I hate to bring this up and I hope my writing about it doesn’t cause more problems.
Did you know that sites with the word “porn” or “sex” in them will generate tons of unwanted solicitations? Add to that other words that can relate to that but have other uses. “Nasty” comes to mind, I use that word all the time instead of dirty or messy when it’s very bad. Then any word relating to body parts and there ya go. You can’t win!!
You may only hit something accidentally and get bombarded.
I’ve been slammed and because my name is listed as “Jo”, they are all from women claiming they are my perfect match … or soliciting male enhancement or remedies for erectile dysfunction. Who’d a thunk it?
Maybe all you did was look up nightlife hotspots for that novel or in my case screenplay scene I’m working on. Yeah, I get that I may be more vulnerable. I don’t have to like it.
In a day, I will wake up to find 50 -60, “call me” messages , ” I sent you my private album” or “check out my photos” in my junk mailbox, which I empty every day, first thing in the morning. I guess these “chickies” work “nights”.
Unfortunately, my blog post follows and comments and other important messages manage to go to “junk” as well, so I have to check it. It had tapered off for awhile, but I think one of the blogs I follow took the summer off. It may not be a blog per se but a pun or something said, tongue in cheek that was picked up. I know there’s a computer term for it, words that the internet taps into, certain key words which it collects plus the info of anyone who follows or landed there, then bombards them with suggestive emails. I don’t know.
I don’t open these because fortunately the tag line tells you enough to know what it’s about. I mean, come on,” “full view photos of me” tells you plenty. I mentioned this to my nephew who is a computer tech nerd and he laughed. He calls them “dating sites”. Gross! They are “phishing”, but why waste their time “fishing” in my pond? Not to mention a waste of my time, I care less about theirs.
As I said, it tapered off for awhile and then lately began to pick up again around the holidays. I guess the holidays brings out the lonely people.
I don’t know, but it is disturbing.
If it’s not from someone I know I know, it goes in the trash.
OH NO!!!
So, guess what? Now, they are using my friends names to get me to open them.
I get it. I wanted a holiday job for something to do and everywhere I went they’d tell me to go and submit online. World Market that’s you. That site re routed me to INDEED, a job service agency, though I’d never heard of them before. Now they post ads on TV, so I guess they’re legit. Of course, I never got a call. But, I’m now getting a ton of other job offers.
They really seldom do but boy do they send your info and they all lead in with the same line, over and over again.
These new job opportunity offers are using the first name of someone from my contact list. Fortunately, that’s easier to spot, because when I get one with the name of one of my kids, a red flag comes up for me automatically.
First of all, my kids NEVER email. If they want to reach me, they either call, Marco Polo or text. No emails.
If you need help, apparently there is. The following links will have to be copy and pasted.
Since I wrote the above article, it has unbelievably tapered off, hoped this doesn’t set off a new “wave”.
I believe I told you all my story. Fortunately, my lump was found early, but there are countless of women who don’t make it or… don’t try to make it, either because of age or how advanced it was when discovered.
What was interesting to me is the psychological journey that accompanied my diagnosis. With any disease, introspection became a part of my journey.
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Please help me out with this campaign and also share it with your friends.
If I were President, I would listen to the people and focus on what is important.
Immigration: A wall would not be necessary. It is time our borders were more secure. But, There is a process of coming to this country and it should be done legally. People should petition for their right to stay in this country should they already be here. They should show themselves to be conscientious citizens, obeying the laws of the land (we must keep in mind that although we sympathize with their situation, they are lawbreakers when they force their way through illegally). They must agree to maintain a measure of self sufficiency instead of draining our resources. Other countries have guidelines to insure that people who come into their country do not come in to drain their resources. They should be willing to learn the language.
If they are here only to work on farms, because I know how much farmers rely on them, then these farmers should build housing (possibly with government assistance since it would be a major undertaking to do so.) Perhaps the rents the workers pay for this housing, would go toward covering the costs of that expense. Right now many rent homes and two or more families share expenses. They can be sparse, but still reasonable, sanitary and clean and depending on location, heated and air. When they are paid for all monies will be held in a separate account for their maintenance and maintenance only. No dumps!
Welfare would be gradually eliminated and limited to those totally incapacitated and this must be strictly adhered to and used as it was originally intended. If a person is able bodied then he should work. Those on welfare should be put to work in some fashion. There is plenty for them to do.
Birth control is available everywhere at health departments and it doesn’t cost low income people a dime. If someone is receiving government assistance then they should have declining assistance for each child they give birth to. Having worked with these people, I know there is no incentive to exercise self control. This should be across the board, regardless of race and/or religion.
Instead of spending billions to smear one another’s reputation because they can, how much better would it have been for the current candidates to spend it on a worthy cause. THAT in itself would have spoken volumes to the American public. It boggles my mind that so much was not spent on what you can do for the people but in demoralizing them instead. How many families could have been helped with that kind of money?
I’m sure politicians will hate this, but let’s level the playing field. If they really want to help people then they should be willing to give up their enormous pensions. They are the only group I know of with guaranteed pension regardless of how long their term was.
PS. I wrote this several years ago, but my opinion has not changed.
I still want to see a more productive society by the decisions they make.
I know there are many opportunities available for those who truly want to become self sufficient. I also know there are political factions who encourage these programs because as long as people are addicted to free handouts, the more they can be controlled. Controlled to vote a certain way, have free time to protest and make noise or cause a ruckus that prevents them or anyone else the ability to move forward and progress.
A friend of mine just posted this on Facebook, sent to her by someone I don’t know, Tom Row.
It was too good not to share. Whether he originated it, I don’t know. It really doesn’t matter, because I’m absolutely certain I’m not the only one who has felt the same.
By Tom Row –
I don’t think anybody should be allowed to graduate from High School until they’ve read one of the most important literary classics of all time…The Little Red Hen. 🙂 In the story, the little red hen finds a grain of wheat and asks the other barnyard animals “Who will help me plant the wheat?” The response “Not I” said the cat, “Not I” said the dog, “Not I” said the pig. So the Little Red Hen said “Then I will plant the seed myself” and she did.
At each later stage (harvest, threshing, milling and baking the flour to make bread) the hen asks the 3 animals for help in the process again, and at each stage the animals reply with the same response “Not I” said the cat, “Not I” said the dog, “Not I” said the pig.
At the final stage, when the hen has finally baked the bread, she asks “Now, who will help me eat the bread?” If you’ve heard the story before you know the end. But, I’m almost positive that they aren’t teaching this story in school anymore. The response? “No, you did not help me plant, nor help me harvest, nor help me mill, nor help me bake the bread” so the Little Red Hen ate the bread and gave it to her chicks.
I grew up with this story. Such a simple lesson on being a responsible individual and helping others. Modern society no longer embraces this kind of thinking it seems. “It doesn’t matter that you did not contribute to any of the work or preparation in making something successful…you still get to eat from the fruit of people’s labor.” This kind of thinking is wrong. It promotes laziness and slothfulness and the ultimate feeling of entitlement that we see in our world today.
So you see, this is why this story should be resurrected and taught to our children at very early ages…like it once was…like it was in the days when people were more responsible and understood “cause and effect” relationships. Yes, let’s revive this “Literary Classic” before it is too late!
“The story of the Little Red Hen has been retold many times. First published in 1874, this folk tale teaches children the value of hard work and self-reliance. In the story, a hen finds a seed of wheat, which she decides to plant in order to make bread. Though she seeks the help of other farm animals, they refuse, and the hen must do all the work herself. When the bread is finally made, the other animals wish to partake—but, because they did not help the hen along the way, they are refused the fruits of her labor. The story has been featured as part of the popular “Little Golden Books” series and as a Walt Disney animated film, The Wise Little Hen (1938).”
2 Thessalonians 3:10 Even while we were with you, we gave you this command: “Those unwilling to work will not get to eat.”
Thank you Tom and thank you Stacie Reed for sharing this.
Hey guys! I’m on a roll, lol. Two posts in one day?
Where do I begin?
The other day, I was doing my usual morning walk, however it was destined to be a short one, yet before that happened something caught my eye…
What happened here? A few too many maybe?
More on that later.
Lately, because of the heat and my age, I’ve had to either start out at the crack of dawn or substitute the treadmill or elliptical in order to avoid the sun. It has been a scorcher both while I was in Salt Lake City and at home in Southern California. The heat and sun has been very intense. My outdoor plants in Cali had withered and died completely as I was not here to water them while I was in Salt Lake.
What a sad state of affairs. It has cooled down some since, but the loss is depressingly sad. I hate when living things pass out of neglect and circumstances.
On my walks I get to ponder many things and yes, I’m still walking to my K-pop tunes, but I’ve since added some Keith Urban and other pop artists to my lists as well. I’ve decided, I love Pink. She’s actually a good singer. I love how Keith Urban seems to be tuned into the female psyche. He hits home with me all the time.
One day I was walking, airpods in my ear belting out one of his songs, I think it was Blue Ain’t Your Color or Wildhearts, and this construction worker in a hole on the street, stops to tell me I have a good voice. I had to take that graciously since I’m singing loudly to a tune no one else can hear but me. My father always told me never to deny a complement but accept them graciously, so I did.
I’ve also added some Elmer Bernstein and The Greatest Showman tunes, which I also sing loudly to.
On my walks, I meet other people’s animals and photograph them. I spot unique garden designs or beautiful fauna. I see sad things and dirty things.
Once I went through a cycle of photographing a good many roadkills. It was quite the week, all these critters jumping into harms way like that. Some things I see, I’d rather not mention.
Lately, I’ve spotted injured coyotes that disturbed me. One such coyote was busily licking his wounds before he was aware of my presence and ran off. I kept looking for it wondering if it had died and I had visions of it being consumed by maggots. A couple of weeks later I saw another coyote, only this one was lying on the ground and appeared to be dead, but upon my approach, I called out. It startled me when it jumped up and leapt away. He also bore a scarred gash on his flank. At first, I thought it was the same dog, but photographs I’d taken before proved me wrong. I’d wondered if someone was doing them harm or were there just too many males and there is a hierarchy battle going on. No clue. After I published the photo of the second one on my Instagram, someone from the Eastern Coyote_Center, let me know there was a Coyote Rescue.org probably in my area and there is, so I now have a number to call should I see that again.
See the fresh gash?
CONTEMPLATION
These walks allow me time to contemplate many things. Life, my blogging friends lives, though I’ve not followed up near as much as I used to. It’s like where has my time gone? Why do I feel like I have no time? It is jam packed with so many things for some reason. I think of my family so far away and wonder if I’ve done a good job. Even if I haven’t, they love me and think I’m the best and cool. I’m grateful for all the love they give me. Thoughts. Some make me smile, some make me cry. I still miss my sister so very much. Our chats, her responses.
I discovered some of my best ideas for screenplays come out of my walks. At first, as these ideas came spilling out, I’d arrive at home 3-4 miles later, having forgotten what they were. Since then, I discovered my Notes App on my phone and started dictating my ideas to notes. At times you can see me having running dialogues with myself and my characters. That has been such a boon to my screenwriting.
Back to the beginning. As I said in the beginning, something caught my eye. I came across that big gash in the fence, off the road, in a business area. On the ground, was a hubcap and I immediately came to the conclusion that some drunk driver had careened into the fence some time during the night. It was a miracle he’d not gone into the ditch below. I shook my head and sighed then walked a few steps further and happened to notice a tree behind the fence, tipped forward and a large branch that had broken off in the direction of the dent on the fence.
Hmmm. Did I make a judgment error? I looked at it carefully and figured I had. It made me think. It was a tall eucalyptus tree and eucalyptus trees tend to have shallow roots, which seems odd since they grow so tall. Nonetheless, it reminded me of a time, some 40+ years ago when the same thing had occurred near my home at the time. I’d been away and upon my return, unbeknownst to me, we’d had an earthquake which jostled the tree across the street enough for it to become uprooted, falling onto my neighbors garage, seconds after their daughter had pulled out of it to go to work, no less! What a mess and a blessing Kathleen had escaped unharmed.
Like I mentioned before, it’s been very hot and I might add, there has been no rain, nothing to soften the soil and loosen the roots, so I wondered if we’d had an undetected earthquake as can happen often in California. Another Hmmm
My point though, and what occurred to me in all this analyzation is how busy my mind was to create and conclude a story. One that fit my logic. It made me wonder about the stories we tell ourselves and the judgments we make about the world around us either through our own observations or the influences of social media or through educated (or uneducated) guesses based on information we’ve logged into the recesses of our brains and how we use it to see the world around us. Why?
It made me sad, because in our relationships with our fellow man, we do it all the time. What is even sadder is how we tend to justify these analogies based on our own life experiences and the preset filters we create.
I realize that it’s probably instinctual, as instinct has been key to man’s survival all these centuries. Yes, they were necessary back then, but how well are we using them now? How and why are we letting outside influences, through both peer pressure and social media vomit and scorn, skew our thinking? It’s like we’ve become lemmings or as we had in Colorado, prairie dogs that periodically go off to a mass suicide death. To be honest, who isn’t influenced by the world around us? Who hasn’t quoted Yahoo, or preferential news sources or a Twitter comment as if it were the holy grail? Oh, and Quora, who follows Quora? We are so easily manipulated. I’m no exception. I sometimes believe how much so and so loves his wife or doesn’t, then there’s this or that person being a total jerk. Oh, then how wonderful so and so is, look at all the humane things he does. Social media can be and is often tweaked to be a weapon. Isn’t that what a certain person was counting on when she filed her suit against her famous hubby? Hmmmm
When I was visiting my children in SLC, my granddaughter showed me how to manipulate my pictures, add sound and do all kinds of stuff on my phone. Wow! If she does it easily, think of all the other things we are bombarded with that may be contrived to tell a story “they” want you to see?
But, apart from that, what about the things we see in those closest to us, those that social media isn’t posting about? This contemplative thinking made me aware of how unfair I can be sometimes with those I care about. A friend once told me, that trust is like a mirror, once it’s broken, it can’t be put back together. That hits close to home. We discovered that neither of us trusted the other, but mostly me, him. He once said there were things, I didn’t know or what he couldn’t reveal yet, and my response was bullshit! (sorry) In the meantime, I won’t tell him what I feel, because it makes me feel vulnerable. Have I become jaded? Has my own past colored my present?
I know I’ve shared with everyone, in earlier, previous posts, some of my childhood and past. Not wanting to live in the past, I’ve tried real hard to overcome these and change for the better, but my kids tell me it’s my past that has kept me from seeing things honestly. I trust when I shouldn’t and don’t when maybe I should.
I think because of the past, I tend to want to see results quickly, otherwise, I run away. Prove to me now and I’ll be fine. Perhaps, that’s also why I doubt and put up walls to protect myself. Does anyone else do that? So, in the interim, as my neighbor revs up his snazzy Corvette across the street, making a boatload of racket and drowning out my thoughts, I’d like to say… In conclusion,
if … anyone that reads this post has been hurt by my doubts, I’m sorry.
Some things we just can’t shake no matter how hard we try and at 76, I just learned that. Is it too late to try?
In the meantime, remember too, forgiveness is divine. 😉😉🥴
A Man in Winter by Katie Marie is a horror story on more than one level, weaving murder in with the tragedy of loss of oneself through dementia. My heart broke for Arthur as his mind took him away from the world, leaving him vulnerable and confused and desperate for justice for his beloved wife Molly. Treating the subject matter sensitively, this writer has created a tale whose horror lies in it’s very real possibility.
– Stephanie Ellis, author of Bottled and The Five Turns of the Wheel
Is there such a thing as tender hearted horror? Well, there is now. Katie Marie’s ghost story, A Man in Winter, connected with me on such an emotional level. In my opinion, the world of fiction needs more stories told from the POV of the elderly, and Katie Marie certainly delivers on that score.
Even though I am not a father, I was out enjoying the day.
Here’s my day in pictures starting with this father playing in the sand with his little girl. It was a lovely day.
Remember sand castles?A breakfast treatThis is my Where’s Waldo picture. Look closely and perhaps you’ll see everything I had hoped to capture in this shot. 😊An artist displays his work on the boardwalk.So many activities
It was wonderful seeing the many diversions dads and families were engaged in.
I had a video, but sadly I didn’t know how to include it. 🥺
I hope like heck, they will read this. What I like and don’t like.
This is the city I drive in when I’m in the city.
First of all, I want to say, up until recently I’ve loved driving. Unfortunately things have changed.
It’s not, for the most part, the people. Yes, on rare occasions I will get a flake and/or an intoxicated person, but overall, my people have been wonderful. Almost always, they are why I drive.
They listen to my stupid stories of the history of our city as I recall it, sharing with them out of the ordinary trivia, not found in history books or archival data, but from my own memories. I think, based on the questions they ask and their responses and feedback to the company, in general, they love it.
If I take them down to Little Italy, downtown San Diego, I share with them how before that district even existed, my dad, being friends with one of the early restaurant owners of Fillipi’s which is still there, would take us kids down there and the original owners would take us to sit in a back room on a long table and we’d have our own private sitting with huge plates of pasta. Something, I’m sure the current owners know nothing about. I was possibly 10 then, so that would make that about 65 years ago.
Then there is our Highway 5 freeway , which was just being built when I was a child. Then, the freeway was only a total of four lanes. Now, it’s more than 8 lanes! I remember the big dozers clearing a swathe of land for the new highway. I remember our ducks crossing the newly graded lanes to cross over to the other side with their ducklings filed behind them. Then there was the time one Halloween where we kids, not being freeway saavy, tried to cross the lanes and my mask kept slipping down and I couldn’t see clearly but seeing what appeared to be headlights coming straight at me. A very scary time, as we are lead by one of the local teens. Why my parents let him take charge I’ll never know. We could have been killed!!
I tell them about our San Diego based airline and how I was one of the cutesie flight attendants of that local commuter airline, wearing mini skirts and a tri-cornered hat. It was very sexist, before we knew what that was. Some of my passengers remember those days, or have heard tell about them, most don’t. I recall the big crash we had downtown. How those were people I knew well and lost.
What was and what no longer is. Areas now populated with new houses that are now old were once farmland or orchards and two lane roads. I tell them of places to visit and places to eat, nightspots and where not to venture at night, though it may be popular. I delight in their stories of where they are from, what they do. Even though politics and religion are two things not to introduce, it can come up, but it often more in relation to how things have changed. Never arguments or debates. If someone expresses a dogmatic point of view, perhaps contrary to my own, I’m okay with it. Sometimes, in this day and age, there really is nowhere to vent safely, so I give them that. It very rarely happens though.
They make me smile.
WHY I DRIVE
For the most part, I lead a very lonely life. Since my sister died, I live for the conversations with strangers.
They tell me their stories and I tell them mine. Mostly, in relation to the growth of our city. It is therapeutic. Sometimes too, I can be their therapist for the time they are with me, if just listening can be called “therapy”. It’s a win win.
THE DOWN SIDE
However, of late, since Covid 19, lockdown, masks, now no masks, it hasn’t been quite the same. Things have changed. The apps have changed. Many times my navigation doesn’t work right. I can’t get reception downtown or outlying areas like I used to or in apartment complexes, which has always been an issue. It makes my job challenging and frustrating.
Gas prices have escalated and both companies seem to think a $.50 surcharge is compensation enough, when our gas prices in California went over $6 a gallon in most places and no change in fare compensation it feels like rape. There have been no rate increases to the consumer and many of them have said they expected there would be. They are aware of the $.50 surcharge, which Lyft and Uber have said will drop by next month. Where does that leave us then?
I went to the HUB to complain, but no one has an answer.
The other day, I accepted an Uber ride that when it popped up said 6.6 miles. I thought it would be the pickup distance which I was fine with, however when I clicked it, they were sending me 35 miles for a 6 mile ride? Hell no! I only get paid for the 6 miles, so there was no way in hell I was taking that, so I cancelled. Or rides that take 1 1/2 hours for 30 miles or ones that take us like to Riverside or San Bernadino, far away from home and no paid rides back? For real?
Then Lyft is famous for sending us on a ride only to re-route us sometimes 2, 3 or 4 times zig-zagging all over the place wasting time, gas and energy. I’ve even had them send me 20 miles only to reassign me back to where I just came from for a short ride.
To be honest, I don’t know how they can keep drivers driving. When my day starts out like that, I’ll close the app and go home. I can’t suffer through that, because it’s like getting beat up each time and I want to be happy when I pick up my rider, not grumpy and sour.
One time, I accidentally started my app while I was doing my workout and suddenly got a call. Here I was all stinky from working out, but it was nearby and I felt bad for the passenger, so I hightailed it to my car and went to the pickup and drove them where they needed to be. That’s how I feel about my riders. They are important to me and I try to be very considerate of their time as I hope they appreciate my efforts.
Another thing that has changed since Covid, is the tempers of the drivers on the road. I have seen more road rage and aggressive inconsiderate driving since lockdown was lifted. It’s like a mean bug was injected into all these people from being cooped up and isolated. There are times I’ve had drivers barely miss me zig-zagging in and out of lanes at high speeds. It can be terrifying at times. When I am driving late at night and that begins, I shut down and go home. You can almost be sure those are drunk drivers on a testosterone high and I don’t want to be on the road with them.
One day, I was at an intersection at a stop light and a nice new BMW pulled up next to me. The light had just turned red, so we both stopped quickly. The car behind the BMW was not happy he had not run the light, I guess. He got out of his car screaming and shaking his fist at the driver next to me, who just happened to have his window rolled down. The man behind came up and literally yanked the guy out of the window (he should have had his seatbelt on or that might not have been so easy, I’m thinking) and pulled him to the ground and started beating on him right in the middle of the intersection. I was aghast. I saw a cop not far and beeped my horn several times to get his attention. Somehow or another my Lyft app picked up on my distress and asked if I was okay. Pretty neat feature I might say.
I’ve had people go around me when I didn’t take a right turn fast enough for them. Sometimes, the only thing protecting the person in the crosswalk in front of me is me. I never saw such behavior before.
I’ve been told by some of my riders that because of Covid, there are people who once relied on Uber and Lyft to commute, who now drive. Because of Covid, when Uber and Lyft drivers became scarce, they bought cars and began driving. No wonder they’re angry. Perhaps that is why they are so grumpy. I really don’t know, but if that’s the case, they need to take a chill pill and get back to using us.
However, before that happens, Uber and Lyft are going to have to take better care of their drivers. Uber offers incentives, but mostly if you drive in San Diego, which I don’t like. In many areas, navigational reception is horrible as are the street conditions. On one occasion, I drove over 30 miles with no directionals and the young lady I picked up, being from Latvia had no local phone access, so she couldn’t pull up navigation on her phone as some have done for me. Fortunately, Uber does include the address and I knew the area. Fortunately, she had the number of the young man who’d ordered the ride and was able to input his number in my phone to let him know we were nearing. Normally, that would be a NO-NO, since all calls made between rider and drivers are rerouted through a ghost number. This is a safeguard for both parties but I made an exception, since I wanted to be sure she arrived safely and to the right person, since downtowns anywhere can be generally spurious and one never knows. I’m sure neither of us held onto each others phone numbers. When there was positive recognition, I unlocked my doors. Had she indicated otherwise, I would not have left her. I’m not sure what I would have done, actually, but I would have wanted to know she was safe.
Then there are dicier neighborhoods to venture in to pick people up in. I carry mace, pepper spray and a Tazer, but I don’t want to ever have to use them. If I have any doubt, I keep it handy just under my leg. It’s never been a problem. My new car has auto lock, so I don’t worry someone will open the door while I’m at an intersection and I can roll the window down just enough to talk briefly to my passenger before unlocking it. Visibility at night in many areas is poor. One time another driver ran a stop and disabled my car a half a block from my rider. When the police came and my car was being towed, even the police didn’t want to stay with me until my ride came to pick me up. The tow truck driver took pity on me and drove me to my sisters. I live 45 miles away so that was too far. He said it wasn’t out of his way, but when I went to the tow site the next day, it really was. Out of his way, I mean. I was appreciative.
Needless to say, I don’t drive at night anymore and it is unfortunate, because nights are more profitable.
Things to consider. Sometimes, at night, despite the photos on the apps of the person requesting the ride, being able to see them well enough to know it’s them can be difficult. In those cases, before unlocking any doors, I verify who they are first. Not all include photos. Plus, unfortunately, not all those who request rides are the ones taking the ride. Sometimes they tell us, sometimes they don’t until the last minute. Both companies give us the option to decline a ride if it feels unsafe. My Spidey senses are generally pretty good. I’ve never had anyone get out of hand. I did have a group of drunk men once, who’s conversation was distasteful. What got me was that it was the older men, not the young man who had ordered the ride who were obnoxious. I let the young man know that in the future, it would be up to him to keep his companions in line or he could lose his privileges. He thanked me for the warning and for not arbitrarily penalizing him for his companions.
I’m of the mind that todays environment is too quick to cry foul, when they could just as easily just say, “that is unacceptable and I don’t appreciate …” this or that behavior, language or whatever. For Pete’s sake, just call them out on it.
THE GOOD AND THE BAD
Lyft is good about giving me mostly women, especially at night. Uber does not. Unfortunately, sometimes I expect a woman and at the last minute, I’ll get a text telling me I will be picking up a “boyfriend” or spouse. I love it when they give me a name. It should be required.
One such time, a guy covered in tattoos approached the car, I wasn’t too sure, so I rolled the window down a few inches. Within a couple of sentences, I knew he was going to be okay. Simultaneously she texted that he was the husband. It turns out he is a chef and restaurant owner. We talked about restaurants and ethnic food dishes we liked and places to go try. We had an hour together and he kept me entertained, talking the whole way and it was very pleasant.
I had a couple once that at first glance, were terribly unkempt and looked as though water had not hit their bodies in some time. They reeked of cigarettes. I mean a weeks worth, at least. I was not looking forward to being with them at all. However, they surprised me with pleasant, intelligent conversation. It was a mother and son and they were so kind and sweet. I told myself not to judge a book by it’s cover.
Another time, I went to pick up a couple in a nice area. I had to wait a bit for them to show. First to come out was the man, an Adonis cut figure of a man that should be on the cover of a magazine. He was looking away when he came around the corner and as he looked up brushed his hair back and as he looked up, I’m thinking, “Holy shit! That’s getting into my car?” I’m glad he couldn’t hear me suck in my breath, because I was stunned at how beautiful he was. Then, the woman comes out, looking like a Greek Goddess herself and I’m thinking Damn! How did that happen? I had no idea what this married, power couple would be like, but they were animated and as personable and likable as anyone could wish for. A double wow! He turned out to be one of the architects of the span bridges on the highways being constructed all over the place. She was a pediatric nurse.
One guy I picked up said he was the AP or associate producer for Maroon 5’s most recent video. To be honest, when I saw the video, I’m thinking uh no, he was Maroon 5, but I could be wrong, because that guy I saw sure looked like the same guy. Only he would know or admit to it. What did we talk about? You’ll never guess. Bathrooms. Yup! Bathrooms and music of course. We both knew where all the best bathrooms are and what businesses you could depend on for them. In his case, because he has little ones and with little ones you got to know the best places to stop when needed. With my driving, I have to plan for bathrooms and sometimes those can be hard to find. They have to be clean and safe. We also talked about Maroon 5’s longevity and formula and then strayed over to K-pop music, comparing groups and what we liked.
I’ve gotten young people who are dumbstruck that I know so much about K-pop.
Before Covid, I got a group of four young men, three in back and one in the front seat. There was an oldie song that came on the radio and the guy in front took it upon himself to crank it up and they (we) all rocked out and sang along the way to their destination, one song after another. That was a first and never happened again.
Can you picture it? An old lady and a bunch of kids in animated song. I’m sure we were a sight. Of course, I was limited to just singing.
I LEARN STUFF TOO
I learn so much from my passengers. I don’t just talk, though I must admit, I do the majority of it, but for the most part, it’s an even exchange of knowledge and that’s what I like the best.
Today, I learned that these fancy colors you see on high end vehicles are actually “skins” or Carmeleon wraps to protect their paint job. Some running into thousands of dollars. Some of you may not know what I’m talking about because it probably has more to do with where I live. I just happened to mention to one passenger how I’d seen a Range Rover in a purple pearlescent color that as I went by changed colors almost like a peacocks plume. I’d never seen anything like it. He told me they are referred to as skins and they are a thin film to protect the paint and value of the vehicle. They are mostly found in high end vehicles because they can be quite pricey. They can be washed and when they start to peel or whatever it is that happens to them, they peel it off and the paint underneath is like brand new.
I know my posts tend to be, “woe is me-ish”. but I’d like to hopefully depart from that… sort of.
I wish I could insert pictures, but for some reason that hasn’t been working for me of late. Pics seem to want to accumulate at the bottom of the post. I’d like to change my site photo, but I’ve yet to figure how to access that feature as well.
So, until I figure out the changes WordPress made two years ago, I keep posting, as is. I know I might start out sounding like I’m in despair, but that is not my intention. So, this post I hope will end up being a departure from that.
I survived my abusive childhood listening to music, you could find me singing out in the wilderness to my hearts content and at the top of my lungs. That’s how I got through life and interestingly it was enough to brighten my day and lift me up. I salute the artists who wrote the songs and the many artists who produced the many films I sought refuge in. In life, if you met me, you would not see a down spirited person. I’m always upbeat and cheerful. I used the tools and gifts God gave me and that is why.
Religion and church offered me sanctuary, a safe haven. Attending meant I wasn’t home and God was pretty neat to talk to. I prayed so much as a child. I was baptized Catholic only to have mother adopt the Jehovah’s Witness religion when I was five, I didn’t grow up learning Christian Hymns, but I love singing hymns. I didn’t learn those until I was in my 50’s when I joined the choir in Alabama. Southerners love to sing. In high school, I snuck out and attended the Catholic Church with my Catholic friends. Being a Jehovah’s Witness was not easy, but it provided me a place to feel like I belonged. The downside of attending the Catholic church then was that everything was in Latin, so not easy to sing to. I attended a Pentecostal Church once as a child when I was being babysat by a neighbor and that was totally different. I would go on to study the LDS faith. Church was my safe place and God my protector. Even as a child, I’d sit in a corner and daily, close my eyes, open the bible and point and that’s where my lesson or bible readings would start and I did this on my own. God and I were buddies.
When I was in Alabama, a friend I’d made there introduced me to jamming in country barns where all the farmers gathered with whatever instrument they played. Those who didn’t play, sang. Then she took me to a FaSoLa gathering. I guess knowing I grew up in California, she oughta teach me my heritage and get a taste of the south. Once a year in summer, there would be this remote, really remote church in the middle of nowhere, where followers would meet, some coming from all over the states and globally. FaSoLa, also referred by some as Sacred Harp or Shape Note singing, uses basically just those shape notes and it is acapella. The one in Alabama would take a whole weekend where everyone brings a dish for potluck. It’s very old timey and the origin of Shape note singing is heartwarming. Dang! I sure wish I could transfer my clips. No matter, check it out.
See: fasola.org/singings/
MUSICALS AND OTHER SONGS –
If you want to know my favorite songs and the early ones I remember singing often, were those that talked about escape. The Wayward Wind, was a favorite. I’d climb a tree and belt it out. Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Someday My Prince Will Come, Singing in the Rain, to name a few. I love the To Kill a Mockingbird soundtrack, as well as many animated Disney soundtracks. Soundtracks of the old musicals in general were so cool. Even if I didn’t know the words, I’d love to sing loudly with the one or two words or phrases and lines I knew well. Usually the refrains. Ever done that? I even sang to foreign singers such as Yma Sumac and Miyoshi Umeki.
I got a picture in. lol. A sunrise from my backyard Yay!
When Daddy had his electronic set up, I could sing using the microphone and blast the neighbors, when no one was home of course. I especially liked the vocal range of Yma Sumac and would challenge myself to mimic her songs and hit all those notes. I almost had them, but my voice was still young and I managed fairly well, but not well enough. Still, it was an outlet and it served me well in school, because I always got to do the solos, no one else could handle.
Rock songs were for fun. Musicals like Westside Story, with the typical youth misunderstood lyrics, were sad but catchy and passionate. South Pacific, Oklahoma and sadly, My Fair Lady were just a few I loved. I hate to say and wish it wasn’t true, but I’m horrible at memorizing words, so as much as I would have loved to sing professionally, I’d fail… but I follow along well. I can’t carry a tune on my own but I can read music, so if you give me a sheet of music, I can do it. Some people can belt a song out without anyone giving them that first note, but I can’t. Just so you know, I know my limitations.
If it was a musical, be it with Gene Kelly, Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Judy Garland, Gypsy, Music Man, the King and I, Guys and Dolls, Meet me in St. Louis and Porgy and Bess. Summertime was a favorite and for fun, oldies like Oh Susanna! I can’t dance well, but I can pretend I do.
I remember once embarrassing the hell out of my step-dad when, after watching Westside Story, I was hanging out the window on a warm summer day, singing Officer Cruptke and shouting, “I got a social disease!” and summarily being yanked back into the car, not knowing what it meant, of course. I still get a chuckle out of that memory. When I learned what a social disease was, I too, was deeply humiliated. How could they put that in a song? I will admit, that even though mother was prone to much verbal abuse, my step father was much loved. To see him, he looked kinda grumpy, but when he smiled, it was like sunshine and even though we had a rocky start, he turned out to be a good guy. I can say I loved and respected him and even though I was, by then in my late teens, I at least had enough time to appreciate him and his endurance and care for mother, who was so difficult.
Later in life, of course there were many tunes that I took shelter in. Music and song are my sanctuary.
Phantom of the Opera got me through many a long trip, but didn’t show up in my life until I was older. My son, Ian and I would split the vocals. I’d do Christine and other female parts and he’d do the Phantom and any male parts. He has a beautiful voice. I miss singing with him. We used to have the best time in Alabama because people were always fighting over him to carry the tenors. I’ll never forget his first time, he sat with someone that was so flat, that he had a hard time tuning the poor guy out and we went home laughing so hard. He eventually got strong enough. Singing in parts is hard at first, but we both loved singing enough to give it all we had. It was fun.
I’ll never forget the time, I tried to keep from falling asleep while driving cross country by rehearsing songs from our upcoming Easter pageant. I’m singing at the top of my lungs thinking I’d stay awake. Trust me, it doesn’t work, you can sing while asleep. Unfortunately, it was raining and I spun out and ended up in a ditch. I remember facing oncoming traffic and thinking, “oh shit, I’m dead!’ as this huge semi, looking like it was coming at me, went past me. Nothing wakes you up quicker. Another thing, my life didn’t pass before me. No, it was just, “oh shit, I’m dead”. Not funny, but funny.
Today, I get lost in songs by Keith Urban, Ed Sheeran and yes even Justin Bieber. I love Maroon 5, the Weekend and have added them to the many old artists, I used to listen to. Peter and Gordon, Beatles, Elvis, Animals, Dave Clark Five, Petula Clark, Louis Armstrong and more.
For awhile I was collecting vinyls and one time I got the mother lode of vinyl at a yard sale, but before I could go through them, when I awoke the next morning, my grandson had already tagged the ones he wanted. Music has given me life, dreams and sustained me through three marriages, raising children, grandchildren and now three great grands. What’s interesting is how much music transcends our generations. It’s something we can all share and love.
Latest Great Grand, Jovi Olson and her momma. Like I said, I’m having trouble with photos, but pretend they are side by side, lol. SIGH… BTW, how many of us can say we looked that good after giving birth?
Yeah, I want to say, sometimes I sound like I live on the dark side of the moon, but truly I have a lot of good in my life. My life isn’t Donna Reed or Leave it to Beaverish, but I have great kids, siblings and family. Despite some of our rough patches, love does abound, we love to sing and dance in our own fashion and I’m grateful. There’s nothing like it when we get together and Tina tells Alexa to play 60’s 70’s favorites that we don’t all break out in song.
Is there someone in my life? Too soon to tell how that will work out, but who knows? I’m taking a page form my friend Caralyn of Beauty Beyond Bones who always says, “trust God” and how it got her through tough times and how, in so doing, she’s now got her happy.
I’m doing my best to “Be Optimistic”… and not be a grumpy – Another great song (Shirley Temple) did I ever tell you about my nice visit with Shirley Temple Black? And so it goes. There’s always going to be a memory attached, right?
I get much uplifting support from my fellow bloggers, some old, tried and trues and new ones now. I thank you all!
Try singing and I’ll keep singing because it’s how I get through the tough times. Try it!
PS
If you want to be inspired, try some of the songs from The Greatest Showman, I love A Million Dreams, Never Enough and well, all of them!!
The workman on my street, love it when I walk by belting these songs and Keith Urban’s Blue Aint’ your Color or Wild Hearts. They tell me I have a good voice. I guess anything they can hear over their jackhammers has got to entertain, lol. These are easy songs to download and walk and sing. I’ve been known to get a few Kpop tunes out as well. Free yourself up!
I was reading an article on Quora about a woman who discovered the past of an odd uncle she barely knew. In going over his belongings after his passing, the family discovered his hidden past. He had been a victim of sexual abuse by a priest. The why of the idiosyncrasies and oddities of this relative came to light. Her putting the pieces together after going through his stuff was a feat in of itself. She says about his life: “It was a lousy life filled with sadness, failure, misplaced loyalty, an inability to nurture relationships. ” The person writing felt guilty even though she had not even been born at the time all the abuse transpired and obviously had nothing to do with it. Why is it, abuse makes the victim feel guilt when the guilt is not theirs? Sometimes this carries over to others who care about us. It’s a hard thing to wrap your head around, isn’t it? Please understand, I am not a therapist. My observations are that of a former victim.
Guilt. It is a sad burden to carry, why does it torture us? I can’t imagine her why. Perhaps, because of their shared DNA, she felt compelled to shoulder some of his pain? I can’t say because I just don’t know.
Some people can overcome the trauma of abuse even if not forgotten. Some cannot. I can only imagine the suppressed anger and guilt, he must have kept inside all those years which stymied his growth, kept him from successful relationships and contributed to his reclusive later life. One never knows what was in the mind of this person.
What many people don’t know is how much guilt is shouldered by victims and how that guilt affects all facets of their life. Guilt? Yes, guilt.
I have been doing my three pages every morning as my assignment and as I study the book, The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. My assignment in Chapter Three is to describe my childhood room and what it was I liked best about it and what my favorite things were. I had none. NONE! No memories. I could not describe my room! After stretching my memories a while, I could only remember a bunkbed that we kids would roll off the top of and that’s it! Did the room have windows? Were there other beds? I don’t remember anything other than my dad sneaking into the room at night to single me out for his perversity. I’ve always wondered, where were my siblings? I couldn’t say. I couldn’t sleep tonight, mourning the loss of innocence, the loss of not having a fond memory, no special toy or anything. My loss. The earliest images I have of a bedroom, were later as a teen and not of my room, but my brothers and his model airplanes suspended from the ceiling. I have been searching my brain for a memory, but obviously I blocked it out. All of it. It’s no wonder my only fond memories as a child were being outdoors, far away from the house.
I’m not a therapist and I can only speak from experience, but a victim always wonders what it is about them that abusers seek out. What did they do to “invite” the abuse? Did they do it intentionally or is there an invisible brand on their forehead that tells others they are easy targets? Do they trigger something in certain personalities that draws the perpetrators?
Victims experience so many false starts in life others cannot understand. Their self talk tells them they are not worthy. Even when things start to look up and success looks like it’s coming their way, they inadvertently do something to self sabotage. It is not the same for everyone and it doesn’t just relate to sexual abuse. Like the uncle above, a life of constant fails seem to follow them.
They can be accusatory and suspicious. But, it all stems from their own guilty feelings.
I had an attorney tell me once, while I was going through my divorce and in regards to my ex-husband’s philandering and infidelity, he said “you can’t put guilt unless guilt is there”. I now think back on that statement and wonder if perhaps that wasn’t just to make me feel better but a narrow and prejudicial view of his own?
Let me back track a bit here. His comment was in response to me telling him that my husband, who was a constant cheater, blamed me for his affairs, saying I always made him feel guilty, as if to excuse his cheating. I couldn’t understand it at the time, but the issue between us was obviously more complex than any of us knew.
Knowing what I know now and years after the fact, there were several dynamics going on. We were both broken and because we were broken, and neither of us knew to what extent, we couldn’t help each other.
His background: I don’t know his early, early years, but I do know his father was a womanizing alcoholic and was gone a lot. He died the year we were married of cirrhosis of the liver. The ex was a middle child, with an older sister and younger brother. His mother was a nurse and worked hard to provide for her family. She was obviously depressed because one day she shot herself. She was found by his younger brother. That young man suffered tremendous trauma and died at a fairly early age of drugs and alcohol.
I recall later telling my then husband, “You’re just like your father who you’ve always hated”. Even though he admitted it was true, did my saying it aloud reinforce his own lack or self talk of not being worthy? I don’t know.
I wonder if for some, like myself, guilt comes from not doing something or the inability to notice that others might need help and perhaps fall short of helping them?
It is my belief that broken people can’t help broken people, yet we tend to gravitate to one another. I truly believe that. Not because they don’t want to but because they just don’t know how. They’ve not had the template of what a successful relationship looks like to go by. So, guess what? I felt guilty. I really didn’t have the tools to help him. This person married several times since and once before me and each time, he created circumstances that obligated all the women in his life to leave or give up on him. He is now living a loveless life with no one. He even pushes our children away from him.
I also always wondered how much is genetics. I think genetics plays a part in our temperament to receive and counter information. Perhaps its a conditioning from the womb, environmental absorption pre-birth? Theory.
Perhaps not though. My father beat mother, he beat us, but there was no way in hell I’d let anyone do that to me. When the ex raised his hand to me one time, I stood straight up, my 5’2″ to his 6’1″ and looked him straight in the eyes with my finger pointed at him and said, “Don’t you dare!” He backed down immediately. The memory of that day still makes me chuckle. He apologized. It apparently wasn’t in his DNA to be a hitter. Yet, he sabotaged every relationship he ever had and drove people out of his life. Sad.
For some time, I felt guilt and a sense of obligation to not give up trying, despite the fact I did take him back three times. Since that marriage and before this one and after the last one, I had extensive therapy and realized I was in no position to have helped him. At the time, I was too broken. It took a while to learn and realize that.
When my sister died and after her diagnosis, I shared with all of you the burden of guilt I felt that fortunately has lifted since. I just couldn’t shake it for a long while. The guilt of not having been around to help her and/or recognize her illness. At some point, we have to let people make their own decisions. We cannot force them to see the doctor, which I tried to convince her to do. The guilt is not mine. Resentment? Yes. I miss her and I am angry she left me too soon, but I will not feel guilty. I believe her choice was intentional and the consequences of that choice was realized long ago.
I think of myself as broken china mended with gold. Each crack makes me more valuable.
I am okay, but then… maybe not yet, but I will be.
PS
Let me counter what I said earlier on about broken people not being able to help broken people… the truth is many therapists are former broken people, so I think broken people may be able to help other broken people once they’ve been fixed . I could be wrong.
Guilt and shame prevents growth. I’m digging deep and though I may not have many years left, I intend to clear out the junk and live wholly.
Like I said, I AM NOT A THERAPIST and this is not therapy. I’m only sharing this because I’ve had to come to terms with a few things in the last few months and I can tell with this new workbook, I will be delving deep and as I grow, I’m sharing. I hope you don’t mind. It’s MY therapy.
"I have enough time to rest, but I don't have a minute to waste". Come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.
joliesattic 