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 |   Tales from real life |
| Well, if they're not true, they oughta be! |
| Trigger Warning! This post may be offensive to entitled right-wing snowflakes. You can’t touch the hearts of the heartless, nor show those who won’t use their eyes. You can’t change the minds of the mindless, nor speak truth to those who choose lies. I had an encounter with a deplorable yesterday. They felt that I wasn’t being respectful because I didn’t use the word ‘president’ each and every time I referred to a certain one term politician. I did use the complete phrase no less than four times in my satiric essay. More would have made for awkwardly repetitive reading. I shouldn’t have engaged, but I couldn’t resist taking a little jab. I complimented my critic on their principled stand, and thanked them for supporting President Biden by extending him the same courtesy. As you might guess, I was swiftly corrected once again. It seems Joe Biden does not deserve the use of the title 'president', because the orange oaf really won the election. Sigh . . . Doublethink NOUN 1. the acceptance of, or mental capacity to accept, contrary opinions or beliefs at the same time, especially as a result of political indoctrination. The concept of doublethink was introduced by George Orwell in his novel nineteen eighty-four. When I read it as a teenager, 1984 was still in the future. I was impressed with the book, but didn’t believe it could really happen in America. Despite the difficult lessons of Vietnam, the U.S. was still the champion of freedom and democracy. I’m not so optimistic today. I see a very real possibility that America’s freedom will be surrendered to a clownish con artist for a handful of magic beans. It's already happened in Texas and Georgia. Other states are lining up to surrender their free elections. But don’t worry, you’ll learn to love Big Brother. |
| Sometimes, the best part of a relationship is what you don't share. My wife and I visited our youngest and her fiancé a couple of weeks ago. They've been living together for a little over a year now, and we were happy to see the engagement ring. He's a nice guy and they're good together. We enjoyed the visit, playing with the kittens they adopted last spring and generally catching up. There was a moment of friction, though. Our family has a sometimes unfortunate habit of teasing each other. It's usually all fun and games, with everyone getting a turn in the middle, but sometimes it goes too far. Betty shared a 'funny' story about Devin that embarrassed him in front of his future in-laws. It made us laugh, but he was visibly annoyed. In one sense, it meant that she considers him part of our family and fair game. But it also meant that she doesn't fully recognize his boundaries. I couldn't help but think that it would have been better to keep it as an inside joke between the two of them. What and when to share? Which thoughts do we inflict on the world around us, and which do we let pass quietly? It's a lesson that takes a lifetime to learn. I am sometimes reminded of a line from a movie or TV. It may not fit the situation perfectly, but I toss it out just to hear it out loud. Sometimes people get the reference and laugh, often I get a blank look. Once in a while, they take offense. 'But it's such a good joke' is a poor salve for injured feelings. We have to remember that funny is in the ear of the listener. I like to tell 'dad' jokes to make myself laugh. The exasperated groans from my wife and kids are just part of the fun. They seem to enjoy my enjoyment. If I miss an obvious setup, they're disappointed and ask why I didn't knock down the punchline. I think they see their participation as a gift to me. Over the years, I've had my ups and downs. There are times that I get lost in my own head, spinning in a pointless eddy of negative thoughts. I've wondered, at times, if I'm 'on the spectrum' of bipolar disorder (it's in the family). I've learned to keep this moodiness to myself. It passes with time, and my wife can deal with quiet withdrawal much better than with the aimless, angry rants echoing in my mind. Once the fixation passes, I can barely remember why it seemed so important. 'Words Whirling 'Round' isn't merely a handle. It describes how my head feels. There's a constant flow of comments, jokes, and non-sequiturs that stream in the background of my consciousness. Is it right to set it loose on an unsuspecting world? Just because I can, doesn't mean I should. |
| "Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til it's gone" - Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell The water main break put an exclamation point on our summer drought. We haven't had significant rainfall since June. Three months without rain in Seattle! Trees and shrubs are turning brown and dropping leaves. Lawns are parched. Blackberries, usually juicy and big as your thumb, look like shriveled black peas. We set a high temperature record of 108 degrees this summer. I am definitely not a fan of climate change. The hole in the street was patched on Tuesday, and there were no trucks on Wednesday. If the pipe is mended, then why isn't the water on? If the pipe isn't mended, then why fill the hole? Jorgen, the Assistant Superintendent of the water company, stopped by Wednesday evening to answer these burning questions. "Ten feet of pipe has been replaced, sealed, and pressure tested," he told us. "We could have turned your water on yesterday, but, out of an abundance of caution, I wanted to get a sample tested first. To make sure that no contamination was introduced - no critters in the pipe or anything. We should get the results tomorrow morning." "I just want to let everyone know, personally, that this isn't the standard of service that we expect to provide," he continued. "If you would like, we'll put you up at a hotel tonight to get a real shower." "Well, we have been able to shower. The pressure is low, but it's usable," I replied. "We do appreciate the garden hose work-around, but your communication wasn't very good." We discussed the outage and the water company response for a few minutes. We could have asked for a case of bottled water at any time, but we didn't want to bother the workers. He agreed that they should have simply brought one to each house. He also agreed that a Wednesday visit was rather late for a Saturday outage. And, finally, he agreed that posting information on Facebook isn't adequate for people who don't use it. In the end, my wife and I decided that it would be more effort than it was worth to go to a hotel for one night. The trucks came back Thursday morning. The water company guys turned on the water at each house, flushed the lines, and rolled up all the garden hoses. They picked up their traffic cones and the fire hoses. We flushed water through all the inside faucets, and I felt privileged to be able to water our wilting rhododendrons again. |
| Birthday Bash Relay, day 9 poem, 18 lines, 'best or worst things about birthdays' Smile! Predictable birthday reprise, time-worn memories of parties past, dreams packed in mothballs. Smile, brittle facade of hope! Lest cracks of age betray despair; a bucket brigade of rue cannot fill the looming abyss. An artifice of patchwork paint simulates cheeky attitude; red, red lips express hollow birthday bonhomie. Floating faces rush by, well-meant wishes echoing in a dimming point of view. Vertigo swirls in the shadow. Guilty plea of exhaustion, escape through the cracks, predictable birthday reprise. author's note ▼ |
We're in the second day of our emergency water supply situation. It started on Saturday afternoon when the pressure dropped significantly. Then the water company trucks came and the pressure dropped to zero. Without warning. No chance to fill buckets, bottles, or pans.  It seems the main broke under a driveway at the end of the street. On a Saturday. Labor Day weekend. The water company did work all night Saturday, so they deserve credit for trying. However, they don't yet get credit for succeeding. Modern day fittings and gaskets don't quite fit the 1970's pipes, and they gave up on getting the leak sealed on Sunday morning. They have to source new/old fittings, or make an adapter, or who knows what?  Sunday afternoon was spent laying a bright blue fire hose up the street from a hydrant about a block away. A tangle of fittings on the end of the firehose splits into three different garden hoses. Each of these heads a different direction along the street. One of them goes to our neighbors house where it splits again at their outside faucet. That garden hose runs through the side yard to our house, and yep, splits again to run yet another garden hose to our other neighbor's house. Water is now running backwards into the house from our outside faucet. We got limited water pressure back in time for Sunday supper. Three houses being supplied by a single garden hose is tolerable, but annoying.  I know, these are first world problems. We still have relatively clean, pure water dribbling out of the taps. The 24 hours of no water made me think about all the people in the world who do without every day. I was surprised by how quickly, and by how much I missed the water. The worst part is not being able to flush toilets. Second worst is not being able to wash hands after not being able to flush. Fortunately, we do have a case of bottled water for emergencies. It goes quickly when used for washing as well as drinking.  The trucks are back today . . .  |
Here's a trinket for 2021:  |
| Birthday Bash Relay, day 3 short story, 625 words, 'forgotten birthday' Apocalypse Mild “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, . . .” “Daniel Angstrom, please return your attention to the vidscreen,” said the Structor in its firm, but friendly tone of minor correction. Danny recomposed his face into the attitude of earnest focus that his grandfather had taught him, and went on with his mental recitation. “. . . that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, . . .” It was difficult for the sixteen year-old to maintain an appearance of paying attention, but he enjoyed fooling the Structor almost as much as he enjoyed sharing secrets with his grandfather. Danny didn’t entirely understand why it was so important to maintain the oral history, but there was something about the words that fired his imagination and filled him with pride. “. . . That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, . . .” Danny had grown up in the comfort and safety of the Comity and had never known the effects of war, poverty, pestilence, or civil strife. His only knowledge of these evils came from his grandfather and the loose association of preservationists who had learned of such things from their grandfathers. Danny hadn’t been fully initiated into the group as yet, but he was looking forward to seeing the legendary paper book that held the words he’d been painfully memorizing. It was difficult to imagine data being frozen on physical pages that couldn’t be changed. Comity taught that data has no objective reality, that it exists only as a tool to serve the needs of the greater community. The civil harmony of Comity was ensured by celebrating a common heritage that led inevitably to the status quo. All citizens understood that it was only right and proper that history should change to reflect current events. And, with no permanent record of alternate choices, there was little incentive for the populace to seek social change. The way things are is the way they’ve always been, shrug. The preservationists disagreed, arguing that an objective reality must be acknowledged to make life meaningful. They held that freedom from choice was actually a kind of slavery. It seemed like a losing battle with the vidscreen showing only the fluid official version, but the oral histories managed to survive by being passed from person to person underground. Comity deliberately refused to recognize the preservationists as a group, damping any publicity by giving ‘restorative therapy’ to maladjusted individuals. Danny’s grandfather was an important member of the movement. His position as a senior vidscreen tech made it possible for them to circumvent the home security scans and conduct private meetings. Danny knew that there was real risk involved, and he felt proud to be trusted with the secret. If his grandfather was exposed, he’d not only be unemployable as a tech, but subject to therapy. No one who returned from therapy was quite the same afterward. It was important to get the full text memorized before next month’s meeting. Danny was expected to recite the whole document as part of his initiation, and he wanted to make his grandfather proud. He was puzzled, though, about why the July Fourth meeting was being held under the cover of a birthday party. Danny’s family had already celebrated his birthday last May. Oh well, there must be a good reason. “Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; . . .” “Daniel Angstrom, please return your attention to the vidscreen,” said the Structor in its firm, but less friendly tone of repeated correction. |
Here’s a bit of birthday related trivia . . . My wife’s grandparents shared a birthday, March 31st. They enjoyed the coincidence so much that they decided to get married on that same day. This also worked out for Bertha’s famed sense of frugality. She could get three celebrations for the price of one. Things got a little weird when their son, Edward, was born on March 31st. That increased the odds from 1 in 365 to something like one in a hundred thirty thousand. And, of course, the old folks prevailed upon Ed to also share their anniversary. Ed and Polly celebrated their nuptials on March 31st, and Bertha was up to five for one on party costs! Then it got really weird when Ed’s daughter, Debra, was born on March 31st. That upped the odds to an astronomical one in 48 million. When I asked this rare gem of a woman to wed, she revealed all of the above and described her family’s six-fold celebration each March. I asked if she would like to continue the tradition, and she replied: “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” I’m tired of sixth place," Debbie explained. "It’s even worse than being born on Christmas. I would like to have just one day to myself.” So, we will celebrate our 44th anniversary on June 10, 2022. |
| Well, let's start on a weird note . . . Last night I dreamt I was falling. Not an unusual type of nightmare, but this one was new to me. In it, I'm falling backward from a high bridge, looking up and very aware of the cold water below. Above me, also falling, I see some object that's shaped a bit like a Toucan beak. I don't know what it is, but I know that it's heavy and that it has a razor-sharp edge. As soon as I hit the water, the object, whatever it is, will catch up and slice me in half. I'm flailing and screaming as I splash down, and then my wife shakes me awake. I was gasping for breath, and my heart was pounding for several minutes afterward. It was the worst nightmare I've had in years. |
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