On Violence and Fear.

It seems like every day lately,there is some horrific story in the news from violent massacres in churches , death of and by policeman, bombings and beatings, and that's just in this country with our " guaranteed" freedoms of speech,religion and right to assembly,our innocence until proven guilty, our right to a trial by our "peers", and even a right guaranteed by the 9th Amendment which permits a person to decide what to do about their own health and bodies. And by person, I mean both men and -wait for it- women. We live in a country where the wealthy control the government,where the impoverished are maligned and denigrated, and denied the basic necessities of life,which include food, housing,healthcare and a living wage. We live in a world where skin color determines our treatment by courts, law enforcement  and even education. (Check out the special education classes in schools in NYC,and count the white faccs.)  It is a perfect environment for fostering fear. Fear of more violence. Fear of incarceration. Fear of the inability to sustain life on any meaningful level. Fear of reprisal for protesting the status quo,physically ,occupationally,and legally. Fear in this day and age of losing the right to have an abortion,even if you are 11, or a victim of rape,(a crime of Violence )or incest,( a crime of Violence and pathological  mental illness). Fear for the safety of your children . Fear of growing old without the means to support yourself. Fear of illness or the ability to pay for medication without health insurance. Fear of being gunned down in the street for carrying a toy gun,or for standing still with your hands up. Fear of the police departments who now have more armor and better firepower than some foreign nations.
 All legitimate fears. But there's something we should be more afraid of, and that is the stupidity of people who are getting it up the ass from the very people they support . The people who would rather look the other way as young black men are shot in the streets. Who blame people on welfare,those lazy drug addicts with too many children- hey they didn't get abortions,shouldn't you support those precious children?-for wasting their taxes. Can't they read? Don't they understand that the cost of Social Services, is a mere drop in the bucket compared to the tax evasion of the richest people in this country?That billions of dollars are awarded to unopposed bidders for military contracts to provide guns,planes,tanks etc. , and even the food clothing and shelter for our soldiers ,just to name a few of the billions the very rich are sapping us for? Do they not yet know

that the war in Iraq, which cost Trillions yes Trillions of dollars, was based on the lie that Iraq was building weapons of mass destruction ,when the real reason was to protect oil reserves? And on and on. That is my greatest fear, that we will be fucked,not just by the despicable billionaires who have bought out our government and don't give a damn about the rest of us, but by the rest of us, who don't seem able to see that we're damned.
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June 18 2015

Today is my son Christopher's birthday . He is 26 years old with the brain capacity of a 2 or 3 year old. He doesn't speak, except for a few quotes from movies he's seen or signs that he's read, or words he's prompted to use when we want him to ask for something he wants ("nobody has to make trouble. Is this a joke?,uncle frank, miss piggy. Or we say "I  want...",to which he rarely replies, or"I ..to which he responds,love you." He can read, but what he understands is anybody's guess. He seems to understand language, because he will do most things you ask him to do(close the door,let the dog in, go to the bathroom . But still after 20 odd years, he will stand in the shower without moving until I tell him to get the soap and wash off, and after that to rinse off. He likes to watch the same DVD over and over again(Sesame Street Old School Volume 3). I know it by heart. Things must occur in a specific order,in a special place with predictable outcomes. Certain foods must always be available ,and easily accessible (Cheerios,peanut butter,water ). If someone yells at the dog, or his needs are not met or his schedule has been disrupted , or his medication is wearing off , he sometimes has a full blown tantrum,even to the point of tears. Remember this is a 6 ft tall 185 lb. full grown man screaming and carrying on like a 2 year old .And there's not much you can do about it, except to wait for it to pass. The good things? He is gorgeous , and most of the time he is happy. He is gentle and loving, and is constantly kissing us. He knows who we are and is always excited to see us. He demands little,takes his medication without complaint, and lives most of the time in a group home,which he took to like a duck to water, 10 years ago. We bring him home on the weekends, and go see him  2 nights a week. I wouldn't trade him for anyone, but in my heart of hearts I wish he'd been dealt a better, less difficult life. Life is so short and so difficult when you don't have such a challenge , where you have all your faculties about you. How much more so when you can't ask for or communicate what you want or need. Or maybe when you don't even know what they are.
So Happy Birthday Christopher,my sweet love,and may the angels guide your way.

Easter Sunday.

When I was growing up in an Irish Catholic household , Easter was about Jesus rising from the dead, the rock pushed away from the grave in which he was laid, after his death on the cross. Now it seems to be about bunnies, not rabbits, but bunnies, usually chocolate ones,along with jelly beans, Cadbury eggs and of course those sugar coated marshmallow treats we called peeps. I'm sure that there are many Catholics and Christians who still celebrate it as their Messiah's triumph over death, and regard it as one of the holiest of holy days . But where did this bunnie fixation come from? I'm sure there is someone out there who knows the answer, but it is largely a rhetorical question . Just as Christmas,the birth of the Savior, became almost  inexplicably associated with Santa Claus,it seems like we need some materialistic manifestation of these holy days- to do what- make them more meaningful? More appealing ? More fun? I know I am displaying my ignorance on the origins of these two financially challenging holy days , but let's leave it at that. In my mind holy days should be spent in quiet contemplation , in meditation of higher things , in remembrance of their origins, instead of gorging on candy and counting the # of presents you got this year. As a former Catholic, even I remember these holi- days,holy days with some notion  of the joy these days should generate- the birth of Jesus! His triumph over one of our most fearful events- he rose from the dead, the only person I've ever heard rumors of accomplishing this astonishing feat. Just some thoughts, as I shop for something to believe in; and I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with chocolate crosses and bunnies or in the presents under the tree. But in WHY are we here, and what are we supposed to do with this temporary gift of life ?

A little miracle

The little miracle is that I'm posting twice within a week.

the journey is beginning
hold my guts together
to keep them from spilling out,
hug myself because
I can't believe
this is really happening.
I've taken the first step
and it feels so good
to let go
of what I've been holding onto
for so long,
to let go
of the self control
I once thought
was the only way,
the lonely way to live.
early days;
I'm only asking for guidance,
and trying to listen,u
trying to try and change
a lifetime of learned and
carefully thought out ,
behavior.
maybe it won't come to anything,
but something is happening
that I can't explain,
that I don't even understand.
and it feels so good
to let go of the reins
that were digging into my skin
for so long.
to maybe get a chance
to stop driving,
and let someone else
take the wheel.

Out with the old, in with the new.

I haven't written in a long time, I mean to but laziness and life gets in the way. Now as the year is ending I feel I need to write something. For a long time I've had nothing to say, but lately perhaps with the advent of my 60s I feel closer to death that I have in a long time, and I want to find something to believe in after all these years. For a long time I've been an atheist but now it seems I want something more. I can't believe that it all ends with death and that my consciousness will not continue. I want to believe in an afterlife in something beyond this life that we have here on earth. I don't know what this means, but my intention is to make this year a voyage of discovery, to try to regain some of the spirituality I once had. I want to return to the time of my youth when I felt such hope that we could change the world. In spite of the horrors that we faced,the draft ,the Vietnam war Kent state and Richard Nixon, we believed that we could change the world and make it a better place. I still believe that to some extent, and the young people of my daughters generation show a commitment to changing the world that they are not often given credit for. They have hope for the future and they are often denigrated as a lazy selfish self-centered generation. I do not believe this is so. Some of them surely, as such as  some of us were ,but on the whole I see a generation that cares about the world and cares about making it a better place. They face great odds and the world is not a friendly place for them to exist in. There are no jobs ,housing is expensive and wages have not risen to meet the demands of inflation. And yet they are hopeful. They are gifted, creative, and intelligent, and they need our help to succeed, so let's give them all that we've got in terms of wisdom and financial support. For me I see this year as a journey of discovery .I intend to explore all that I can through reading ,experiences ,and meditation and any other options I find available to serve me in my quest for greater spirituality and a better understanding of the meaning of life. Wish me luck. Namaste, May Allah  be with you,  God bless. And may the wind be  always at your back

For Seannie

Today would have been your 58th birthday. I can't believe you've been gone for ten years. I can't believe you're gone at all. I still say to myself quite frequently, Sean would love this, or I  can't wait to tell Sean about this...Where are you little brother? Do you see us, hear us, know how much we love you, and would give anything to have you back? Courtney is a lawyer now and she misses you fiercely. I don't see Dig very often but I know how much she misses you. I miss your face , your smile,your sense of humor, your astounding intelligence. I miss your voice your music,hell I  even miss your hair. I miss having you next door to me. I miss your help, your kindness, your loyalty and generosity of spirit. I miss talking to you , and you calling me Briddy. I just miss everything about you, my brother, my old friend. Remember sitting at the top of the steps to the cellar, before one of Ger  and Marg's parties? Remember Mateus? Remember living on Midland with Kath and Charlyn, and Una and Jada and dressing up in one of my suits at one of our parties? You were the most beautiful woman there. Remember your jeep and how Willie painted the dashboard? Remember when you and Diggy stayed with us for awhile -both of you sleeping on that non pull out couch? And all the good times we had at Pt. Pleasant ,both when we were kids and when we were grownups? I could go on forever, the memories just keep flooding back. Thank you for all that you were and all that you did for me. I will never ever forget it, or how much you mean to me.Never ever. Happy birthday love,I hope we meet again, I  love you forever,Briddy.

Losing our way

If we lost ourselves
how long would it take
to be found again,and just
how far can we go
before it's too late
to come back again
too late to say I'm sorry,
too late to make amends.

if we lost our way
could we really
just retrace our footsteps,
come back again
as if nothing had happened:
no suicides
no broken hearts
no forgotten hopes
no bitterness?
U
I'm thinking
there's always a price to pay,
something to lose,
for every bit of happiness


something that changes forever
each and every time
we lose our way.

but then again
let's be optimistic.
let hope spring eternal,
let god  be in his heaven,
and all right with the world.
oh no,I don't believe that,
not for one minute,
no matter how hard I try
no matter how long
I hold my breath
no matter how long I live
there's just the coming and going,
the living and dying,
the eternity
of losing our way.

E