"When once the forms of civility are violated, there remains little hope of return to kindness or decency."
– Samuel Johnson
When I was a little girl, in the olden days, if someone tripped on the steps going into church:
1. Everyone looked to be sure the person was all right, not hurt.
2. Someone immediately moved to help.
3. Everyone else quickly looked away and went about his business to minimize embarrassment.
4. No one mentioned it again.
There have been so many advances now, in science, technology. The world has come so far. Now if someone does anything potentially embarrassing:
1. Everybody looks and points.
2. People whip out their cell phones to get video.
3. The immediately upload the video to YouTube and then share on FaceBook.
4. It goes viral with millions of views, is said to be trending, and is further shared on the news.
"News" used to mean things like:
1. The name of one who was awarded a Nobel prize for service to humanity.
2. Congress passed a bill to make life better for all Americans. [No joke!]
3. A new business was opening in a town near you.
4. The school system was hiring additional staff to ensure a better education for all students.
5. Here are the sports scores.
6. Sadly, these friends and neighbors in our town have died.
7. New babies have arrived to these happy parents.
8. These events will be happening this week.
9. Here are the classifieds AND today's crossword puzzle.
10. For a good laugh, you and your kids can share our comic page!
There was no mention of Lindsay Lohan, the name of Kanye West's baby, which celebrity is in rehab this week or whom Charlie Sheen got fired for just cause [No, wait a minute, that was just because… ]. We didn't get instant coverage of what Paula Deen said twenty years ago - and decide to hold her accountable now. But it is exciting to know that Twinkies will return to store shelves in July. [Not!]
I wish that civilization's advance had kept pace with that of science and technology. This is not yet a happier, gentler time.
If we are forced, at every hour, to watch or listen to horrible events, this constant stream of ghastly impressions will deprive even the most delicate among us of all respect for humanity.
-Cicero, Roman orator, philosopher and statesman
This last quote by Cicero, who lived from 106 to 43 B.C., is particularly appropriate in this day and age where we are constantly bombarded by horrific news. Wars, terrorism, murder, rape, natural disasters, man-made disasters and more inundate us every day. Cicero's quote proves that what Solomon said is true: "There is nothing new under the sun".
Sing, Dance Jump Rope!
Monday, June 24, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
There Is No Planet B
In colonial times, people did for themselves. People were self-reliant and depended on neighbors who had skills for specialized items: blacksmith, chandler, cooper, etc. People didn't shop much.
Later, came the general store where people got their basic supplies - staples, fabric - the tools to continue to do for themselves. For the most part, everything was "homemade." Clothes were made. They didn't come from Malaysia. Some shoes and boots came from the cobbler. Others were simply fashioned at home.
Nobody went anywhere to buy a loaf of bread or a can of soup. There was the milk man [also egg, bread, farm-fresh vegetables, etc.], then catalogs from Sears, Montgomery Ward, Burpee Seed [which also sold LIVE mail order poultry!], door-to-door sales fr Watkins, World Book, McCormack door-to-door spices, Amway, Fuller Brush.
Then came "downtown." There were shops to buy hats and buttons, bakeries, barbershops. It was all very "modern." In big cities came Barnes and Noble [1873], A&P [1859], Macy's [1858] and Bloomingdales [1861]! People were living in a commercial wonderland. Who could ask for more!
Yet, more they got - with strip malls, outlet malls, and big box stores. Then infomercials, online ordering and personal shoppers.
Later, came the general store where people got their basic supplies - staples, fabric - the tools to continue to do for themselves. For the most part, everything was "homemade." Clothes were made. They didn't come from Malaysia. Some shoes and boots came from the cobbler. Others were simply fashioned at home.
Nobody went anywhere to buy a loaf of bread or a can of soup. There was the milk man [also egg, bread, farm-fresh vegetables, etc.], then catalogs from Sears, Montgomery Ward, Burpee Seed [which also sold LIVE mail order poultry!], door-to-door sales fr Watkins, World Book, McCormack door-to-door spices, Amway, Fuller Brush.
Then came "downtown." There were shops to buy hats and buttons, bakeries, barbershops. It was all very "modern." In big cities came Barnes and Noble [1873], A&P [1859], Macy's [1858] and Bloomingdales [1861]! People were living in a commercial wonderland. Who could ask for more!
Yet, more they got - with strip malls, outlet malls, and big box stores. Then infomercials, online ordering and personal shoppers.
What next??
Bottom line: I consume and recycle.
Stan produces and recycles.
Together, we have a zero economic
and environmental footprint.
We are so very proud.
But the question remains -
What next!?
~T, 02-16-2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
But I Don't Want to Say Goodbye …
Sometimes life just seems like chapters full of good-byes. There is an end to things no matter how much we want to hold onto them.
Sometimes my heart just aches. I've lost too many people. In the quiet, the sense of loss overwhelms. I miss so many people but then I stop to consider Stan's perspective.
Stan retired in 1994. The VA needed to downsize its senior staff and offered an irresistible retirement package. He called my office on Tuesday morning and said that he was retiring on Friday. It was exciting! I took a disability retirement two years later due to asthma and chronic bronchitis. I was okay, just slower than I had been, and I tired easily. I was certainly prone to infection and had repeated sinus infections. I didn't realize how limited I had become until I was put on oxygen - and eventually had a lung transplant.
Stan fussed and took care of me. He is still overprotective and still fusses.
But since he retired, together we taken care of many critically ill people in their final days. We've lost Stan's father, his Uncle John, his Aunt Stephanie, my mother Bette - and so very many close friends. Our circle of close friends included many transplant recipients and their support group. And all the while, Stan fussed and took care of me.
When we first approached the idea of a lung transplant, the team talked in terms of one year, three year, five year survival rates. It trades one fatal condition for a different condition that is complicated medically and usually short-lived. [Stan continues to fuss and take care of me.]
We all know about the survival rates going in, but the alternative is unacceptable. So we go forward. We do it together. We become very close, sharing such a live-changing experience. When a transplant friend dies, there is a missing piece in the group and a missing piece in my heart. I hate a friend going through the pain of loss of a close loved one and not being able to do anything about it.
Stan has grieved for family and friends. He is stressed watching transplant friends struggle wondering if we're next. It's hard for me to lose people, but I always know that I'm all right. I can feel the strength. Stan watches my face for a sign. He can't feel what I feel and is never certain that I am all right. It's harder for him than it is for me. He never says much. He just fusses over me.
Sometimes my heart just aches. I've lost too many people. In the quiet, the sense of loss overwhelms. I miss so many people but then I stop to consider Stan's perspective.
Stan retired in 1994. The VA needed to downsize its senior staff and offered an irresistible retirement package. He called my office on Tuesday morning and said that he was retiring on Friday. It was exciting! I took a disability retirement two years later due to asthma and chronic bronchitis. I was okay, just slower than I had been, and I tired easily. I was certainly prone to infection and had repeated sinus infections. I didn't realize how limited I had become until I was put on oxygen - and eventually had a lung transplant.
Stan fussed and took care of me. He is still overprotective and still fusses.
But since he retired, together we taken care of many critically ill people in their final days. We've lost Stan's father, his Uncle John, his Aunt Stephanie, my mother Bette - and so very many close friends. Our circle of close friends included many transplant recipients and their support group. And all the while, Stan fussed and took care of me.
When we first approached the idea of a lung transplant, the team talked in terms of one year, three year, five year survival rates. It trades one fatal condition for a different condition that is complicated medically and usually short-lived. [Stan continues to fuss and take care of me.]
We all know about the survival rates going in, but the alternative is unacceptable. So we go forward. We do it together. We become very close, sharing such a live-changing experience. When a transplant friend dies, there is a missing piece in the group and a missing piece in my heart. I hate a friend going through the pain of loss of a close loved one and not being able to do anything about it.
Stan has grieved for family and friends. He is stressed watching transplant friends struggle wondering if we're next. It's hard for me to lose people, but I always know that I'm all right. I can feel the strength. Stan watches my face for a sign. He can't feel what I feel and is never certain that I am all right. It's harder for him than it is for me. He never says much. He just fusses over me.
~~~
For family, and for so many friends: it gets harder and harder every day knowing that you are no longer in this world with us. We still haven't been able to accept the fact you're gone... we miss you: Stan, John, Margie, Stephanie, Bette, Donna and Donna, Elaine, Patty, Judy. Gary! Sheila. Heidi and Mary. John, Isabel, Bill, Dave and Dick.
For family, and for so many friends: it gets harder and harder every day knowing that you are no longer in this world with us. We still haven't been able to accept the fact you're gone... we miss you: Stan, John, Margie, Stephanie, Bette, Donna and Donna, Elaine, Patty, Judy. Gary! Sheila. Heidi and Mary. John, Isabel, Bill, Dave and Dick.
Everyone loses people they love. Families feel it because it's part of living; soldiers feel it and it affects them forever; medical teams feel it every day. People always sympathize and suggest that it will get easier, that time will help heal.
I don't want it to get easier. All those people, the family, the friends are too important to forget. It shouldn't be easy. In life, the things that are really important are never easy.
Softly the leaves of memory fall,
gently, I gather and treasure them all.
Unseen, unheard, you are always near,
so loved, so missed, so very dear.
~T, 02-9-2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tour de Farce
Today began with a list representing a tour de force. When the government made "adjustments" recently to avoid going over "a fiscal cliff," unexpected changes ensued. Suddenly we were faced with an arbitrary deadline to complete filing for Stan's mother's Medicaid: February 1! We were told on Monday, January 28 that all financial matters must be finalized by Friday, February 1. [Holy crap!!]
After completing a whole lot of stuff earlier, and treading water through three day waiting periods to close accounts, we set off to seal the deal, put the lid on, wrap it up, nail it down. This day is going to require a whole lot of coffee.
10:00 a.m.: Checked with our attorney and then stopped at Wells Fargo Investments, First Niagara Bank, NBT, quick run to the Post Office, [coffee stop @ Byrne], back to First Niagara, to the Federal Bldg., and STOP [12:30 p.m.]. Next/last major check will be ready at Merrill Lynch in Syracuse after 2:00 p.m.
What to do? What to do?? Pit stop at the Indians, and MORE COFFEE! And we're off again.
12:30 p.m.: Took $22 worth of cans to the recycling center in Oneida, took Route 49 north of the lake to Weeden's Antique/Variety Mini-Mall/Store. Bought nothing, but considered all manner of treasures, and on to Syracuse.
2:05: Downtown Syracuse on South Salina, to Merrill Lynch. Picked up final check to close out last account, thanked the nicest people in the world at Merrill Lynch [pleasant, co-operative, HELPFUL]. Called attorney again to report final totals and headed back to Clinton.
3:30 p.m.: Attorney called with final instructions about cash distribution/accounts.
4:10 p.m.: To First Niagara, to NBT to use two existing accounts and open one new account. Reported success to attorney, headed back to First Niagara to close last account. On to post office again, and to Hannafords for a rotisserie chicken. DONE, THROUGH, FINISHED.
It would appear that we have, indeed, completed the paperwork necessary to secure Helen's Medicaid payments. My arm is exhausted from waving around the Power of Attorney all day.
What began as a Tour de Force degenerated to a Tour de Farce. A silver Prius with the speed of light, a splash of slush and a hearty Gimme the Money! The Lone Money Changer rides for the Last Time!
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