America The Hypocritical? No! No! No!

Opponents to same-sex marriage uniformly declare that the “traditional” definition of marriage is a commitment between a man and a woman.” Pressed further, the common denominator to this argument is a faith based determinant.

One person recently told me that they have no problem with gays having some kind of  “legal union” or power of attorney, but just not a “marriage” — again saying, because it is against their faith.

In a country founded on the freedom of religion, this argument flies in the face of our Declaration of Independence, our Constitution and the Bill of Rights.

So, to both of those opponents of same-sex marriage, I say this, respectfully:

This is America.

We do not legislate faith. We enact law.

Separation of Church and State via Example

Law cannot be written to define which religion is correct, which ones are incorrect or if religion itself is a requirement to citizenship. The First Amendment granted “freedom of religion” which should imply also “freedom from religion.” One free of any imposed religion, then, could not be forced to follow the religious rights of another. Nor should someone from a religion that allows homosexual marriage be barred from it based on a different belief.

And then, there is another amendment, the Ninth. It states that the rights that have been enumerated heretofore do not deny any rights that were not enumerated. Translation: any right that is perceived by all to be a basic right of all people, say… the right to marry, should not be denied. Law, therefore, cannot be written to deny this unenumerated right of any and every adult in America — to marry another consenting adult. Period. No quibbles.

Just in case there was potential for abuse of power, our forefathers wrote one last amendment to the original Bill of Rights, the Tenth Amendment. It states that the powers not granted to the federal government in the Constitution lie with the states and with the people. This was to keep the powers to be, ad infinitum, from eating away at the liberties of the people, a little at a time.

Now then, that ol’ Declaration of Independence… the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness… Does it not include a right to a freedom that does not infringe on any other’s and does it not allow for the pursuit of a legal and committed relationship as one path to happiness? Was it the Declaration of Heterosexual Independence? Certainly, any heterosexual would consider the right to a committed, faithful and legal relationship one normal act in the pursuit of  happiness.

Consider this, also. Law has not ever been written to  deny the ingestion of pork (based on Islam), the ingestion of beef (based on Hinduism), the eating of shellfish — (based on the Judaism) nor have citizens been denied eggs and dairy (to appease the began religions.) Can you imagine if coffee, tea and chocolate were forbidden to all?

All religions do not, by law, have to eat food that is considered Kosher, for example. Nor have we enacted laws that say, instead, that the ingestion of all types of meat will be enforced, because we will all be subject to the new food laws put forth in the New Testament of the Christian Bible.

These things are clear:

• Beliefs are individual.
• Faith is strong.
• Creeds are diverse and contradict each other.
• Law should not be written in America to steal our rights or liberties.
• Law should not tell us which belief is to be followed, nor which religion is correct.

Marriage

Marriage is a social rite that has been recognized and performed throughout time and across all belief systems. It has had various connotations: sometimes religious, sometimes not.

The rite of marriage can allow two people to enter a legally binding relationship: of joint ownership or the ability to visit in a hospital, or the power of attorney. It allows family health care benefits, a different tax status, the simple recognition of a legitimate, sincere relationship and, even, the distinguished honor of having a spouse, instead of a significant other or partner.

For what it’s worth, a partnership or a civil union is not a marriage…

if you can’t call it a marriage and
if it is not recongnized legally and completely as the same on every level.

It is not “separate but equal” — any more than this sign ever provided separate and equal consideration to all people.

From the beginnings of the founding of our country to the amendments that followed throughout history — we have endeavored to remove discrimination and protect individual liberties. Lyndon Johnson made a huge step towards the equality of all, regardless of race, gender, color, creed, national origin, and Bush Sr. provided the Americans with Disabilities Act. It should not end there. It cannot end there, lest we be hypocrites.

According to the very documents by which our country was founded, according to the very spirit by which we live and persevere, I say to you: this is a democracy for the people, by the people, of the people. ALL of the people. We cannot discriminate anew or stagnate in old, inhumane beliefs, making one segment of our modern society a pariah and a victim of a divisive judgmental approach that has no place here.

Here.

Isn’t this America?

Essence (poetry)

If I shared with you my essence
Opened up and let you in
Would it be just the beginning
Or the beginning of the end?

If I shared my very spirit
My heart, body, mind and soul -
Would you do the same intensely
Or simply turn from me and go?

**

If I let you see my essence
Would your eyes be satisfied -
With the binding and the title
And the contents locked inside?

Would you read each page with wonder
As if the words were always new?
Would you trade the dog eared copy
For a Volume Number Two?

**

If I let you hear my essence
Spoken softly in your ear -
Would it speak the very words
You dreamed you’d someday hear?

Would the echos touch the places
Where no one had ever gone?
Would their resonance lift you higher
Than any height you’d ever known?

**

If you inhaled my small essence
A light and subtle scent -
Would you inhale me deeply
Then breathe me out again?

Would you like the fragrance?
Would you infuse it with your own?
Would it be the kind of smell that
Warmly – made you think – you’re home?

**

If I let you taste my essence
Would you discern the subtle taste -
If it’s not a sassy salsa
In a jalapeno base?

Would the taste insatiate you?
Would it satisfy your needs?
Could your thirst and hunger both be quenched
By a woman-child like me?

**

If I let you touch my essence
Would you plumb the depths inside -
With a gentle curiosity
That could never be denied?

Would you venture past those pleasures
To my fragile inner core -
And protect me when I’m vulnerable
Overwhelmed , unsure?

**

Would you hold at bay each fear I have
Would my heart, for once, be spared?
Would the echos that can haunt me -
Steer clear of what we shared?

My essence can’t be taken
And, no, it won’t be sold -
But, I can give it freely
Or leave it silently on hold.

**

If a man exists who has a silver tongue
And nerves of steel -
A heart of gold and head of reason
The ability to feel…

An essence waits in limbo
Not lonely, but alone.
Defending faith in fairy tales
And, too, what dreams I’ve known.

Complicated (Fiction)

****************
Part 1 (His P.O.V.)
****************

He waited at the crosswalk for the signal. Without effort or forethought, his mind turned to her. He knew it was complicated. It was foolish. It was wrong. Still, the attraction was there. There was no denying it. It lingered there – teasing them, taunting them, testing his loyalty, questioning her integrity, ripping apart his sanity, her composure.

He longed for a feeling he hadn’t known for a very long time. He wanted to be ravaged with the intensity and screaming desperation of a rabid animal. He wanted to share in the hunger and the madness and the mystique of this other woman. And suddenly, she was there.

He pulled her away from the curb, absolutely astonished at her timely appearance. He sunk his hands into her auburn hair and pulled her to him, holding her, inhaling her, not caring what the people on the street must think. He took her in his arms and took just a moment to brush the hair out of her eyes. She made him so insanely happy again.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then her ear, her cheek, and once again – found her lips. And he was amazed that she let him hold her, kiss her, burn through her like no one had ever done. He was so lost in her that he barely heard the words, “Hey buddy, the light changed. If you’re not going, get out of the way.” Grimacing, he stepped off the curb and crossed the street.

He forced himself back to the mundane reality of his pathetic life. He made it to the restaurant, gave his name and waited for the table to be ready – and waited to see if she’d really show at 2:00 p.m. – thirty minutes from now. He’d arrived early. He knew he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any other woman. She was the only thing he was sure of right now.

He wanted to touch her, to taste her, devour her, and then, at last, he would be inside her. He knew with her there would be no holds barred, no uncomfortable moment, no barriers at all. She would take him to the brink of insanity, and then, lost in denial, he’d slip over the edge. “Sir, your table’s ready.” The vacant look on his face slowly recovered and he acknowledged the hostess. “What?”, he managed. “I said your table is ready sir, are you all right?” He nodded and stood up. The waitress took off, away from the picture window and into the room. He followed her to the table.

From across the street, she watched him stand up and make his way towards the table. It was 1:45. Now, she knew the same thing he had been thinking earlier. It was complicated. It was foolish. It was wrong. And she walked away.

****************
Part 2 (Her P.O.V.)
****************

They met at a social function in the ballroom of a hotel. Christmas decorations were up and the evening air was absolutely electric. As people were bustling around her, she fought to get the olives on her shiny plastic plate with the over sized tongs. She kept them from rolling everywhere but some strategically placed cubes of cheese. Proud of her small accomplishment, she was momentarily oblivious to the world.

She came back to reality with a jolt, not caused by the commotion around her, but by one lone pair of eyes, quietly regarding her. He stood at quite a distance, but she could still see his expression. Amusement. His smile told her how entertained he was by the cheese and olive war she had currently waging on her plate. Not even sure why, she flushed with embarrassment so strong – it colored down to her soul.

She felt the immediate and mighty urge to swing swiftly around, but her mind worked faster than her body. In less than a second, she had already envisioned the scene – her spinning around and subsequently losing the war to both the olives and the cheese. Which would be fine, she told herself, but not in front of him. She wouldn’t allow him the pleasure of watching one more display at her expense. With much effort, she s-l-o-w-l-y turned around and calmly (on the outside) made it back to her table. She sat down with her coworkers. No one even noticed. She had become invisible once again.

When she coaxed within her – the nerve to look over his way, he wasn’t there any longer. Her eyes desperately searched the room, eventually finding him seated at another banquet table, not nearly far enough away to give her comfort. Their eyes met. She hadn’t had time to look away. He smiled. What could she do? She smiled back. He subtly tipped his glass in a toast shared only between them. This made her blush. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and looked away. She was terrified, but still longing to look over just one more time. It was disconcerting to look at him, and know – absolutely know – that they both wanted to take each other to bed. She had already been undressed in his eyes, but that wasn’t what embarrassed her. It was the fact – he knew she’d done the same.

Did he also know her first vision of him, across the room, included wine and grapes and some of those damn cubes of cheese? He couldn’t know what a sap she was! He couldn’t know about the romance novel stuffed down in her purse under the wallet and Kleenex, the one under the car seat, the ones littered throughout her apartment. She had waited for someone to look at her like he was doing all of her life. Twenty-eight years. Instead, she’d been invisible.

It was when she couldn’t take this line of thought anymore that she went out onto the patio. Just like in the movies. She stood looking out at the lights of the city, out at nothing, and he was there. He put his hand on the small of her back, and as she turned, he slipped his hand into her long auburn hair. That was it. That was all it took. He said, “My God, My God, where did you come from? How?” And he kissed her. And she let him.

The noise from the party started to move towards the patio. He said, “Friday, two o’clock, Angelo’s. I’ve got to see you again. I’ve got to.” And he was gone. The last thing she saw, as he walked away from her, was the Christmas lights reflect on his wedding band. And it cut her to the bone. There she stood – her knees weak, her lipstick faded, unable to speak, or think, or talk. Her coworkers stepped out onto the patio, laughing and carrying on. Her entire world had just begun and ended in the same moment. As usual, they didn’t notice.
Friday was six days away. She had time to think this through, time to decide. Maybe his wife was in a wheelchair, on her deathbed with cancer or lupus or something really bad. Maybe they were separated. Maybe, maybe she had died and he just still wore the ring.

And maybe she should get a big “L” tattooed on her forehead. She didn’t know what to do. She’d had boyfriends, she’d had lovers, but this man – his eyes. My God – for the first time she realized she didn’t even know his name. Just like a movie. This rendezvous, if you will, was the craziest thing she’d ever done, well, thought about doing… Not just the craziest, also the stupidest. Definitely the most immoral. She made herself go to Angelo’s on Tuesday, for a late dinner, just to check it out. Her heart told her – he was her soul mate. Her head told her – she was an idiot.

On Friday, she got there at 1:00 p.m. She walked in. She walked right back out. Across the street was a pub called O‘Malley’s. She thought to herself, “just like in the movies.” She got a table by the window and watched. And waited. And worried.

He walked up to the door around 1:30, nearly half an hour early. He was ambling slowly, seemed preoccupied. He even aimlessly bumped a stranger in passing. Her mind panicked. She thought, “maybe he’s taking his time, just coming to let me down easy, because we’d made plans… Maybe it’s a setup and we’ll go to a hotel and (you know) and then all his friends will jump out of the closet, laughing and laughing, at me – the joke… Maybe he already had an appointment, that’s why he told me Angelo’s at two. He knew he’d be there. He won’t remember me. He won’t even recognize me. I’ll just be invisible again.”

She watched him move away from the window, following the waitress to the table. Their table? Maybe he is my soul mate. Maybe it was really a class ring. But she knew the truth in her heart. She stepped out of O‘Malley’s and watched as he faded from view through Angelo’s window. She knew this was complicated. It was foolish. It was wrong. As she turned her eyes into the sunlight, squinted, and walked down the street, she walked away, not knowing the rest of the story . . . .

**************************************
Part 3 (past, present, future & the waitress)
**************************************

The waitress led him to the table and he sat down, facing the room. It was 1:45. His mind was racing and he was beginning to feel ill. He thought about ordering a drink to calm his nerves and realized that was the worst thing he could do. He would not let himself resort to a sorry crutch that his wife had used for years. A crutch that had ended up taking a life, two years ago. Instead, he ordered a chocolate milk, large. The waitress gave him a funny look, but walked away with her notepad. This was his story.

He was 35 and had been married for 17 years. They got married the summer after they graduated from high school, so she could live with him when he went overseas for the military. She got a clerical job at the embassy. Things had been good. But they were so young then. And clueless.

They found out she was pregnant just before returning to the states, so the welcome back party was for two and a half. When they came back, his parents showed them a nice sized house about thirty minutes away from them. Her parents were only about an hour. They stayed with his parents until they closed on it and moved in to their new place excited and expecting. Four months later, their son was born.

It took a long time for him to realize that things had gone sour. He tried to get home often, but was gone at least two days every week, sometime three or four. Once, when he came home, the baby was screaming and she was passed out on the couch. Whatever was left of the bottle of vodka, had seeped into the carpet.

He got her to bed, let her sleep it off and sober up. He thought one of her parents must have died, or something tragic. She said the baby wouldn’t stop crying and she couldn’t take being alone all the time. From that day on, things changed.

He called her brother and told him move his family out of his apartment and move in with them, rent free. The house had room, and a big yard. He respected his wife’s privacy, so he never told her brother why. And besides, the problem seemed to go away. His mom had experienced postpartum depression, so he was not going to be an insensitive jerk.

His wife was thrilled to have family nearby, and help with the baby, and she wasn’t alone anymore. Three years later, the family next door put their house up for sale, and her brother snatched it up in a heartbeat. So, family was near family.

Life went on pretty smoothly from then on. She seemed happy. He never found her drunk, passed out, or the boy in harmed in any way. Except for a few bruises, but you know, boys will be boys. He was home more than half of every week and she never complained about anything that had happened during the time he was gone. He thought everything was under control.

While he was at the base, he got a phone call from the hospital. His son, seven years old, had fallen and injured his face and ribs. They were wiring his broken jaw back together. He rushed to the hospital and was greeted by his brother-in-law. His wife was not there.

Dismayed, he had to sit down when his brother-in-law whispered quietly to him, “She’s sleeping it off. She’ll be fine. She must have been so upset to find him hurt like that. I guess he fell and hit the coffee table? She must have went into shock. I came over and nobody answered when I knocked on the door, so I let myself in.

“She was sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. There was some vodka on the table. He was lying on the floor there. I thought he must be dead. By God. But he wasn’t. He was fine. I mean, he’ll be fine. It’s not too serious. I guess if I must’ve thought he was dead, lord, what must have been going through her mind.”

He didn’t know how to respond. He could only give a blank stare and look straight ahead, his eyes boring right through the wall. His mind was racing, trying to put this picture together. He didn’t want to believe the worst. He wanted to have complete faith and trust in his wife, and believe every word he’d just heard. He heaved a heavy sigh as he stared at their past, at that day years ago he’d come home by surprise.

For the first time, it hit him. He’d come home by surprise. In all this time, that had never occurred to him before. He wasn’t supposed to be home until the next day, but he’d finished early. Did that have any bearing? The picture forming in his mind was scaring him to death. Her brother was saying something to him.

“What? I’m sorry I was somewhere else.”

“Oh, that’s okay, bud. I said that was one heavy sigh of relief there. I’m so glad the doc said he’ll be okay. You know, I have to go pick up the kids from the old lady across the street. If you need anything, call or knock.” And he was gone.

Sitting there, waiting for the doctor, reviewing their entire marriage, looking for clues to reassure him, or clues to unmask a lie – looking for the truth, not knowing which way to look. His questions were answered when the nurse called him aside. They went into some kind of private area. She asked him where he was when this happened. And how many injuries his son had had before. The line of questioning was really a line of attack.

He told her he hadn’t been home, he’d been on the base when it happened. He thought his son had fallen on their coffee table. She gave him a doubtful look and gave him the name of a social worker who would be coming by to see them. That’s when they started counseling. And bit by bit, the sad truth unfolded. Here is his wife’s story, as recorded, in her own words:

“I didn’t think I had a problem. Not at first. My parents always had a stocked bar. I’d sneak drinks because I thought I was being cool, being rebellious. My mom and dad always seemed to have a cocktail with dinner, or in the evening. It was no big deal. I only drank on occasion. When I drank too much, I told Mom I was too sick to go to school. She never suspected a thing.

“When we were married, I still had it under control. I only drank enough to feel calm. I hid the bottle behind the household cleaners under the kitchen sink. I really tried to stop when I got pregnant, and I was so proud of myself. I guess, subconsciously, I did know I had a problem, or why would I have been proud?

“After the baby was born, sometimes I just couldn’t handle the pressure. The day he came home and found me drunk, I was so filled with shame. I didn’t tell him it was a longtime habit. How could I tell him when I’d kept it a secret for so long? And I was sure, after that, I could change – without any help from anyone. And I did pretty well, at keeping the fact that I couldn’t stop a secret.

“The nurse thought I’d hurt him on purpose, that I was an abusive parent, but that’s just not true. I never hit him once. Not ever. Sometimes, he was just so hard to handle. I didn’t want to say anything, because I wanted to be strong enough to handle it myself. I didn’t want to lean on anyone, my husband or my brother or anyone. Sometimes, when he would cry, I would shake him and tell him to stop. I never meant to give him bruises.

“And that day he broke his jaw, I didn’t hit him. He came home early from his friend’s house. They’d had a disagreement over sharing. I was so frustrated, because this was my time. My bottle of vodka was on the end table. I yelled at him, because I thought he needed to learn to get along with people, if he was going to make it in this world. He cried and cried. I started to shake him to tell him to stop it. It was making my head explode with pain. He turned to run away from me and fell hard against the table, then slipped to the floor.

“I panicked. I thought he was dead. I ran to him, myself crying by this time, and I felt his neck. He was still alive, thank God. I didn’t think he was hurt at all. My mind was so muddled, and the quiet was such a relief. I just sat down for a minute. It seemed like a minute.

“I swear if I’d known his jaw was broken, I’d have called 911. But I couldn’t tell that by looking. God, I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him, either one of them. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, God. Whatever you want. Just don’t take my family away from me. “

Whimpering, she finished, “please, I’ll do anything you want.” She was crying. Her husband, also in tears, reached out and held her. He didn’t want to lose her. He loved her. He loved his son. He knew she wasn’t mean, she was just sick. People understood these things now. Their whole family would get help.

The social worker was pleased, but wary. He took a leave of absence to stay home with his boy. His wife entered rehab and was gone for several months. The secret was out, now things could get better. And they did. She stayed clean and sober,

After eight years in the military, he left and worked with his dad, who had a general contracting company. It wasn’t the work he was used to, but it was a nice change and it allowed them all to be together – and be a family.

One day, when their boy was 11 years old, she got a phone call. Her parents were getting divorced. Her mom was devastated, they had been married thirty-two years. Her dad wanted to marry his 23 year old secretary, who was pregnant with his baby. She talked to her mom for over an hour, and told her husband she had to go be with her. That wasn’t the truth. Her mom was flying to Key West to think this whole thing out. On her dad’s credit card, of course. She didn’t stumble in until after midnight, staggering her way to the stairs. He made sure she got to bed, and then he prayed. He didn’t know it, but in the next room, his son prayed too.

The next four years were a roller coaster ride. Sometimes she could stay on the wagon, twice she went back to rehab, several times she didn’t come home all night. Their son tried to nurse her, every time she was hung over. He tried to do the chores and shopping, and didn’t tell his dad how bad it was when he wasn’t home. He loved his mom so much, and his dad. He couldn’t stand the chaos, the drama, the crying. So he tried to cover up.

Until, one night, she didn’t come home. The fourteen year old opened the door to the police. His face registered the reason for their visit and he just crumpled to the floor. Coming out of the study, seeing his son, the police in the doorway, a surreal moment froze him in time. He couldn’t move and just stood in the doorway of the study staring at the horrific apparition before him.

The car was totaled. Her funeral was four days later. They’d found the broken bottle of vodka and her purse lying near the car. He and his son were on their own. They couldn’t stop her disease. In the end, they couldn’t help her. Two years had passed since then. He and his son had grown closer. It would only be them now. That was his vow the day of her funeral. He would never love again. He could never love again. There was an emptiness and a loss so great – that even his desire was extinguished.

Until he saw the girl with the auburn hair. And now, here he was waiting for her. He couldn’t do it. How could he ever expect her to understand everything that had happened to him, to his son? And how could he push a new woman onto his son? She had no idea was she was getting into. He came back to: it was complicated; it was foolish; it was wrong. Making his decision, he jotted a quick note, paid up, and gave it to the waitress.

“I’m expecting someone in five minutes, but I just got paged. I have to go. Can you give her this note for me?” The waitress agreed and he hurriedly walked out of the restaurant before he had to face her. He never knew she had already walked away. And she never got to read his note:

“I knew you were my soul mate – from the moment I saw you, your eyes, your auburn hair. But I can’t even ask you if it’s possible for you to feel the same. My wife died two years ago. Drunk driving. It’s just me and my son now. How could I ever ask you to deal with all the pain we have experienced in our family, all of the baggage we carry? I couldnt. Take care, my angel.”

The waitress ended her shift and went home. As she closed the door to her small, plain apartment, she sighed. On the table was a suicide note she’d been working on. She read it over, shook her head, and tossed it into the trash can. Shoes kicked off, coat discarded, she wound her way through the mess and sadly made her way to the bedroom. A bottle of pills on the end table caught her attention and she just stared blankly for a few moments then let out another sigh that the world couldn’t hear.

Undressing for bed, she began emptying her apron pockets to put her tips in her top drawer and she came upon the note the man had given her. A little surprised, but now, she remembered. She knew she shouldn’t read the note, but then, what did it matter now?
Not even knowing the whole story, as she read the words on the napkin – tears softly slid down her cheeks. Soul mate. Drunk driver. Baggage… The vision of the preoccupied, worried man tapping his fingers entered her mind. Then, the pacing young girl from earlier invaded her memory.

No. She wouldn’t let it end this way. A sense of purpose surged through her veins. She’d keep this note, and watch for the girl with the auburn hair who had come in and left so abruptly. Maybe someday she would come back. She took the bottle from bedside the bed and flushed the pills from it down the toilet.

The waitress knew that only she held the key to true love, even it if wasn’t hers. At least not this one, but just maybe… Her eyes now quietly reflected a glimmer of hope that had drifted into her soul as gently as a leaf falling, as accidentally as fate unfolding. And with that, she slipped into bed and peacefully closed her eyes for the first time in a long time.

Twenty-One and Lucky (Fiction)

I wasn’t born “Lucky”. It was just my nickname, for as long as I can remember. Since I was really small, my dad used to push me, smack me and say, “do you feel lucky? Hmmm? “ Nothing I did was ever good enough. He could blow a gasket at the drop of a fucking hat. I had to learn to avoid him, take the beatings, become stoic. When I was in school, I was always bullied by the big guys. They’d push me around, knock off my glasses, slap and jab me and laugh. Mostly, I remember the laughing. I finally graduated from high school and I bought a bus ticket and moved to the city.

The city ran autonomously, with no regard to the individuals actually making it work. It was a weird change from a small town, but I remember being excited about my new chance.
I got a job in the mail room of a large ad agency. I found an apartment in a run-down, but mostly safe neighborhood. Life was great, for about two weeks. Then, the asshole came back from vacation. I remember pushing the mail cart one day and a foot protruded from a cubicle. The bottom of the cart stopped short, but the top kept going forward. I fell over it and the mail spilled and unsorted itself. I looked up. A big, loud guy stood over me. For a minute, I thought he was going to unzip and pee on me just to extend the humiliation. But, causing a scene and complaining about me upsetting the cart was enough for him. That day.

For some reason, he seemed to make it a cause of his to be in a different place every day as I came through with the cart. Sometimes, he’d try to upset it. Some days, he’d just jump and say, “Bah!” Warped humor, I guess. He’d been on vacation when I’d started. Funny thing is, when I’d veer out of his way, he’d shrug and say “lucky.” Shortly thereafter, it was again my nickname, a thousand miles away from my asshole father.

At night, I’d go home to my old apartment. It was small and expensive. That how it is in the city. I always had old Chinese food boxes in the refrigerator, and frozen corn dogs in the freezer. Some nights, I ate Bean with Bacon soup straight out of the can. I set mouse traps pretty often, but at least, no rats. I told my landlord if he ever turned these into condos, I’d like to buy my space. I hated moving. My dad rented house after house, moved from town to town. I saw so many schools I can’t even remember. I really never wanted to move again.

So, I’d been on my own for nearly three years. I woke up this morning, my special day. My twenty-first birthday. This was the day that would change my life forever, because I said so. That’s how it was going to be! I smiled to myself as I got ready for work. I stopped off at the donut shop and bought two dozen doughnuts for work. When I got back to my car, it had a parking ticket. I froze as I stared at it. No. No. No. This would not bring me down. It was just a parking ticket. I hopped into my car and put the doughnuts in the passenger seat.

When I arrived at work, I brought the boxes in with a cheerful, bouncy step. Suddenly, a force from below my arms slammed the boxes several feet over my head. They were just fold-overs, and they unfolded in mid air. Doughnuts scattered as everything came down around me. I turned and saw the asshole. He was laughing his head off. “What an idiot! God, you’re such an idiot!” People from other cubicles stood up and looked as I got down and picked up the pieces of scattered doughnuts. When it was all clean, I put the boxes in the trash and swept up the crumbs.

I punched into the time clock seven minutes late. My boss was standing at the time clock, arms crossed. He said he’d gotten a call from “the offices.” Heard I’d created a ruckus at the entrance and made a mess. Why wasn’t I using the backdoor? Mailroom employees should use the main entrance. We should remember our place, be seen and not heard. I nodded and said nothing. He also said since I wasn’t on time, he was going to dock my pay a full half-hour. If I didn’t like it, I could leave.

I considered it. Everything flashed before me and I cocked my head, puzzled. I tuned back into his screaming, “Can you fucking HEAR me, Lucky?” Are you deaf or just stupid?” I took my card, clocked back out and walked out the back entrance. He was saying something, but I wasn’t paying attention. I walked around the building to move my car from the front spot. I’d left it there just to carry the doughnuts to the front desk. I watched as the tow truck turned right at the far end of the block, with my car in tow. No. This was my day. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. I steeled myself against the world.

No. It was only nine-thirty in the morning. I was going to turn this around. I walked up the street and stood at the bus stop, remembering the transit system I’d used the first year here. I got on the bus and took a seat towards the back. My eyes kept closing and block after blocked looked less familiar. Someone’s booming voice woke me up and I looked up to see a policeman. I was confused. The cop said I’d ridden on the bus for over an hour and a half. The bus driver thought I might be dead or a transient. I said I was not a bum, I’d just fallen asleep.

“If you’re not a bum, why aren’t you at work? Let us confirm where you work, and we’ll let you go.” I couldn’t believe it. I shrugged and left the bus compliantly, watched it drive away. I looked around. It took me awhile to realize I was nowhere near where I could pick up my car or go home. I tried to catch another bus going the other direction to back track.
That’s when I realized I no longer had a wallet. I felt every pocket over and over, as if it would suddenly reappear. But, this wasn’t going to get me down. Because, I’m Lucky.

I started walking and went about fifteen blocks before I decided to check the time. No watch. Great. This wasn’t the part of town that had bank clocks, either. I kept walking and turning and making my way back to the area that towed cars were taken. Then, I realized, without a wallet, I couldn’t pay the fine, prove my identity or pick up my car. I turned one more time and headed for home. I was starving, but with no money, I just kept walking. City block after city block, I realized I had miles to go, no one to call for help. I didn’t make it back to my apartment until seven-thirty at night. I could barely walk. I’d just kept going at a steady pace and stopped thinking about four hours before.

I walked up to the entrance of my building and realized I had no keys. Nice time to notice. I pressed every damn buzzer to the building over and over. The door opened. I made it up five flights of stairs and was ready to kick down my fucking door. But, as it turned out, there was no need. The door was slightly cracked and I stood still and pushed it slowly open wide. My stereo and tv were noticeably gone. My CDs. I walked into the apartment the rest of the way. My wallet and keys were lying on the coffee table, on top of a note that said “thanks for the good stuff, bus boy.” I sat down numbly. The wallet was empty. No I.D. No money.

It could have been worse. It could have been much worse. I stared ahead into my nasty kitchenette. I notice two mouse traps needed emptying. Great. I was so tired, but somehow didn’t think I could sleep. I went and opened the refrigerator and the Chinese was too old too be edible. The corn dog box in the freezer was empty. I heard a small beep. Walking back into the living room, I saw my answering machine sitting on the floor beside the phone. The red light was blinking. It beeped again. I walked over and pressed play.

“Yeah, Lucky, this is Mr. Greeley. I decided to take you up on your offer and turn this building into condos. Good call. I sold it to this developer who’s going to take over for me next month. He wants to raze the building and start over. You’ve got thirty days before the building’s torn down. Good luck to ya. Thanks for the heads up.” Beep.

Fucking Beep. He sold out from under me. My idea just cost me my apartment. I went to the bathroom cabinet, smiling to myself. Opened up the box of feminine napkins I’d bought two years ago. Under the individual pink pouches, I took out a sock and opened up the top. I pulled out the money and counted. Two hundred and eighty dollars. I put it in my wallet and smiled. No thief would open a tampon or pad box like that to look for money. Going to my dresser, I opened my top drawer and strapped on my old watch. I found a lighter and fixed a few things in my apartment before I left for the night.

Hailing a taxi, I asked it to take me to Stanton Harbor. I got out and walked to the restaurant that overlooked the harbor. It was a glorious dinner. I thought of my car locked up behind the chain link fences, guarded by dogs from the pits of hell. I smiled. My waiter left and I went to the bathroom and showed myself out. They should mind giving one free meal. As I walked along the wharf, I doled out what was left of my two-eighty to bums covered in rags and boxes. The bridge loomed up ahead of me, so brightly lit in the night, even with a slight fog rolling around the waters.

I’ve always loved this bridge specifically. The architecture. Its placement in the city. The way it lights up the night. I walk out to the middle and lean on the railing, breathing in the crisp air. For the first time, I notice the temperature has really dropped since this afternoon. It feels like winter again. It’s had to drop at least twenty degrees. From fifty-something to thirty-something, just like that. I pondered that as I realized the tips of my fingers were a little numb and my forehead was unable to wrinkle in thought. I thought fondly of the flames that must have slowly engulfed my run-down apartment building by now. So much easier for the new buyer….

I looked over to my right and saw a cop parked on the bridge, his lights flashing. He was walking towards me. That was odd. He had his right hand on his gun, ready and his walk was slow. He was saying some dumbass thing. No idea what. For shits and grins, I looked the other way. Whatta ya know? One coming from the left, too. Hand at gun, ready.
Did I look dangerous? I was casually leaning back on the rail of the bridge looking out into the night. Life was strange, but at least it all made sense now. I had figured out everything on my twenty-first birthday. I must say, not a moment too soon. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw them closing in. With arms outstretched and face gazing up at the stars I smiled with relief as I stepped out into thin air. And mostly, all I can say is, I felt lucky….

Wash Away The Rain (song lyrics) [folk rock ballad]

[folk rock ballad. melissa etheridge. sheryl crow.]

There’s a sunshine deep within you
So spotless, real, sublime and pure
That’s cluttered by your darkest baggage
Tucked deep within you, remote and obscure.

You try to open up your window
You get cut deeply by the pane
If the sunlight touches your eyes, baby
Will it wash away the rain…

**

Left behind, alone, discarded
Licking wounds that you wish would heal
Somebody you thought you were close to
Left for a bigger… much better deal.

Look to the sunlight – see it shining
Release all of your darkest pain
Let it warm you, let it soothe you
Let it wash away the rain.

**

**

The rain comes down
You can’t deny it
The truth is written in your eyes.

No one may see
No one does know it
No one can hear your silent cries.

The sun comes out, though
Maybe you’ll try it
You could feel whole again.

You have to open
Up the window
And just wash away your rain.

The Storyteller (poetry)

The storyteller weaves her magic spell upon the crowd
All ears around were riveted to – each word she said aloud.

With a gentle, calming voice – enchanting stories she does tell.
She spins words into a fabric – no other does it quite so well.

All around the blazing fire – the circle holds its breath
As she speaks of truth and wisdom – and of life and love and death.

So enraptured are the lovers – of the storyteller’s words
The faces loes expression – with each passing word that’s heard.

She lulls them into silence: peaceful, wistful and content
Their worries long forgotten, their dreams alive again.

The telling of the tale: turning phrases like a dance.
Slowly stripping off each veil – a tantalizing, slow romance.

Carefully crafting words with wisdom, spinning life out of a dream
Captivating, mesmerizing, seducing all upon the scene.

Perhaps she’ll come to you to visit – invigorate you with her spirit
Whisper secrets softly to you – listen closely, you may hear it.

She might caress your soul with comfort – linger near you for a spell
Share her wisdom with you, knowing, there are stories you must tell.

Emotional Iceland (poetry)

The day I looked into your eyes
And saw my own reflection
I turned around and bolted in
The opposite direction.

Panicked, dazed, I ran like hell
Did not know what to do.
Like in a dream, my legs of lead
Kept leading back to you.

Alarms let loose inside my head
The power shorted out
My generator came online
Before all faded out.

A tornado swept across my brain
My mind twisted in the fray
A path emerged engulfed by flames
I turned the other way.

I wandered down the narrow streets
My mind had mapped for me.
Freedom, Spirit, Strength, Desire
Were nowhere to be seen.

Caution Street loomed up ahead
Where worry intersected
Emotion Street was all blocked off
No repair date was projected.

The streets seemed an endless maze
But they all led to one dead end
A flashing warning sign
Said the unknown was ’round the bend.

Just past that sign, again emerged
That fiery passageway
I didn’t want to take it
Yet, I couldn’t look away.

Staring down the scary path
I glimpsed into our lives
The time we’d spend, the love we’d share
Reflected in your eyes.

The vision made me shiver
It was more than I could stand.
I wouldn’t let you in because
You weren’t in my plan.

I donned my hat and then my shades
And turned to face the night
In the arms of cold and darkness
I would find a place to hide.

On The Brink (poetry)

Twisted up in faulty reason
Tormented by his sultry lines
Strung along through darkened season
Left behind, another time.

Lost within my mental labyrinth
Chaotic calls do beckon so
Echoes bound around the chasm
And linger still – before they go.

Wafting madness, creeping sensually
Insanity’s alluring touch
Caressing softly, stroking gently
Whispered words that wield so much.

Slipping down inside dementia
Like sinking down into a bath
Melted, creamy butter kisses
No hope or thought of coming back.

The seduction of my sanity
More effortless than you might think.
Madness – such a subtle lover
Or, maybe I was on the brink.

The Postcard (song lyrics) [rock ballad]

[rock ballad with a james taylor/bobby goldsboro/paul simon feel]

all i had left – in my desk
was this postcard
pictured on it – where i’d once been

a reminder – so distant
of a past i once held, where
i’d never be going again

so i sat down – to write you
some solace and sham
penning words – that i’m feeling no pain

and i realize now
that this pen’s – not a fountain
and it better not run in the rain.

the words – better not run in the rain…

on the back – of the card,
i scrawled down – that it’s sunny
that it’s never looked – brighter than this

prospects are golden
and my luck’s running honey
i’ve been blessed – with some heavenly kiss

what i didn’t say,
i didn’t want you to know
you’re not asking- to see all my pain

the sun’s not really shining,
and this pen’s only felt,
well, it better not run it the rain.

i hope it won’t run in the rain…
no, it better not run in the rain.

Life Was Meant To Be Lived (song lyrics) [garage rock]

[smithereen's, rem, nickelback. could go different ways.]

She was an innocent girl
In a dangerous world
She was full of blind trust and light.

But that was bastardized
And that was stolen away
Innocence lost in the blink of an eye.

She could have fallen down
She could have run to hide.
She could have given up on living her life.

She could’ve shadowed out
All the gold  inside
But, she held on to some of the light.

*******
Because….
Life was meant to be lived, lived.
Life was meant to be loved, right?
He took what she wouldn’t give, give
But not the beauty inside, ’side.
*******

She grew up and worked
On an aeroplane
She served passengers with a warm smile.

She greeted people she loved
From all over the world
With the glow of an innocent child.

Then, the towers fell
And, the jobs were gone
More than a hundred thousand strong.

She felt like giving up
And she felt so alone
But, she knew giving up would be wrong.

*******
Because…
Life was meant to be lived, lived.
Life was meant to be loved, right?
She still had something to give, give
She wouldn’t give up that fight, fight.
*******

So, she began again
From the bottom rung
She held onto all the good she believed.

She settled down with her love,
They had a beautiful son
She was thankful for all she received.

When the days get so hard
And, the nights last so long
She tells herself – she’s just not done!

And, when success seems so far
And everything has gone wrong
She takes comfort – how far she has come.
*******
Because…
Life was meant to be lived, lived.
Life was meant to be loved, right?
And maybe she hasn’t won, won
But there’s still time, she just might, might.

Life was meant to be lived, lived.
Life was meant to be loved, right?
You’ve got to reach out and give, give
And hold onto the light, light.

Life was meant to be lived, lived…
Life was meant to be lived, right?

Life was meant to be lived, lived…

Sometimes, You Lose

Sometimes, You Lose…

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent, and even the guilty.)

Yeah, I tuck in my shirts. I’d better start with that, because I’ve been told it’s very much a sign of what a dork I really am…

Growing up, I was a teacher’s kid: kinda smart, a little nerdy, still waiting for puberty to look like it’s hit and I’m forty. I was a bookworm, because I got lost in a world where I could be anything, do anything, look any way, solve crimes, experience life and time periods vicariously. It was wondrous, exceptional, stellar. My room was my sanctuary and I laugh at the basement dweller in the song Online, because I understand all too well. But, there was a time, and there was a place…

When I was in my twenties, I had this favorite place to go. It was amazing. An equal playing field for all. Truly humbling, leveling, elevating… all at the same time. Everyone who showed up there — gosh, it didn’t matter who you were, where you were from, how you looked, how much money you had — you were all equalized in one moment. That sounds like it could be a bad thing, but it soooo wasn’t. It was the kind of place where everyone who showed up immediately blended into the moment without feeling ignored. I have never felt more alive than in that place. I don’t even need to close my eyes. I can hear it, smell it, feel the moment surrounding me and everyone who ventured to that spot. I lived it in person more than thirty times. I can relive it at will, just by calling it to memory

As an aspiring artist, I designed a shirt to wear on these occasions. A piece of artwork I’d seen, with an obscure, historic connection to this favorite place in my world. Those in the know were impressed, which actually surprised me and made me feel a bit special. Those who had no idea  of the connotation still liked the shirt without knowing the reference. I was a small-time star. Very small time, but just enough to make me feel great.

On one New Year’s Eve, I made plans to got there with an acquaintance, but we arrived too early. Sometimes, when there’s a drive involved… and inclement weather, it’s hard to judge one’s timing. So, she and I showed up to closed doors and had to demur to another location down the street that was open. And, that’s when I met her.

It started out innocently enough. She was beautiful, hip, a counter-culture beauty that reminded me of Neve Campbell, sitting with two friends of her own. She immediately took to me and our groups combined. The night progressed and we all ended up going to my spot together. I found out they were all from out of town, as were we. I offered up my hotel room as a night’s refuge in the blizzard and the three politely declined in favor of more partying and then driving home after. Yet, as fate would have it, they showed up at 3 a.m., hoping I would not be angry and would still take them in. Well, duh! Of course. They were trustworthy and that was the “code.” We talked a few minutes, then all crashed on the two double beds, dressed but exhausted. and satisfied. In the morning I snuck out and brought back doughnuts. Everyone exchanged numbers and addresses. The girl I’d gone with orignially was from Detroit and just visiting me for the week. (she was actually pretty mental, but that’s another story entirely. Oh my.) Wayne was from Indiana. Greg and this girl, this girl, she was from Ohio. I will refer to her forthwith as Ohio Girl.

When you meet people on a drunken night, or a party circuit, or while out of town, how often do you exchange information and follow up? We did. Unusual, yes, but we had a common ground. That place. That favorite thing in the world. She and I talked on the phone many times, many nights. Usually the calls lasted an hour and a half, and I was paying dearly on my phone bill for this burgeoning friendship. Even when she called me, I called right back. She was still a student. I had a full time job.  One of their three fell by the wayside, Greg. He decided he was gay and to change his lifestyle to suit his newfound outness. But the rest went on strongly. Not one month after meeting for the new year celebration, she drove from Ohio to Wayne’s house in Indiana and then he drove to my house in St. Louis. I felt so validated, so wonderful, so indescribable. They stayed for a three day weekend. I showed them about town. We listened to music, watched videos. drank a little, made the worst video you have ever seen. I still have it. It sucks balls.

We made plans for February. We met in mid-Illinois to collect together in one car and make the trek to this spot. I guess I need to explain something here. At this place, there was an inner circle that was extremely popular, hard to get to know. There was an outer circle of people who I knew very well, having developed a rapport over the years. It was clear to me that one of their pet peeves was for strangers to figure out they knew the power-hitters and ask to meet them. Talk about insincerity. So, I never did ask. Not time after time, year after year of going there.

One reason was because the friends I’d made — I didn’t consider them “contacts” or “stepping stones” to rich, powerful circle of people. I considered them friends. But, truth be told, there was another reason. The reason I liked this place so much was its leveling factor. In reality, I was a bit of a nerd, a geek, a dork, a scrawny mid-western poetry girl. I liked the distance, the remoteness of it all. When I went there, to the inner circle, I was this mystery girl who sometimes showed up and quietly disappeared into the night. The place was crawling with gold-diggers and whores. In fact, the reason I designed the historically significant artsy shirt was because I never wanted to be mistaken for one of those.

So, Ohio Girl, Wayne and I went on a road trip to our place. Our “Sedona,” if you will. They were short of cash, so they provided gas money to meet up with me, and from there, I provided vehicle, gas money, food money, hotel money and all other expenses. Hey, they were my friends, right? So, we arrived at our destination. Upon stopping in and greeting my outer circle that morning to let them know I was in town, I saw the inner circle surprisingly there in daylight. The four of them were at a distant side of the room. It freaked me out, because on the trip, those people were the only topic holding Ohio Girl’s interest. I already had a vague feeling of apprehension. Even worse, my two closest outer circle friends were smitten immediately with the Neve Campbell mystique of this pre-Emo, underground beauty. We did leave and went out about the town, took naps, ate, and got ready for our night. I slipped into a black turtleneck and jeans, topping the turtleneck with my art design original that had won acclaim. It’s how the inner circle knew I was there on any given night, from my safe distance of blurred dorkiness.

Ohio Girl, she looked at me and said, “You’re NOT going to wear that shirt, are you? You look like a dork.” I was rather taken aback. She had no comprehension of its meaning, its Picasso-like attraction from worthy newcomers. I sound so elitist. Heh. I didn’t know what to do. Then she added the all-too-perfect “look, I’m just telling you this as a friend, because I care about you.” The shirt came off and for the first time in years, I wore someone chosen by someone else: a rather sleazy bodice topped with some front layer that de-sleazed it imperceptibly. The night actually went well until the last moments. You turn one wrong corner, switch locales to wind down, find a completely dead hotel bar to just discuss the night before we headed home, and boom… in walks Victim 1 (hereby referred to as Single Guy) of the inner circle. To his defense, he was the only single one and was obviously smitten with Ohio Girl. He joined our table and we talked. She watched us talk, but offered nothing as he tried to warm her to him. And then, he asked for us to come back the next night. To our special place. I told him it was tempting, but we had such a long drive in different directions to get back home. He said he’d watch for us just in case.

Argument one broke out back at the hotel. She said we just had to stay, and I was driving, and if we left it would ruin Wayne’s and her life. I told her I had to work. Wayne offered up that he was willing to lose his job over an opportunity like this. It might never happen again. I looked at them there. No money, willing to lose everything, it all hinging on me. Of course, I chose friendship over logic. Night number two proved he did watch for us to show. For the first time, the outer circle had been apprised of our potential arrival. We were met with freed drinks, VIP treatment and later to a private chat area. That sounds weird, but there was a room away from the noise — fully lit, nothing sleazoid, where we sat and talked for an hour or so. Well, not all of us. Single Guy was joined by Victim 2 (hereby referred to as Married Guy) a  freshly married man brimming with joy, talking about his family life and pending arrival of a new baby boy. The discussion was actually quite pleasant. I was surprised by my level of complete comfort with these two and chuckled at my earlier fears. They didn’t seem to treat me like I was a dork at all. And, most of the discussion was directed toward me, as she barely spoke. She did manage to say “Give me a light!” And, she muttered, “I HATE that kind of beer. It sucks.” Other than being confused by that, I remember nothing of verbal content from her. To my chagrin, Single Guy tried again with her by altering our plan, my plan to work at a job… He asked us to come back again the next night. Both of my friends immediately agreed, while I swallowed hard at the growing severity of my situation and the apprehension grew.

Argument number two broke out at a truck-stop diner that had private jukeboxes at each table. The night had gone better than ever expected. How could we stop now? We were “in.” I don’t know if I was psychic or just being negative, but I saw this all blowing up in my face. And, I was out of money. I would have to hit the ATM and maybe even do a credit card withdrawal. I was not only out of planned money, and had spent my emergency fund hidden in a key box in my engine. I was now faced with retrieving bill money and running short for the month.

Tears slid down my cheeks as I pleaded to go home and come back another time. But, no. If we were “in” now, it could be short lived. We needed to ensure it. I didn’t want to ensure anything. But, again, I still believe to this day that friendship is worth more than any job. Had it been a “career,” that would have been different. It was just a job. So, yeah, we stayed for a third night. I spent more money on food for all, watched videos, window shopped, etc. The place that night was so packed, there was no room to be a VIP. We just enjoyed the moments alone, knowing that what was to come was to be more special. We went back to our hotel, where a van was waiting for us. My outer circle buddy, Billy, loaded us into it and we were driven to a little corner bar that was quiet and nearly empty. There were, like, two patrons, and then the rest of the people we knew. They had chosen a place which was leveling to them. No one there thought they were rich, powerful or important. Ironic, really.

It was then she pulled me aside into an empty bathroom. Not the first crack in her veneer, but the first telling one to me. She said “the reason I’ve barely said anything to these guys is because I’m so intimidated. And, what makes it worse is… you’re not. You’re completely comfortable talking about any subject, and I have no idea what to say. I blurted out I hate that beer and give me a light, because I was struggling. If you’re really my friend, please do me this favor. If Married Guy talks to me, please just walk away. Please.” I said, “I’ve taken two extra days off work, probably lost my job, spent my money, my emergency money, my bill money, driven us everywhere and you’re telling me NOT to talk to this guy because I treat him normally and we have a rapport? Are you serious?” She said, “if you’re my friend, you’ll walk away. It’s the only way I’ll be comfortable being myself.”

We left the bathroom and went into the main bar. Married Guy greeted me with a huge, warm hug and smile. He hugged Ohio Girl, also, though she didn’t receive it well. I said “it’s so good to see you, um, I have to go over there though. Take care.” He looked really, super confused. Just as perplexed as a face can get. He continued to say he was on his way out. His wife was potentially going into labor and he was actually staying in our hotel, because he’d moved too far away to drive home on weekends. He pointed out Single Guy and asked me to cheer him up. He said that the guy was too drunk, was really down, and would be glad to talk to me.  I told him how excited I was for he and his wife, how happy to have seen him before he left, (and to his confused face) hugged him goodbye and walked away as previously asked, leaving Ohio Girl alone with Married Guy. I walked over to Single Guy and we sat together. He perked up and we had a great conversation, for about two minutes. She came over, looking defeated, angry, pouting for a moment, then her face lit up and she turned to the single guy of the inner circle, hence… Single Guy.

After rubbing his thigh and flirting immensely, she needed to use the ladies room. She needed me to come with. Needed. I was getting the look. So, back in the empty bathroom she told me something that knocked me flat. “Look, Married Guy left the building and he married a slut and she’s having his baby, but I’m his soul mate. I’ve been in love with him for years. That’s why I can’t talk around him. This guy is my only chance. He’s single. If I get “in” with him, I’ll be able to get closer to the other guy. He’ll see that I’m the one for him. I’ll never get closer to Single Guy if he keeps talking to you. Why is it so easy for you to talk to anyone about anything? Please, just walk away. Let me have my chance.” Oh, yes, she did.

I was stunned. I countered with logic, of course. “You don’t even know this guy you say you love. If you don’t know him, that’s not love. Maybe, you have a crush, infatuation adoration, I don’t know. He just remarried this woman and he’s so obviously happy. He’s beaming! If you love him, then you’ll trust his judgment. Let him alone. And, furthermore,  to use Single Guy as a vehicle to reach Married Guy is beyond immoral and unbelievably unethical on every level. I care about them, whether I know them well or not.  I won’t let you do that.”

Her face set with determination and she looked straight into my eyes. “Oh, you’re not going to stop me.”

And, she was right…

I told him goodnight and thanked him for his generosity. I got another confused look, but endured it. I walked to the bar and was sucker punched by something I never saw coming.

There’s something I haven’t told you. Because, it’s embarrassing. Within that inner circle of four, there was one guy who did intimidate me. In this story, he will be referred to as Mentor Guy. Because, he was my mentor guy, my Mr. Miagi, if you will. (He still is to this day, though I’ve never told him and he’d never have guessed and probably not cared either.) He was underestimated by nearly everyone, unbelievably astute, yet wore a zany façade that fooled most into seeing him as just a caricature. Around him, I could not speak. I had been told he didn’t suffer fools gladly and was at a loss for words around him. He was a mentor of mine without knowing it, cultured yet down to earth, a steady upbringing and a true family man with integrity, warmth and compassion. He somehow turned zany into cool.

On many occasions, he’d seen me from a distance and protected me. I’d never known until earlier that day, in fact. Billy said “remember that guy who was bothering you that one night? He was removed from the premises. And, this time and that time and then, etc…” I thought back to all the times weirdos and jerks approached me and disappeared when I showed no interest. I was so complimented to find this out, and yet it became so short lived. It didn’t even last a day. I walked to the main bar and ordered a beer and uncannily… up walked Mentor Guy to the other end of the same bar. He eyed me in new evaluation,  looked at the beer in my hand, squinted, and I then received the coldest stare I’d ever received in my life. It had come from the one person I was afraid wouldn’t like me, the one man I didn’t want to ever know I was just a geeky nerd out on the town, trying to erase that stigma and feel a sense of belonging. Mentor Guy was displeased. That mystery girl in the artsy shirt had gotten too close and, ironically, had been mistaken for one of the shallow, gold-digging whores. I was so crushed I had no words. I set down my full beer and walked away from the whole situation.

If you are the company you keep, it was time for me to change company. Ohio Girl and her need for being “in” had pulled me into a part of a nightlife I was unequipped to handle. I thought I took the high road and went back to the hotel. Thinking it was a brilliant idea, I drank a beer. And, then, I had a second and third. Yay me. I have no idea how much time passed… an hour, three, I don’t know.

She came back to the hotel room, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, she said, “Oh, Annie, I just don’t know what to do. The wrong guy likes me. He thinks I want him and he gave me the key to his hotel room. But, I only like him as a friend. I went to the other hotel room, the guy I like. The door was open and there’s a group there just sitting around to see if his slut wife goes into labor. Anyway, I told him that his buddy likes me and wants me. And, I told him I just can’t do that, because you have a huge crush on his buddy. I told him that you’ve liked him for years and I know it would never work out because he’s a partier and you’re just a innocent sweetheart from the Midwest, but because he’s so well-traveled and rich and powerful, you’re a little bit star-struck, a little obsessed with him.

“You said what????”

“Of course, I told him you weren’t dangerous and they had no reason to worry. It’s just that you had built your life around the times you got to come and see this guy in the room, even from a distance.”

“But, you know that I’ve dated a guy on and off for the last year and a half…”

“Well, he was really shocked. He said he said he had no idea and that you acted so normal. He never would have guessed. I told him that I just wanted to be a good friend. How could I date a guy you liked and still be a good friend? Well, he was soooo comforting. He told me that there was nothing I could do and that it was so sweet of me to be so considerate of you, but I needed to follow my heart.”

“Did you happen to tell him that you were just trying to impress him to get him to leave his pregnant wife and the single guy was just a pawn?”

She laughed, then talked softly again. “Of course not. Oh sweetie, you know how much you like this guy.”

“I do?”

“Oh, it’s so obvious. And, I don’t want to hurt you…. Then, I went to Single Guy and told him…”

“You…”

“He’s really angry right now. It pissed him off. He just didn’t see it coming either. He said you’ve never flirted and he had no idea. Now, he is mad he can’t be with me because of you. He even said he’d fuck you if that would mean he could fuck me…”

Tears came hard. What a low blow. I have no idea if he ever said that. He probably did. He was drunk and mad at her sudden story that made me a scapegoat after her heavy flirting. When I finally could speak…

“You just ruined my reputation. They think I’m some obsessed, crazy, small-town waif, trying to move up in the glamourous world and I’m starstruck by some powerful guy who can ‘take me places.’ And, they didn’t see that coming based on how I acted, which means that all the trust I’d earned is gone. It’s all gone.”

She smiled so sweetly, so believably my good friend. And, she said in the kindest voice,  “I told you that you weren’t going to stop me.”

I was way too drunk, way too hurt, way too stunned and blubbering in tears. I left and went to my friend Billy’s room. I told him what happened and he was infuriated. He said, “I’ve known these guys for years. They meet women like her all the time. TRUST me, they will never believe that load of crap. It’s obvious who is who and what is what. Don’t even worry for a second. They would never believe that conniving, psycho bitch!” He went down the hall for ice and his phone rang. I thought he might be calling from the front desk or something with a question. So, I answered his phone. It was her target, Married Guy, looking for Billy. He recognized my voice and said, “Hey, Sweetie, while I have you on the phone, I know you don’t want to hear this right now. But, just listen. My buddy is not the right guy for you. You may think you’re in love with him, but you don’t even know him. I know how easy it can be to get obsessed with someone, but I promise you… you’re wonderful and you will meet the right guy. It’s just not him.”

I said, “But, that’s not…” and he said, “Tell Billy I called. I have to keep this line open, hon.” And, he was gone.

Never believe her? Never fall for that? Well, at least Married Guy was nice, but time told the story. Four months later she invited me out to make up for her behavior and talk to me. Then, when Single Guy found out I was coming and was afraid because I was “obsessed” with him, she ditched me. Ironically, Married Guy, her “man,” found me and brought me back to the group. He introduced me to his older son and sat me with his family. She looked visibly upset. Then, it was time to go and I got hugs and goodbyes and I was left with her. She broke into tears. It was quite a highlight, actually. She said that everything had gone wrong and, for some reason, Single Guy “thought” she liked the married guy and was not speaking to her. Simply because she laid a pillow on the married guys lap and laid down on it, and Single Guy walked in and stormed out. Poor Married Guy was left to explain her behavior to his seven year old boy. *ugh* Anyway, it was so nice to see her behavior blow up in her face. In the sweetest voice, I said, “tell me everything.” She did, and I supressed the smiles and cheers of her being recognized for the shallow, two-faced scum that she was.

I thought, for me, it could be good again. But, it was too late. Even though they “found her out,” they still had no reason to believe that I was not obsessed and trying to hook up with the single guy. I went back a few times. Single Guy, he avoided me, 2 was more wary around me and Mentor Guy, the one I admired the most, became the caricature he was known to be once again. I believe that 4 in the group remained uninvolved and unaware of the situation in its entirety. For what it’s worth, I had been demoted. Of course, I ended my pretend friendship with her, Ohio Girl. I realized that there had been so many signs of her insincerity along the way. I hadn’t wanted to see them, because I’d never been befriended by a gorgeous, trophy friend. In truth, it had made me feel important, which was my most shallow moment to date. And, I paid dearly for being so shallow. Yes, I learned a lesson, but at a cost greater than anything but death. You see, that place was my favorite place in the world. It was my escape from stress, from work, from being a dorky, scrawny, bookworm next door. It was my favorite thing to do and it had been tainted. I no longer blended in and became an equal. I stood out and became an outsider. It was not the most painful hardship of my life, but it was the hardest lesson I ever had to endure.

There are some things you can never undo, some places you can never revisit, some innocence that can never be regained, some impressions than can never be rectified. Sure, I could have told those guys “she’s making that up.” But, she was so believable I nearly wondered if I had a crush on that guy. It’s more likely they would have thought I was so humiliated I was side-stepping it to save face. I could have said that I was skittish around guys, and had they even mildly flirted they would have seen me shy away, not blossom under the affection. I did consider it. To clarify what had happened would have been to clarify that I was an awkward woman-child, who escaped in the crowds to feel a sense of belonging in one special, irreplaceable spot. To leave it be, I was viewed as an obsessed Midwesterner trying to live out some kind of big city fantasy, maybe even as a whore, looking for a hot time. I chose the lesser of two evils. I’d much rather have that inner circle of guys think me a whore, than know me flat out as a dork.

And, so, I walked away for good, from my favorite thing in the world, my favorite place in the world. Forever. It was like I’d gone to “the dark side” that night and would wear the Scarlett Letter forever. It was my own fault, too. I’m not blaming anyone but me. Everything was exactly perfect until I changed it. I had the perfect escape, the perfect place, the best moments ever. Yet, I allowed myself to be bullied and much worse… to be shallow. If I lived my life over, when that moment again arose, I would never have crossed that line.

I think of the lyrics to a Nickelback song (please, please…. humor me here) and they express how I feel about that moment in time: a  beautiful memory, a lesson learned, a betrayal that stole a piece of my heart, a place that shifted from refuge to refuse.

“I miss that town, I miss the faces / You can’t erase, You can’t replace it / I miss it now, I can’t believe it / So hard to stay, Too hard to leave it… / If I could I relive those days, I know the one thing that would never change…”

The truth is: sometimes, you lose.

.

Mama Lies . . . (song lyrics) [country folk song]

[country folk song. maybe emmylou harris, pam tillis, reba.]

Her mama told her Papa died
When she was just a baby.
There was no other family
The two were on their own.

She didn’t question Mama’s word
She prayed for Papa daily.
And did her best with Mama
To create a happy home.

Gradually, the years went by
The girl became a woman.
It didn’t seem so very long
She’d children of her own.

When cancer came to visit them,
The stay was not a long one.
And she couldn’t help but feel
A little lost with Mama gone.

**

Now Mama lies
in a chamber filled with roses
Mama lies
in a bedroom made of stone.

Mama’s eyes
look down on her from heaven
She couldn’t help but feel
A little lost with Mama gone.

**

She held the – picture of her grand kids
As she sat down at the table
And told her husband of – these thirty years
The lump might be benign.

Her doctor’d asked her family’s history
She didn’t know the story too well.
She finally did a search on Papa
And boy – had Mama lied…

With shock still ringing in her head
She gathered up the family
Together they walked through the courtyard
Of the nursing home.

Fifty-seven years she was,
Her Papa nearly eighty.
He smiled weakly at the strangers
Then stared out onto the lawn.

**

Well, Mama lied -
She left Papa to his family.
Mama lied -
She’d changed her job and then moved on.

Mama lied -
She never told him of their baby
She thought alone – she’d make things right
and it – would fix their wrong.

**

Now Papa’s eyes
look at his daughter and her family
Papa’s eyes
look into eyes he should have known.

Papa’s eyes
Travel to a distant memory.
He smiles weakly at the strangers
Then stares out onto the lawn.

Turning Away (song lyrics) [rock ballad]

[rock ballad with a melissa etheridge throaty, angsty, guttural feel]

I can’t tell you
What I’m feeling

My heart is pounding
My head is reeling

My heart and soul are
What you’re stealing

As you’re turning away…

**

You can’t hear me
I’ve lost my voice

The world is silent
Not one small noise

Could there tru-ly be
No other choice?

No, you’re still turning away.

**

And now I see that you’re
Needing to breathe
And I’m watching you go…

Its not that you and me
Were even meant to be
I wasn’t ready to know.

**

**

I’m all alone again…
Yeah, here I stand

Won’t you turn back around
Just take my hand

The truth sinks slowly in
That’s not the plan

You’re simply turning away…

**

Turn, turn, turn,
Turning away.

Turn, turn, turn,
You’ll never stay…

Turn, turn, turn,
Turning away.

Turn, turn, turn,
My turn to stray…

**
Now I can slowly hear
The world outside

I know I only was
Here for the ride

If I knew a way
I’d be at your side

Instead . . . I’m turning away.

**

Turn, turn, turn,
Turning away…

Turn, turn, turn,
You’ll never stay…

Turn, turn, turn,
Turning away.

Turn, turn, turn,
You’ll never stay…

Turn, turn, turn,
I’m turning away.

You Don’t Know Jack (song lyrics) [power pop]

[power pop. cheap trick sound.]

You said goodbye to me—turned quickly on your heel
You went out searching—for that bigger better deal
And now that guy you caught—and thought was so sublime
Was not “all that”– he didn’t stand the test of time.
And you’re alone…

You told me, baby – nothing that—we ever had was real
You needed someone—with a hotter sex appeal
But, so did he—and now you’re feeling, oh, so small
My cell ID tells me—it’s you who’s trying to crawl.
Come crawling home…

Well….
You don’t know jack!
You don’t know me.
You want me back
But, I can see, oh, girl….
You don’t know jack!

When I told you that I loved you, baby—you still walked away
You didn’t want to listen—to the words I had to say
He was young and hot and vibrant—so much “more” than what I am
You felt alive again—then he went on the lam.
You were so wrong….

**

Well….
You don’t know jack!
You don’t know me.
You wanna come back
But, I can see, oh, girl….
You don’t know jack!

**

The table’s turned, you beg— you crawl across my floor
Petty’s singing now —”Don’t Come ‘Round Here No More.”
You look up at me—’Big Eyes’ call out my name.
Once a sucker, only, girl. I’m on to your cheap game.
Goodbye, so long….

**

You don’t know jack!
You don’t know me.
You can’t come back
Oh, can’t you…. see… it… girl?

Oh, yeah…
You don’t know jack!!
You don’t know jack.
You don’t know jack….

Spring Cleansing (song lyrics) [campfire folk song]

[campfire type song for wiccans and other earth religions]

Too many scars, too many fears
to give any one a review.
Cluttering up my mind over the years;
Afraid to try anything new.
It‘s never easy to remember
things that caused your life pain.
And it’s never simple to face all those evils
Or give any one its true name.
Jealousy often is called realism
by the one who can’t say “insecure.”
Anger is “boredom” by the one who just cannot
connect it with feeling a fear.
Caution is “wisdom” to the one who can’t struggle
to get himself up out of bed.
And Hatred is called “religion” by those who don’t
question the words they have read.
Here is a time – to open our eyes
to the things that are painful to see.
And spring clean the closets of our spirit and mind.
so, once more the soul can be free.
When we look inward and we can accept
the darkness that has always been.
Then the Light can grow strong and honest and pure
as the god and goddess living within.

You Can’t Fail If You Don’t Try

I have spent this week getting my business cards, postcards, decals and new website in line.

Today, I drove around and took down numbers and addresses of homes with For Sale By Owner signs in the yard, especially noting ones with “Price Reduced.”

Tomorrow, I planned to go to the ten closest Sunday open houses to see how “staged” the homes were or were not, so I’d know what I was up against.

Monday was my day to mail out postcards or letters to the homeowners and call on the realtors from the open houses (if they weren’t staged well) and explain the low cost of prepping the home better for the market.

So, here it is Saturday night and my mom just called. She said she wondered if I was ready to call Brian yet. I said “why would I want to do that?”

She said “I think it’s obvious… to see if you can get your job back, since you don’t have any prospects or anything going on. I mean I know you want to do that staging thing, but what if it doesn’t work out?”

I was tired. I responded that I had open houses planned for tomorrow and she hadn’t even given me one day on the job to fail. I wondered why, at this point, after all this effort to make something good happen, would she think I should give in and give up and not even try it out? It wasn’t going to cost me any money to visit houses or contact some realtors that I think are more progressive. It’s so disheartening when you’re about to take part in a race and hear someone say maybe you shouldn’t try and your chances aren’t good.

Damn.

Here’s some examples of what I’m trying to do:

And, here are some from a site that shows after on the left, before on the right. No idea why. Maybe they’re Brits. Anyway…

I don’t have pictures on my site yet,
but I did redo the HOME page today.

Annie’s New Website
still in progress,
but coming along

Suggestions welcome, or any
typos/grammar issues also
regarding website. Thanks

hello?

.

The Storm Hit Us Hard

August 7, 2008 – Thursday

Another Storm Bites The Dust (Storm Thumbnails) Category: Life Clickable Thumbnails Our Shed & Backyard Area: Mom’s House: A Few Townees: It’s starting to become a pattern. .

Newton’s Cradle and Friendships

Friends. You’ve had all kinds: ones that like country music, others that like classic rock, dance and club music fans, hip-hop, rap, heavy metal, alternative, grunge, punk, oldies, even disco. Maybe you’ve had those artsy friends who went with jazz or blues and took you to the most far-out clubs, where you got lost in the smoky, earthy atmosphere that seemed an anachronism of today’s music scene or even today’s reality.

If I asked you, right now, to name a Door’s fan you’ve met, you could. If I asked you who of your friends liked club music, you could. Who’s the Police fan? Who’s the Matthew Good fan? Who likes Kenney Chesney, Billy Joel, Madonna, Pearl Jam?

You could also say who is never current and has never heard of what you’re listening to… and you could probably name someone who is listening to the most obscure stuff and have never once recommended anything you’ve even heard of…

There are ideologies that surround what music speaks to us. First, is the visceral response to it. Often, however, environmental conditioning shapes the visceral response into a calculated response of expression: the expression of our identity.

Pretend for a moment, you’re twelve years old. Let’s say your grandparents listened to oldies, your parents listened to country music.Your middle school friends listened to emo music. But, your older brother in high school hung with a group that listened to the Door’s, the Replacements, old Kiss, and Tesla. Would your visceral, instinctive response be changed? What would you rebel against? With what would you identify? And what would give you a feeling of being more cool, deeper, etc?

You can say you’ve never been influenced in either direction to what seniors, parents, peers or siblings exposed you. Whether you were a toddler, twelve, or even now. But remember the expression “he doth protest too much” before you say a word.

Back in time, I gave this guy a ride home from college. He was the drummer for a hip college band that sound like classic rock meets grunge before Kurt Cobain credited Cheap Trick for influence. Very garage band sound with the unusual ability to play well and write stellar lyrics. I asked the guy what music he listened to and I remember very well what happened next.

He cautioned me. Cautioned me. “You probably haven’t heard of the stuff I like. It’s not mainstream.” (I guess I look mainstream.) I asked for examples. He named The Damned and then added he *used* to like the Psychedelic Furs… before they went mainstream.”

Over the years, I cannot tell you how many times, in how many conversations over music, I have heard phrases that resound the same idea. It’s been said many ways, sometimes more obscurely, sometimes flat out. But, the substance of it is this: “I came across that band when they were unknown. I liked that band, sang their lyrics, listened to their sound over and over… before they ever became popular. I was ahead of my time. Now, that they are popular and played on Top 40 stations, they’ve obviously sold out and become mainstream. Obviously, I no longer like them, because they’ve lost my respect for earning popularity.”

This is called a Newton’s cradle:

If you consider the far left to be the unknown, avant garde, popular only to the musically discriminate… and if you consider the far right to be the mainstream, top 40, bubble gum popularity of the indiscriminate masses, would not that leave only one position from the two extremes. Most would argue that the two extremes are opposing types of music, like country versus rock or classical versus heavy metal. I propose something different. The two extremes are the culture versus the counter culture, and they bombard the majority to the point of resentment.

In the middle lies the majority. Some claim to like all types and to be in the middle because it is the “mean” of their tastes. Others might claim to be turned off by obscure music and also by top 40, and therefore are in the middle because it is the “median” of their tastes. Still others might say they have no specifics musical tastes and just like what they like, when they like it, based on that musician and that individual song.

If you parallel all this into a different arena, you perhaps could put people into these categories: those who follow traditional norms, those who follow the counter-culture of traditional norms they find limiting, those who like some of the traditional norms but not all and remain independent of either label, and even perhaps those who resent the debate of which norms are right and which are wrong. Perhaps it is just as frustrating as listening to two friends, on a road trip with you, argue in a car about which radio station to choose.

The question is, what influences us to lean toward the obscure, to lean toward the safe, to embrace a bit of the exotic with our routine, or to sit deadfast in the middle and drown everyone out with our headphones? And, if the last is the choice, the chances that whatever is on those headphones came from anyone around you diminishes. The one chance song that didn’t get radio play, that your grandparents, parents, siblings and peers haven’t choked you with. Perhaps, that is your sanctuary.

In the grand scheme of things, are we all looking to belong, to stand out, to blend in, to make a difference, to be popular, to be right, to be really alive, to be really respected… What drives us?

I know the answer. And, the answer is, it’s different for everybody, with overlap here and there. Welcome to humanity, where we all are individuals.

Now, unrelated non sequitur.

Culture vs Counter-Culture

“Would you like to join our club? It’s a lot of fun!”

“Um, well, what is it exactly?”

“Oh, it’s fans of old movies, all eras really, pre 90s. Harvey, Citizen Kane, Cool Hand Luke, Breakfast at Tiffanys, Billy Jack, Red Dawn, Rear Window, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Maltese Falcon…  a complete blast! Exciting! Great discussions!”

“That sounds neat. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Hi everyone. I really like old movies. Especially Harvey.”

“That movie was stupid.”

“And Billy Jack.”

“You’re a hippie.”

“And Stand and Deliver.”

“Obviously, you don’t think for yourself.”

“That movie’s too cool so it’s stupid.”

“That movie’s too stupid to be hip.”

“That movie’s too hip to be smart.”

“That movie’s too mainstream to be worthy.”

“That movie was cool. But, then it became popular. Now it’s just dumb.”

“What happened to everybody? Where’d they go?”

“What?”

“It was your group. Where’d they go?”

“It was never my group.”

“I thought you were so passionate about it.”

“Passionate? Passion is overrated. It’s also the food of the masses, which makes it uncool, not hip, too emo, too cultish, a product of society, a statement made by the counter-culture; it’s too much effort, and mainly, it will only leave you disenchanted. Besides, it makes you look stupid, manipulated and of low intelligence.”

[sings softly]
“You say… that we’ve got nothing in common
No common ground to start from
And we’re falling apart
You’ll say the world has come between us
Our lives have come between us
But I know you just don’t care

And I said what about “Breakfast at Tiffany’s?
She said, “I think I remember the film,
And as I recall, I think, we both kinda liked it.”
And I said, “Well, that’s the one thing we’ve got.”

I see you – the only one who knew me
And now your eyes see through me
I guess I was wrong
So what now? It’s plain to see we’re over,
And I hate when things are over -
When so much is left undone…”
[trails off]

“I always hated that song. Too mainstream. Fodder for the lowly, impressionable masses. Sorry.”

Real Life in the Movies: “It Ain’t Real Life.”

Angst. Life. The way things are. The way we wish they were. The way they’ll never be.

In “Lucas,” Kerri Green asks Lucas to tell him why she is attracted to Charlie Sheen instead of him. He brings up Darwin, and says it’s survival of the fittest. The fittest in any species are driven to each other to ensure survival the species. And yet, at the end, the underdog is applauded by the fittest as if he belonged to their closed society.

Emily Dickinson wrote “The soul selects her own society, then shuts the door – to the majority. Present no more.” I will always remember that line and how I personally understood it. How the door gets closed to the secret membership of who is hip in your world…

I teared up at the end of Lucas, seeing how they wanted me to believe. I figured the writer had been the underdog and wanted to write life with a better ending.

“The Truth About Cats and Dogs.” It wasn’t the truth, really. “Hairspray.” Not the truth.  “Meatballs.” Not the truth. The list goes on and on from “The Breakfast Club” to “Some Kind of Wonderful” to “Pretty in Pink” to “Sixteen Candles.” And, then, there’s “The Goonies,” “The Princess Diaries,” “What A Girl Wants” and “Grease.”

I guess everybody could add one or two that I’ve missed: movies that inspired the unfit to think they they could aspire to popular, to sexy, to cool, to hip. Movies that left me realizing the unfit became writers and the fittest acted the parts, leaving to few among them to outsiders who would play the fat girl, the science geek, or the awkward, late bloomer in a high school or world that was in full bloom and leaving them behind.

Perhaps there is a secret society that propels the underdogs to aspire to greatness. Perhaps, I’ll write a movie about it, and cry at the end…

(((Inspired by my friend’s blog about her teenager.)))

Beer Analogies and Taxes

This was a bulletin from a friend, who may or may not want attention drawn, so I’ll leave it anonymous until they say either way to me.

Another friend gave me a link which continues on about tax breaks in a funnier and more realistic sense that surpassed my hopes of discussion. See below!

Tax Analogy with Beer ( First Edition)

Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100.

If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:

The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.

The fifth would pay $1.

The sixth would pay $3.

The seventh would pay $7.

The eighth would pay $12.

The ninth would pay $18.

The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.

So, that’s what they decided to do. The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until one day, the owner threw them a curve.

‘Since you are all such good customers,’ he said, ‘I’m going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by $20. ‘Drinks for the ten now cost just $80. The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free.

But what about the other six men – the paying customers? How could they divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his ‘fair share?’ They realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody’s share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer.

So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man’s bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay. And so the fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings). The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33%savings). The seventh now pay $5 instead of $7 (28%savings). The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings). The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 ( 22% savings). The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).

Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to drink for free.

But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings. ‘I only got a dollar out of the $20,’ declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man,’ but he got $10! ”Yeah, that’s right,’ exclaimed the fifth man. ‘I only saved a dollar, too.

It’s unfair that he got ten times more than I!!

”That’s true!!’ shouted the seventh man. ‘Why should he get $10 back when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks! ”Wait a minute,’ yelled the first four men in unison. ‘We didn’t get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!!! ‘The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.

The next night the tenth man didn’t show up for drinks, so the nine sat down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important.

They didn’t have enough money between all of them for even half of the bill!!!!!

And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, is how our tax system works.

The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.

For those who understand, no explanation is needed.

For those who do not understand, no explanation is possible.

David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.

Professor of Economics University of Georgia”

——–End First Edition——-

Now, Dr. Kamerschen above denies ever having written that viral email and bulletin which has been passed around since 2001 or 2002.

—————Revised & Painfully Funny Edition———

How Taxes Really Work

To start with . . . .

In the US and throughout most of the rest of the world, the tenth man would have paid off a politician for $10 to get a beer subsidy of $30 per night(to create jobs for the bartender). Of this $30, $10 of course would have covered the lobbying expense, $10 would go in his own pocket, $1 would go to the bartender to keep his mouth shut, and $9 would go to the bar.

The Bar would give him a kickback of $10 each night for bringing in his 9 buddies to make them into alcoholics, repeat customers for life.

The Bar would then raise their prices to $130 citing inflation and higher taxes.

The tenth richest man would then secure his finances in a Dutch Holding Company managed by a trust in Ireland which invests in Chase and Bank of America. He would then explain to his buddies that he is as poor as the rest of them and can’t afford to pay himself as he cries into his beer that night citing his latest financial report which shows him to be broke on paper so that he doesn’t have to pay taxes in the United States ever again.

Citing his former generosity, the other nine men would agree that the tenth man can now pay nothing like the 4 poorest.

The others would then be faced with an adjusted amount of

• The fifth would pay $3.
• The sixth would pay $10.
• The seventh would pay $22.
• The eighth would pay $38.
• The ninth would pay $57.

Now the group would recognize that this is not fair and so would lobby the Government for an Earned Drinking Credit for the Poorest men. The government would oblige and give the four poorest men $2 each, but they would tax the 5th – 9th men $2 each as well.

• 4 men receive a total of $8 and 5 men pay $10.

The adjusted amounts would then look like this for all 10

• First Receives $2 pays $2 | Net 0
• Second Receives $2 pays $2 | Net 0
• Third Receives $2 pays $2 | Net 0
• Fourth Receives $2 pays $2 | Net 0
• Fifth Pay $1 to bar pays $2 to tax | net paid $3
• Sixth Pay $8 to bar; pays $2 to tax | net paid $10
• Seventh Pay $20 to bar; pays $2 to tax | net paid $22
• Eighth Pay $36 to bar pays $2 to tax | net paid $38
• Ninth Pay $55 to bar; pays $2 to tax | net paid $57
• Tenth Man:  Tax Credit Received: $30 ;

  Pays $10 to politician;

  $1 to bartender;

  Receives $10 from Bar

  Net RECEIVED $29 per night and free beer

Of course this can not go on forever as the sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth men can’t afford to pay those rates forever. So they start paying with their credit cards held by Bank of America and Chase.

The tenth man would start demanding a higher Return on Investment from his investment managers, who would be hearing similar requests from all of their other investors. They would then expand their holdings into mortgaged back securities where a good deal more profit could be made.

Meanwhile the Fifth through ninth men are racking up debt on their credit cards from drinking every night, their health care costs are increasing as their liver fails, and they are also spending more on gasoline as they drink and drive as they can no longer afford to cab it.

Ultimately, they end up refinancing their credit cards into their house where they have equity. The mortgage broker promises them a 4.9% interest rate on the refinance which sounds good as their credit card interest rate is up to 21%. The broker promises them that they will not have to verify their income, provide W2’s nor copies of their tax paper work.

Their mortgage broker doesn’t tell them, but lies about the value of their house in order to refinance their credit and help them avoid paying private mortgage insurance. At their current income levels, and without verifying their income, their mortgage would be classified as Sub Prime and the interest rate would be 10.9%

The mortgage officer lies about their income levels as well to boost the internal credit scoring mechanism and get them financed, not at 4.9% but 5.9%, which is better than 10.9% and happens to pay the mortgage broker a higher commission than a loan at 4.9% that is not sub prime.

The mortgage broker also promises them a payment of $900 per month, but fails to mention the balloon payment of $50,000 in the 5th year and doesn’t mention the adjustable rates in year 3.

The men separately show up with a hangover and sun glasses on the date of their close for their new mortgages. They trust their broker and do not read the paperwork in detail flipping and signing almost as fast as they could raise a beer bottle to their lips.

The loan closes, the mortgage broker gets a fat commission, the bank securitizes the mortgages by selling them to an Irish Hedge Fund and pockets collectively a billion dollars in profits that year.

The hedge fund holds the investment for a year, shows a 35% gain on paper and starts selling shares to retirement funds and 401ks in the US that the Sixth through 9th men just happen to have the rest of their life savings sitting in.

The tenth man sees the writing on the wall, literally magic marker on a stall in the restroom of the bar.

“The end is Nigh”

He pulls his money out of the Irish Hedge fund invested in real estate and invests in Gold at $600 a troy ounce.

Meanwhile, he lobbies congress to tighten bankruptcy laws for credit cards which he still has a sizable investment in. Congress tightens bankruptcy laws and makes it impossible to absolve credit card debt, forcing people into chapter 13 where they must pay off the debt within 3 years or go to debtors prison where they can work it off in 7 years.

Gas prices are still going up so the President ignores a minor terrorist threat, allows the terrorists to blow up a major building and then goes to war with the terrorists home country where there is no oil, and simultaneously with a country that sits on 10% of the worlds oil reserves that has a decimated military infrastructure.

Oil prices shoot through the roof with Gold following close behind. The President whose family comes from oil barons make a fortune and become famous at their skull and bones country club outside of Yale.

Meanwhile our famous 10 guys, start paying even more money at the pump. The first 4 guys end up taking second jobs working at Wal-Mart and have to give up drinking at the bar so that they can try and beat their teenage kids out of a promotion.

The fifth and sixth guys get foreclosed upon. They were forced to stop paying their mortgage payments so that they could pay their mandatory credit card payments as required by the new bankruptcy law.

The seventh, eighth and ninth men all previously traded up their homes for McMansions that they can not afford with interest only payments of $2300 a month. When foreclosures start happening their plans on flipping their McMansions and cashing in on the equity slips through their fingers.

To make matters worse seven and eight get laid off from the companies they work for when their jobs get outsourced to China. The ninth man keeps his job at a law firm, but fails to notice that his 401k fund is slipping and has lost 10% in the last year. Things are looking up as his law firm seems on the edge of landing a big contract with Merrill Lynch.

Then the real estate crash and sub prime mortgage scandal erupt. Banks start dropping like flies to be saved not by the cash strapped government that can barely afford the war for oil any longer, but by China. Oil and Gold soar, Gold hits $900 a troy ounce and Oil hits $130 a barrel (about the same amount for 10 rounds of beer prior to the crash). Beer prices hold steady for the first few months, but then start to edge up as gas prices for delivery creep into the bar owners expenses.

Then the first four men one night remember their favorite bar. They sneak around back around 4:30 am and steal 50 empty kegs that just happen to be made of pure aluminum. Those kegs are now worth about half the value of a keg that is full in scrap metal prices or about $80.

They are not stupid and don’t want to get caught turning the kegs in at the dump where the police are already looking for keg thieves. So they head out to the closed down manufacturing plant where they used to work. They start a big fire, and melt down the aluminum into big messy aluminum splashes on the cement.

They turn in the aluminum for cash and get caught up on their back alimony and child support before heading back to work at Wal-mart where they now work for their teen age kids that beat them out for that promotion earlier in the month because their job skills weren’t as good as recent high school graduates.  They then begin dreaming of new ways to find aluminum alimony allowances.

Meanwhile, the banks and mortgage companies lobby congress spending about $10,000 a head in an election year to bail out the economy. Congress provides the major banks with government backed loans to refinance the bad sub prime loans so that the government can personally guarantee those bad loans. They also put $100 billion of actual cash into the hands of Americans hoping to stimulate the economy.

Americans however, are all in debt up to their eye balls and use the extra $1200 they receive to make 2-3 credit card payments. They take the $300 for each kid and buy groceries for the month and then they start worrying about next month.

The banks get away free as they have Chinese financing now and no bad loans as they have refinanced them over to the US Government. The US government had to print more money to pay for all of these actions and so Gold goes up to $1500 a troy ounce.

The tenth man is now worth Billions and moves to Costa Rica to retire taking the new trophy wife that used to be the bartenders girl friend with him.

The first four men end up going to county prison for 3 months for stealing aluminum dog crap receptacles after running out of kegs to steal.

The fifth and sixth men end up living in an apartment and then homeless after they lose their jobs at Wal-Mart.

..The seventh and eighth men whom we previously left hanging in our story after they lost their jobs and ability to pay for their homes, end up losing their homes, and their kids. They and their spouses are each convicted of mortgage fraud by the FBI in a major sting operation after it is revealed that they lied on their mortgage applications. Their mortgage brokers who actually did the paper work cop a plea agreement in exchange for immunity with the Feds and rat out each of their unsuspecting customers.

The ninth man ends up losing his entire retirement fund which took a big hit as the dollar rapidly plummeted into free fall. He ends up refinancing his own house under a government backed loan for $650,000. Unfortunately, a tornado comes through that winter in a freak coincidence and levels the home. FEMA promises to provide assistance but never shows up and the ninth man freezes to death attempting to salvage the shreds of his belongings. His home insurance policy refuses to pay as they claim that his house was over valued and then they prove it with comparables studies from his own mortgage brokers database.

The tenth man ends up dumping his new bride a year later, moving back to the states a year after that when the US appears to have hit rock bottom and he leads up a Chinese real estate investment initiative in the states. He makes another $10 billion in ten years, but is then executed in Beijing for espionage.

Meanwhile, the bar tender goes on to win American Idol and sleep with Paula Abdul. They are now blissfully happy, doped up on anti-psychotics, and the biggest two idiots the world has ever seen.

———-End Revised Edition———–

Now, discuss please!!!!

Obama in St. Louis & Kansas City

Record Breaking Obama Rallies & Largest Gathering in St. Louis since 1904 World’s Fair (update)
Current mood: excited
Category: News and Politics

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2iwBERO7Gk

The event was unprecedented!
Oh, what a day! I will never forget standing in line with more people than has every surrounded me for any reason in my life! I was interviewed by some reporter, she took a picture, Obama waved 15 feet from me from his motorcade that I didn’t even know was going to come down that street. There was NO negativity in that crowd. There were blacks and whites, friends and families, and more white males between 40 and 65 than you could have imagined. I think the older crowd outweighed the college crowd 3 to 1. The feeling of the crowd? Unity. We are one. We have changes to make.

That is the Rose Bowl above. It seats 91,200 or so. There is no way there were ONLY 100,000 people who showed up, and only with 2-1/2 days notice, I might add!

And, later in the afternoon, an estimated 75,000 more at the Missouri/Kansas border showed up in Kansas City to hear him speak!

The New America? It Could Happen.

The rain drizzled outside as the low rumble of thunderstorms moved in the distance. Chris moved through the house in its shaded state and found the remote control. Aimed at the television, the remote was ineffective. Puzzling. Sitting down at the computer and wiggling the mouse did not bring the screen out of slumber.

“Must’ve been a power outage,” Chris mumbled and pressed the power button. But, the computer did not fire up. “What?” Looking around, wondering, getting up and flipping a light switch. No light. “Ah, okay, the power is out now! From the storms.”

Sighing, Chris returned to the bedroom, picking up the only land line in the house. Cordless phones don’t work without power. The phone was silent, no dial tone. Making it back into the living room and grabbing the cell phone on the desk was reassuring. It lit up when buttons were pressed. Calling Terry and waiting, and waiting, the phone did not connect. More perplexing was the fact that no recorded message replied. Trying several more numbers got the same response.

No power. No television. No phones. No cell either. Going to the stove, out of curiosity mostly, Chris turned the knob to light. The flame on the old stove appeared, but lasted only seconds and went out. Relighting did not work, and the gas sound was no longer present.

This feeling was indescribable. Uneasiness. Fear. Quiet panic. Standing there, not knowing where to move next. Finally, the inevitable, the move to the windows (seeing nothing), the back door (seeing nothing) and the front door (seeing nothing.) Getting the courage to quietly walk outside and look around, the street was quiet. Down the block, a car drove past an intersection. Quiet again. Sirens in the far distance came closer and faded. Silence again and minutes passed.

A car began to zoom up the distant side street, coming around the curve and crashing into a telephone pole. The driver got out and began to run, but was shot over and over in the back as he fell to the ground. The shooter came into view. Shooters, actually. Chris was confused. They were supposed to be the good guys.

Backing away slowly, making it into the safety of cover, Chris could hear the sound of sirens again in the distance. At last resort, opening the desk drawer and taking out a wind-it up weather and emergency radio, the winding began. One full minute of winding, and the search for a station. Any station. There was only static…

2008 Presidential Election: Two Separate Issues

You know that I am voting for Obama. But, when it comes down to it, why? I have two major reasons and one thought that keeps nagging at me, so I decided to share.

But, first, I’ll digress on the non-nagging issue. Reason Number One.

Policy: Domestic and Foreign.

First, I have read the policies of both at their websites and at independent websites. I’ve been to several “who should i vote for?” sites that allowed me to take quizzes and matched me with the candidates. This was a neat one: http://www.votehelp.org/.

I’ve also visited http://www.electiontaxes.com/ to review the tax plans of both for myself and my mom. I like that site because it allows you to input your income, capital gains, itemized expenses if you have them, and child care expenses.

Overall, (but not completely), my views line up with Obama’s on how policy should be approached. Should I win the lottery tomorrow, my views on that will not change, because there are many more issues than just my income.

A digression within the digression. Joe, the Plumber. His words were: “I’m getting ready to buy a company that makes 250 to 280 thousand dollars a year.” What neither Obama nor McCain addressed was that is COST not INCOME.

If the company costs that, the cost has to be offset on his taxes, whether it’s a Schedule C or bigger. He has to offset the investment, payroll, materials, supplies, and vehicle depreciation or mileage. After all of that is done, he transfers the amount to the income form on his tax return, where he then backs off his exemption and his son’s, any IRA expenses, his itemized deductions on his home mortgage interest, unreimbursed employee expenses, and then has to pay in his SE form if it’s a Schedule C. If the business “makes 250 to 280 thousand dollars a year” how much to buy it? What about expenses? Is it a three million dollar company making that in income, because if so, he’s no middle class Joe. If it’s cost to buy is $250, then that’s not his income. He’ll claim a loss for years as he pays down the purchase of it and pays salaries, etc.

When it’s all said and done, if his NET income after all expenses is $300,000, he would pay $4000 more on Obama’s plan than McCain’s. I have to tell you, if you’ll pay me $300,000, I’ll give you $4000. and, if Joe made only, I mean only $250,000 in net income, he would pay $2211 more. So, that whole argument is hardly worth the argument. It annoys me and I consider it a distraction.

Anyway, back on topic: Policy. I lean Obama’s way farther than Pisa leans. (5.5 degrees. No need to go look that up.)

Now, for the second thing. And, this is the one that has been nagging and nagging at me. I don’t have the perfect term for it. For lack of a better way of putting it, I’ll call it:

Presidential Presentation

When I remove policy from the equation, and I remove the other candidate and across that table last night, I put any foreign leader across the table in any type of negotiations, the difference is alarming.

If McCain cannot disagree on policy without being disagreeable, if he cannot contain his snorts, sneers, eye rolls, shrugs and faces… with Obama — how could he meet with world leaders and not offend them?

Every debate I have watched, he has stated his message and come across with a condescending, belittling, “I’m right, that one’s wrong”, pedantic tone. He has been called on it, but can’t shake it. His smiles are strained and tense. When he believes he is right, he believes the other is wrong. There is no middle ground. There is no room for negotiation.

The world is watching to see if we elect a negotiator or a bully, who have chosen respectively, a negotiator and a bulldog for a running mate. (I do not think Palin is a pit bull, but a bulldog, grabbing onto the ankle and not letting go.)

If my policy were leaning the other way, I would still have to vote for Obama. This has happened to me before. My policies leaned Democrat, but I voted a Republican into office. Twice. I tried to vote for the better person for the job, the better domestic leader, the better international leader.

And, policy aside, I’ll be doing it again.

America: Get Up!

Time passes slowly to three generations, but within the time line of all history we are but a speck of dust. Our problem, as Americans, is not that we aren’t innovative, strong or intelligent. Our problem is that we’re short-sighted, hard to involve in activities outside our routine and, basically, creatures of habit whose greatest wish is to live the American Dream without stumbling.

We’ve all taken the strength of America for granted and we have assumed, yes assumed, its longevity. It’s been here long enough that it does feel fresh, precarious, teetering on the brink of extinction on decline. Most forget, our country is one of the youngest countries on the globe.

It is very plausible that a paradigm shift could occur, and within this or the next generation! We could become the new India or the new China, while India and China take over the spotlight as power players in the global economy.

The fact we think we became the alpha male of the globe within this short stretch of global history is not fact, but our opinion. This opinion has been overvalued by us and not recognized by many who live on foreign shores.

In analogy, we were the lion cub grew up, split off from our pride and along the way, won a few good fights, establishing a proud and fearsome new pride. We called it the United States of America. At different times in the past two hundred and thirty plus years, our country joined with other prides, forming coalitions to patrol and stand down power hungry nomads who were bent on the control or eradication of others.

Over time, our country prospered in many ways: Economically, technologically, scientifically and more. Other countries valued our trade agreements and innovations, as it strengthened their own countries. This barter system of sharing and growing worked well, when not interlinking it with any other repercussions. Exporting grain to starving countries was a noble cause. Exporting arms to an area of turmoil and counteracting that empowerment by arming surrounding countries has been failed policy and lack of foresight.

Not only has America had trouble with image and policy abroad, we have had setbacks in every area of strength we possessed. We left Great Britain while under the rule of King George III, unhappy with two major issues: freedom of religion and taxation without representation.

Yet, in America, we have fought against ourselves at the meaning of the very definitions put forth in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.

We have fought to ensure that all races and both genders were documented as people with voices, not property. In the quest for freedom from slavery, we fought internally for years, and we have grown for more than one hundred years, divided and bitter, not wholly but enough to unnerve the comfort zone. Fifty-five years after the 13th Amendment abolition of slavery, women were granted the right to vote.

Taxation. The first collected income tax levied, in 1861, helped to fund the Civil War. It was called the “Revenue Act of 1861″ and was rescinded in 1872. Then, in 1994, the Wilson-Gorman Tariff tried to impose the first ever peacetime income tax. It was taken all the way to the Supreme Court and found to be unconstitutional. Income tax would not show up again until Congress passed the 16th Amendment in 1913, which has met with controversy since its inception with an argument that the amendment was never fully ratified and is also in direct violation of our 9th Amendment right to unenumerated rights? Complicated enough?

There is a proposed Fair Tax Act, encouraged by Libertarians, that would abolish income tax completely in lieu of a national sales tax. What would that really do? Well, the current cost of the Department of the Internal Revenue Service would certainly be a reduction in spending, as they would not have to review all citizens’ honesty and audit questionable tax returns. Taxes would be based upon purchases, and thereby those with less would buy less and be taxed less. Ironically, this bill has been contested feverishly and adamantly. One reason is that we already pay a sales tax. Oh, and we already pay income tax. Why mess with a system that taxes us when we earn it and when we spend it?

Technology. In our quest for growth and independence, we have polluted our water, our land, our air, and further up and out: our protective ozone layer. We may have nailed innovation, production and technology in the short term, but without regard to consequence, in the short term or long term. We treated those who spoke of consequence as witch doctors selling sugar water. In short, we treated environmentalists with disdain, disrespect and even satire. We now face a plethora of ills in combating and reversing even a portion of the damage we’ve done.

Religion, or more specifically, freedom of religion. We established this country, not in a small part, based on a feeling of persecution in Great Britiain. Yet, our lawmakers still let religion interfere between the people and the law. Same sex marriage is one example. Let us look at a few religious beliefs: Jews do not eat meat with cheese and the utensils that touch one may not touch another. Muslims do not eat pork and consider it a dirty meat. Hindus do not eat beefs, as they believe cows are sacred. Hare Krishnas are lacto vegetarians, abstaining from all meat, fish and eggs. Rastafarians choose food with no preservatives or chemicals. Now, if we were to respect ALL religions and abide by them, no American would be legally able to eat beef, pork, fish, other meat, egg or dairy. We would all be eating a nearly Vegan diet. However, Americans do not have dietary laws that force us to limit our diet in such a way, due to varying religious beliefs.

The argument against same sex marriage has been that it violates the sanctity of historically traditional marriage and is solely to be formed between a man and a women. There is an irony in the fact that the Defense of Marriage Act of 1996 pushed through to legally define, for the first time, that marriage is between a man and a woman. When asked why a person who defines marriage this way, the often heard comment is that this feeling comes from their faith. Faith. But, we are allowed freedom of faith, are we not? And, while one faith eats pork, another eats beef and another abstains from meat, it is not illegal for any. We founded America on the basis that no one’s else faith could infringe on our own, inalienable rights. Just as there are religions that consider homosexuality an abomination, there are those that do not.

It is true that atheists (of the opposite sex) can marry in a civil union, or in a church if they so desire, and reap the benefits of a married couple. It is true that Satanists (of the opposite sex) can marry in a civil union, or in a church if they so desire, and also reap the benefits of a married couple. Yet, two atheists or Satanists, or those of any other religion in the world cannot marry in America due to… what? When specific religions that forbid homosexuality are removed from the equation, what legal grounds remain?

When blacks were freed from the chains of slavery, there were those who considered them white man’s property found it distasteful. When women were allowed the right to vote, there were those who considered them a husband’s property and found it distasteful. Growth always brings with it discord, but I ask you… by what non-religious grounds, in a country founded on religious freedom, can we not allow two non-related adults to consensually enter a binding agreement of intimate partnership?

America, the lion cub, who grew into a great, alpha lion and led the pride in the world against oppression and against terror. Are we that same America today? We oppress our own, legislate the eradication of our rights, our privacy, our pursuit of happiness to all men created equal. And, we got lazy and cocky. The cub stopped paying attention to old alphas in other places that seemed small and powerless. The cub talked cocky, rattled a few sabers, angered friends and made new enemies while it allowed the members of its pride to falter, to lose hope, to lose their way.

The defining advantage of America: education and hard work, became a melting pot placed on the back burner, traded for convenience and leisure. Americans dismissed education, mocked math, science and our elders who spoke of the Great Depression. And, sadly, Americans found the buffet, the all you can eat buffet.

Over thirty years, we studied less, polluted more, discriminated more, and ate even more than that. While becoming a nation of video gamers, slackers, complainers and tv watchers, other countries studied more and underbid our wages. The tables have turned sharply and, subsequently, we may not be in a good position to deal with it. I am not insulting this generation of which I speak. I am of this generation, and I see, think, feel and live it all too clearly.

It is time for us to stand and deliver, time to study again, time to value education. We need math geeks and science nerds and environmentalists to be our heroes. We need linguists and economists and teachers to stand proud. We need bullies to feel the scorn of a nation bullied too much by its own. No slacker need bully a genius to feel better, when it is that very slacker who will weaken the country the genius can save. We need video gamers to use their skills for military defense, programmers who have a desire and a purpose that is greater than hacking a computer or spreading the newest worm virus.

Americans have long since relegated nations to common denominators. Germans for their automobiles, Japanese for their radios and televisions, Colombia for its coffee, and the list goes on. But as we stereotyped others, what nation have we become? What are we known for globally? And, what yet can we become?

It is up to us. We are one generation away from becoming a leader again or becoming a third world country, dependent on foreign lands’ generosity to keep us alive. Get up. Stand up.

Does It Really Matter If I Vote?

A plea from me to undecideds and possible non-voters…
———–

If you get laid off, how long can you live on your savings?

If your bank declared bankruptcy tomorrow, would your accounts be available for withdrawal immediately?

If your mortgage was due on the 1st, but your mortgage lender declared bankruptcy this week, would you just go ahead and mail the check or should you call someone?

If your daughter said her school sports program was canceled due to lack of funding, or if your son brought home a note that said hot lunches would no longer be provided, please send lunch boxes… would it matter?

If school buses stopped running, would it affect anyone you know?

If mass transit went bankrupt tomorrow, would you be affected?

If your company (like my friend’s) had to end everyone’s insurance coverage because they could no longer stay afloat if they paid it, would it affect your family at all, or anyone’s family you know?

If the gas stations were empty, would you get by?

If your daughters and sons were required to register for the draft and serve tours of duty in the middle east, would that be just fine with you?

If the money in the 700 billion dollar bailout helps those that make over $100,000 to millions a year keep their jobs at that current salary, should there be no repercussions for them? Is it possible they could stay on at a 20% salary reduction to help pay for the bailout, if that offered them the tax break by only taxing the amount they received?

If people who were laid off and took lesser paying jobs were allowed to refinance for longer, at the same interest rate, to reduce their monthly payment, wouldn’t that be better than letting the loan default?

If people who were laid off (from Starbuck’s or Chrysler, for example) were actively looking for work, would it NOT be better to offer a mortgage deferment (like a student loan deferment) as long as they met criteria of actively and aggressively looking for work?

If you know one person who could be affected so badly in the next four years that it could destroy their life, does it make the difference?

Does it matter then? Because, it matters to me.

Cult of Personality: Last Century, This Election

In a political group in which I’m a member, somebody said not to get to hopeful about Obama winning the election. The person stated that in the past thirty years, only one Democrat has been elected. Carter lost. Mondale lost. Dukakis lost. Gore lost. Kerry lost. And, not only that, they were all white. Point being that Obama has a challenge they didn’t even face.

Going back further, after Dem Woodrow Wilson and WWI, Republicans took office through the Roaring Twenties until the stock market crash and the term of Herbert Hoover. For the next twenty years, Democrats reigned as FDR took four straight terms and then Truman was nearly coerced into the VP of his fourth term.

As irony has it, Truman became the president by default only three months into that four years, and a tumultuous four years it was. Surprisingly to many, he won over Republican shoe-in Dewey and served a second term. You all remember that famous picture of Truman holding up the newspaper declaring Dewey’s win over him!

So, anyhow, that finishes World War II, takes us into the Korean War, China, Pakistan and a plethora of controversial issues. Truman has been called the most unpopular president ever in some history books, though most of us only remember that smiling picture. General Eisenhower, who courted neither party, was then courted heavily by Republicans, drafted into their team and ran against Truman’s Bush-like popularity with reform promises a simple slogan: “I like Ike.” He served two terms, defeating Adlai Stevenson both times. Why they chose to run Adlai Stevenson against him both time, ask someone else. I do not know.

So, time for a change. Kennedy was ushered in a landslide. Nah, I lied. It was one of the closest races of popular votes in history: 2/10ths of 1% or 49.7% to 49.5%. Weird, huh? And, guess who he beat in that one? Richard Nixon.

Kennedy got shot. Johnson finished that term, and ran against Barry Goldwater for a second term. Back then, there was this ad called the Daisy Ad. It showed a girl with a daisy, petals being picked off one by one as she counted to ten, then a countdown of ten to one brought the conclusion of a nuclear blast with the message to vote for Johnson. Point made was: Goldwater meant nuclear war. It worked, too. A real landslide this time.Lyndon Johnson won. Oh, guess who found a copy of that ad for you? You don’t have to search it out, if interested.

1968 election. Wow. The times must have felt crazy. Even crazier than today. Robert Kennedy Jr. was running. He was assassinated. Martin Luther King was speaking about equality. He was assassinated. The Democratic party was split into arguing factions. People were protesting Vietnam. George Wallace carried a lot of the south in a third party, often accused racist.

Nixon was back, running against Democrat Hubert Humphrey. Eugene McCarthy (polar opposite of Josephy McCarthy, known for McCarthyism) had been trailing for the nomination, and Robert Kennedy was in second until his death. Humphrey lost to Nixon, who ran on a campaign of perceived stability in unstable times, and appealed to the conservative majority who were unhappy with the hippie movement and protestors. The truth is, if the Dems hadn’t factioned so badly, Humphrey might have won. The race was close.

The 1972 landslide victory of Dick against George McGovern (who ran an anti-war campaign) was a landslide in the sense McGovern took only one state, and it wasn’t even his. He was from South Dakota. He took Massassachusetts. Another odd fact. Still alive, he actually has appeared for interview during the campaign process.

Now, before Carter lost, Carter won. After the mess of Nixon stepping down, Ford taking office and immediately pardoning Nixon, he wasn’t very popular. The tides changed, and Ford running actually made Carter a bigger shoe-in for the ones who had lost trust in the government. Again.

Okay, so with Carter, he had at least two thing killing him going into a second term. One, he was running against a new kind of candidate, celebrity turned politician. Second, there was an ongoing hostage crisis and a failed rescue attempt. Carter was diplomatic, but seen as ineffective. Oh, and inflation skyrocketed as job growth stagnated, coining the term: stagnation. I’m simplifying his issues, but those were two major ones, with a lot of little ones peppering the election.

Back to the writer who said Carter lost. Mondale lost. Dukakis lost. Gore lost. Kerry lost. I say Woodrow Wilson won. FDR won. Truman won. Kennedy won. Carter won. Clinton won. Gore did win the popular vote, and was later said to have won the election to which he conceded loss.

Now, the black thing. The Muslim thing. The old thing. The cancer thing. The experience thing. The war thing. All relevant in today’s election. Can Barack Obama (which sounds so much like Osama), whose middle name is Hussein (like that bad guy who got hanged), who’s had a questionable pastor, a questionable birth certificate, questionable ties to terrorists, plans for tax increases, unleashed spending, and little experience…

…win against…

John McCain, the Maverick, who voted with Bush unless he was against him, who supported his stances, unless he changed them, who accuses Obama of slimey attacks even when he spews them, who has battled cancer four times and is the oldest candidate in the history or history when he ridicules Obama’s naiviete? Can the man who spent eighteen months ignoring or diminishing Barack’s years of teaching constitutional law, years in the state senate, and time in the U.S. senate and choice of a foreign policy expert as a running mate defend his VP pick, citing her experience in the PTA, mayor of a town of 5,000 (at the time), and experience in a gubernatorial position that only oversees a state that is about the size of Indianapolis?

Can he accuse Obama of lies or exaggerations when he uses Palin’s proximity to Russia as actual experience and title of the head of the Alaska National Guard, when record states that she has never needed to utilize that power once? Can he point out Reverend Jeremiah Wright’s connection to Obama but dismiss Palin’s odd church videos turning up on YouTube where her church prays away the gay and prays over her to protect her from witchcraft?

I think both will struggle. I have taken the time, this election, to read every page presented at FactCheck.org and see how much each candidate speaks the truth, stretches the truth or ignores the truth. I have also read the pages at JohnMcCainDotCom and at BarackObamaDotCom to get informed on the nitty gritty details of their stances.

Personally, I like Obama because he is calm, polished, eloquent and inspiring. I think his style is very Kennedy-esque. I am not part of an Obama cult. I am not blinded by Obama Wan Kenobi and against Darth McCain. Heh. I think McCain’s been nasty, negative, petty, dismissive and condescending. I’ve caught him in lies and when I saw him go after Barack for “lipstick on a pig” and saw the context, then the video of him saying the same thing regarding Hillary Clinton’s health care plan, I was disgusted.

Besides that, his platform, his entire platform…I like it. His stances on economic issues speak to the people at a time when people truly need it. His ideas on foreign policy are aligned with mine and would potentially bring a friend of mine home alive sometime within the next presidential term.

I disagree with John McCain on virtually every stance, from choice to AK-47s, to gays, to war and “bombing Iran” and to the campaign ads and tactics I’ve watched him use. I’ve even watched as he changed his message to change and reform MID-campaign, and agreed with Obama that we need it, but decided he would be the one to bring it. And the Trojan Horse of Sarah Palin was supposed to make us think everything was different. They’re still anti-choice, pro-war, pro-big business, pro-degregulation, etc. Country First means little to me when I watch the man use 9/11 to garner attention, being a POW to garner attention and then constantly attack Obama instead of give details… that’s with a D… about the specifics of how he will help me, you, our soldiers, and another huge one: our image within the world.

Obamas’s choices of slogans cut right to the heart of his overall message: The audacity of hope. The time is now. The change you need. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

He has a way of doing the one thing that, in today’s society, is more difficult than any other: inspire the little people, the common man, to think… to realize they can make a difference in the future of our country by shedding the apathy, complaint, disappointment and shadows of the past. We win a little bit, then a little more, then a little more…. just by showing up!

Anyway, on one last note, thatnks for reading my ramble. I think this cult of concern should be just that, a concern over the issues, not a Cult of Personality, although I think McCain’s personality sucks balls, when it comes down to it.

I’m not asking anyone to vote for any candidate they don’t want to see in office, the lesser of two evils or whatever.

I’m not asking anyone to agree with me, with my views.

I’m just asking, actually…hoping people care. That’s it. That’s enough.

<3

Obama: Ready at the Helm vs. McCain: Ready at the Trigger

Thinking back to Sarah Palin’s RNC address, she refused to even once state Obama’s name. She merely referred to her “opponent” as if NAMING him gave him a deference that she wouldn’t allow. At the time, I noticed it and thought how petty that behavior was. It almost seemed like cloaked racism, but I knew Barack Obama would never pull that race card and stoop to the level of the current Republican campaign.

Now, during the first presidential debate in Mississippi, Senator McCain made a point of not looking at Obama, even when asked to address each other by Lehrer. He looked at the darkness that was the crowd and made a plethora of faces as Obama made statements to Lehrer, to the crowd and to John McCain himself. He blinked as if confused, smirked as if he was hearing nonsense, rolled eyes and shrugged as if Obama’s words were “just silliness, my friends,” made hand gestures of time wasted on lies.

He basically was dismissive and condescending to someone who took the time to be respectful and courteous, even when objecting to a perceived misstatement. McCain interrupted more hastily and spoke to Lehrer and the crowd as if Obama was as inexperienced as Palin. He paid no attention to Obama’s work in South Chicago, his “constitutional law” experience (when he cited the desire for any Supreme Court Justices he might appoint to be “strict constitutionalists on The View”. He ignored Obama’s state senate effectiveness (other than to bash earmarks) or his U.S. Senate time as having any meaningful use brought to the table of experience. He acted as if Obama is a flubbering novice and he is an expert on both foreign policy and the economy, though he’s been proven otherwise and even admitted his own flubs in the past.

I think when Obama saw the strategy that McCain was using, he changed his own. His early aggressiveness morphed into calculated sportsmanlike conduct, to frame McCain very clearly as the aggressor: a testament to McCain’s ill temperment. Obama stepped back and behave the gentleman and leader: eloquent and confident, gracious and graceful. He hit home where needed: that Spain is an ally, McCain’s Bomb Iran song, and on Iraq saying “You were wrong. You were wrong. You were wrong.”

He showed comprehension by simply following Lehrer’s request to address the candidate. This showed respect to Lehrer’s wishes and he also complimented and respected McCain, while showing disagreement on the issues.

He showed true bipartisan appeal by addressing his common ground with McCain BEFORE stating the fundamental differences. Though the McCain campaign tried to present this as weakness, on the contrary, it shows his appeal to future peace talk negotiations and humanitarianism efforts in the global issues.

Also, I believe he knew that this was supposed to be McCain’s strongest debate. He met him head on and equally, but did not overtake and overdo an aggressive stance. That was a good first strategy, though it has disappointed many staunch Democrats. As a black man, race is still a factor in this race. He may not address it publicly as an outcry, but he has to deftly walk the fine line that he allows to remain invisible, but sees quite clearly.

He has to be wary of aggression and evangelical passion. His polished, very calm, informed, jovial confidence will go well to winning those who were concerned he was a Jesse Jackson type in sheep’s clothing.

I believe he did win over some undecideds with his stable demeanor and he allowed McCain to “act out” if you will, showing the  cantankerous, condescending, dismissive, pandering flip-flop king his negative attacks to be his only strength. McCain will be called out for this sharply, by the press and by the people. Obama was placing himself in the catbird seat and can quietly sit back and let the people attack. Then, deftly, he can place appropriate ads showing the reactive and destructive McCain being so out of touch, he cannot even debate with eye contact or say the words “middle class.”

I see good things ahead. Last night was the continuation of the plan that allows McCain to dig his own political grave while Obama merely steps into the Presidential role during the campaign, subliminally getting the voter to see it as the inevitable and only choice for true change: no condescion, no double talk, and a strong, proactive and productive leader at the helm.