Bump Babies

The Hollywood lastest fad is  baby bump news. Everyone loves babies. They're cute and cuddly and happy occasions to celebrate, but I am truly not interested in the fact that actress A is going to have a baby months later to actor B. It's all very nice that they are starting a family, but that isn't movie news that I find interesting or news worthy. I would much rather know what movies the stars are making and when they will appear. The paparazzi seems infested with this baby bump sort of silliness: what will the names be, is it going to be a son or daughter, how many other children does the couple have in this marriage or that? We love their movie work but these pregnant people are not people we know personally, and what their private lives are, should not be of our concern. We all know this glorious event will end up with an actor's child being toted around exposed to media glare constantly and is likely to be tended, of necessity due to the busy movie work of their parents, by nannies and sadly but eventually through divorce, become part of a second or third or more,  extended family. Do the math. Previously, hot news was who was dating who, how bare the dress was or who married or divorced whom. Now it's baby news: pictures of the baby bump at the premiers or award ceremonies that show off curvatures in designer garb, photos that are spread all over cyberspace and general petty gossip. Who really cares? The entertainment media wants us to care but actually, do we? We are always happy to see happy people, but it seems to me that pregnancy is something a little private and precious and meant mostly for an immediate family, not news that should be flung about for commercial  purposes. What I do like to see is news and views that pregnant women are no longer hidden away under tent clothing and behind closed doors as  once they were. The baby bump is not shocking to see now as it would have been in times not that far back. No longer is a woman worried about going to work "showing". In my day, you weren't permitted to work beyond six months and even then in my profession, you had to have board permission to continue working up to six months. Goodness! Someone might see an enlarged waistline and know that you, a married woman, were pregnant! All of your friends and relatives were delighted that you were having a baby; but at work, oh no! It might embarrass your fellow workers or worse still, your clients or customers.  Children were involved in my work, and while most of them had mothers who were at times pregnant, it was supposed to remain a family-only secret, not something to be witnessed in public. Eyes might roll or heads turn or tongues cluck, We are much enlightened today, fortunately. Why it had been something shunned in public previously, is mysterious since all of us arrived here from a mother who had a baby bump and had to appear at sometime or other in public. With a new year on the cusp, its symbol, a baby, is a truly welcome one, and may it be a "good" baby in 2017.

Silent Night

To all those who, as I, will be spending Christmas Eve alone, choose joy and be grateful. Finding joy, isn't easy. It takes work. If we have no one, or family far away or are  simply among the forgotten, we should know that we are not alone. There are millions of us just like you and I. We are in company! We can either moan about our situations or we can choose the opposite. I sat, the other night thinking about having to be alone on this special evening for the first time in my life. I began to indulge in feeling sorry for myself. It's not something I do often. Then I remembered that I was only wasting time and that, at my age, there's precious little of it left. Did I really want to use up an hour, or even a minute, doing that? I started to use a little tactic that always takes me out of a quandary; I began, in my mind, to list all the good things I have and have had. Everyone has a list, and each one is different. For some, it's position or things, for others, it might be a place or an album of memories to dwell upon, for many it's people in their lives, past and present. We all have these "possessions" to thought-indulge in occasionally. Here we are, we single, alone, individuals, who are alive and know what and who we are, and we have the most precious thing that anyone could possess.  Life. We can go on and be blaming our circumstances on someone or something else or that our status is unfair or make comparisons between ourselves and others we think are more fortunate than us. Even if our fate didn't work out the way we had hoped, we are here, we exist. We all have ourselves and the beauty of our thinking and feeling minds and imaginations and our dreams and our hopes. These very personal gifts  can't be taken away. Some might say, you can talk, or you, or you, or you; but it isn't a contest. We can't compare ourselves with anyone else and be fair. We aren't all winners in life, but that's life as "they" say.  Happy Christmas Eve dear alone friends, how lovely to have your company, and may your new year yield at least a few of your dreams. 

Ten Foot Board

When I was a tween long ago in my small coastal town, we spent a good deal of our summer vacation at the local swimming pool. It wasn't inside something called an aquatic centre with hot pools, and nice showers and slides and waves and all sorts of amusing features. It was just a swimming pool of modest size with a diving board in the ell at one end. And it had no roof. It was tiled, however, an improvement over the many pools in those days whose walls were made of rough concrete and the water often unheated. I supposed there were substances like chlorine for protection, because in those times we remembered the terrible outbreak of polio before the vaccine was discovered. But since then everyone had lined up to get their shots. But this park pool was tiled and looked clean and welcoming. We spent hours at the pool doing our versions of various dives. We had no instructor but we watched those who did have training, and saw in movies what the dives looked like: the swan dive and the twists.  We winged it. You were not allowed to cannonball into the pool for fear of The Whistle blown by the lifeguard on duty. If you were guilty of breaking the rules, you might be prevented from coming into the pool enclosure. But like all kids, we wanted to try our luck on the ten foot board. It took courage because from that height, the plunge looked ominous. Most of us went up and tried, but had to come down our knees knocking and give some kind of plausible excuse to our pals. We had heard the dire descriptions of how much our heads would hurt if we dove incorrectly and smacked them on the water. But I will never forget the terror of standing at the end of that ten foot board and looking down at the turquoise water and hearing my friends calling encouragement while I quaked. Finally, I did it, but only once. And it did hurt. A lot. In these troubled times, with 2017 looming,  I feel just like I am standing on the edge of that ten foot board. The ten-footer of the world. This world, with all of its technological advancements, medical victories and our efforts to become generous and open minded and peaceful is looming at the brink of what could be something either drastically apocalyptic or dynamically humanitarian. It rests on the shoulders of all of the leaders in the world, the whole world. Not all leaders agree what the world should look like. The waters aren't all sparkling and clean and clear. There are those who hate and plot to destroy innocent people, and those who strive to keep the peace and protect the populace from harm. There are leaders who are controlled by forces that are for good and those that we deem bad because they kill and destroy. We put the leaders there to do what we feel is going to make our lives better; we send messages that seem often to fall on deaf ears. Those we trust to do good, seem to be few and much belaboured. It is a scary time standing on this world ten foot board and there is no lifeguard. Then again, there's no one else but one at the end of that board. It's up to us.

Edible Animals

 We are of the animal world and we are omnivorous.  Some of us choose to opt out of that form of feeding and become vegetarians. It's a choice, even though the latter is more work in ensuring the correct amount of protein one consumes. We need protein and enough of it to keep ourselves in good health. When, for ten years, I became a vegetarian, I ended up having to revert to eating animal protein again, for health reasons. The reason I became someone who couldn't bear to put animal meat in my mouth, wasn't because of immediate social pressure or dieting or fad, but something else. While doing extensive travel for three years "on the road" on this continent, I saw, frequently,  truck loads of animals being carted off to butchery. It was heartbreaking to witness huge truckloads of chickens stuffed into harsh metal cages in heat and icy cold, feathers and wings poking out brokenly  and on large semis, four legged, warm blooded creatures in filthy conditions, their wide eyes frightened, in innocence and ignorance being hauled off for cruel killing. It sickened me to the point that I couldn't eat animal meat. It was a simple reaction of one creature seeing other creatures treated so badly that ordinary appetite failed. I hasten to admit that while my body may be meant to consume animal protein, under certain conditions, my brain and my stomach aren't listening. It pleased me recently, to learn that efforts are being made to slaughter meat giving animals under more appropriate conditions and to make sure that the same animals are transported more humanely. There is, sadly, still a long way to go. Our job as humans is to see that kindness prevails in all we do, not only amongst our own kind but that of other living creatures as well. There are certain people who scoff at that sort of observation, but they may be the same ones who coddle and spoil, small dogs or cats or birds or fine horses. There seems little transition from caring about these privileged creatures but not the ones that end up on our plates. All of life on earth is precious and has a place. There are societies who realize the consideration we must give the animals we consume. Yes, we do use and eat these animals, but it doesn't have to be a terrifying experience for the innocent creatures who share the world we live in and nurture us. We have been born with superior brains but it doesn't give us the right to harm other less reasoning beings.  Animals that we use in their deaths, deserve our respect for their contribution. Without them, we are lesser.

Beards

Apart from religious beards on which I have no comment, I speak of beards that are the current choice of style-conscious males. Being a female, I find it intriguing that men have to deal with this daily growth, sometimes unwanted, every day of their lives. Long ago, as a small child, I used to watch, fascinated, my father shaving in the mornings. Talk about women and their lipstick and powder! Our female daily routines that involve the face and hair are of choice, not of necessity like the beard situation in men. This era allows fashionable males to determine the length, shape and overall style of their facial hair according to the dictates of their social setting. Looking on, we females have differing opinions about what kinds of beards we favour. There are so many and each face tells which sort of beard best enhances, or not, the stretch of skin available on which to grow. I have seen a man with a beard, shave it and appear, instantly, a decade younger. I have seen ordinary, unremarkable men, grow a trimmed beard and look enticing and adventuresome. And I have also seen beloved, even revered moustaches and beards that are ridiculous to my eyes. First, I have to say that I rather like certain kinds of beards, those deemed "jazz",  while others make me want to use an aerosol  antiseptic spray directed to their chin area. It's the same with all women I assume; they either like beards or hate them. I suppose some men simply tire of having to deal with their daily shaving or trimming routine, and let it all go nature's way. I do know that men of that sort, become more than attached to their beards because they are always stroking them much like what someone would do with a cat or dog. The beard becomes their pet. Unfortunately, the face pet, as all pets, requires meticulous grooming. One of the most disgusting sights the world presents is a beard that, untended, displays all kind of flotsam and jetsam that no one ever wants to see. Ugh. The kinds of beards I prefer are the trimmed kinds, if at all. If you want hair face, please see that it is tidy and looks like a well tended lawn. One of the recent styles of beard is the two day old or more, of unshaven face hair that someone told men, looks sexy. Most women are not of that opinion. It looks unkempt and unclean. I want to say to those males, "For goodness sake, go shave!". To me, those kinds of indeterminate beards are as attractive as a torn and hanging hem on a woman's skirt or a shirt buttoned incorrectly. You want to hie the person off and help fix their social error. To beard or not to beard, that is the question. To avoid, the "slings and arrows" men, check with your mate first. You can't hide a beard!

Heights of Snobbery

There is an odd "pecking order" phenomenon that we humans appear to accept. It has to do with not only how high one achieves the heights of richness, power or even physical stature, it is about the position of the floor you live on if you reside or work in a tower building. Snobbery may be masked, but it is surely there. The very top floor is occupied by those who paid  most for their dwelling places. They are symbolically walking on the heads of all the other occupiers of the structure. While it is unlikely they are aware of that, perhaps, cynical viewpoint, they are sure to inform every and anyone who listens, that they do, in fact, live in the top floor penthouse. The receivers of this information are rarely not impressed. It's just the way we are. Perhaps the superior attitude about an elevation  higher than everyone else, has to do with the price of being there. In many tower structures, the higher you go, the more money you have to spend for the privilege of owning or renting. It can amount to thousands per floor. Where I live, we ground floor folk, don't enjoy the same elegant lighting that the upper floors have, nor do we live on a floor that no one else but us has access to but ourselves. If I try to rise up to another floor higher than mine on the elevator, my fob won't let me. It is to protect the floors above. But on my floor, everyone can trod the halls unobstructed other than those entering the front door and its so-called security system that somehow remains wide open when someone is moving in or out or a delivery person is admitted by a kind-hearted, but foolish individual. In our human dominated world, logic does not always prevail. So why is  special attention given those who occupy space on high? I don't think the sad situation that happened on nine-eleven or others during major earthquakes or hurricanes, would laud the advantages of being high in a tall structure. During fires or natural disasters other than tsunamis, it is for one's greater safety to live on lower floors, if not the bottom ones. Escape history proves it key.  Elevators are not to be used during incidents of fire, for example, and persons in wheel chairs must plan other ways of leaving a building. Descent, otherwise, becomes  almost impossible for the mobility handicapped. Perhaps the air is fresher on high, or the view is better or privacy greater that is the bigger attraction. It isn't just in buildings but also, for example on cruise ships, that costly upper decks are more elegant and those affording them receive specialized privileges. On planes the situation is similar but slightly skewed. The front of the plane, not the back, is the prime seating area but the same subtle snobbery ensues.  Or maybe we lower floor folk are just wallowing in envy?