Protect Yourself

An elderly neighbour of mine, no longer with us unfortunately, when I was entering a new relationship, took my arm, looked into my eyes and said "protect yourself". I was shocked since I knew her little. She had been through the war as what we had called the "enemy", and when her marriage faltered, went off to remain, for the rest of her life, alone. I assumed she was merely bitter about other romances after her own failed. But, at the time, involved completely in my new "friend" and all that revolved around that phase, found the warning rather distasteful. I assumed she was speaking solely of her own bitter experiences. Since that time, I fully understand what she meant. And I am not proud to say that she is absolutely correct. One does have to prepare for the rollercoaster of complexities in relationships. They all have similarities. The first part of the structure, and it is a kind of construction, appears everlasting and strong, unyielding to all the faults of any other you've ever heard of. You are in the "honeymoon" period. You float on a cloud. Then you begin to come down, in the ensuing steps, to earth and the practicalities occur. What you thought was permanent, takes on some serious cracks and what comes through them, causes big doubts. Working at it harder will fix everything, you believe, but the cracks widen into fissures and the fissures into valleys. And the energy it takes to keep your head above the dark water down there, falters until finally, reality dawns, and you see what so easy to ignore previously, just as it is. The choice being, to continue and work even harder, or to give it all up and get on with what you really want, and need in your own life. The test is the material the relationship was built on. Was it sand or solid rock? The rest is history. You take the steps necessary for yourself and that's what you need to do. Saying that, is easy. Doing it, is very, very hard. It is what my neighbour was speaking of: "protect yourself". It seems a selfish matter to "protect yourself" when there is someone else to consider. But, in the long run, all you have is the "you" that is you. You can't love unless you first love yourself, I am told. And it's true. You have to know yourself and what your needs are and to assess whether your relationship is giving you what you need. But you also have to provide for the other in the set: what is needed by that individual and that's the hard part. Can you do it? Can you keep yourself and what you need and still give? If not, then you have a hard decision to make. You can't drown in the morass of someone else's problems and still be helpful to them. They have to deal with their own dilemmas, the ones they own and you, with yours.  Most of the time, the middle mess of relationships can be worked out and come out stronger and more resilient than ever, but frequently, the balance is so tipped to one side, that it's safer and wiser to survive, to move on and find a haven that allows you to be what you are." Protect yourself." You're all you came with and all that you have.

Weathering

Sailing folk can read the sky and consult their personal knowledge to know whether to venture out or not. Those who care for challenge, the true sailing folk, will unleash their double-masted steeds and plunge into the fray, while the city weekend sailor will settle in with his yellow slicker coat, for a wet dock wander amongst his like kind to speak of the blow out there and unpleasant white-knuckle experiences that The Wife won't let him do again. No siree. Weather seems to be big these days, more so than ever. There are complete channels devoted to it. I know people who take the weather dead seriously and consult it first, over their horoscopes or gazing at the health of their morning tongues in the bathroom mirror. They worry about the little pictures on the gawk box that show the sun peeping over a tiny cloud or little blue raindrops funneling down. They fret over satellite cloud covers and high and low pressure systems and whether they are on the verge of them or not. Their mood depends on this. In fact, they will agonize over the seven day forecast even though it is as reliable as a time sched for a city train. One individual I know, falls into a depression if the weather map shows a week of rain ahead even in a Vancouver winter that is forever nothing but rain. The weather report, usually done by a model-like female complete with hair piece, fashionable outfit and perfect make-up or a cute short guy hopping about with his spiky cut - all professional meteorologists of course -  have become a feature, an entertainment. No longer is it good enough to say, hey it's winter. There'll be snow in most of the country with the usual exception of the West Coast and rain when it isn't snowing. It will be around a freezing temperature and in the summer, we'll get the sun again. Simple. But no, the weather segment of your news report becomes, while for the most part Eastern, as usual, longer than necessary with a short blurb about the moderate climes of the West thrown in.  I call it the West Whiff of the weather report. In places that have had weather phenomenon whether it be a storm or a flood or a mud slide, you are sure to get endless clips, always the same picture, of fallen trees preferable through roofs, flood photos in places where it always floods and slitherings of mud coming down a short piece of a city street. Most of these bits of tape are seen repeatedly and are not the vast disasters they are purported to be. They're usually found and photoed in isolated locations. Yes, there are weather disasters but they are relatively rare. Weather can be violent as proven, and if so,  indeed reportable. It fits in with the bad-news-is-big-news category. I guess what I am saying is for the most part, what's the big deal? Yes, it rains in winter in certain parts of the country and snows in others. The forecast is as easy as going outside and peering upward or looking out your window at the sky. That's todays weather. You'll know if you should dig out the umbrella or the snow shovel. But then, without the weather report what would we talk about at the bus stop or around the coffee machine?

Turkey Jokes

This Christmas, I came across one of those annoying internet sent jokes that seem to fly around for no apparent reason and come with no data as to their source. It's one of the ways lazy people think they can "keep in touch" by merely poking a key. This particular "joke" made me want to respond which is unusual. I thought, "What have we become?". The intro for the jest, promised to be a hint for roasting a holiday turkey and the photo showed a cooked turkey with two lemon halves placed under the breast skin. As you can imagine, the result conjured a human image. Apparently, this so-called joke has gone over hugely with individual responses causing even more childishness. I am tired of misogyny disguised as "mere fun and why are you so serious about it".  I am not what you could call a "women's libber" even though I detest what some boors see as funny, this turkey thing made me nauseous.  On the one hand, we are all shocked at famous male movie stars mistreating females and on the other we send these ridiculous "jokes" out into cyberspace where they can, and will, be picked up by anyone, including children. I repeat, "What have we become?". Further to this topic, I relate a family tale. We used to have a male relative, an older man, who, because of his close relationship to the family, had to attend family dinners and other events. He was a churchgoer and elder in the church he belonged to. He was not a drinker or smoker and he was well educated. His fault was the telling of "cute" jokes that had sexual innuendoes. I know that most, if not all, of us have encountered these old fools. And not all of these men are old. After suffering through this chap's after and during dinner out-put over the years, I finally got up the courage to tell him privately, what I thought about his habit. He simply glared at me and made a remark about Freedom of Speech. Knowing that there is no Freedom of Having To Listen, from then on, when he began one of his "cute jokes" as his wife defensively called them, I rose from the table to find fresh air until the "cute joke" had ended. It was noticed and fortunately, that kind of joke stopped. As they say, "it starts with one". Joking on line, is rampant and many of these ribald pieces of trash are accompanied by pictures or cartoons. The internet being without censorship apparently, allows some people to pass these on to dozens of their associates without abandon. Fortunately, we have a delete key and a blocked sender ability on most of our computers. Joking is a bad habit and, for example, lots of guys in man groups, and maybe women also, often feel pressured to make fun about the human anatomy and associated activities. They feel, I suppose, that it makes them more of a man or a foxy woman to jest about women's and men's bodies. They forget that they insult all women including their wives, sisters and mothers and in the event of women, their mates, siblings and parents. Women that I know don't sit around and make jokes about the male form, nor do most of the men (while I am there, I should add).  It is odd that most of all adult jokes are not really funny. They make fun about things that aren't particularly amusing and out of embarrassment, I hope, people feel the need to laugh. But after that disgusting turkey thing, I think it's time we became more discriminating.

The Busy Business

"I'm so busy that ..."  It's a great excuse for not doing something. When someone complains such to me, I want to say "Yes, you're too busy to ... because you don't want to". I had a friend, a close one, who, when he e mailed me, began or ended with a series of all the things he had to do that day which he thought would satisfy as a reason for not being able to either visit or communicate more than a few meaningless words.  If he had said simply, "Nah, I don't want to" that would have been honest, at least. There are people who are, indeed, crazy-busy but I don't know any of that sort. In fact, I wouldn't want to. There is a phenomenon in our mad, mad world now, that wants to speed us up to a pace that is unnatural. A cousin of mine revealed that she had been speaking with another relative and they noted that I walked very slowly. It wasn't said unkindly. Slowly? I tested myself and found that my pace was normal. Theirs must have been the presently-required dash-about kind of speed. It's true that I am inclined to stroll rather than pound the sidewalks and store aisles, taking instantaneous glances at it all. That's not for me. I enjoy seeing what's around me and listening to the sounds and taking in the colour and very nature of my environment, and I can't do that unless I tarry here and there or sit a bit and absorb what's going on around me. I suppose that's one of the joys of my age and stage: over the hill of some kind and retired. I don't need to rush. When a store clerk apologises for a wait, I smile and tell that person, "It's fine, I have all the time in the world". We all have "all the time in the world". Time is at our command. We can still meet deadlines but at our own pace. If I had to do the work world again, I would do it at my pace and get it done, nevertheless. The secret is to set your pace until you find the one that is just right for you. Contemplation is one of the perks of slowing down a bit. Small decisions are what make up a task to be accomplished, and these seemingly insignificant moments should be taken with care and thought. Too often I am accosted by a youngster and it speaks so quickly that I can barely understand what is being said. The words are ejected like verbal machine gun pellets. Perhaps it is a carry-over from their thumbs that are whizzing away on tiny screen keyboards of hand-held devices at a reckless pace. Most of what goes onto those tiny screens is a sheer waste of time. It's time taken up for no apparent reason, but youngsters can't seem to survive without their detritus of inane verbiage that is supposed to keep them "in the loop". They are "busy doing nothing" as the song goes. But, hey, that's their choice. And I suppose, I am one of those busy-doing-nothing kinds as I peer into shop windows at odd items, gaze up into trees to find a song bird or simply hang over a railing and stare out at the ocean with its peace and ever changing, never ending  movement. It seems very busy but in a perfect way. There is a movie title I love, "Stop The World I Want To Get Off". I often want to do that but the world won't allow it, therefore, I stroll. Too busy? Never.

If A Tree Falls

Have you stood in a place and wondered how an aerial view would be? Everyone knows "can't see the forest for the trees". It's true and it's especially true of human relationships. When you're in the midst of, or in the thick of things, it's hard to achieve perspective. Perspective is essential for truth. How many of us become roiled in a situation that seems so intense we can't gain the distance needed to analyse what's really happening. Anger, love, frustration and all sorts of other emotional reactions get in the way of being able to see clearly. We, as a different saying about Love states, are blind. Others tell us what they see, but for some odd reason, we are not able to see it that way. Our feelings are not only logical, but they are valid because no one, no one at all, can be in our shoes while we're standing in them. And logic doesn't always apply either. But when the event is past, we can, not only understand what others saw, but we have an even keener ability to assess it correctly having been the ones who did it. We've done the mining while others have seen only what's on the surface. Therefore, all is well.  Take being in a relationship that is bad, for example. This happens to almost everyone. It can be a friendship, a business association, a job, a love affair. They're much the same. They are all matters into which we plunge sooner or later. At the beginning, the "honeymoon" period, we are so enamored of the newness, the joy of finding what we thought we always wanted, that we "can't see the desert for the dunes" or the "sea for the waves". We have no perspective. And we don't want to have it. We love what we are involved in and foolishly, but naturally, think it is going to continue forever. When the inevitable cracks begin to appear, we ignore them and make excuses that their patina only makes the whole thing more ultimately beautiful. Then creeps in a period of actual doubt of questioning our choices.  We begin to see that there are too many cracks and too many hurts and too many flaws and we aren't on the receiving end of that former happiness any longer. Our lives have become a kind of obsession with the conflict between what we hope or hoped for, as opposed to what is actually going on. We begin to see the mistakes we made but we like the stability of the old routines that we enjoyed originally, and that have now become part of our lives. We don't know how to amputate the "diseased limb" we are used to and using and presumably, supposed to be loving to have. We know that there will be terrible pain and "bleeding" removing it, but we can see, that unless we get rid of it, of something that has become more an agony than a joy, we will be lost. We make the decision to end it, stop it, escape from it and at last, we do. It hurts. Badly. The journey isn't always smooth and there are regressions, but finally we can breathe easily after a lot of emotional baggage is left behind and we  move on unfettered. Now we see the true forest, the golden desert, the wide sea and realize that where we were was actually a pretty dark and dangerous place. Gradually, we feel better and wiser and cleaner. We have perspective. A tree did, indeed, fall on the mountain, whether we heard it or not.

Toy Weapons

I know that some may argue that giving children toys that are weapons that shoot, is okay because it is harmless, and furthermore, they used to play with weapons when they were a child. They say that they fashioned them from sticks or used their fingers as such and that it is a natural and safe thing that will do no harm. Children evidently don't see it that way.  No, it is not natural to shoot.You join the army to learn how to defend or the police force who use the real thing presumably only when absolutely necessary.  The difference today is that these kinds of kid's toys simulate the real thing far too well and are often mistaken as such.The result is, as we all know and all too often, there are police actions that end up tragically. Some of the toys that use bee bees or other forms of so-called harmless ammo, are in fact, a form of the real things. They are meant to harm and end lives however tiny. What kid with a bee bee gun doesn't try to shoot at a bird? Let's get real here. What I would like to know, is why are parents shocked when the authorities make "mistakes" and deem these toys to be real? Why give a child that kind of toy? It represents something that ends lives. What on earth can a parent be thinking of giving such symbols to a mere child? There are so many, hundreds, thousands of other choices. And why are adults so dulled to the idea of what they are truly doing in sending the wrong message to their children? It is not fun to shoot things, even targets which are only practise for what shooting weapons are ultimately designed for. Of course some of these "mistakes" end up tragically but let's look around and see where they originated. The he-man parent who stores a locked cabinet of weaponry gives a message that bespeaks how precious this sort of weapon is and how much adults enjoy them. What about film that makes criminals appealing and "cool"? What about parents who dress their little kids in bad biker style outfits that send only one message? How many times does it take to see on TV a weeping adult grieving over a child who mistakenly was thought to have a real weapon? Who gave the child the toy weapon? If a parent who loves weapons wants his or her child to understand weapons and their dangers, why don't they enroll them at the proper age in a club that espouses to teach the subject well. I don't mean these ridiculous places where it is cute to shoot paint at other people and pretend it's fun or give them computer games that shoot down other humans in pictures. Hey, it's all the same thing. It still gives the message that it's okay to end the lives of other human beings. Strange that it is the same kind of person who gives these kids reality toys like this who go on television and blame the police for mistaking them for the real thing. We are losing a lot of our police who are there to protect us as well.  There are too many guns, real and pretend, out there. When are we going to wake up and be more responsible?

Calling Card

One of today's banes, for me, is the fee that is charged just for a service to arrive at your door. They have done nothing but arrive and the charge is not pro rated as to distance. You can be three kilometers away or a block. Same charge.  Recently I had an electrical problem with an appliance. I called a number of repair services I saw in the phone book ads and found that every one of them charged a fee just to arrive at my door. The charges were in the neighbourhood of the possible cost of the repair itself. Sure, I know there are costs to do business and that one must, in some cases, bring a truck full of tools, but why charge me for their  business costs? Running a business has costs that are tax deductible, an advantage, as a customer, I do not enjoy. First of all, the cost of the repair might be less than the fee charged to come out. Second of all, if there is a fee for arriving, why not include it into the ultimate repair cost and itemize it as such? Does it really, as I found out it does, sadly, cost seventy-five dollars to drive just around the corner to do a job?  One of the businesses that came, couldn't do the repair. I still had to pay the coming out charge. Their ad was a whole page thing telling me what a wonderful company they were and how kind and good. Really? The next one who came, after I paid the coming out fee, took out a catalogue of parts and a list of charges for various jobs and at length, with a pretty plastic bound loose-leaf book in hand,  explained that if I took out a plan with his company, I could get a large discount on further repairs. Not planning to need such, I turned it down. Then he took out a list of jobs and according to the quality of replacement, I could choose from their price list. I picked the least expensive one since the job was minor and the appliance was not in need of "gold quality" materials. On scanning the job, he said he couldn't fix the item and that it would require another visit. I asked if I would be charged another call-out fee? Fortunately, it was not so. While I had to pay the call-out fee for the first visit, I did so, but it rankled me.  I was not going to invite this company back for a second time  and even though I was assured that they had a truck full of all the latest equipment and supplies I was not convinced of their credibility.  The truck they had was large enough to walk into and it was painted up vividly with large logos and promises. As I waved good-bye to the chap in his attractive company uniform and big yellow vehicle, I turned to go inside and called a local handyman I found on the complex notice board. The handyman came - no charge. He fiddled around with the repair having to go in and out to find the right tools but finally the job was done and there was no sales pitch about it. His charge was pathetically low. I wanted to give him a tip but I knew he would be insulted. He cared about doing a good job and getting a recommendation. What is the lesson in all this? Shop around. The phone book ads don't always speak the truth. Call and find out what the initial charges are for coming to your home but also compare prices and best of all ask others who hired them,  what the quality of the work was. Lots of retired repair folk have long experience and do a good job because they are interested in doing their best. Ask around; ads are made to exaggerate.

Easy Come

Some young people I have over-heard, and yes, I do this a lot since I sit alone in places like Starbucks and their ilk, make talk that older people perhaps those who grew up in the fifties, had it easy. What?
No, kids, it wasn't at all easy although we are positive thinkers for the most part, and tell about the good times. Sure we could trust a hand shake then and most of us had families, not "extended" ones or ones with single parents who struggle. Yes, most of uslived in houses, not high rises. And it is true that you could walk in the woods or forest without fear of running across a displaced creature as it is now largely. The water that came from the tap wasn't full of chlorine and we could all walk the streets at night without worrying. Easy though? Not in terms of today's kids. We were largely ignored when adults were around and told to say hello and then disappear. We were swatted when it was needed and at school there was the seldom used but greatly respected, Strap. We didn't have cars unless we were boys who had good after-school jobs that girls didn't.  Girls babysat any night and on weekends for a pittance and often nothing if the parents couldn't make the coins. And that was what we got, coins. We saved those coins because most of our families didn't have money to go out and buy us expensive shoes or holidays at the beach. They had just come out of a World War and few common people had bundles of money holidays. A car was a luxury and it was pampered. Credit cards did not exist. There were labels of course, but when there is no money you make do. No other choice. If other kids made fun of us, we lived with it. There was no one to go to but perhaps a school counsellor who was untrained and wanted to get out of the classroom. Their advice was pretty much ignored because it was based on very little research material and we knew that what really counted, was what we were determined to do regardless. And we did it.  Until Doctor Spock came along, kids were things that naturally happened and while our parents loved us, we were mostly "surprises" when we came along. The Pill had not been invented. It was an unregulated world where areas of grey were present and no one sued anyone. For recreation, we went to each other's homes and made taffy or traded and listened to records, the black big kind we put on turntables. We had school dances where the boys lined up on one side and the girls on the other. Tremulous treks were made across the floor to ask a girl to dance,  Nice girls never phoned boys or asked them out or to dance. The lines were there and if you crossed them you got a reputation. The Good Night Kiss was as far as it went. None of us wanted to "get into trouble".  Kids were not allowed to loll about lockers and use bad language. You could be kicked out of school for sassing the teacher mildly or slamming a door or wearing rude clothing. There were no children's rights but it all seemed to work out well and no one complained about it. Games were after school and they were events we all attended to cheer for our teams. There was the hang-out café where you put a coin in the little table juke box. School supplies were supplied as was transportation by the School District. Fees for this and that were unheard of. There were no such things as Teacher Aids or Parent Conference Nights. We put on concerts or plays during the year of programs planned by adults. There was little if any parental involvement in schools. There were PTAs that raised money for things we didn't know or worry about. There was no door to door fund raising. Sure there were bullies but everyone just avoided them and ignored them away. Status was there of course. You knew your place and lived with it. You were not a crybaby.  It got you nowhere. You studied at home or at the library and you passed or failed. It was left up to you. If you could afford it, you went to university and if you couldn't, you did something else. Simple. All the complications facing students today have little to do with improvement over what was. But it wasn't easy, we had to make it on our own - or not.