Taco Hell

Went to the beach yesterday for about an hour – can’t stay any longer or I burn (I hate the feel of sunblock). I really wanted to jump into those seagreen waves but had forgotten my beach towel and didn’t want to drive home wet. What a gorgeous day!

Right now I’m stuck in Taco Bell because an asshole pulled a huge truck into the parking lot, blocking my exit. The guy is standing in line to order. Bet he gets to the register and still hasn’t decided what semi-edible item to order. It is not like the menu changes from day to day – why do people have such a hard time figuring out what they want? I got to the head of the line, knew what I wanted & had my money out…it was so efficient! The guy taking the order was, I think, a bit awestruck that someone actually knew what they wanted. I think this because I had to repeat the order twice and he still got it wrong.

Yes, I was right – the offending man is up and has no clue what he wants. Reminds me of the last movie I went to. The concession line was stretched around the lobby but I, being an optimist, got in line anyway.

Twenty-five minutes later I’m almost to the head of the line and, once again being perfectly efficient, knew exactly what I wanted and had my money out. I was behind two women who had talked non-stop the entire time we were mushed together in line. As they got up to the counter (did I mention the theater had only one concession stand person working?) they started a lengthy conversation on what they should get.

The clerk patiently tried to keep a smile on his face but it was very strained. He answered questions about the different sizes of popcorn, soda and went over the list of candy (though it was all displayed prominently in the display case).

Just about the time I, along with half the line behind me, started having to restrain murderous urges, the manager came over to open a second concession line. The women were still at the counter when I handed the ticket which allowed me access to the actual theaters to the nice ticket attendant. How do people like this man and these women function in life?

Well, back to Taco Bell where the man has decided to eat in. I’m tired of waiting – doesn’t he know I have an agenda dammit?!? Really not sure what is on it but that is beside the point. I sip my soda, go pee after the second refill, and finally get to leave. My left calf is red from my right one kicking it for having decided to eat in when my original plan was to take my food down to eat by the Bay.

Just goes to show that sometimes “fast” food isn’t all that damn fast.

My will shall shape my future. Whether I fail or succeed shall be no man’s doing but my own. I am the force; I can clear any obstacle before me or I can be lost in the maze. My choice; my responsibility; win or lose, only I hold the key to my destiny. –Elaine Maxwell

Tomorrow…

I have struggled over the past two weeks to come up with something a bit more cheerful to write about. One of my readers let me know that my last entry was a bit dark and depressing. She was right. I have felt many hours of despair. Being a writer, it is easier to write about my despair then my joy. I guess because despair is something that needs to be poured out of my soul whereas joy I try to hold onto.

I haven’t felt very blissful lately – I think it is mainly because I’m missing family back at the old homestead. It’s been way too long since I’ve ventured there – it isn’t that I have no desire to visit, it’s that the only way to get there involves driving or flying…neither am I overly excited about doing. The enormous layovers with hundreds of strangers is not what I call relaxing. Every flight I’ve taken in the past 10 years has been delayed on at least once.

Driving is pretty much out of the question. It wouldn’t be so bad if no one else shared the road with me but as that is not likely to happen, I don’t think I’d enjoy it – and definitely wouldn’t do it on my own. There are just too many variables to driving. I wish I had a magic carpet – or even a time machine that could zap me from one place to the next.

My son and I are in negotiations on who is going where this August. I really should fly back there to visit my entire family but seeing as I lack the desire to travel, we are discussing alternatives that include him coming down by himself for a week. We haven’t spent time together, just the two of us, in years. Of course, should I go up North, I would spend alone time with him so I can’t really use this as an excuse not to return to my roots. Why can’t everyone come visit me?

I have nieces and nephews who have had children that turn one this year and I’ve never even seen them. My younger sister sent me pictures of her children – I was amazed at how big they have all grown. Seeing them made me wish I could adopt – I love children.

Tomorrow I hope to actually go outside and do something fun. Maybe I’ll hit the beach and walk the bridge. Maybe I’ll go look at newer cars – lord knows I need to start thinking about getting one for myself. Tomorrow…so full of hope and promise – so clean and pure. What will it bring, I wonder? Only good things are coming my way so don’t think I have much to worry about.

We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect. –Aldo Leopold

Kindness…

I learned that it is the weak who are cruel, and that gentleness is to be expected only from the strong. –Leo Rosten

Let me start this by saying this past week at work went blissfully quiet with the only exception of the suicide by hanging. I really find it hard to believe that a woman would use that method to bring about her death, but suicide was what it was ruled by the M.E. and I like to think they know a bit more about it then I do.

Today I’m going to write about the kindness I’ve witnessed this week. I believe kindness and empathy dwells in us all but we often let the crud of our lives keep us from showing it. Kindness is such a simple thing.

Something as simple as helping a stranger jump start a dead battery even though you just came from the grocery store and have perishables in the car. Or helping a very pregnant neighbor whom you barely know well enough to ask to borrow sugar, move up to a bigger apartment in your complex. Or giving money for the cleaning lady, who rarely even gets a “Thank you” as she goes around cleaning up after us, because her son died and you know she barely gets by on what she makes. Remembering to say “thank you” to those that assist you throughout your day is very simple and very easy to do.

All of these things are simple things and yet they make a difference in the receiver’s life that day. It could raise their spirits or make a day that was going badly turn into one that shined with goodness. I like that commercial where one person sees an act of kindness and then passes it on with acts of their own. It is one of the few commercials I actually watch – though I couldn’t tell you what they are selling.

I know that, after all the darkness I see at work each day, seeing acts of kindness rekindled my hope in mankind being strong enough to evolve into more peaceful, nurturing creatures.

Little corner of the world…

Paradise is where I am. — Voltaire

Now I look at rough times as an opportunity to put down some roots to help me weather future storms that may come my way. –Jerry Stemkoski

Went to visit the old homestead – remembering a time when all my dreams lay before me – nothing was impossible.

It was the place I learned such things as “love thy neighbor” even if they were assholes; and that “all people are created equal” but being poor still somehow made you less.

Valuable life lessons were picked up in that old gray house. Things such as: fire does burn the skin if applied with a burning stick; mud pancakes may be round but they taste rather gritty; and never practice ballet on the rim of the bathtub when it is stationed near a window and, face it, you aren’t very coordinated.

I learned to climb tress in this yard and to appreciate nature while playing out there by the river. Family ties grew strong here as we would sit down as a family to enjoy the fruits of Mom’s labor every Sunday afternoon. Those are the ties that bind after all.

Taking in strays – both human and animal – is a habit I picked up here, for mom was forever feeding and providing shelter from life’s annoying little storms to neighborhood kids.

Neil Armstrong walked on the moon here, Elvis died here, as did Robert Kennedy. The Starship Enterprise explored the galaxy in our living room while wars raged throughout the world. Each even reverberated through the walls of our home.

The house is gone now. Before it fell under the weight of the wrecking ball, I explored those rooms one more time – I felt like I was losing a childhood friend. On the ground where I stand is a cold brick building that houses a filtration system…progress, I’m told.

After all, it was just an old house – windows, walls, ceilings, floors. We left it long before it left us but it was always a comfort to drive by and see it there. It stored a wealth of memories – it was a place my Mother made into a home…into our little corner of the world.

Where’s Utopia?

Where to begin? I know most people would say “Duh, at the beginning” but whose to say when that actually was? Maybe this all has been accumulating and I just noticed it.

Lately I’ve been left with the feeling that there is far more going on in this world then what I know or what the media is telling me. I wonder why I’ve been so hesitant to pursue the truth in politics, world crisis, environmental movements, and even my own life. What am I afraid I will find? Or what am I afraid I won’t find?

So many people hide their heads in the sand , not wanting to know anything about the world or the people who inhabit it with them. I’ve always prided myself in not being one of those people. I read the paper once in awhile, watch the news weekly and read the internet news daily.

Somewhere along the line I lost trust in the news industry. How can they be trusted to tell the truth when they pick and choose what they will print? They go for sensationalism yet can’t print the real drama if it may offend our delicate sensibilities or throw our country in a bad light.

An example? Ok, we had expected a hurricane a couple years ago but only received some moderate to light winds. A reporter shot a segment for the 6pm news not twenty minutes from where we were standing (and enjoying the breeze), trying to convince her viewers that we were experiencing tropical storm force winds when in reality the winds were 15 mph with 25 mph gusts. We watched the segment on tv – it was so laughably staged ! If they fabricate the weather to boost ratings, what else are they staging? Yes, I’m cynical.

Maybe I need counseling. I wonder if I’m having sensory overload which is dulling my reactions. For example – I took a call from the mother of a man who was shot right in front of her by an unknown assailant. She was hysterical as her son bled to death, but the more she screamed the less I felt. I remained calm and kept my voice at the same decibel throughout the call. I was even commended for my control. It wasn’t until I read about it in the paper today that I actually broke down to cry. He died – and on Mother’s Day no less.

One of my cousins died last week of a massive heart attack – that really didn’t sink in until Sunday. Even then I didn’t cry. Not so much because we weren’t close, though he was almost a stranger to me, but because of what my one remaining Aunt must be going through. She had ten children and has outlived half of them – this son being the fifth child to die an untimely death. I feel so bad for her. Every Christmas she hopes that it will be her last – she has wished this for over six Christmas’s so far. Isn’t that very sad?

Did I mention I read the book “A Mighty Heart” by Mariane Pearl this week? It astonished me that she held up through the horrible ordeal as well as she did. For those with their heads in the sand, her husband Daniel was kidnapped and then beheaded while they were on assignment in Pakistan. Not only that but she was pregnant with the couple’s first child as well. I read the book because the movie is coming out soon. After reading it, I’m not so sure I will go to the movie – I don’t know if I can stand anymore sadness in my life.

Ms. Pearl writes a column in Glamour Magazine about women who have risked not only their lives but the lives of their family as well to make a difference in their countries. Even on our worst day we could scarcely imagine what women and children in third world countries endure.

Imagine living in a country where illegitimate children and their unwed mothers are stoned to death. Imagine having your worth and existence in the hand of men who do not know the meaning of the word “tolerance”. A country where these children don’t even officially exist unless a man will give them his name. They can’t go to school, get birth certificates or any type of ID. They are invisible.

The young, pregnant women are excommunicated from society and their own families denounce them. Tragically, the majority of unwed mothers were brutally raped or molested by male family members. How belittling to be totally at the mercy of men who consider women less then human.

I am concerned that, even though I am outraged over the treatment of these women and children, I won’t do anything constructive that would make a difference. How can I hear these things and yet not act? How can any of us?

My brain hurts – I need to take a couple sleeping pills with an ice cold Corona Light. Maybe in the depths of blissful slumber I will find Utopia.

Nothing will change until we demolish the “we-they” mentality. We are human, and therefore all human concerns are ours. And those concerns are personal. –Sam Hamill

I believe…

If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we would find in each man’s life a sorrow and a suffering enough to disarm all hostility. –Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

These are the things that I believe and that make sense to me. Some of them may be a bit idealistic, some may be a bit pessimistic or harsh but I am who I am.

I believe that if everyone in America gave $1, we could end world hunger. Just think what we could do if everyone gave $5!

I believe if we gave just 1 hr a year of our time, we could end illiteracy.

I believe if we surround ourselves with love and goodness, then those qualities will shine in our lives.

I believe if we channeled half the energy it took to devastate our planet into bringing it back to a pristine paradise, we could all be breathing unpolluted air in under 10 years.

I believe if we all insisted on having our family sit down to a meal every night, we would see a decrease in teenage violence.

I believe if husbands were true to their wives and vice versa, we’d have marriages that meant something. Cut through all the lies and stupid excuses one has for cheating and you basically are left with a human mass without integrity or ethics. If someone is that unhappy in a marriage, they need to own up to their feelings and open the lines of communication with their spouse. Yep, the marriage may end but at least you were being true to yourself. All those parents who think they stay “for the kids” don’t realize how devastating it is later in life when a child finds out his/her parents marriage was all a lie.

I believe that violence begets violence, vengeance begets vengeance, and people who let hate make a home in their souls will never be truly free.

I believe tomorrow is another day, another chance for us to get this human & humane process right. At the dawning of each new day the canvas of our lives is clean and fresh. We choose what portrait of life we wish to paint for that day.

I believe laughter works miracles in both the man who laughs and the man who laughs with him.

I believe there are many wrong choices out there disguised as good ones. However, it is only in choosing the wolf in sheep’s clothing once and awhile that we learn the values that guide our lives.

I believe that the only person who cares about what I believe is me.

May peace and joy be predominant in your heart and life today.

Foolish Little Clown

The sun comes up,
the door opens wide,
in dances a clow
from the other side.

She laughs & prances around
the room in such wild delight.
She pulls some flowers from
her sleeve – oh what a foolish sight.

She is high on live, on the
beautiful rays of sunlight -
but the door closes suddenly and
in steals the night.

The clowns smile hastily
turns into a frown,
and tears form in her eyes
as her world comes crashing down.

Sadness befalls the room -
there is not a sound -
silently, everyone is thankfully that
they were not the foolish little clown.

Kathy -
copywrited 4-25-91

Like all young men I set out to be a genius, but mercifully laughter intervened. –Laurence Durrell

Beach, Boats, and a Beautiful Day

A sultry haze lingers on the horizon making it difficult to pinpoint where the ocean ends and the sky begins. I am a little surprised the haze has lingered this long into the day, usually the sun has burned it off hours ago.

As if emerging from darkness, a line of eight or so white trollers appear through the mist. They steam towards shore in a very purposeful fashion. When I think they are almost close enough to get a good picture with my telephoto lens, they stop. After a few moments of rest, they turn and disappear back into the mist.

Over and over this cycle repeats as the trollers drop their nets into the clear water. They proceed forward until the nets bulge to capacity. The nets come up, dumping their “catch” of the day onto the decks where fishermen wait with sharp knives in hand.

The undesirable fish will be dumped back overboard, thankful that they are not a dining favorite at the local Red Lobster. The trollers do this until their holds are full. As they start this process before sunrise, the holds usually fill by noon. I’m still watching as some of them break off from the group and head in.

I wonder to myself if the trollers that stay out there longer are perhaps handled by a crew that would rather stay out on the water all day then rush in to the fish markets? On a lovely day like today, I, too, would be reluctant to come back to the mainland where all the hustle and bustle negates the whole premise of the laid back Southern Way.

Beyond the buoys marking the swimming area, dolphins break the surface. They seem to have no interest in coming closer to shore for a Kodak moment so I sit back, content to watch them without reaching for my trusty camera. The buoys bounces happily though the waves are sparse. When I arrived the water looked as placid as a lake, now though, the tide has shifted inward for its only high tide of the day.

A speed boat, oblivious to the bouncing buoys, speeds into the swimming zone – an infraction that gives the lifeguards reason to blow their loud air horns. The driver of the boat seems confused, unsure if the lifeguard is motioning him to come in or to go out further. Several sunbathers assist the lifeguards with various hand gestures. Embarrassed, the driver gives a little wave to the shore and jets out of the area. That will probably be the only excitement the lifeguards have today.

Roasted nicely on my back, I turn to face the sun with it’s “extreme” UV rays. I should have put on sunblock. I brought some with me but it is trapped at the bottom of my beach bag and I don’t care enough to fish it out. Reminded of yesterday’s dehydration headache, I do fish out the bottle of water I was sensible enough to bring along.

Over head the seagulls, though low in numbers today, screech and holler out their plea for some naive newcomer to feed them. Too often they find someone who will, today is no different. I watch the guy dole out French fries as they gather at his feet. He wasn’t wise enough to feed them away from his squatting spot on the beach so even after the fries are long gone the birds surround him, waiting. He shoos at them but they don’t budge from their expectant stance.

Eventually, unnerved by their keen staring, the guy waddles out to the water and gingerly tests it to see if it is indeed warm enough to swim in. Having found that it was, he wades out waist deep. I don’t know if he is fearful that the shark from Jaws will get him, or if he is simply watching fish swim by, for he keeps twirling around in circles like a ballerina. His girlfriend stands on the waters edge, refusing to join him. She yelled at him that there were “fish” in the water and she couldn’t swim with fish. Um, it’s like the Gulf Of Mexico, what did she think she’d see in it?

As the sun rounds up to the noon position, the beach crowd increases in volume – a sign that my time of enjoying the peaceful sounds of the Gulf is up. A little disappointed and sad, I gather up my items. I am surprised at how many people actually have come to the beach while I was busy watching other things. The twelve or so groups that were there when I arrived have exploded to numbers too high to count. I almost put my stuff down to take a picture of the brightly colored umbrellas that decorate the whole length of the beach like Christmas ornaments. I don’t, though, because my camera has now joined my sunblock at the bottom of the bag.

Homeward bound, I come up over the Ringling Causeway Bridge and marvel, yet again, at how lucky I am to live here. In the Bay, sailboats struggling to take advantage of the very slight breeze. Speed boats race towards one of the many outlets to the Gulf, leave the sailboats to wallow in their wake.

Ah, yes, another beautiful day in Paradise.