one, did that good person have a chance of going to heaven? The answer was always the same: people only get to heaven if they belong to the “right” religion. It never made sense to me. Why would God be the consummate game player? I had this image in my head of an old guy with long white hair and beard, sitting on a throne, plotting: “OK, I’ll put this guy down there and start this religion, and see what happens.” “OK, that was interesting, but what would happen if I send this other guy, and start this other thing?”
I know, irreverent. What can I say?
Another thing I could never quite get my head around is, why, if God is all knowing and powerful, would He find it necessary for the human race to sit around, singing his praises all the time? Does God have a strange sense of humor, or a huge ego? Why would He need humans, anyway? For amusement? (I know, it’s not politically correct to use a masculine pronoun for God, but when I think “God,” I think something totally outside the realm of human understanding, so one pronoun really doesn’t cover Him, anyway. I don’t sweat it.) I just don’t understand the “why” He created humans. Particularly considering some of the ones I’ve known over the years.
You know another question that always hangs out in the back of my head? Does any one religion encompass everything that is God? If God is truly more magnificent than the human mind can imagine, does He fit in any one religion box?
What if...every religion has part of the “truth?” That’s where I get back to the “That They May All Be One” concept.
When I left Illinois, I left the United Church of Christ. Not because I had any philosophical issues with the church, but because I was in a new place and my sister attended a United Methodist church. I went with her for a while, primarily because I love to sing, and a church choir is one of the places a crazy alto can find to sing. I have to say, I would do better with churches if I didn’t have to deal with the people. I don’t understand church politics. Maybe the answer for me to be able to happily sing in a church choir would be to not talk to the other people? I thought not.
So, yes, I gave up attending church a few years back. Will I ever go back? I can hear Mom up there, telling me I should, but I don’t know.
Back to the original question. Do I believe in God? I believe there is a higher power. I believe the order created around us and in us didn’t just happen. I’m not sure what “His” real name might be, or what form He takes. Maybe He is that beautiful sunrise. Maybe He is that beautiful song the birds sing. Maybe He is that beautiful forest. Maybe He is the smile on that stranger across the room. Maybe we just haven’t figured out yet that we cannot define Him or put Him into one neat little religion box, no matter how hard we try.
I remember asking many times if a person was a good person, but didn’t belong to whatever particular religion was seen as the “right” one, did that good person have a chance of going to heaven? The answer was always the same: people only get to heaven if they belong to the “right” religion. It never made sense to me. Why would God be the consummate game player? I had this image in my head of an old guy with long white hair and beard, sitting on a throne, plotting: “OK, I’ll put this guy down there and start this religion, and see what happens.” “OK, that was interesting, but what would happen if I send this other guy, and start this other thing?”
I know, irreverent. What can I say?
Another thing I could never quite get my head around is, why, if God is all knowing and powerful, would He find it necessary for the human race to sit around, singing his praises all the time? Does God have a strange sense of humor, or a huge ego? Why would He need humans, anyway? For amusement? (I know, it’s not politically correct to use a masculine pronoun for God, but when I think “God,” I think something totally outside the realm of human understanding, so one pronoun really doesn’t cover Him, anyway. I don’t sweat it.) I just don’t understand the “why” He created humans. Particularly considering some of the ones I’ve known over the years.
You know another question that always hangs out in the back of my head? Does any one religion encompass everything that is God? If God is truly more magnificent than the human mind can imagine, does He fit in any one religion box?
What if...every religion has part of the “truth?” That’s where I get back to the “That They May All Be One” concept.
When I left Illinois, I left the United Church of Christ. Not because I had any philosophical issues with the church, but because I was in a new place and my sister attended a United Methodist church. I went with her for a while, primarily because I love to sing, and a church choir is one of the places a crazy alto can find to sing. I have to say, I would do better with churches if I didn’t have to deal with the people. I don’t understand church politics. Maybe the answer for me to be able to happily sing in a church choir would be to not talk to the other people? I thought not.
So, yes, I gave up attending church a few years back. Will I ever go back? I can hear Mom up there, telling me I should, but I don’t know.
Back to the original question. Do I believe in God? I believe there is a higher power. I believe the order created around us and in us didn’t just happen. I’m not sure what “His” real name might be, or what form He takes. Maybe He is that beautiful sunrise. Maybe He is that beautiful song the birds sing. Maybe He is that beautiful forest. Maybe He is the smile on that stranger across the room. Maybe we just haven’t figured out yet that we cannot define Him or put Him into one neat little religion box, no matter how hard we try.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
What Mom Taught
I know, this was originally published in October 2009, and I still mean every word...
Dedicated to my former college room mate and her partner. Love you guys!
A quote from an old Joni Mitchell song, but it’s appropriate. I’ve been thinking lately about how extraordinary my mother was, and I really didn’t appreciate her at the time. Why? There are a lot of reasons, so I figure this will take more than one “episode” to complete all the thoughts. This particular epistle has to do with what I now see as Mom’s extraordinary character.
I don’t know why it’s an issue for me right now. Well, yes, I do. An old college room mate acknowledged she “likes girls” a few years back. She had gotten a divorce and was in a relationship with her girlfriend. She called to “break the news,” and in retrospect, I think she expected me to react badly, to not consider her to be a friend any more. Never occurred to me that it should affect my friendship with her, and it didn’t occur to me what kind of negative reactions she had encountered from her family and friends. She is the same person. What’s the big deal? (An aside, she and her partner have been together 13 years now. My marriage didn’t make 12 months. I envy them!)
See, when I was a kid, “the girls” lived next door. That’s how everyone referred to them. Ruth and Marg. Mom was friends with them, she helped them out when Ruth was sick. She let me go visit them all the time. I loved visiting them and their little Chihuahua, Tippy. I knew they lived together, that they shared the same bed. No big deal. I never questioned that they were a couple, and it never seemed to be strange or odd. They were good people who were kind to each other, and other people. And they put up with the obnoxious child that I was!
Somewhere along the way, I learned that other people disapproved of “that type” of relationship. Didn’t understand it, and being fairly oblivious, never occurred to me the type of prejudice “the girls” faced. Thank God, in our neighborhood, they were just regular people, they were our friends.
Was never really an issue in my life. I know some people are heterosexual and some are homosexual. Just don’t think about it, to be honest. Then my old college room mate calls and tells me her news and shares that her family did not take it well. That surprised me. I know, what rock had I been hiding under. Her family is very conservative religious. We had some very spirited conversations in college about religion, she was very conservative, and, as we all should know, I’m not. (Take a deep breath, I believe in God, I’d probably describe myself as Christian, but conservative, not so much.) How could her family turn on her when she tried to explain how miserable her life had been, and how she was finally finding happiness, found someone she loved? Isn’t that what parents want for their kids, for them to be happy and loved? Hell, isn’t that what we all want? Someone to love and to be loved?
This year, I got sucked into the American Idol show, watching Adam Lambert blow everyone away. Then the big media storm, is he gay?! All I could think was, what does that have to do with the fact he is an unbelievably gifted singer? Watching that unfold got me to thinking about how insane all of the nonsense was, conservative “Christians” calling for votes against him in the competition because he is gay.
No, he didn’t win. (Does it matter? No. Just an observation.) By this time, I’m kind of intrigued by the whole social aspect of the drama, and I’m following what he is doing, and what some other gay artists in California are doing. (Twitter is a strange, amazing thing. Come to think of it, the Internet is a strange and amazing thing!)
You saw my previous post about music. (If you haven’t, go read it! I put a lot of work into that!) All three of those artists are also gay. When I’ve had the opportunity to share their music with other people, I’m still surprised when I get a negative response because of their sexual orientation. Why on earth does that matter? Does it make someone less talented? Does it make them less worthwhile? Does it make them “bad” people? I have to say, I really don’t give a rat’s rearend, and it never crosses my mind when I listen to a new song or new artist to wonder whether they are gay. I’m not planning on sleeping with them, none of my business!
Good Lord, life isn’t exactly easy as it is. I’ve done the divorce thing, and can’t say that I’ll ever do the married thing again. Isn’t having someone to love something that everyone wants in their lives? Isn’t it something you want for your kids? If they are happy, if their partners are good, supportive, loving people, does their gender really matter?
Back to the original thought. Mom was a very religious woman. She was very active in church, with world-wide causes, with local causes. She taught me, by her demeanor, her attitude, and her friendship with “the girls” what it means to accept other people. Mom, thanks for being who you were. Thanks for teaching me that people are to be accepted for who they are. For teaching me that “the girls” were friends, not “freaks.” For being a shining example of what it should mean to be a Christian.
Dedicated to my former college room mate and her partner. Love you guys!
A quote from an old Joni Mitchell song, but it’s appropriate. I’ve been thinking lately about how extraordinary my mother was, and I really didn’t appreciate her at the time. Why? There are a lot of reasons, so I figure this will take more than one “episode” to complete all the thoughts. This particular epistle has to do with what I now see as Mom’s extraordinary character.
I don’t know why it’s an issue for me right now. Well, yes, I do. An old college room mate acknowledged she “likes girls” a few years back. She had gotten a divorce and was in a relationship with her girlfriend. She called to “break the news,” and in retrospect, I think she expected me to react badly, to not consider her to be a friend any more. Never occurred to me that it should affect my friendship with her, and it didn’t occur to me what kind of negative reactions she had encountered from her family and friends. She is the same person. What’s the big deal? (An aside, she and her partner have been together 13 years now. My marriage didn’t make 12 months. I envy them!)
See, when I was a kid, “the girls” lived next door. That’s how everyone referred to them. Ruth and Marg. Mom was friends with them, she helped them out when Ruth was sick. She let me go visit them all the time. I loved visiting them and their little Chihuahua, Tippy. I knew they lived together, that they shared the same bed. No big deal. I never questioned that they were a couple, and it never seemed to be strange or odd. They were good people who were kind to each other, and other people. And they put up with the obnoxious child that I was!
Somewhere along the way, I learned that other people disapproved of “that type” of relationship. Didn’t understand it, and being fairly oblivious, never occurred to me the type of prejudice “the girls” faced. Thank God, in our neighborhood, they were just regular people, they were our friends.
Was never really an issue in my life. I know some people are heterosexual and some are homosexual. Just don’t think about it, to be honest. Then my old college room mate calls and tells me her news and shares that her family did not take it well. That surprised me. I know, what rock had I been hiding under. Her family is very conservative religious. We had some very spirited conversations in college about religion, she was very conservative, and, as we all should know, I’m not. (Take a deep breath, I believe in God, I’d probably describe myself as Christian, but conservative, not so much.) How could her family turn on her when she tried to explain how miserable her life had been, and how she was finally finding happiness, found someone she loved? Isn’t that what parents want for their kids, for them to be happy and loved? Hell, isn’t that what we all want? Someone to love and to be loved?
This year, I got sucked into the American Idol show, watching Adam Lambert blow everyone away. Then the big media storm, is he gay?! All I could think was, what does that have to do with the fact he is an unbelievably gifted singer? Watching that unfold got me to thinking about how insane all of the nonsense was, conservative “Christians” calling for votes against him in the competition because he is gay.
No, he didn’t win. (Does it matter? No. Just an observation.) By this time, I’m kind of intrigued by the whole social aspect of the drama, and I’m following what he is doing, and what some other gay artists in California are doing. (Twitter is a strange, amazing thing. Come to think of it, the Internet is a strange and amazing thing!)
You saw my previous post about music. (If you haven’t, go read it! I put a lot of work into that!) All three of those artists are also gay. When I’ve had the opportunity to share their music with other people, I’m still surprised when I get a negative response because of their sexual orientation. Why on earth does that matter? Does it make someone less talented? Does it make them less worthwhile? Does it make them “bad” people? I have to say, I really don’t give a rat’s rearend, and it never crosses my mind when I listen to a new song or new artist to wonder whether they are gay. I’m not planning on sleeping with them, none of my business!
Good Lord, life isn’t exactly easy as it is. I’ve done the divorce thing, and can’t say that I’ll ever do the married thing again. Isn’t having someone to love something that everyone wants in their lives? Isn’t it something you want for your kids? If they are happy, if their partners are good, supportive, loving people, does their gender really matter?
Back to the original thought. Mom was a very religious woman. She was very active in church, with world-wide causes, with local causes. She taught me, by her demeanor, her attitude, and her friendship with “the girls” what it means to accept other people. Mom, thanks for being who you were. Thanks for teaching me that people are to be accepted for who they are. For teaching me that “the girls” were friends, not “freaks.” For being a shining example of what it should mean to be a Christian.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Where Did You Learn To Drive?
I would like to address many of my fellow travelers on the highways and byways of our fair land. It seems that a few need to review some basic rules of driving.
Turn Signals: First, I regret to note that many of you were the victims of consumer fraud when you purchased your vehicle. It appears many of them are not equipped with that little stick thingie on the left side of the steering column that is supposed to operate little blinking lights on the outside of the vehicle. Those lights are to let other drivers in your vicinity know when you are planning to turn or change lanes (they are called turn signals). I suggest that those of you who were gypped go back to where you purchased your vehicles and complain. Those lights have been mandatory equipment for many years. Driving isn't supposed to be a mind reading game, so if you don't have those lights, please consider learning the ancient hand signals. Extend your left arm out of your open driver's side window. Bend elbow and point to the sky, and signal a right turn; extend arm straight out, no bend in elbow, to signal a left turn; bend elbow and point toward the ground to signal a stop. See, the lights are so much easier.
Traffic signal lights: No one seems to have a problem with the green light, it means GO. Contrary to what many people seem to believe, yellow does not mean "Go like a bat out of Hell." It's a warning light that the red light is about to come on, and that you should think about slowing down and stopping. Now, the red light. It appears that somehow people have gotten the impression that while it means STOP, it's optional to stop during the first few seconds it is illuminated. Those instructions have never been part of any official driving rules. So, to review: Green = GO; Yellow means caution, the red light is coming and you should consider stopping unless you are already in the intersection or about to enter it; Red really does mean STOP.
Stop Signs: Another widely held misconception is that a stop sign really means “slow down, and then punch the gas pedal if you think you can make it.” Sorry, not in the official rules. Stop means stop. How do you know when you have “stopped?” Aeons ago, my high school drivers’ education teacher told us that you have come to a complete stop when the nose of your vehicle comes up. Check it out. It really does, when you really stop.
Merge Signs: Some people have problems with the MERGE signs. They generally do not mean stop at the end of the merge lane and sit there praying for traffic to go away. The idea is to try and enter traffic at the same speed it is traveling and MERGE into an opening between cars. Those of you who are on the highway with traffic merging in, it isn't a game to see if you can speed up and make sure the guy trying to get onto the roadway doesn't get in front of you. Leave some space and let them over!
Continuous Lane Signs: Close relative of the merge sign is the funny continuous lane sign when you are making a right-hand turn/merge onto a different street. It, too, does not mean pull up and stop.
Tailgating: While I'm thinking about it, you don't really need to ride on someone else's bumper. You won’t get there any faster that way. Leave some room between your vehicle and the vehicle in front of you. You may have the best brakes in the world, but if you are traveling at 60+ MPH with 12 inches between you and the vehicle up front, and traffic comes to an abrupt stop, physics will win. You will slam into that vehicle, mess up your vehicle and theirs, and your insurance rates will go up. Again. If you have one of those air bags, you will also end up with a pretty red face, lots of bruises and probably a bad headache. Who needs it?
Speed limits: Yes, those annoying signs. Check your dictionary, it doesn't mean "suggested minimum speed," it means that is the maximum safe speed for that roadway, the normal traffic on that roadway and the surrounding community.
Weaving During Rush Hour: Despite what you may have heard, rush hour traffic is not the best time to be practicing your skill at weaving in and out of traffic. Well, there really is no good time to practice that particular skill. I know this will be a disappointment, but it’s illegal. Those pesky rules/laws say you are supposed to signal (I know, it’s hard if you are one of the signal-less people of the world) and let other drivers know what you are doing. Ever notice that when you are doing the weaving and bobbing, you get to the next stop-light and find one of the cars you narrowly missed pulls up right behind you? So, you gained what, exactly, by your escapades, except perhaps an adrenaline rush?
Turns: It's generally a good idea to make sure you are in the appropriate lane before you make a turn. For example, if you are in the left-hand lane, move to the right-hand lane before making a right-turn. (Don't forget, if you don't have those lights, use those hand signals!) Same with left-turns. Turning across a lane of traffic (making a right-turn from the left hand lane) can be a little hazardous to your health. And the health of those around you. Missed the turn because you were in the wrong lane? Don't stop and try to back up. Go FORWARD until you can find a safe place to turn around. (More wisdom from the old drivers’ ed teacher.)
That brings up missing an exit on a limited access highway. I regret to inform you that backing up on an Interstate is illegal and dangerous. Missed the exit? Same idea: go forward until you reach the next exit where you can turn around. Takes too much of your time? Being dead or in the hospital would be more of an inconvenience.
Blind Curves: Ever seen one of those spots where you cannot see the traffic in front of you because you are going around a curve and your view is obstructed? I do it every day on my way home from the office. Yes, I am going to slow down when I go around the curve on the entrance ramp to the highway. Why? Because I can’t see if the traffic is stopped around the corner, and I want to be able to avoid hitting a vehicle that could be stopped just out of sight around that curve. So, if you are riding my bumper, get over it. I’m not going to speed up.
Four-Wheel Drive and SUV Drivers: I regret to inform you that you are not invincible. ALL vehicles are four-wheel STOP and your four-wheel DRIVE capability isn't going to benefit you when you foolishly drive way too fast for driving and stopping conditions.
I’m sure I’ve missed some major pet peeves, but you get the picture!
Turn Signals: First, I regret to note that many of you were the victims of consumer fraud when you purchased your vehicle. It appears many of them are not equipped with that little stick thingie on the left side of the steering column that is supposed to operate little blinking lights on the outside of the vehicle. Those lights are to let other drivers in your vicinity know when you are planning to turn or change lanes (they are called turn signals). I suggest that those of you who were gypped go back to where you purchased your vehicles and complain. Those lights have been mandatory equipment for many years. Driving isn't supposed to be a mind reading game, so if you don't have those lights, please consider learning the ancient hand signals. Extend your left arm out of your open driver's side window. Bend elbow and point to the sky, and signal a right turn; extend arm straight out, no bend in elbow, to signal a left turn; bend elbow and point toward the ground to signal a stop. See, the lights are so much easier.
Traffic signal lights: No one seems to have a problem with the green light, it means GO. Contrary to what many people seem to believe, yellow does not mean "Go like a bat out of Hell." It's a warning light that the red light is about to come on, and that you should think about slowing down and stopping. Now, the red light. It appears that somehow people have gotten the impression that while it means STOP, it's optional to stop during the first few seconds it is illuminated. Those instructions have never been part of any official driving rules. So, to review: Green = GO; Yellow means caution, the red light is coming and you should consider stopping unless you are already in the intersection or about to enter it; Red really does mean STOP.
Stop Signs: Another widely held misconception is that a stop sign really means “slow down, and then punch the gas pedal if you think you can make it.” Sorry, not in the official rules. Stop means stop. How do you know when you have “stopped?” Aeons ago, my high school drivers’ education teacher told us that you have come to a complete stop when the nose of your vehicle comes up. Check it out. It really does, when you really stop.
Merge Signs: Some people have problems with the MERGE signs. They generally do not mean stop at the end of the merge lane and sit there praying for traffic to go away. The idea is to try and enter traffic at the same speed it is traveling and MERGE into an opening between cars. Those of you who are on the highway with traffic merging in, it isn't a game to see if you can speed up and make sure the guy trying to get onto the roadway doesn't get in front of you. Leave some space and let them over!
Continuous Lane Signs: Close relative of the merge sign is the funny continuous lane sign when you are making a right-hand turn/merge onto a different street. It, too, does not mean pull up and stop.
Tailgating: While I'm thinking about it, you don't really need to ride on someone else's bumper. You won’t get there any faster that way. Leave some room between your vehicle and the vehicle in front of you. You may have the best brakes in the world, but if you are traveling at 60+ MPH with 12 inches between you and the vehicle up front, and traffic comes to an abrupt stop, physics will win. You will slam into that vehicle, mess up your vehicle and theirs, and your insurance rates will go up. Again. If you have one of those air bags, you will also end up with a pretty red face, lots of bruises and probably a bad headache. Who needs it?
Speed limits: Yes, those annoying signs. Check your dictionary, it doesn't mean "suggested minimum speed," it means that is the maximum safe speed for that roadway, the normal traffic on that roadway and the surrounding community.
Weaving During Rush Hour: Despite what you may have heard, rush hour traffic is not the best time to be practicing your skill at weaving in and out of traffic. Well, there really is no good time to practice that particular skill. I know this will be a disappointment, but it’s illegal. Those pesky rules/laws say you are supposed to signal (I know, it’s hard if you are one of the signal-less people of the world) and let other drivers know what you are doing. Ever notice that when you are doing the weaving and bobbing, you get to the next stop-light and find one of the cars you narrowly missed pulls up right behind you? So, you gained what, exactly, by your escapades, except perhaps an adrenaline rush?
Turns: It's generally a good idea to make sure you are in the appropriate lane before you make a turn. For example, if you are in the left-hand lane, move to the right-hand lane before making a right-turn. (Don't forget, if you don't have those lights, use those hand signals!) Same with left-turns. Turning across a lane of traffic (making a right-turn from the left hand lane) can be a little hazardous to your health. And the health of those around you. Missed the turn because you were in the wrong lane? Don't stop and try to back up. Go FORWARD until you can find a safe place to turn around. (More wisdom from the old drivers’ ed teacher.)
That brings up missing an exit on a limited access highway. I regret to inform you that backing up on an Interstate is illegal and dangerous. Missed the exit? Same idea: go forward until you reach the next exit where you can turn around. Takes too much of your time? Being dead or in the hospital would be more of an inconvenience.
Blind Curves: Ever seen one of those spots where you cannot see the traffic in front of you because you are going around a curve and your view is obstructed? I do it every day on my way home from the office. Yes, I am going to slow down when I go around the curve on the entrance ramp to the highway. Why? Because I can’t see if the traffic is stopped around the corner, and I want to be able to avoid hitting a vehicle that could be stopped just out of sight around that curve. So, if you are riding my bumper, get over it. I’m not going to speed up.
Four-Wheel Drive and SUV Drivers: I regret to inform you that you are not invincible. ALL vehicles are four-wheel STOP and your four-wheel DRIVE capability isn't going to benefit you when you foolishly drive way too fast for driving and stopping conditions.
I’m sure I’ve missed some major pet peeves, but you get the picture!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Who or What is Free Decision?
Where did that silly name come from? Look at the picture over there to the left, you know the “About Me” picture. That’s Free Decision. He is a ten year old greyhound that broke his leg racing in 2002. Our greyhound adoption group agreed to find a home for him. While the track veterinarian advised the owner to euthanize him, his trainer, Jon Venuto, couldn’t do it. See, Cisco (that’s Free Decision’s nickname or “kennel name”) has quite a personality. And he is very much a “suck-up.” He plastered himself to Jon’s side, became his best buddy, and Jon asked us to take him. I agreed to “foster” him when we were advised by my veterinarian to amputate the leg because it was so badly broken. I had been through the amputation thing before with a greyhound with bone cancer, so I volunteered to keep him until he was ready for a home. OK, I was mean, too. I made Jon keep him the first night after the amputation. I knew how bad that was going to be, and figured he should have that wonderful experience. He learned that you have to sit up with them the entire night, touching them, reassuring them. Hey, I’ve done it, it was a great experience I knew he would enjoy.
So he came to my house the day after his amputation. What a big baby! The good thing about dogs is they recover so quickly and adapt so fast. They don’t sit and worry over what they don’t have, or what they have lost. They get on with their lives. And Cisco set about that task right away. In retrospect, he probably had me trained within a couple of days. We had two families interested in adopting him. The first person, Cheryl Bates, came to meet him. I swear, the dog reads minds. He normally loves people, but when Cheryl came in he greeted her, then hid behind me, like he knew she was thinking about taking him away. Cheryl looked at me and said “I don’t think that dog is leaving your house.”
She was right. He is still here. We have had great times. We used to go to Cloverleaf Kennel Club in Loveland, Colorado, to watch greyhound racing, and Cisco had a blast. The really amazing thing was when some people came over and asked if my dog was Free Decision. They were so excited when they found out it was really the dog they had followed when he was racing, and they always came to see him and give him a treat when we were at the track.
Why use his race name for my blog? I like it. It sounds kind of like me, a little stubborn, hardheaded, maybe sometimes a little outspoken. (OK, all of you “greyhound” people can stop rolling on the floor with laughter now!)
Cisco looks pretty good for a “dead” dog, don't you think? You know, we never did tell Cisco’s race owner that he wasn’t euthanized. Wonder if he ever heard?
Hey, Jon, did I ever say "thank you?" THANKS!
So he came to my house the day after his amputation. What a big baby! The good thing about dogs is they recover so quickly and adapt so fast. They don’t sit and worry over what they don’t have, or what they have lost. They get on with their lives. And Cisco set about that task right away. In retrospect, he probably had me trained within a couple of days. We had two families interested in adopting him. The first person, Cheryl Bates, came to meet him. I swear, the dog reads minds. He normally loves people, but when Cheryl came in he greeted her, then hid behind me, like he knew she was thinking about taking him away. Cheryl looked at me and said “I don’t think that dog is leaving your house.”
She was right. He is still here. We have had great times. We used to go to Cloverleaf Kennel Club in Loveland, Colorado, to watch greyhound racing, and Cisco had a blast. The really amazing thing was when some people came over and asked if my dog was Free Decision. They were so excited when they found out it was really the dog they had followed when he was racing, and they always came to see him and give him a treat when we were at the track.
Why use his race name for my blog? I like it. It sounds kind of like me, a little stubborn, hardheaded, maybe sometimes a little outspoken. (OK, all of you “greyhound” people can stop rolling on the floor with laughter now!)
Cisco looks pretty good for a “dead” dog, don't you think? You know, we never did tell Cisco’s race owner that he wasn’t euthanized. Wonder if he ever heard?
Hey, Jon, did I ever say "thank you?" THANKS!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Have Life, Heart and Soul Come Back to Music?
Music. Haven’t liked any new music for so long, the folks at my office are generally too young to recognize what I had playing. That isn’t always a bad thing, the “children” didn’t like most of it, so if I wanted peace and quiet, I could just play the most “objectionable” stuff I had and be assured they would stay away.
Couldn’t even tell you what music had been lacking. Until recently, that is. I think I finally figured it out. It was missing the 60's and 70's introspection and soul searching. Remember the “protest” songs, the questioning songs? The ones that made you think? The ones that talked about those difficult relationships? That questioned society? The ones that talked about wanting to reach for something bigger, better?
Maybe it’s just me, maybe that kind of music has been out there all the time, but I haven’t seen it until recently. Found it with some more obscure artists. Or maybe it’s just that the United States audience has been a little slower in noticing some of them. The following are three artists that have brought magic back to music for me. Here are snippets of some lyrics:
First, a guy named Ferras, originally from Gillespie, Illinois, of all places. Who knew talent like this was a stone’s throw from the Zibby’s place in Benld? It’s an interesting story, he was kidnaped by his father and taken to Amman Jordan, his father’s homeland. Ferras’ mother eventually brought him back to the U.S. Now he is in L.A., putting some awesome music out there.
Aliens and Rainbows is the title track to his album:
I never really made it to the human that you wanted me to be
The glamour parade night after night wasn't me
I would rather be alone with aliens and rainbows
On the other side of the universe
Do you remember that time in your life when you didn’t fit in, when you felt you couldn’t be “cool” enough, wouldn’t be accepted? That you could never be one of the “beautiful people?” Did you feel like you would be better off, happier, with aliens? I remember those days.
Hollywood’s Not America
Born Helena Jane with a restless soul
She moved west to California, became a center-fold
But once you change your name, well the pieces fall
Now she hardly recognizes herself at all
And there’s never any rain, when you want it
A hollow little game, and you’ve won it
Looking for a thrill but you’ve done it all
So long, put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America
So long put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America
Trying to be something you aren’t? Willing to sacrifice self for some shallow game? To become a parody of yourself? The advice seems to be, be true to yourself.
Everybody Bleeds the Same
If it's fear that you feel
The fear exists
On a larger scale
Spin the world and stop it still
Anywhere you land
Anyone you kill
You are gonna find that
Everybody bleeds the same
Everybody feels the same
And the preachers preach
And they write it all down
Like they know
But the secret is
Everybody bleeds the same
This one would have fit in well with the civil rights movement. Or maybe it fits right in with the current struggles for equality. It certainly would have been the anthem for my college days.
Dear God
Dear God, listen up
I have to ask you a question
I can't hear, I think you're breaking up
I need a clearer connection
And God, are you listening
And God, are you even there
Now answer this if you really exist
Why do I have to deal with all this bullshit
What did I ever do, can I make it up to you
If you're so full of grace
Then send it on down
Don’t look like that. You know darn well you have thought it at least once in the past six months. I know I have. A great questioning/challenging song.
Next is Sam Sparro, originally from Australia. They apparently have talent there! Moved to the U.S. as a kid, got started singing gospel-type music. Trying to classify his genre is a little difficult. He has soul, rhythm, a sense of humor, and great pipes. His range is amazing. From his self-titled album:
Pocket
If you stand tall with your back to the door
Then it's your own fault when you get knocked to the floor
And if you don't know that by now
Then I feel quite sorry for you
I'm sorry for you
The people that you keep around
You learn from them
And they learn from you
So keep your friends close
And your enemies in your pocket
Pocket has so many good lyrics, it was hard to choose a snippet. It’s an always timely reminder of the old adage.
Black And Gold
If the fish swam out of the ocean
And grew legs and they started walking
And the apes climbed down from the trees
And grew tall and they started talking
And the stars fell out of the sky
And my tears rolled into the ocean
And now I'm looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion
'Cause if you're not really here
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if you're not really here
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to you
Black and gold
Written while looking at the night sky, contemplating the existence of God.
21st Century Life
When I was a little boy
Living in the last century
I thought about living in the future
Then it occurred to me
I turned around, the future was now
The future was all around me
Nothing like I had imagined
It was totally confounding
21st century life
I got swept away
I got 21,000 things that I got to do today
21st century life
Well what can I say?
The new world's got me feeling so dirty
Think I need to get down and pray
I have met the future, and it is now?
Too Many Questions
My coffee is cold, and yesterday is stuck with me
And I can't wake up from my sleep
I feel like a grain of salt in the shaker
But the day that I meet my maker
Or the day that I see my undertaker, ya see...
All I have is too many questions
Is there something someone forgot to mention to me
But I walk on with out hesitation
To my unknown own destination
With the music like syncopation
And explore my own imagi...nation
Oh, yeah, I have lots of questions. And never enough answers. Are you keeping a list for when/if you meet God? I am.
Last, but certainly not least, a guy named Cassidy Haley. A California native. He has some music on iTunes, and we all know how I hate iTunes. (If you don’t, that’s a whole other topic.) I like his music well enough, I had to forego my boycott of iTunes to buy it. He is one of those introspective types, writes and sings about events in his life, things that move him. He would have fit in well at college with us. His story is also very interesting. Has been a circus performer, was with Hari Krishnas in Kentucky for a time, was a stripper, and is a partner in a design house/retail store in Los Angeles. Adam Lambert (the guy from American Idol) sent out a Twitter message to his followers about checking out Cassidy’s first music video, and Cassidy's album on iTunes shot to #3 in electronic music. I hope he is on his way to a very successful recording career. His first album on iTunes is titled Little Boys and Dinosaurs:
Burn
We go where the night wind blows
Across the desert sky
Into the flames that burn us down
We carry us on high
Burn through the flesh and bones
But leave behind this ancient soul
Leave those naked wounds exposed
Tonight we are reborn
The baggage we all carry, would it be possible to burn it all away and start over? To pursue what would truly make us happy?
Daylight Breaks
Daylight breaks
And I will watch it rise
I spent the night tryin’ to run away
But I just can’t leave this behind
‘Cause I’ve been building, I’ve been building
I’ve been building some kind of life
But I’d leave it all behind
Just to be with you
One of those “seeking the elusive love” songs. God knows, we have all been there.
Then there is Fly
And all my dreams have faded now
And time is slipping by
If this is the end, the end
Well I can not let it die
And I’m reaching out
Holding out
Crying out
For a little part of me
Just a little part of me
That’s not afraid to fly
Encouragement to seek the part of ourselves that wants to follow a dream. I’m still thinking I should pick a dream to follow. We never outgrow that. I hope we don’t.
Midnight Sun
Somewhere
There is a diamond in this coal
I just can’t see it anymore
Seen so much heartache
Struggling so deep
Seen this reality slip beneath the dream
There is a diamond, that shining talent, in everyone, but do we always look beneath the surface to find it? Is it always recognized, does anyone really care?
Little Boys and Dinosaurs
I know it’s time
For me to go
I’ve played all my cards
Laid them out on the floor
And now, I’ve got nothing more to lose
Once I was a man,
Of this I’m sure
But he was taken by the child
How fitting that these children’s games
Are the very last thing he’ll have of me
I’m heading out
So far away
Where that scared little boy
Will never find me
I’m heading out
Anywhere but here
Gonna go the way of the dinosaurs and the unicorns
And just disappear
That scared, sometimes scarred, child that lives inside.
If you want to listen to them, you can find them on YouTube. Cassidy has a series of acoustic videos of his songs on YouTube, as well as professionally done music videos of two songs from the album.
All three are amazing, and I thank them for bringing magic back to music for me!
Couldn’t even tell you what music had been lacking. Until recently, that is. I think I finally figured it out. It was missing the 60's and 70's introspection and soul searching. Remember the “protest” songs, the questioning songs? The ones that made you think? The ones that talked about those difficult relationships? That questioned society? The ones that talked about wanting to reach for something bigger, better?
Maybe it’s just me, maybe that kind of music has been out there all the time, but I haven’t seen it until recently. Found it with some more obscure artists. Or maybe it’s just that the United States audience has been a little slower in noticing some of them. The following are three artists that have brought magic back to music for me. Here are snippets of some lyrics:
First, a guy named Ferras, originally from Gillespie, Illinois, of all places. Who knew talent like this was a stone’s throw from the Zibby’s place in Benld? It’s an interesting story, he was kidnaped by his father and taken to Amman Jordan, his father’s homeland. Ferras’ mother eventually brought him back to the U.S. Now he is in L.A., putting some awesome music out there.
Aliens and Rainbows is the title track to his album:
I never really made it to the human that you wanted me to be
The glamour parade night after night wasn't me
I would rather be alone with aliens and rainbows
On the other side of the universe
Do you remember that time in your life when you didn’t fit in, when you felt you couldn’t be “cool” enough, wouldn’t be accepted? That you could never be one of the “beautiful people?” Did you feel like you would be better off, happier, with aliens? I remember those days.
Hollywood’s Not America
Born Helena Jane with a restless soul
She moved west to California, became a center-fold
But once you change your name, well the pieces fall
Now she hardly recognizes herself at all
And there’s never any rain, when you want it
A hollow little game, and you’ve won it
Looking for a thrill but you’ve done it all
So long, put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America
So long put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America
Trying to be something you aren’t? Willing to sacrifice self for some shallow game? To become a parody of yourself? The advice seems to be, be true to yourself.
Everybody Bleeds the Same
If it's fear that you feel
The fear exists
On a larger scale
Spin the world and stop it still
Anywhere you land
Anyone you kill
You are gonna find that
Everybody bleeds the same
Everybody feels the same
And the preachers preach
And they write it all down
Like they know
But the secret is
Everybody bleeds the same
This one would have fit in well with the civil rights movement. Or maybe it fits right in with the current struggles for equality. It certainly would have been the anthem for my college days.
Dear God
Dear God, listen up
I have to ask you a question
I can't hear, I think you're breaking up
I need a clearer connection
And God, are you listening
And God, are you even there
Now answer this if you really exist
Why do I have to deal with all this bullshit
What did I ever do, can I make it up to you
If you're so full of grace
Then send it on down
Don’t look like that. You know darn well you have thought it at least once in the past six months. I know I have. A great questioning/challenging song.
Next is Sam Sparro, originally from Australia. They apparently have talent there! Moved to the U.S. as a kid, got started singing gospel-type music. Trying to classify his genre is a little difficult. He has soul, rhythm, a sense of humor, and great pipes. His range is amazing. From his self-titled album:
If you stand tall with your back to the door
Then it's your own fault when you get knocked to the floor
And if you don't know that by now
Then I feel quite sorry for you
I'm sorry for you
The people that you keep around
You learn from them
And they learn from you
So keep your friends close
And your enemies in your pocket
Pocket has so many good lyrics, it was hard to choose a snippet. It’s an always timely reminder of the old adage.
Black And Gold
If the fish swam out of the ocean
And grew legs and they started walking
And the apes climbed down from the trees
And grew tall and they started talking
And the stars fell out of the sky
And my tears rolled into the ocean
And now I'm looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion
'Cause if you're not really here
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if you're not really here
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to you
Black and gold
Written while looking at the night sky, contemplating the existence of God.
21st Century Life
When I was a little boy
Living in the last century
I thought about living in the future
Then it occurred to me
I turned around, the future was now
The future was all around me
Nothing like I had imagined
It was totally confounding
21st century life
I got swept away
I got 21,000 things that I got to do today
21st century life
Well what can I say?
The new world's got me feeling so dirty
Think I need to get down and pray
I have met the future, and it is now?
Too Many Questions
My coffee is cold, and yesterday is stuck with me
And I can't wake up from my sleep
I feel like a grain of salt in the shaker
But the day that I meet my maker
Or the day that I see my undertaker, ya see...
All I have is too many questions
Is there something someone forgot to mention to me
But I walk on with out hesitation
To my unknown own destination
With the music like syncopation
And explore my own imagi...nation
Oh, yeah, I have lots of questions. And never enough answers. Are you keeping a list for when/if you meet God? I am.
Last, but certainly not least, a guy named Cassidy Haley. A California native. He has some music on iTunes, and we all know how I hate iTunes. (If you don’t, that’s a whole other topic.) I like his music well enough, I had to forego my boycott of iTunes to buy it. He is one of those introspective types, writes and sings about events in his life, things that move him. He would have fit in well at college with us. His story is also very interesting. Has been a circus performer, was with Hari Krishnas in Kentucky for a time, was a stripper, and is a partner in a design house/retail store in Los Angeles. Adam Lambert (the guy from American Idol) sent out a Twitter message to his followers about checking out Cassidy’s first music video, and Cassidy's album on iTunes shot to #3 in electronic music. I hope he is on his way to a very successful recording career. His first album on iTunes is titled Little Boys and Dinosaurs:
Burn
We go where the night wind blows
Across the desert sky
Into the flames that burn us down
We carry us on high
Burn through the flesh and bones
But leave behind this ancient soul
Leave those naked wounds exposed
Tonight we are reborn
The baggage we all carry, would it be possible to burn it all away and start over? To pursue what would truly make us happy?
Daylight Breaks
Daylight breaks
And I will watch it rise
I spent the night tryin’ to run away
But I just can’t leave this behind
‘Cause I’ve been building, I’ve been building
I’ve been building some kind of life
But I’d leave it all behind
Just to be with you
One of those “seeking the elusive love” songs. God knows, we have all been there.
Then there is Fly
And all my dreams have faded now
And time is slipping by
If this is the end, the end
Well I can not let it die
And I’m reaching out
Holding out
Crying out
For a little part of me
Just a little part of me
That’s not afraid to fly
Encouragement to seek the part of ourselves that wants to follow a dream. I’m still thinking I should pick a dream to follow. We never outgrow that. I hope we don’t.
Midnight Sun
Somewhere
There is a diamond in this coal
I just can’t see it anymore
Seen so much heartache
Struggling so deep
Seen this reality slip beneath the dream
There is a diamond, that shining talent, in everyone, but do we always look beneath the surface to find it? Is it always recognized, does anyone really care?
Little Boys and Dinosaurs
I know it’s time
For me to go
I’ve played all my cards
Laid them out on the floor
And now, I’ve got nothing more to lose
Once I was a man,
Of this I’m sure
But he was taken by the child
How fitting that these children’s games
Are the very last thing he’ll have of me
I’m heading out
So far away
Where that scared little boy
Will never find me
I’m heading out
Anywhere but here
Gonna go the way of the dinosaurs and the unicorns
And just disappear
That scared, sometimes scarred, child that lives inside.
If you want to listen to them, you can find them on YouTube. Cassidy has a series of acoustic videos of his songs on YouTube, as well as professionally done music videos of two songs from the album.
All three are amazing, and I thank them for bringing magic back to music for me!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
So, I'm a thug?
I intended to start this off with a lighter subject, but this one is just itching to be written. It’s dedicated to a certain “accordion man,” you know who you are.
See, for some insane reason, I joined Twitter, and have been adding people who amuse me to the list of folks I follow. Then there was this one “tweet,” obviously by the accordion man who had been fairly amusing previously, that sort of set my teeth on edge. “F***thepolice.” Of course, those of you who know me know I had to follow up on that one. I was told I am a “thug 4 hire” and I “enforce laws of a murderous and corrupt superpower.” Oh, yeah, that lit a fire.
Got me to thinking about the path that led me to being a “thug 4 hire.” I had no clue what I was going to do for a living when I got to college. All I knew was I hated school and wanted out in the shortest amount of time possible. Ran across a course called “corrections,” and that intrigued me. See, I was a very idealistic 18 year old child at the time. Very much a child of the 60's and 70's. Anti-Vietnam war, don’t trust people over 30, the whole thing. This class talked about the purpose of the criminal justice system to protect the public, to prevent people from being warehoused, and to help people return to being productive members of the community when it was necessary to remove them from society for a time.
I really liked the part about helping people. That’s what I wanted to do. So corrections became my major. Yes, this was back in “the dark ages” before it was renamed criminal justice science. A lot of sociology and psychology classes later, I had my degree. During my senior year, I wrote a grant application and obtained funding for a juvenile diversion program for the county probation office where I interned. Wow! I was making a difference already! Now what would I do? I left college being extremely liberal (isn’t that what college is for?) I was anti-death penalty, felt 90% of “criminals” needed help and understanding, and I was going to help.
My first job was working for a residential girls’ home run by a group of Roman Catholic nuns. Hey, it sounded like a good place to start. I was a live-in “cottage mom.” They went to school during the day, there were three of us who played “cottage mom” the rest of the time. Had a room in the cottage, so I had the honor of sleeping there, too. I earned a whopping $350 a month. It took me 18 months to figure out that working with a group of 12 hard core delinquent girls ages 13 to 17 was pretty much a losing proposition if you are looking for a positive experience. Actually, I figured that out the first time a cute little 13 year old told me exactly where I could go, how to get there, and what I could do with myself when I arrived. And that was within the first couple of weeks. But, by God, I was going to make a difference for these girls! Teach them that society did value them. That they could have wonderful lives. These kids who had been raised by drug addicts, had been sexually abused by friends and family, had serious mental health issues, in general, had more problems than the nuns could fix. I wasn’t too impressed with the nuns, either. I didn’t really think cleaning the laundry room floor with a toothbrush as punishment for wetting the bed was a good idea.
In the end, those girls broke my heart. I saw what they had the potential to be, and then saw where they decided to go. There were no happy endings, and I had to get out of there or lose my sanity.
Next, I worked as a state probation officer for ten years in what many would describe as a “ghetto.” Yes, it was interesting. My first office was in a store front, I had a window office that looked out on the street. I got to see strange, some might say sick, men park in their cars in front of the office and masturbate for entertainment. Once in a while, someone would be shooting at someone else on the street. I had a guy on probation who killed another guy because he cheated him spitting up some “loot” they stole. One who said it was OK to steal cars because he wore gloves, no fingerprints! Those who didn’t work, their vocation was finding their next “fix.” Those who fried their brains with phencyclidine or embalming fluid. Occasionally, someone would die of gunshot wounds crawling from an apartment complex to a hospital two blocks away.
We had some successes. Like the guy who made it through inpatient drug treatment, stayed clean and sober, got a job and got off supervision early. The guy who wore the gloves to steal cars who came back after he was off my caseload to tell me that maybe I wasn’t crazy when I told him his life would be easier if he got a job and stopped taking unscheduled vacations to jail.
I keep asking myself, was that be beginning of being a “thug?” I really don’t think our clients (they are now called offenders, but I still can’t use the word) considered me a thug. I had big, tough “criminals” apologize to me when I had to have them arrested. More than once, when I was out doing home visits and someone was hassling me, one of our “criminals” would tell the jerk, “That’s the parole lady, leave her alone.”
Eventually I had to leave. We didn’t have the resources to provide help for the folks who really needed it, and the ones who truly needed to be warehoused seemed to always be on the street, causing havoc.
I became a federal probation officer. That would be the place where I could make a real difference, right? Yeah, right. Now, thirty years after getting that college degree, I understand a little better what the criminal justice system can, and can’t, do.
People with mental health issues who don’t comply with treatment can’t be fixed. Sex offenders, pedophiles, in general, cannot be “cured.” I wanted to believe they could be fixed, but it just doesn’t seem to happen. There is no good alternative for the ones who are dangerous other than to warehouse them.
Bank robbers fall into two basic categories: career and stupid amateur. The career bank robbers can’t help themselves. They do their time, get out, and do it again. Weighing the average amount taken in a bank robbery against the penalties, it really makes no sense, but they do it. Over and over. The stupid amateur is generally a desperate fool, for whatever reason, who thinks he will obtain enough money to fix his problems. Never works out that way.
Drug dealers, well, I suspect we will have to agree to disagree here. People who discover it’s financially rewarding for a small effort end up preying on people and ruining lives. No, I don’t really see a difference between marijuana, alcohol, opiates, whatever. All of them have the potential for abuse, abuse leads to people who make very poor decisions, do very foolish things. If there were a way to remove all mood altering substances from the earth, I would probably support making that happen. Are our current drug laws particularly effective? No. I know prohibition didn’t really work, either, but until you come up with something that works better, it’s my position that we need those drug laws.
I’m trying to figure out which of the “criminals” I’ve dealt with over the past twenty years were the victims of the laws of the murderous and corrupt superpower. Maybe the folks who were bringing children here from other countries, and I mean pre-teens, as sex objects for folks who had the money? I was told the kids were living on the streets in their home countries and were happy to live in nice, clean American homes.
Perhaps the ones that had the prostitution/drug business? They paid the girls in drugs, sold drugs and “services” to their customers. Killed a few people along the way, too, but maybe that wasn’t important?
I know, it’s probably all of the convicted felons who get caught with firearms. Surely people who have broken other laws can be trusted with firearms?
Would it be the bank robbers? I was at a sentencing for a bank robber where the teller came in to make a statement at sentencing. She was so traumatized after being threatened by a man with a gun at her job, she was trembling as she addressed the defendant and the court. Did I mention that she was pregnant at the time of the robbery?
Surely it’s the fraud folks. The ones that prey on the elderly and steal the bulk of their savings. That is surely a law of a murderous and corrupt superpower. I remember cases where, by the time the “criminal” was caught, the victims were dead. Did the trauma of being swindled out of their life savings hasten their deaths.
Credit card fraud schemes, identity theft/fraud schemes, no big deal. Sooner or later, the victims will be able to prove they weren’t responsible for all of those monetary transactions, and they will be able to have their lives back. The businesses that are swindled, well, they can afford it. Right? Doesn’t matter that all of those costs get passed on to you, me, everyone.
Counterfeiting. That one isn’t a problem, right? Except for the businesses that end up with the fake money, they take the loss, which, again, gets passed on.
Illegal aliens. They are just poor people who want to have a better life in our country. Unfortunately, the ones I meet are usually also involved in drug trafficking or have had multiple convictions for assaultive behavior. (That would be beating on other people, often their girlfriends, sometimes their friends who disagreed with them, occasionally shooting, stabbing, whatever.) None of them are prosecuted simply because they are here illegally. They all have criminal records, and not for jaywalking. Of course, not all illegal aliens are criminals. The ones I come into contact with are.
Insurance fraud. Those evil insurance companies make so much money, it’s no big deal if they are one of the major reasons insurance rates are outrageous. Mortgage loan fraud, well, that’s just ripping off the government, right? (I met the government, they is us.)
I don’t currently supervise “offenders.” I do presentence investigations which means I also have to make recommendations about potential sentences. (It’s only a recommendation, judges are pretty smart people, believe it or not.) What do I consider when I make a recommendation? That could be a whole dissertation on its own. Briefly, we consider the nature of the offense; the person’s prior criminal record; any medical, mental health or substance abuse issues; and the support system available for the person in the community.
So, Accordion Man, if you, or anyone else, believe I am a thug 4 hire, that I help enforce the laws of a murderous and corrupt superpower, I make no apologies. I’ve helped people get the medical, mental health, or substance abuse treatment they needed; helped people find housing; helped people find employment; helped people obtain training/education; and mediated between family and folks on supervision. Back in the days when we were required to give our clients our home telephone numbers, I had one woman call me every evening for months to say “goodnight.” She called me her “other mother.”
I’ve also recommended that people who are truly dangerous remain in custody for the rest of their natural lives. After 30 years, I’m comfortable with either role.
See, for some insane reason, I joined Twitter, and have been adding people who amuse me to the list of folks I follow. Then there was this one “tweet,” obviously by the accordion man who had been fairly amusing previously, that sort of set my teeth on edge. “F***thepolice.” Of course, those of you who know me know I had to follow up on that one. I was told I am a “thug 4 hire” and I “enforce laws of a murderous and corrupt superpower.” Oh, yeah, that lit a fire.
Got me to thinking about the path that led me to being a “thug 4 hire.” I had no clue what I was going to do for a living when I got to college. All I knew was I hated school and wanted out in the shortest amount of time possible. Ran across a course called “corrections,” and that intrigued me. See, I was a very idealistic 18 year old child at the time. Very much a child of the 60's and 70's. Anti-Vietnam war, don’t trust people over 30, the whole thing. This class talked about the purpose of the criminal justice system to protect the public, to prevent people from being warehoused, and to help people return to being productive members of the community when it was necessary to remove them from society for a time.
I really liked the part about helping people. That’s what I wanted to do. So corrections became my major. Yes, this was back in “the dark ages” before it was renamed criminal justice science. A lot of sociology and psychology classes later, I had my degree. During my senior year, I wrote a grant application and obtained funding for a juvenile diversion program for the county probation office where I interned. Wow! I was making a difference already! Now what would I do? I left college being extremely liberal (isn’t that what college is for?) I was anti-death penalty, felt 90% of “criminals” needed help and understanding, and I was going to help.
My first job was working for a residential girls’ home run by a group of Roman Catholic nuns. Hey, it sounded like a good place to start. I was a live-in “cottage mom.” They went to school during the day, there were three of us who played “cottage mom” the rest of the time. Had a room in the cottage, so I had the honor of sleeping there, too. I earned a whopping $350 a month. It took me 18 months to figure out that working with a group of 12 hard core delinquent girls ages 13 to 17 was pretty much a losing proposition if you are looking for a positive experience. Actually, I figured that out the first time a cute little 13 year old told me exactly where I could go, how to get there, and what I could do with myself when I arrived. And that was within the first couple of weeks. But, by God, I was going to make a difference for these girls! Teach them that society did value them. That they could have wonderful lives. These kids who had been raised by drug addicts, had been sexually abused by friends and family, had serious mental health issues, in general, had more problems than the nuns could fix. I wasn’t too impressed with the nuns, either. I didn’t really think cleaning the laundry room floor with a toothbrush as punishment for wetting the bed was a good idea.
In the end, those girls broke my heart. I saw what they had the potential to be, and then saw where they decided to go. There were no happy endings, and I had to get out of there or lose my sanity.
Next, I worked as a state probation officer for ten years in what many would describe as a “ghetto.” Yes, it was interesting. My first office was in a store front, I had a window office that looked out on the street. I got to see strange, some might say sick, men park in their cars in front of the office and masturbate for entertainment. Once in a while, someone would be shooting at someone else on the street. I had a guy on probation who killed another guy because he cheated him spitting up some “loot” they stole. One who said it was OK to steal cars because he wore gloves, no fingerprints! Those who didn’t work, their vocation was finding their next “fix.” Those who fried their brains with phencyclidine or embalming fluid. Occasionally, someone would die of gunshot wounds crawling from an apartment complex to a hospital two blocks away.
We had some successes. Like the guy who made it through inpatient drug treatment, stayed clean and sober, got a job and got off supervision early. The guy who wore the gloves to steal cars who came back after he was off my caseload to tell me that maybe I wasn’t crazy when I told him his life would be easier if he got a job and stopped taking unscheduled vacations to jail.
I keep asking myself, was that be beginning of being a “thug?” I really don’t think our clients (they are now called offenders, but I still can’t use the word) considered me a thug. I had big, tough “criminals” apologize to me when I had to have them arrested. More than once, when I was out doing home visits and someone was hassling me, one of our “criminals” would tell the jerk, “That’s the parole lady, leave her alone.”
Eventually I had to leave. We didn’t have the resources to provide help for the folks who really needed it, and the ones who truly needed to be warehoused seemed to always be on the street, causing havoc.
I became a federal probation officer. That would be the place where I could make a real difference, right? Yeah, right. Now, thirty years after getting that college degree, I understand a little better what the criminal justice system can, and can’t, do.
People with mental health issues who don’t comply with treatment can’t be fixed. Sex offenders, pedophiles, in general, cannot be “cured.” I wanted to believe they could be fixed, but it just doesn’t seem to happen. There is no good alternative for the ones who are dangerous other than to warehouse them.
Bank robbers fall into two basic categories: career and stupid amateur. The career bank robbers can’t help themselves. They do their time, get out, and do it again. Weighing the average amount taken in a bank robbery against the penalties, it really makes no sense, but they do it. Over and over. The stupid amateur is generally a desperate fool, for whatever reason, who thinks he will obtain enough money to fix his problems. Never works out that way.
Drug dealers, well, I suspect we will have to agree to disagree here. People who discover it’s financially rewarding for a small effort end up preying on people and ruining lives. No, I don’t really see a difference between marijuana, alcohol, opiates, whatever. All of them have the potential for abuse, abuse leads to people who make very poor decisions, do very foolish things. If there were a way to remove all mood altering substances from the earth, I would probably support making that happen. Are our current drug laws particularly effective? No. I know prohibition didn’t really work, either, but until you come up with something that works better, it’s my position that we need those drug laws.
I’m trying to figure out which of the “criminals” I’ve dealt with over the past twenty years were the victims of the laws of the murderous and corrupt superpower. Maybe the folks who were bringing children here from other countries, and I mean pre-teens, as sex objects for folks who had the money? I was told the kids were living on the streets in their home countries and were happy to live in nice, clean American homes.
Perhaps the ones that had the prostitution/drug business? They paid the girls in drugs, sold drugs and “services” to their customers. Killed a few people along the way, too, but maybe that wasn’t important?
I know, it’s probably all of the convicted felons who get caught with firearms. Surely people who have broken other laws can be trusted with firearms?
Would it be the bank robbers? I was at a sentencing for a bank robber where the teller came in to make a statement at sentencing. She was so traumatized after being threatened by a man with a gun at her job, she was trembling as she addressed the defendant and the court. Did I mention that she was pregnant at the time of the robbery?
Surely it’s the fraud folks. The ones that prey on the elderly and steal the bulk of their savings. That is surely a law of a murderous and corrupt superpower. I remember cases where, by the time the “criminal” was caught, the victims were dead. Did the trauma of being swindled out of their life savings hasten their deaths.
Credit card fraud schemes, identity theft/fraud schemes, no big deal. Sooner or later, the victims will be able to prove they weren’t responsible for all of those monetary transactions, and they will be able to have their lives back. The businesses that are swindled, well, they can afford it. Right? Doesn’t matter that all of those costs get passed on to you, me, everyone.
Counterfeiting. That one isn’t a problem, right? Except for the businesses that end up with the fake money, they take the loss, which, again, gets passed on.
Illegal aliens. They are just poor people who want to have a better life in our country. Unfortunately, the ones I meet are usually also involved in drug trafficking or have had multiple convictions for assaultive behavior. (That would be beating on other people, often their girlfriends, sometimes their friends who disagreed with them, occasionally shooting, stabbing, whatever.) None of them are prosecuted simply because they are here illegally. They all have criminal records, and not for jaywalking. Of course, not all illegal aliens are criminals. The ones I come into contact with are.
Insurance fraud. Those evil insurance companies make so much money, it’s no big deal if they are one of the major reasons insurance rates are outrageous. Mortgage loan fraud, well, that’s just ripping off the government, right? (I met the government, they is us.)
I don’t currently supervise “offenders.” I do presentence investigations which means I also have to make recommendations about potential sentences. (It’s only a recommendation, judges are pretty smart people, believe it or not.) What do I consider when I make a recommendation? That could be a whole dissertation on its own. Briefly, we consider the nature of the offense; the person’s prior criminal record; any medical, mental health or substance abuse issues; and the support system available for the person in the community.
So, Accordion Man, if you, or anyone else, believe I am a thug 4 hire, that I help enforce the laws of a murderous and corrupt superpower, I make no apologies. I’ve helped people get the medical, mental health, or substance abuse treatment they needed; helped people find housing; helped people find employment; helped people obtain training/education; and mediated between family and folks on supervision. Back in the days when we were required to give our clients our home telephone numbers, I had one woman call me every evening for months to say “goodnight.” She called me her “other mother.”
I’ve also recommended that people who are truly dangerous remain in custody for the rest of their natural lives. After 30 years, I’m comfortable with either role.
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