Change Exposes Cowards

     Poorly worded postings on Facebook are fodder for this blogger. One that caught my eye recently asked that "God Bless the Old America." So many things are wrong here. First, which God?  As there are roughly 5,000 gods worshiped in the world, this is very exclusionary. Let me just say, in an effort to give you a better understanding of my position, I believe in God; my own version of God. If I thought about it for any length of time, I'd say I'm a Deist. That being said, given the source of the post, I am guessing it's the Christian version of God. 
     In the post I saw, there was a U.S. flag in the background. Using my well-honed detective skills, I concluded that the America God was being asked to bless, was the United States of America and not one of the two continents once inhabited by indigenous people. Now that I understood which God and which America, I just had to decipher the meaning of "old." The U.S. is now as old as it has ever been. By the time you finish reading this, it will be even older. If the person who posted this wants to go back in time, he really wants God to bless the Young America. Now, that makes sense! After all, when a living entity (which is exactly what a country is) is young, she makes mistakes; lots of them. The young America did need some supernatural guidance as she was wrought with mistakes; read the Articles of Confederation or an early draft of the Constitution, or I don't know, think about slavery. As the U.S. has gotten older, through the acts of courageous men and women who fought and died (right here at home), this country has corrected her mistakes. Why then, does anyone want to go back to a former time when so many people were denied so much? The answer is, fear.
     This one innate entity has denied so many so much. People that wish for a Utopian past are afraid of the changes that threaten their power. A wish for an imaginary Utopian society, by the way, is a basic tenet of Fascism. If someone wants to go back to a former society, we must ask how far back we should go. Shall we go back to the 80's when people were dying of AIDS in droves and the Reagan administration ignored pleas for government funding for research? Perhaps a decade before when we had hostages in Iran, a secret war with Laos, bombings in Cambodia, and Watergate? Or the 60's so we can see the pictures from Kent State (1970) anew? Eisenhower's 50's brought the Interstate system and suburbia yet left the urban poor in neglected slums so white collar workers could have 2 cars and washing machines. The 40's provided us with the horrors of nuclear bombs and a World War. How bout the 30's when kids rode the rails so their parents had one less mouth to feed because a quarter of the nation was unemployed?
     Perhaps we should go back 86 years from today, October 29, 1929. The Great Crash. This occurred due to more than a decade of overproduction and speculation. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about time travel. I'd love to go back and see Bogie walking down the street in a trench coat and fedora. I'd love to sit in a Speakeasy and have a drink with an Irish cop. That all looks so fun...on a movie screen. Ever watch an old movie and see an African American as anything but a servant? 
     It is evident to me that the person who made this FB post wants to go back to an idealized, white-Christian America because that is what makes him feel safe. Safety is great but it doesn't let you go anywhere. The changes we are seeing in our society are exposing the cowards who proclaim to love this country. To love something is to nurture it and watch it grow into something of which one can be proud. Cast your fears aside and be amazed.

Take Our Country Back???

     Recently I saw a Facebook post that said, "Let's take our country back!" Not being very bright, I was immediately confused. I broke the sentence down and came up with the following: "Let's" is the contraction of Let Us. Who constitutes "us?" Further, there can only be an us is there is an opposing group labeled, them. Next is the word, "take." You can only take something you do not have. "Our" is the possessive for the country that belongs to the us group. Now, to take something "back" you had something you no longer possess and want to regain that something, in this case an entire country. In sum, Them took a country from Us, and now Us wants it back. Hmmm, quite a pickle.
     In order to resolve this, my feeble brain concluded that we must first identify us and them. The country in question, of course, is The United States. That is the simple part. My confusion arises when trying to discern who belongs to the us group. You see, once that group is identified, everyone else becomes them. The person who posted this inane command on Facebook is a white, Christian, heterosexual male. Although this is a strong lead as to who believes themselves to be the rightful "owners" of this country, I do not subscribe to the belief that; a) this man originated the post, nor b) all people fitting the above description feel as though they are the dominant, us. 
     I then switched my strategy to trying to uncover the identity of them. Since this group now has the country, it seemed much easier. That being said, I used what little deductive skills I possess to reach the following conclusion: Them has the country; Americans have the country; therefore, the them group consists of Americans. Huh, how about that? The opposing group (us) can only be made up of people other than Americans. Who are these people and why do they want to take my country away?
     Yes, I am a them! And I hope the people who support the above mentioned FB post understand that, "It is not in numbers but in unity, that our great strength lies." (Thomas Paine, Common Sense) Dividing a nation is not a solution in addressing her problems. We did that once and more than 628,000 Americans lost their lives in a vain attempt to assert supremacy. All of those who deem they belong to the us group are all to fond of (mis)using the tenets of the Founders; the one deemed greatest is George Washington. I humbly ask that they deeply consider his words, "it is of infinite [emphasis mine] moment that you should properly estimate the immense value of your national union."(Washington, "Farewell Address, 1796)

Happy New Year, Rump

     December 31 marks the end of a year for us all. For Karin Rumpza, it also marks the end of another year of life. For the sake of our friendship, I will not mention how many years of life she has had; however, next year the first digit will change. Let me tell you about my friend.

     The last name, Rumpza, has left her open to a variety of nick-names; Rump Roast, Rump Shaker,etc. I just call her Rump. I feel comfortable saying that the girl is a mess; the reason being that I am a bigger mess. Over the last dozen years or so, I have had a number of heartbreaks and upheavals in my life. With uncanny precision, the worst of the painful events in my life occurred when Rump was out of the country...God has a wicked sense of humor. I had other friends that were compassionate and comforting but it wasn't the same; I needed Rump. Those of you who know Rump must understand why. For those of you who don't, I'll tell you why.

     Rump meets upsets in her own life with great passion and when a friend is in need she commits that passion to the other person. With her humor and understanding (I almost wrote, "patience," Ha!) she adopts the pain and therefore lessens the suffering of her friend; in many cases, me. There is a special comfort she offers; I believe it is due to the deep and inherent goodness of her soul. But that's not all there is to Rump.

     She is funny, very funny. Much of her humor is unintentional. One early memory I have of Rump happened at work. Several of us ladies were sitting in the locker-room chatting and laughing. In all sincerity, Rump stood on a bench; with her arms spread wide and a room full of people looking up at her, she declared, "I hate being the center of attention."  Another episode took place when we were hiking the Superstition mountains; in Phoenix...in July. Rump disregarded my advice to wear a hat and bring lots of water. After a few hours of hiking she asked, "Is this a good time to tell you I'm out of water?" There is no good time to say those words. We both feared we were lost (and we were) and began to take shortcuts through the thorny brush. Being as coordinated as ever, I stumbled into a plant that broke off in my knee. I later learned this type of plant has poison in the tips. As we tramped and limped through the desert, Rump heard her first rattle snake. At this point I was having great difficulty walking. Good friend that she is, when Rump heard the snake, she pushed my from behind screaming, "Get out of my way!" She left me in the dust with one good leg to escape the diamondback. She did redeem herself, however when we finally sat and she pulled the tip of the plant from my knee. She saved me that day; and on so many others.

     I am writing this off the top of my head thereby making it impossible for the reader to truly appreciate Rump. I am writing for two reasons: First, because I didn't get her a gift. Rump, this is your present. Secondly, because I want people to know how important you are; not just to me but to the world. Rump (and Kari) worked at a refugee camp in Ghana for a month to help people who literally had nothing but the clothes on their backs. She volunteered in Haiti after the earthquake and helped people who had lost everything. She is an advocate and volunteer at the Welcome to America Project in Phoenix, helping to feed and clothe refugees who had to flee their homes in order to survive. Through her benevolent actions, she has instilled this sense of duty to humanity in others; myself included. Her kindness and generosity are surpassed only by her compassion. 

     Rump has her faults and over the years we have had a tiff or two, yet there is nothing she can do to diminish my opinion of her. From me to you, Rump: Thank you. You have helped and inspired me more than you know and from the bottom of my heart, I offer my gratitude and respect. I love you, my friend. Happy Birthday, Rump.

     

                                                     

                                                                    For the Families of MH370

     You are angry; and you have a right to be. You are afraid; and you have a right to be. You are confused, lost, and physically ill; and you have a right to be. You have a right to any feelings you have at this time. From my little corner of the world, so far away, I too am afraid, confused, and scared. To say I understand your feelings is a lie, and you've been lied to enough. By enduring what you have over the past 5 days, you have more strength than I can ever hope to have. I admire you. I respect you. And I am angry with you. 

     Every hour or so, a "breaking" news report is released with some astonishing development, only to be refuted the next hour. Today we find out that the aircraft changed direction at last verbal contact but was visible on radar for another hour or so. Today we found that out yet the airline new about it days ago. And when I say "we" I really mean "we" as I fear you are discovering new information in the same manner as the rest of the world; via Internet or television. That is just so wrong. I wish I had a better vocabulary to describe just how wrong it is. 

     I read an article just now, which may or may not be correct, that said a few senior managers from the airline came to give you folks a briefing. Some threw water bottles and one man said "All Malaysians are liars." I immediately thought that's wrong. However, when I let it sink in for a moment I scolded myself for judging you people. How do I know I wouldn't do the same thing if someone I love was on that plane? Unless we are standing beside you, how do any of us know?

     Many of us all over the world are standing beside you in thought and spirit; some in prayer. Trying to make sense of what is happening must come second to letting you know that there is a sense of humanity in the world. Geographical boundaries do not matter. What matters is we are all individual persons who share the bond of humanness. Language, culture, nationality, religion, or skin color matter not. You, the families of those who boarded flight 370, are important. You matter. Your feelings matter. And when you are feeling confused and alone, remember that the humanity of the world stands beside you.

Boston Bombed

It's been quite some time since I've written anything; partly because I'm lazy and partly because I don't have much of an audience. But I am compelled to write this evening after my home town has been bombed. I don't mean the fun kind of bombed...I've been bombed in Boston plenty of times. I mean the kind of bomb used by an ideological miscreant; a coward; a senseless drone who lacks so greatly in intellect that he sees his only recourse as being violence. Maybe it's a group of people; that means they are an inane group of extremists which does not possess even the slightest semblance of gray matter. We must be careful to remember the word extremist. When angry and hurt one can let his emotions take over and condemn an entire group based on the actions of the relatively small number of violent operatives. I urge everyone (all 4 of you that read this) that violence answered with violence produces a never ending circle of senseless pain. We are better than that. This of course was an act of terrorism. The first known terrorist group in the U.S. was identified in 1866---the KKK---a group of white, Christian males. Let's all remember that terrorists come in all colors...including white. There has been a hatred in this country of anyone betraying indications of a Middle-Eastern background. I believe that Bostonians---Americans--- and all human beings are wise enough to understand that those who engineered a horrific event such as the one we witnessed today are extreme members of whichever group to which they belong. We know this. We must remember this. Today's tragedy was perpetrated as a symbol...though I'm not sure of what.

The Boston Marathon is run every year on Patriot's Day. This holiday has been celebrated in Massachusetts in recognition of the beginning of the Revolutionary War. For me, it was always a day off of school. It was usually opening day at Fenway. The runners used to get a wreath and a bowl of stew. There was no money involved. People ran to be a part of history. Perhaps today's bomber(s) doesn't understand what Patriot's Day really means. Against seemingly insurmountable odds, men from numerous towns in Massachusetts met the British army on Lexington Green and the first shots of the War were fired; April 19, 1775. Though many Minutemen were killed, the British eventually had to retreat. A group of rag-tag farmers sent the most powerful army in the world a clear message; Don't mess with New Englanders. Bostonians don't quit. Nor do they cower. They do get afraid, but instead of succumbing to fear, Bostonians forge ahead. That is what they will do now. Unfortunately, there will be some who will profile and hate as a result of today's tragedy. Like I said, all members of a certain group are not of the same mind.

My family is safe. My nieces were just a few blocks away from the bomb area and are now home safely and physically unharmed. Unfortunately, not everyone can say that tonight. To those people, I offer my sincerest sympathy. And to those of you who will insist on hating all the members of the group to which the extremists belong, you have my sympathy, too for you will retain a bitterness in your heart that will permeate every aspect of your life. You hurt yourself the most. There's been enough hurt today.

Another Sandy

     Obviously I do not have to preface a discussion on the school shooting in Newtown, Connecticut. It was horrific. It was  a massacre. It was the loss of 28 lives...yes, 28; I refuse to follow along with the current trend of excluding the shooter from the death toll. He was a human being. He may not have been 6 or 7 but in my mind, he too was a kid. He was a severely, mentally disturbed kid.
   I was listening to my favorite talk radio show today; Mac and Gaydos on KTAR in Phoenix. Every Tuesday Meghan McCain---yes, the senator's daughter--- joins the guys over the phone. I have always kind of liked this woman but after hearing her today, she is now someone with whom I wish I could have dinner. I was going to say have a beer but, well I just don't like beer. Have you ever had a moment when you thought "She took the words right out of my mouth?" I had that today. Everything I have been spewing the past few days, she said for me. On paper, we are complete opposites. Our one common ground is Phoenix. She's a Republican, whereas up until last year I was a registered Democrat; I am now an Independent. I did not vote for her father in 2008 and I am not a member of the NRA as is Meghan. She came right out on the radio today and said that though she was an NRA member and a 2nd Amendment supporter, she thinks assault weapons belong with soldiers only. She thinks legislation needs to be put through to tighten restrictions. As a gun owner, she has no problem with a two week waiting period to conduct a proper background check. She thinks there should be limits to the amount of ammunition one can purchase. Yes, this is a GOP, 2nd Amendment supporting, NRA gun carrying Arizonan. Hell, you can't turn a corner out here without seeing someone with a gun strapped to his hip. And she has the courage and strength of conviction to speak against what has traditionally been her party's stance on gun control. This, my friends is a strong woman. This is a woman who intelligently speaks her mind. This is a woman who won my heart and loyalty when she stated what I have been saying for days; we have a severe problem in this country when it comes to dealing with those who are mentally disturbed. There is and has been such a negative stigma attached to being diagnosed with mental disease that it often times gets overlooked, misdiagnosed, or neglected. I am certainly not a mental health expert but I do know that schizophrenia can be a dangerous mental disease when not diagnosed and treated. I also know that schizophrenia manifests and presents predominantly in males in their early twenties; Newtown, Aurora, Portland, Virginia Tech, Tucson....too numerous to mention. I also know then when a tragedy such as the one that took place last Friday occurs, everyone turns to the 2nd Amendment; Lefties want to take drastic measures, while Tighty Righties invoke the Constitution. These are perhaps the same Right Wing extremists that complain that God has been taken out of the schools. They really should read all of the Amendments. And it has always been my understanding that if you believe, God is everywhere.
     Now, back to Meghan. Ms. McCain, I applaud you. And I thank you as I at last have someone who truly speaks for me. What I think I like best about MM is that she's not afraid to say she doesn't have the answers to all of the problems but understands that answers will not be found until we first have conversation. Not yelling or name calling but actual productive conversation about mental health first and guns second. The two together are in fact the perfect storm; another Sandy.
     I also want to let you folks know that if you would like to send a letter expressing condolences to the families, that you can do so through my favorite radio guys; Mac and Gaydos. They are excepting written letter...NOT emails, but actual, old fashioned letters...through the end of the month and will then send them on to Connecticut. Just go to ktar.com for a mailing address. And maybe some Tuesday give these guys a listen and hear what Meghan has to say. You can listen on the computer; maybe streaming or podcast; some computer thing like that. You'll figure it out. After a few listens you might be hoping for what I'm hoping for...a Meghan McCain and Chelsea Clinton presidential ticket someday....Mac and Gaydos just aren't good looking enough.
    

Milking It....

     Hello everyone, it's been a while since I blogged---I still don't know what that means. Now that the election is long over, I'd like to "get out the vote" for something that may not be as important, but it is certainly more satisfying...chocolate milk. I don't like milk; never have. I have a friend, however who really digs chocolate milk. Just today I learned that this tantalizing, brown cow juice is used as an after exercise recovery drink. Who knew to associate chocolate and exercise? My friend Kari knew; she knows a lot of stuff. Let me tell you a little about my friend Kari de Jong. We got off to a rocky start but over the last few years we've established a loyal and respectful friendship. Those two words---loyal and respectful--- are words that immediately come to mind when describing Kari. She understands that friendship is not just a fleeting instance of laughs and fun. In fact, when things are tough in one's life, true friendship is revealed. A few years ago I had to have some surgery at a moments notice. By the time I was brought up to a room in the hospital, it was around 10:00 at night. A short time after getting my wits about me, Kari and Karin---who will from here on out be referred to as Rump, walked into my room. Rump brought me a picture of my one year old dog, and for some reason I still don't understand, the ashes of my old dog. Kari also came bearing gifts of the finest kind; two Dunkin Donuts coffee rolls...one of God's greatest creations. I thought to myself, this is the girl who for the longest time wouldn't even speak to me and now she's at my bedside with the perfect food. As this wasn't a planned surgery, I had to take care of the leave of absence red tape at work from a hospital bed. Not to worry, Kari took care of it the next day. I can't remember if this was before or after she and Rump went to Ghana for a month to volunteer at a refugee camp. I know it was before she stayed up half the night making cheesecake cookies for my dear friend Al who was dying of lung cancer. She had worked a double shift and had to have the cookies ready for me to pick up by 6 the next morning. At 6:00 on the dot I turned onto her street to see Kari standing in the street barefoot and in her p.j's holding a pastry box full of goodies. She had a treat in there for me, too...which I devoured on the way to work.
     You're probably wondering how this all ties into chocolate milk. I babbled so long, I almost forgot myself. Oddly enough there is a website for chocolate milk lovers---www.gotchocolatemilk.com. They have a campaign going on called "Refuel with Chocolate Milk." Kari does just that after she works out...Rump has the cookies. From now until December 31, 2012, Kari is one of the finalists in a contest sponsored by the site. Each finalist describes his or her post-workout routine and explains why chocolate milk is part of his or her recovery process. I want Kari to win. Look, I'm sure there are other people that may have done a nice video, too but they're not Kari. There is only one Kari de Jong. The winner gets some kind of personal coaching and some other cool stuff. The best part is,  every time a vote is cast, for any of the contestants, $1 goes to challenged athletes. If for no other reason, go to the site everyday from now until the end of the month and vote.If we all do that everyday for the next three weeks, it will really add up. So those of you who exercise passionately, make sure to go at least once to give back those athletes who are mentally or physically challenged. And since you're going to visit the site anyway, vote for Kari. That's Kari de Jong...spelled just like that. She has no idea I'm writing this, which is strange because when I write for a professor, she is my indispensable editor...yes, she does that, too. And she asks for nothing in return. Loyal, respectful, talented and generous. I'm actually glad she won't see this because I know this is punctuated terribly.
     Ok, thank you for reading and I'll thank you in advance for voting for Kari. Next time, I'll tell you all about Rump.