Anger Management

Anger is a double whack of emotion. It can be good or bad; the choice is ours. But it is something that needs to be managed or it can get out of hand and cause harm. Protesting is a form of anger and as such can be something to inspire change for a good or can turn into something that causes hysterical harm. Tragically, protesting or a display of anger over an issue, is also a money maker or attention getter for some individuals or groups that make their fame and living out of it. They have formed networks that produce signage and organized strategies and send their stable of speakers and professional protesters along to organize these outbursts anywhere on anything. They keep emotionally uninvolved. They carry no particular personal motivation for what they manage; they simply do it as their jobs. They travel the world becoming involved in the business of others while assuming their help is needed and they do not assume responsibility for what occurs even though they don a mask that purports to convey the message of those who hire them. Along with these so-called professional protesters is an uninvited criminal element also at work during angry protests. They take advantage of the rage of others to loot, cause fights and encourage harm. Sometimes a perfectly logical and reasonable cause is destroyed by these criminals who thieve at smash and grab venues and deliberately attract the media which they blatantly enjoy.The hungry media laps it all up for their purposes which pleases the protesters who seek this sort of advertising. Anger that is good anger, can inspire positive action rather than merely remaining passive and allowing unfair conditions to exist without comment. Their actions are intended to allow them to assert their rights without causing harm. Everyone has the right to express an opinion albeit with reasonable boundaries. This kind of protest is an accepted responsibility. To expect governments to response instantaneously to a protestable situation is not possible, therefore citizens often resort to peaceful protests to get their messages across. When there are crowds of people chanting and marching there are bound to be those whose angers over the issue erupt into a rash of anger that is uncontrolled and that's where trouble begins. Naturally, those whose professional jobs in policing society are to control mobs, must use their tactics to quell what could turn into bedlam that can do harm to the innocent. Unfortunately, there are certain enforcers who are unsuitable at this work and who overstep their parameters. These individuals don't know how to manage their angers either. They don't belong in the kind of social services they were trained to do. They think that their power is infallible and it isn't. They are there to protect, not to harm but power is a heavy burden and this sort misuses it. The results of control by unsuitable controllers begs the question, who hired them?

An Alien World

To make an alien world, we must do one thing. And one only. It's more than regarding our neighbours as those we do unto as we wish ourselves, but do it more highly and better than what we want for ourselves? We speak of having to travel to other planets to seek out a place to live that is more hospitable than our beautiful earth. We have everything we need right here and if we think about it, we have it for only about one hundred years. Each. For each of us, that's about the time limit of our brief stay on earth. What came before and will go on after we leave earth is not within our control no matter what our wills and wishes. Even if we plan our future pathways beyond our times, conditions change. Who would have dreamed that a tiny virus could both infect and affect an entire globe? Only scifi advocates. In some ways, it, the pandemic, should have brought us together globally, but as soon as the panic subsided, in flew the politicians and their side harping, the commercialists and their money whining and the blamers and their spite. Such, are we human beings. Apparently. But if we could have all of our wishes, wouldn't the planet be a place were everyone behaved kindly and cooperatively and helpfully, one where there were no poor or homeless or vast differences between the self-indulgent rich and the  poverty stricken living daily in misery? What if we could see our enemies and those who need our help and listening and be beside them in love for them. To listen to them and hear their side and they, ours? What if everyone had the same amount of money, no matter what we did, and that everyone resided in a place where everyone else mattered, never mind  their so-called "colours" and beliefs and capacities? Where our children did not hear about "them" and "us" but about "us" only. We would all be "us" and every one of "us" would be equal. What if in schools we all learned how to help one another instead of such as trigonometry unless it applied to our work? What if lessons were about health and well-being and nutrition and being nice to one another? What if those talented in music and sports and art were not paid and neither were business executives and there were no tickets to anything. We would go to enjoy the talent of others freely. We wouldn't take anything from anyone and money wouldn't be needed because nothing would cost money due to profit-taking disappearing from the world?  What if advertising was passe and all goods were available to all without the fuss of brand names? What if buildings for food provision were open and everyone had no need to have more than anyone else? What if fashion were simple garments that were comfortable and shoes plain and cars not owned but used. Colour could be your favorite for sure, but otherwise, there would be no differences. What if all children were with one parent and job sharing saw parents taking turns to be always with their children? There would be no legal costs because crime would deflate since no one would have more than anyone else. What if there was no need for war because the earth would be open to all and what one's beliefs were, were okay with everyone else even if they didn't wish to participate? What if all sexes and choices of that kind were okay, too?  Kindness would be the key to those who did actions that were not suitable and love would their punishment. What if I woke up and found that none of it were true and the day began with a news report?

My Dear Chair

We all have one. We have a chair, that when we sit, seems to hug us and comfort us and welcome us. Being there in its arms, we are comforted and sustained. Our chair is ours alone. Others have their own chairs and they know that this chair belongs to me and I, to it. Babies have their high chairs and they are, while a kind of safety prison, also where babies know they will be okay and fed and expected to be present. Babies don't have a large agenda. When we grow older, we have desks at school that are "ours", and even the teacher, asks for permission to enter that sacred space where we know we can pop in little revered items such as a favorite marble or crayon or well, you know. And then as teens, we have a special spot that is solely a place to dream and plan and weep and think and be alone. For me, the latter was the comfortable branch of an old apple tree and it's where I read books that mattered and where I could reach out and snap off a Transparent Apple, green or ripe or over-ripe, and feel as though I owned the world. And then as an adult, a worker in a profession I loved, I had other chairs, places of refuge and peace. I worked in a school as a fledgling teacher and in those days, one moved up the coffee staff room table as seniority grew. The shining wooden table was long and the end chair was reserved for the eldest woman teacher whose choirs were legendary. We called her Miss with respect and no one dared sit in that chair even when she was absent. Chairs do that. They are thrones. On my sun deck I am re-doing things and opting for a continental French look with ornate black metal benches, climbing plants and little fancy tables and chairs. The wing back rattan chair in which I sat on for sunny decades, reading, sipping tea and daydreaming, is still in fine condition in spite of winters in the snow and rain and heat of summer, but it doesn't match and it must go. None of the weavings of its former vegetation have unravelled, nor has its finish changed to a great degree but it doesn't fit The Look. Yes, it's a bit sun bleached and discoloured in places where the cushions inadvertently saved its natural reed shade, but it is sturdy though a little warped due to a period of cramped storage as I plied the world's wonders while it stayed home. When I returned, I   reminisced in its comfort, over what I saw and did. But now, on the notice board of the mail room in my building is a poster and it tells that I am giving my chair away free to some lucky person who would certainly appreciate how special it is. One must give things away I was told. But, no one will take it because everyone, said my friend, is trying to get rid of things, not accumulate more stuff!  Now that I have one of those neat swinging basket chairs, I thought, truly,  I no longer need my old rattan chair. It doesn't fit the rest of the new look. It's time to give it to someone else. But as I sat swinging in my new basket creation this morning, coffee in hand, I looked on my rattan chair across the deck and knew that this old friend and I couldn't part. We've gone through so much together. We were strangely so, friends. I got up, went down to the mail room and removed the give away poster.

Love Afar

We are learning a lot about each other during this pandemic social distancing effort. Love at a distance is taking a beating but perhaps not as much as we think. One of the most important parts of love is communication and communicate we must with those we love. No longer can we gaze at our phones texting and its silly so-called "convenient" condensations and call it love notes. LOL is one of most idiotic codes of the lazy language that has fadded us on the cyber goofy junk that we can't live without. Naturally we are going to be brief in texting, there just isn't the space for correct language, but "I heart" is not "I love you". Wording or texting those words isn't quite the same as hearing them spoken. There is a great fear amongst some that if those three words are spoken an obligation is expected. No. Love is not an obligation; it's only a gift of feeling a personal emotion. There are no strings attached or shouldn't be. You give love. A fear of saying it, is merely an excuse. I remember not being able to say it to my father who was dying because while we, in the family felt it, we didn't use the words. When he died it was one of the most trying regrets until his wife said, he knew how you felt and it's okay. Some families are like that but you can cut that ribbon and just do it. Take courage and say the words. You can't tell someone that you love them if you don't.  If I had a lover, I wouldn't regard anything but the actual words and not little phrases such as  "I do in my way" or "Do I need to say it?" or "Why do you have to ask?" or "You know I do". Lovers have their own kinds of language but the words matter. The word "love" aside, there are lots of other ways of loving people at a distance. Calling up old friends and talking to them about memories you shared, phoning people you thought you had forgotten and chatting for bit, speaking to those relatives across town, the country or world whom you have been meaning to call but somehow haven't. Call them. This is a form of love, a gift to those who find that kind of surprise makes their day. Wouldn't you be wonderfully surprised if you received a call from such a someone? We all have something in common now, even though it's not a nice issue. You may add some delight to your solitary living these days if you make a call like that.  It takes courage but hey, why not?  If the reception is negative, at least you gave it a try. A couple of women I know, called up their former teen boy and girl friends that during their isolation days, rattled around in their recollections of long ago. They made the calls and ended up having a review of old times that was hilarious and found refreshing realizations that none of our old buddies change all that much. You can zoom or Skype or whatever kind of reality electronic keeping in touch routines you are best with, but get some love out there and spread it around. You never know where it might end up when all this is over.

Blame Game

Blamers have arisen to the point of insanity. It seems that few understand that blame occurs when the blamer is unable to fathom something that happened and feels guilty that they might have been the one responsible, and therefore, points the finger at the "other guy" to relieve its guilt. This day as we are all trying to put down a cruel virus, a living creature that is heartless and wants only to procreate as do all living things but this time putting the entire human race in jeopardy.  Now that the fear is passing, the blame begins. The virus was not invented by some human beings somewhere to inflict harm on others. It just happened, and it is something that no matter where it happened or how, no one planned it, or wants it. It is something that the entire earth must try to defeat and it isn't easy because at this time, there is no cure and in spite of commercial pressures and saying it has, it has not gone away. The virus is still here, and all we can do is avoid it as best we can. Those who venture out to work or play are still in danger and should be very careful to know and think that it is not over. The virus is present, and until we can find ways of stopping it for certain, we are still terribly vulnerable. Politicians and business folks have one main agenda, we must remember, but life in general is still more important than money. I know it's easy to say but it is true. I am proud that governments are trying to help by providing funding, but it's never quite enough for some and there is a dangerous impatience on behalf of some leaders that could lead to lethal consequences. Leaders are talkers. Period. It is easier to talk about what to do, than to do it. It concerns me, that some of the world's leaders are proving their complete possession with that one agenda to remain in power. How they do it, is the key to how much responsibility we should entrust in them. We are watching. History has proven how leadership can have deadly endings but it also shows how populations really have the control should they act on it. It is a shame if the whole pandemic situation becomes a fight between political partisanism with solely commercial ends and the population that must carry out their demands. Going to work in a place that isn't safe and demanding that it be a safe place, is why unions were made. They save lives. Those without the company of others in helping themselves in helpless venues, are in a tough position. Decisions have to be made on a personal level, and it could mean disaster for some of the innocent who are wafted about at the wills of those higher than their position. It has always been the case that those on high, are safer than those who aren't. Times have changed. We live in a country that is privileged to have leadership in all of the parties that care about us. It isn't always perfect, but it's far better than in other places that have no kindness. Power rules. What we have to do is "get a grip" as they say, and do what we, personally, know is right and helpful and stay kind to one another. We are "Canadian", and have the choice to work together and be patient and aware and  responsible so that we can beat this Covid19 monster.

Butterfly Mom

Mother's Day arises once again and I am not the cynic who says "enough of these 'holidays'". Mothers are special in that they, regardless of how, are the principal caregivers. I have to add that fathers can be mothers, too. Perhaps we can call them MomDads. I have known some and whether it is a single family MomDad or of a couple, they are still mothers to their children. Mothers, and I include MomDads as well as others such as grandparents and any who hold a mother bond with a child that only the child knows. A child will go first to their "mother" person for protection, sustenance and advice. My mother was called a gadabout by her inlaws who loved her and she them. She didn't like the term but it was true of her style. I called her my butterfly mom secretly. She flitted, not ran or gadded. She came from a prairie grain farm upbringing in a strict family who saw all of their seven children needed as helpers and members of a family that worked hard to make a living. She didn't have the education she wanted in the days before the onset of the Great Depression but nothing stopped her from making every day of her life one of learning and bettering herself in some way. A tiny, pretty and self sufficient woman, she went out every day until in her nineties she could no longer drive her car. My father adored her and handed over the family earnings which she supplemented to buy her two daughters things she never had. We were given piano lessons and dance training. When my father built our house, she decorated it in sewing everything including drapery and furniture coverings. She made our princess clothing from patterns she formed. She learned how to oil paint on her own and when she decided to kick out leaving our father in friendship because he understood, she spent all of her remaining lifetime learning new skills and doing them well. As small children, she took us out everyday in the old Ford, she drove without a license, to visit her friends. She baked and sewed for them. She earned her friendships and her friends loved her back. She was lighthearted and fun to be around. She didn't walk, she ran or flitted like a pretty butterfly. For her friends, she made christening, graduation and bridal gowns and decorated tiered wedding cakes, and knitted doll clothes. She comforted her women friends whose babies were special, or whose marriages failed and she went to work during the war years when the men were away. I remember when we lived in a city, she had enough of country, and our house had a back or sun porch. In those days, houses had clothes lines and back porches were glassed in and usually had a washing machine in them and the ice box. Ours was large and after a birthday party my eleven year old sister and I held, we were to have the adventure of camping out on the sun porch. That night, my father set up the fold away cot and just as my sister and I were hopping into it in the dark and full of giggles and tales, the entire sky burst open and a huge bolt of lightning split it in half. We ran screaming hysterically thinking the world had come to its end, and straight into our mother's arms. I remember how safe I felt there as we clutched the one person we knew who could save us. From anything. Mom lived until her ninety fourth year taken by a stroke that stopped all of her ambitions and drive to learn. But she never stopped appreciating the beauties that lay around her in gardens and her family's smiles and hugs. Mothers are not forever but as long as there are children, they are.

Doctor Dot Calm

When I see the doctor, it is usually for the prescriptions I have taken for decades without change or if I am forced to see the doctor as required by those who feel we of an age are all falling apart at the same rate. Sorry about the cynicism, but at my age, you become tired of society singling out all elders and categorizing them and not in a nice way. But then we shall all get there. Back to the topic at hand, these CV19 days many folks are taking advantage of the super idea of NOT going to see the doctor, but of emailing or phoning that professional. Wow! What a great move! When I have to drive for miles on busy byways for a prescription page that could easily be filled without a cursory visit, I find it a waste of gas and time. If I could do this simple matter even taking my own blood pressure which is easy, why do I have to drive to a doctor's office taking their time and space? When I go there, I am sitting next to people who look sick and youngsters coughing nearby with their little germs flying into the surrounding air.  When I see the doctor, it's a hello/goodbye and off I go with a prescription. When I do have something a bit more serious, I can't find an appointment with the busy doctor anyway, and must hie off to the emergency ward where I wait for a very long time until my turn. I have no complaint about the medical people themselves who are among the heroes of our world, but my issue is the system that heretofore seemed cumbersome. The online and initial phone consultation method makes huge sense to me. It's even better for the environment as well as the poor doctors' time schedule. My doctor appears at the hospital for early morning rounds and then runs over to the office to listen to different stories every fifteen minutes from then on until quitting time. I doubt that my doctor takes a full lunch time ever and must also take calls for various cases on the weekends. I, unlike, many patients do not need to see the same doctor for prescription renewal and minor situations. Any doctor will do. There are walk-in clinics I am told. Have you been to one? It is like the bake shop take-a-number plan. What concerns me about walk-in clinics is having to re-tell the same old history to each new and strange doctor who needs to understand histories in order to prescribe adequate treatments. Walk-in clinic doctors in cities are often inundated by people who have critical concerns related to substance abuse and social problems that require immediate off the street help. It's a big world and there aren't enough doctors in it to take on only one pleasant small list of "my patients".  Having an online medical expert when all you want to do is describe your symptoms to see if they need further medical attention makes sense. This kind of chat can happen and pictures be sent .com on the phone.  Call up doctors, if made standard, would be yet another positive outcome in this Covid19 era.

It's Taxing

We all grumble about paying taxes but of late, it's the resource that is most used. What happens to the economy after this virus has gone, is not something to think about, nor should we at this time. We elected people to worry about that and they will have their work cut out trying to figure ways of filling up the empty pockets that paid for what everyone wants. It surprises me to hear people complaining that they aren't getting enough government money. It's a little like the family dinner table when there is whining about things everyone wants and there not being money in the budget for it. Now, there are truly desperate folks out there who really do not have sufficient money. I knew someone a few years back, who through no fault of her own, was out of work and out of a place to live. When she came over and said she had no money, she meant NO money. She managed to find a room in an actual barn where the farmer said she could stay if she didn't mind the mice. And mice there were. But it was a roof over her head. She depended on food banks and the generosity of her friends and relatives. Her "bank" was indeed a bank, a piggy bank, the one in which she had tossed her change in the days when she had a job that paid enough. The story ended well, though it was a long journey to her happy ending. There was little dignity about her trip because when work was found, it was not in a field of her desire or experience. But it was a job, and a steady income however small. Those at her work place were fine people who saw that she received all the help she needed and encouragement while working there. Being a sunny type, she saw it as a learning experience. She said that dishwashing allowed her lots of time to think. Eventually, this lady emerged from the experience and through diligence, found  new work. She had to learn on the job. She attacked the new lifestyle with great ambitions to make it work no matter what. Today she is fine, but then, it was a cold thing to hear her  say "I have NO money". Every dollar dealt out by our government is our tax money straight from what we have been paying into all of our working lives and loathing to pay. It doesn't come from some magical money tree that grows in the back of the parliament buildings. To moan and groan about it not being enough is, I feel, unfair. Just like family finances, there is only so much to go around and that is all there is. It is disgusting that some very sad people who don't deserve, nor need it, and are grubbing around selfishly grabbing funding from needy others. Not a Canadian thing to do. We try to take care of each other in this country. Or should if we want to hold our heads up.  Having to be at home in isolation has given everyone lots to think about: the value of family, of food for everyday living, about what is essential and what isn't, about the joy of friendship and communication, of  the need for education and how much more is given than book learning, of the meaning of social gatherings and their importance, of our neighbours and how alike we all are no matter our skin shade, our shape or ways of thought. A virus as lethal as this one can be beaten. And we are doing it.