Yesterday, I drove my hubby to the chiropractor in the nearby town.  His back had gone out and he’d been in pain for several days and couldn’t put it off anymore.  It was a good visit. He liked the guy, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that he improves – right now he appears to be resting comfortably.

I waited, quite comfortably, in the small office outside the patients’ rooms.  The practice is set up in an old wood frame house with a big porch; typical of many southern homes, porches are a feature that every home should have, because they are radically cool for myriad reasons.

As I sat, reading Joe Bageant’s, “Rainbow Pie” on my phone, a slender, tall gentleman walked in.  Seventy-five years old (he told me), he stood straight, wore what I call down-to-earth clothes (jeans and a green t-shirt), and smiled nicely, his thinning white hair not detracting from his overall gentle and sturdy demeanor.  He sat down, smiled, and I said hi.

He said hello, then a moment or two later, told me he liked my hair.  I told him that I cut my own hair – and have for many years – based on the reality that, if I screw it up it will grow back and I can wear a cap.  My hair is very short on the right side and longer on the left.  He smiled in a puzzled kind of way, and said it looked nice. (I told him that I determined, as a child, that I would not become a Wisdom Elder – remember “old” has been kicked to the curb – and have round hair that you could see through with a slightly bluish hue, like the ladies in the church in which I grew up!)

So, one Wisdom Elder to another, we struck up a conversation. A bit more reserved than I (many people are), we talked a bit about Veteran’s Day, and I discovered that he had been in Vietnam.  I could feel a visceral reaction to just the word, ‘Vietnam,’ and verbally trod carefully, because I knew instinctively (having so many friends from that era and some who never came back), that war is painful at many levels to those who were in it; and Vietnam – a bad war to begin with – was even more so.

We talked a bit more, about how he seldom talks about ‘those days’ and how his wife is permanently disabled and he cares for her…how his inner challenges with those days were less important than her issues.  Then the doctor called him in.

I read a bit more; talked with a youngster about how cool his sneakers were (he agreed 😉 and read a bit more, awaiting my hubby’s arrival.  David (the name of the gentleman) came out beforehand, though, and we thanked one another for the conversation.  His smile indicated he was genuine.  Then I mentioned a documentary put out by the local news channel on the plight of many veterans coming home from the wars and gave him the name (The Story of Charlie Foxtrot).  That visceral reaction I spoke of resurfaced, and he gently told me that thanks, but he doesn’t watch any of those things…that veterans of all kinds just want to talk and talk and talk, and he wasn’t going to do that. He doesn’t ever talk about ‘those days.’  He thanked me anyway. I told him that I respected that, and thanked him again for the conversation, asking him if I could give him a hug. Surprised at his big smile and acceptance of a hug, putting out his arms readily, I gave him as great a one as I could, and wished him a day filled with blessings.  At the door, he turned and, smiling, thanked me again for such a good hug. Then he was gone, but he made an impact.

The impact he made on me, reminded me that veterans are always changed by war.

Almost half a million veterans have been dropped by the military – dishonorably discharged – because of medical problems or having tried to commit suicide.  Suicide is a huge issue in the military.  I absolutely believe that you cannot go to war, with the belief that you are bringing ‘Democracy’ to other countries; saving and protecting your country for the same; and then see what you see; experience children being blown to bits, or dying from the effects of war (and no, I am not debating the pros and cons of who is to blame, because most folks will never understand the geo-political reasons for and implications of going to war or waging perma-war) and not be changed.

When they return, they bring their ‘inside’ challenges and change with them. Their home, their country; what people think is important; may all look a bit different – even though most are grateful to be home.

There is more…but David keeps it all inside. Perhaps caring for someone he loves who has a permanent disability is what actually may keep him together – having to focus on someone else often takes you out of yourself.  I could tell, though, that in his quiet, alone moments, there just may come those thoughts and pictures sneaking in.  I wish him well, for he appears a nice man.

To finish up, my thoughts always go to folks who – with all good intentions – wave the little flags; wear their lapel pins; don red poppies; and send sincerely-meant wishes and messages of gratitude across social media.  Perhaps it serves a purpose more for us than for the vets, I don’t know.

What I do know is that veterans need much more concrete help than they are getting, or have ever gotten – and it needs to be individualized. All conditions resulting from war need to be acknowledged and made part of a veteran’s recovery.  We take months to ‘prepare’ them to go to war…to kill…yet, there is no preparation and ongoing assistance for when you get back, expect for a few veteran-based organizations like IAVA (Iraq and Afghanistan veterans association).  Way ‘back in the day’ Congress even fought over giving veterans a tiny sum monthly (then it was something like $20), because some said that if they were given that money, they would become slovenly and not work.  Yep.  Congress hasn’t changed much, have they?  My humble suggestion, from the porch, is that we keep on Congress. Don’t give them any more money for war; they have more than enough, and they’ve lost more than a bunch of billions – until they put a clear, ready-to-go program in place to help the veterans – really help.  I’d be interested in hearing what ways you would suggest.

So, from my back porch, I bid you a day full of blessings and belly laughs, and sharing in a way that honors everyone in the conversation. Thanks.

I read this gentleman’s post on twitter today. It is one of the BEST, well-written articles on this election season I’ve read thus far (even the comments.) If you’ve a moment to make a cupper and sit down in a comfortable chair (out on a porch even), I think you’ll find it worthwhile.
I’d be interested in your comment, if you have one.
From the porch…BluesVues

I save almost everything I wrote in school.  Having just graduated last May, with a couple of degrees – a B.A. in Language and Culture, Spanish; and a minor in Political Science (as a Wisdom Elder who got hooked on Politics at ten years old, I consider it a doctorate!) – some of my writings I really like. I enjoyed doing all of them, because I love to write.  To me, the written expression – and words in general, carefully chosen – give you so much space to really say what you mean…communicate…interact…plead, cajole, appreciate, congratulate, share happiness, sorrow, and just a moment in time.

The few paragraphs below were an assignment from a cool Political Science professor – to the right of me in most things, but not all – and with whom I could have a discussion where we might disagree, but could see one another’s point of view (more and more an increasingly rare thing these days, when people don’t stop to think before they spew their spun rhetoric.)  So, today I feel like sharing it with you.  Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think, yes, please?

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The instructions were:  “After reviewing http://www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/conlaw/sepbutequal.htm – which addresses racial discrimination and segregation in the U.S., do you think any progress has been made toward equal treatment in America? Why or why not? Answer with a 3-paragraph essay.

Here’s my submission:

When I listen to Billie Holiday sing ‘Strange Fruit’ or to Charlie Mingus’ Fables of Faubus'(for which he wrote lyrics, but the record company refused to include them,) I am struck by the absolute veracity of Goebbels’ quote in regard to repeating a lie.  I know it’s true because most of us with little melanin grew up believing in the fallacious construct of color as meaning something other than a designater of skin shade.  The Supreme Court – made up of, then, pale men – believed the construct/myth as well. Their decisions came from a worldview that saw the world of Rudyard Kipling as true, in my opinion.

So the construct/myth impeded progress in the beginning, rather than made progress on what is, today, seen correctly – and by most people – as an obvious and blatant attack on the human rights of a whole group of people. I can see, from reading the decision, how – even when they may have begun to believe that there was something inherently wrong about the vicious treatment of people of color (including the hangings, at will, mentioned in Holiday’s track;) and when they knew that the rest of the world (European primarily) had done away with slavery (officially) and had none attached to color – the Court still pranced about the issue like tight-rope walkers on a fine wire.

The wire was gradually worn down – and broken – by We the People taking action. But we are not a color-blind society (nor should we be – what color is, needs to be changed and deconstructed, as mentioned above.) The very term is both insulting and phony – and attempts to say we are ‘past’ it are simply disingenuous, at best. We are not past it. It is one thing to make laws and ‘say’ things are this way or that. In practice – and more importantly, in understanding what the Lie of Color is actually about – most of us in the dominant group either have no clue, or we believe the South should rise again (especially since, as I type, there are professors in Georgia, as elsewhere, working hard to rewrite the history of the whole slavery/color/Civil War issue.) Progress? Yes, of course. But people had to die, be beaten, threatened, bombed and hung along the way. It took non-violent civil disobedience to move toward euality – We the People had to drag the Supreme Court along with us. What will happen now – with even non-violent civil disobedience becoming something the FBI and others are aiming to stop – is anyone’s guess – and the pale people running for office these days – judging from what they themselves are saying and doing – gives me precious little hope…except in the everyday thinking, caring person; who finally says, “Enough.”  In us…I have hope.

P.S. this is the note (after a great mark) from my professor: “When I began reading this, my first thought was that a student had found a really good essay online and plagiarized it.  Then I saw that it was from you.” (ask me if that made me feel GREAT! Funny, how when you write true and real, it works…)

(as always, all my writing is copyrighted, so anything you want to share, please ask/give credit. Thanks.)

Down in North Miami, near Little Haiti, is a local ‘English’ pub. Jazz fills the front; the long dark bar to the side, with just enough light to see that your glass is properly filled. Not a big place, it’s made bigger by covering the back yard and patio with awnings and using folding chairs and benches so patrons can hear the Spoken Word artists a few nights a week. I am a Spoken Word artist.

I am also, on occasion, a South Philly Intensely Spoken Word artist, should I find my Self in the same space as a Bragging Bigot; Pseudo-Macho Misogynist; or a General-Asshat-I’m-Better-than-those-‘others’ type person et al; all spouting their particular brand of negativity, darkening the room and dissing anything and anyone they see as ‘not them’ or what they’ve been spun to believe.

Normally, though, I shine them on. I am, after all, not the Jerk Whisperer; and the Spoken Word Artists are diverse and cool.

The breeze is a welcome caress, as the warm night moves on. The Jazz musicians up front take a break and come to the back to smoke, and listen to the artists. A young woman does a piece entitled, “Death of the Vagina.” We in the small ‘audience’ – all ethnicities, ages, and lifestyles; and other artists waiting to be called up on the wee makeshift stage – look at one another a bit confused, but accepting. When the passionate gal finishes, we clap in appreciation as the young volunteer M.C. puts an arm around her, and smiling, says, “As a man, would it help if I say I’m sorry?”

As she sits down, a 78 year old ex-New Yorker named Dan begins his new work. He’s a regular here, and everyone seems to know him. We listen intently because he’s good. This is a music guy. Used to be in the record business back in the day. Now, he lives with his thousands of Jazz records, his memories, and his poetry he writes and shares at the pub.

The Jazz group, back on the small, but functional stage, saunters into a medley of some of the greats: Miles; a decent enough attempt at Coltrane, then Parker. The sax guy handles Ben Webster well…nice.

And so it goes…we empty into the mercifully cooling North Miami night and head back to a friend’s house. It’s been a mellow time in Miami. Good friends, a fun time practicing my Spoken Word (I wasn’t bad, either!), and Jazz flowing through it all…

P.S. Back home, I happened to turn on an episode of “The First 48.”  The people shot were being taken to hospital (where one died.) The detectives were questioning people outside a small pub…yep.

And so it goes…

After truly listening to John Coltrane’s, “A Love Supreme”Or Charlie Mingus’ “Fables of Faubus,” you have to just wonder about the bubble gum that most genres play for commercial appeal. I remember Eric Clapton talking about how his music had gone away from his soul…from who he really was. 

Music – and the arts – at its best, is Creativity unbound…freed.

So, do not wonder, then, why they take it from our public schools.

…Sly and the Family Stone…Led Zep… Creativity…

There are a few blogs I follow.  This is one of them.  I hope you enjoy it…xox

When I was young, the sun came as a surprise. The new day was a friend that came knocking at my door. The birds sang in harmony while dandelions bent in the wind or beneath my toes. There were smells I didn’t know. People smiled and it seemed my presence gave them a laugh-I was small, […]

via The Youngest Years… — Franque23’s Blog

On the street, that is. The French work force is boiling mad and marching on the street. It’s true, these protests have been quietly covered by some US media, but for the most part the big news has remained the terrorist’s attacks, especially those in France and Brussels. Thing is, terrorism remains a threat full […]

via The French are Cooking — Franque23’s Blog

Please take a moment to watch this about-a-minute video and wisdom from Brenda Wood, one of the excellent presenters with Channel 11 news in Atlanta, Ga.  The Resources Officer who was fired for his unacceptable and unprofessional behavior was just one side of an increasingly disturbing story.  Just what do we expect teachers to do/be?  And parents…?

http://www.11alive.com/videos/news/2015/10/28/brendas-last-word/74768976/

I remember watching Ernest Gaines on YouTube saying that if you want to write, read – a lot. I read – a lot. From three years old, when my Gram taught me, and sang to me, played (and showed me how, when I could reach the pedals) notes on the old upright player piano, I learned how to read, dance, and the crude beginnings of awareness of the piano (and an abiding love of music.)

Music…so much diversity in music – especially what I call, “World Music – music of the everyday; of struggles; labor; love; challenges; celebration, and more. Life happening is its own rhythm.

Life happening – and back to reading and knowing what has gone before so the Present can be understood in context, and the Future – based on that ability to assess intelligently – can be imagined, reasoned upon, and planned for individually and collectively.

I’ve been studying the history of our interactions in the Global South, reading as much as energy and eyeballs will allow.  There’s also a paper on Reagan almost done – coming soon.  Yes, reading and researching are enjoyable and informative.  I’m reading a book entitled, “Overthrow” by Stephen Kinzler.  In fact, allow me, please to share a few books, if I may.  Then I’ll go get another cup of coffee whilst you peruse the list.

Do you have a book or a list of them that you enjoy to share with me?  Cool.

In addition to “Overthrow” I recommend:

“Once Upon a Time in Russia” – Ben Mezrich.  My skills set includes languages – primarily Spanish, and then Russian, including the cultures, customs, history, etc.  It’s great fun!  My Italian is peripheral and rust, except the swear words.  There is just no time for it at the forefront in this moment.  Mandarin is the third language important and fun to me.  It’s a challenge, for sure.  I aced my accelerated (two semesters in one) Chinese class a while back, but was exhausted beyond almost anything, except for Math.  So back to the book.

I also love Soccer (Fútbol), and the owner of Chelsea FC in the UK is owned by an interesting Russian gent who – unlike many other owners who are neither from or in the UK – appears to like the club and soccer, as well as making mega-money from it.  This book mentions him, and is a great read on the Oligarchs, a bit of history, and you’ll learn new stuff.

“The Brothers” also by Stephen Kinzel.  What a fascinating book – and look at the Dulles Brothers, John Foster and Allen.  The prototypical W.A.S.P.s, born with all that the Dominant Class amenities and gifts possible.  It chronicles their lives in a way that takes you through the thinking of Cold War Ideologues and Puritanical belief systems (you know, let’s conquer/overthrew/confiscate/kill/torture, then we’ll show them it was all a plan of the White Protestant Upper Class God that intends to save your soul.)  Through presidents and advisors, it’s a real window into what’s really going on.

“Eaarth” by Bill McKibben.  Wow…Truth can be sipped or gulped down at once; but if we don’t begin partaking of the Truth, then we may be causing the extinction of the Human Race, because Mama Nature, yep, she’ll take back and heal what’s hers, and she doesn’t need us – in fact, she may prefer to be without us.  Essential reading, unless you’re living in the Koch-Kloud-of-Delusion called Climate Change Denial.

“Tropic of Chaos” by Christian Parenti.  This was a riveting read, and I shall read it again to glean more soon (I have a Kindle, so I can ‘highlight’ and virtually crink a page and my book is no worse for the wear.)  Climate Change changes everything.  EVERYTHING.  Drought, for instance, causes animals to die; people to become ill and often die.  If your water is already scarce (forget Kenya and Somalia, where I was going to give an example – think about Los Angeles/Southern California and Arizona), and it gets worse, how do you live in that location?  If you’re in an already poor country, and drought causes the aforementioned (which it is already), what do you do?  If your cow dies – your source of income and more – how long before you consider stealing something else, at least enough to survive?

If they have to leave that location, where do they go?  Then survival turns into Immigration, and we all know how kindly the rest of the world – especially the developed Western Hegemon – views immigration, right?  This book chronicles things you may not have thought of…THOUGHT being the operative word here, yes?

So those are the books for now.  I’ll probably share more, though.

Re-member:  Peace is Who We Are. Love is all there is.  (and please don’t tell me that being Peace makes you a wuss.  Have you ever tried being Peace? It’s sturdy, standing-up, even in-the-face-honest and sometimes afraid, but movin’

Cheers.