PLATES AND PLANTS AND MEMORIES

So when our children were finally mostly self-sufficient and we were able to go away by ourselves for a weekend every once in a while, there were small towns not too far away where we would go and park the car, stay in a bed-and-breakfast overnight and explore the small shops in the small towns.  Many of those shops called themselves antique shops, but they were really old things shops.  We would look in the window and if the shop was either sparkly clean and fancy, or if it was pitifully unkempt, we walked on.  But if it was just a bit dusty and musty, in we would go, and we would find some sort of treasure.  For me it was old plates.  Sometimes I would find a plate, an actually having been used plate, with a lovely pattern in colors I was drawn to, and I would buy it, if it was inexpensive.  It was fun to take it back home and figure out where to display it, whether to hang it like a picture, or put it in a stand on a shelf.  A group of blue-and-white plates is in the dining room, and I enjoy looking at it every day.  Others are grouped in a wall in our bedroom.

The other thing I collected was old glass sugar bowls, mostly the ones which had lost their tops, and again only when the glass pattern interested me and these were usually less than a dollar.  Of course, someone in the family would always ask, “What are you going to do with those?”  To which I would reply, “Wait and see”.  But use them I did and still do, many times, when we have friends or family over for a meal and I want to serve jellies and jams or some other condiment.  Two-handled sugar bowls are easily passed from one to another.

Some of the plates that came from dishes we used every day but became cracked or broken, have been mended and now are used to act as plant saucers for favored house plants such as clivia and spathiphyllum and nephthytis, all of which I love.

Of course, I can no longer remember exactly where we found each plate or each sugar bowl, but I remember those which came to me from dear friends, all of them are used or displayed, and cherished as are the friends.  Each plate, to me, is a work of art; each sugar bowl has had a life, some adventures.  And I can still remember those lovely weekends when we were young.

GARDENING LIKE A SQUIRREL

In taking a survey of what we call the garden, a smallish area with plants we love, I realize that I have, for too long, been gardening like the squirrels do – planting here and there, not marking anything, and ultimately not knowing at certain times where what is.

We really cannot complain about the garden, even now, this late in the year, because the temps have been mild (actually mild to hot), and we are finally getting rain, so that right now there is this one wonderful bearded iris blooming, a purple next to the gold of the Mexican mint marigold, some of the zinnias are still pleasing the butterflies, and there are a few marigolds and periwinkles and chrysanthemums.  And the spider lilies have finished blooming, as well as the rhodophiala, or fall amaryllis, and they are sending up their foliage, so I know where they are.  The Dutch iris are already sending up foliage too.

But my dilemma is that there are still tempting spaces and I want to plant something, such as a pansy or a dianthus, either of which will bloom all winter, but I fear digging into an area and damaging beloved bulbs. 

So I’ve started photographing certain areas so that perhaps at least in the spring I can know where to put what.  On the other hand, in the spring it always becomes a delightful surprise when something blooms that I had forgotten in the haste of life. 

Facepalm, or 2016 - The Year When Common Sense Died

SHARING THIS FROM THE AUTHOR OF 'THE NEWSOSPHERE':

Hiya!  Remember me?  I once wrote a fairly popular blog called "The Newsosphere", basically a satire about politics and our culture in roughly the same vein as "The Borowitz Report" or "The Onion".

Can't remember me, huh?  Well, that's okay, because the other guys have been doing a fine job without me, commenting on our current political and social situation - such as it is.

But allow me to throw in my two cents...

Hillary Clinton is ahead in all of the major polls, which is a very good thing in my humble opinion.  She has shown in the three debates, interviews, etc. that she listens, answers questions, has definite plans, and is willing to work with everyone - regardless of party affiliation, race, etc. - to improve things for America.

And yet Donald Trump has supporters.  And in some polls, he's running neck in neck with Hillary.  And - wait for it - he believes that he will win.

Okay.

Donald Trump has been accused of mistreating women, minorities, and anyone else on the planet Earth.  He continually lies, even when the great inventions of video and sound technology have proven him wrong time and time again.

People have expressed their disgust and disdain for Trump lately, shocked by his behavior in rallies, debates, and interviews.

Here's my two cents.  Ready?  Here it comes.

ARE YOU &!$#ING KIDDING ME???

Why are some of you still so surprised at what's going on now?  To quote Ripley in the 1986 movie "Aliens" - "did IQs just drop sharply while I was away???"

Speaking of the '80's, that's when I grew up.  And in the '80's, there was this egomaniacal, sexist, greedy guy who was continually the butt of many a joke and considered to be one himself.

Guess who I'm talking about.

That's right people!  This is not a revelation for the twenty-first century.  Trump has been a bigoted, greedy, misogynistic bully for a long, long time.  This is not news, guys.  Thanks to the invention of the Internet, feel free to do your research.  Now.  Go on.  I'll be here when you get back.

See???  What did I tell you?  So here's the deal - Trump ain't gonna change his ways.  He has never been for anyone but himself.  Sorry supporters - he couldn't give one quarter of a millionth of a shit for you.

When you cast your vote, please think.  If you are choosing to vote against Trump, this is basically what you are saying.

Enough.

Enough of women being thought of as inferior to men, and being treated badly.  Enough of minorities being discriminated against.  Enough of the bullying and just plain rudeness that has sadly become the norm in our society.  Enough of ignoring that - yes people - the world is getting warmer.  Here's a clue: Nature being what it is, it's just going to keep doing what it does, regardless of how we feel about it.  Remember kids, it's been around much longer than we ever have.

This is the twenty-first f**king century!!!  Why in God's name is there still racism, and misogyny, and just plain hate???

And for the love of God, Trump, ENOUGH with the fear mongering!  It's a cheap and senseless tactic.  If you truly have all of the answers, and you can solve our problems, you better damn well start coming up with solutions instead of incessantl y bragging about your empire - which is nonexistent - and your respect for, well, anyone - which let's face it - is nonexistent as well. 

So, in conclusion, here's what I have to say about who you decide to vote for as our next President...

Whaddaya kidding me???  This isn't an SNL sketch!  It's real life!  Your votes determine so much this year.   Let's start making some good decisions for a change, and maybe the momentum will spread.  Maybe when things start getting better, we won't consider women and minorities secondary anymore.  Maybe we will start taking care of our world; because let's face it, it's the only one we've got.

We live on a very small planet in a very big galaxy, and we live here for a very finite time.  Let's try to spend our time here with no more hatred or violence.  Let's be the best beings that we can be.

Let us begin.

THE HOLLOW MAN

After many years of trying to learn about the world and we humans, I have come to the conclusion that among the many categories of humanity, one of the saddest types is the hollow person. 

It is a sad thing to see when we encounter an individual who seems to have all sorts of abilities and successes, and yet who can quickly be perceived as without real concern or awareness of others.  Oh, they can repeat all the words they hear and realize what they are supposed to say, they can even react to events appropriately upon occasion, but the awareness is all about themselves.

It is eerie sometimes to hear them speak of themselves in the third person, praising themselves, and speaking their name as if the praise is coming from another source.

It is horrible to realize that to the hollow person, everyone else is either a possession or a tool or both.

 

And it is very, very scary when we see a truly hollow man propose their self to become the most powerful, and therefore most responsible individual in the world; to place their self in the position of being responsible for the safety and well-being not only of our own country, but of much of our planet.  Because no matter how much they have acquired of the world’s goods, ultimately a hollow person has nothing to give; they are empty.

WE JUST NEVER KNOW

There was a time when I was younger, that I would look at a person and if they seemed unkempt or indifferent to their behavior, if they were rude at the grocery store checkout or rushed through a door  in front of me, or even on the road, driving foolishly and seemingly unaware, when I would see such things I would immediately categorize the individual as rude or uncaring or irresponsible.  But no longer.

The effects of time and experience, and particularly recent situations of having one loved one battling through an horrific disease without a happy ending and another loved one battling problems with mental health – these have brought me to grasping the real truth, that we do not know what other people are dealing with.  Just as I used to prejudge people without knowing them, people have probably looked at me, and at my companions at times, and thought what I used to think.  Strangers would not know that I was dealing with the heartbreak of losing a beloved brother, nor would they be aware of the many years of battling severe anxiety and depression that a beloved family member has experienced.  We none of us wear signs that say what our hopes and worries of the day are. 

And then there are all the other concerns that can turn we humans inward.  I have realized that some people I encounter are possibly dealing with financial difficulties, or time constraints for all kinds of reasons.  Mothers or fathers may be hurrying home to children or just anxious to get home to feed their family after a day’s work. 

I am not naive enough to think that everyone we encounter is dealing with a terrible heartache or a difficult worry; there are, of course, many rude and oblivious folks out here in the world.

But here’s the thing:  how do we know which is which?  We cannot know.  So why not simply give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  Now I try, and encourage my family to try to give that benefit of doubt.  It costs us nothing, it makes us feel better about our fellow humans, and after all, it gives us the right to ask for that benefit of doubt right back.  Because none of us can really know.

YEAR AFTER YEAR

When I was a child, I enjoyed the ‘obliviousity’ of most children and my world centered entirely around myself.  So much of the world was background noise; what was important was me, my now, my future, my hopes and dreams.  But little by little, the world encroached and made my reality the real reality.  Even then, though, my world was small and local and the passage of time seemed  slow. 

And then, and then, I became an adult somewhere along the way, with loves and responsibilities and all that such  life demands:  spouse, children, parents. 

Eventually I became an amateur gardener, planting, harvesting, losing plants at times, learning, aware of the seasons but only as they affected my hobby.

Now, a sort of visceral awareness has been given to me, so that as the seasons arrive, and as they change, I can feel those changes and it is wonderful to me.  For instance, in early spring the days grow longer, just a little at a time, until we are at mid-summer; now we are past that, and now, just a little at a time, the days are growing short again.  I can sense that particularly in the late afternoon and early evening.  I can feel it.  And at my stage of maturity I sometimes wonder, how many more changes of season are there for me.  But when I have those thoughts, I shake them off as one would a dried leaf that fell, or a flower petal or an errant snowflake, depending on the season.  Because it should and must be enough to relish these changes of daylight and dark and to realize that long after my existence they will continue.

OH HOW I WISH

Everyone has many wishes they make, most wishes with little to no chance of being realized.  Some wish for beauty or restored youth or wealth and leisure.  Some wish to travel the world.  Some even wish to go to Mars.  Most of us wish for peace and for the word ‘war’ to disappear from headlines.

But I have a deep and abiding wish about the end of tobacco addiction.  For it is indeed an addiction and a terrible one at that.  I couldn’t possibly present all the statistics and information that is already out there about the effects of tobacco addiction.  But I can describe the effects on our family.  Oh, I won’t go into the grim description of what each beloved family member suffered.  Everyone already knows  about that.  Those effects have been graphically depicted in photographs.  But those photos are about ‘other’ people.  Not ourselves.  Not a loved one.

In our family, a beloved aunt was the first victim, taken by congestive heart failure after smoking all her life.  Then there was a beloved father, who stopped smoking twenty-four years before his addiction took him.  And a sister-in-law and brother-in-law, who each lived horrible existences before they passed.  And a dear friend, who was the ultimate southern gentleman, funny and kind, and still sorely missed. 

And now a very beloved brother, a good and kind and gentle man, very caring and giving.  His heart was sound, so even though he tried desperately over the years to stop smoking, he figured he might be a lucky one and escape the side effects.  But he didn’t. 

Emotion prevents describing the terrible surgeries and the effects of those surgeries and of his disease. Because of that sound heart, his dying was long and painful and difficult, not just to him but to all who love him.  And they are many.