A Watershed Moment

Back in the day, prior to the internet even (!), I was a subscriber to the local (daily) newspaper in a decent-sized town because I wanted to be kept well informed. In addition to that, I purchased the big fat Sunday paper of one of the major metropolis’ nearby so that I could read the in-depth stories that were only printed in those kinds of esteemed publications. 
     The daily paper I read had about five sections to it, there was national and local news, sports, social and leisure activities, financials, and classifieds. 
I started with the national and local news always and in doing that I was kept appraised of the goings on at a national level as well as the happenings within the local government and area. As well, I was informed about criminal activity and apprehensions, of which there seemed to be a lot. 
The sports section was always a lively place, full of meets, playoffs, matches, statistics, schedules, and analysis. Always involved reading there, for those who were interested. 
The social section was hit or miss, some of it was interesting, some not, but it was worth a looking over, at least. 
  Ditto the financial pages. Stock info wasn't all that exciting to me but what was interesting was reading about all the stuff that was going on in The Economy, be it local, national, or global. How anybody could figure that mess out was beyond my comprehension. Though many tried to shed light on the subject that light, unfortunately, never dawned in me. 
The classifieds (pre-Craigslist) contained small type, which was worth perusing if you wanted to check out the local job offerings, cars for sale, furniture, etc. It was all there. The Sunday classifieds carried the best job offerings and descriptions of jobs so the Sunday classifieds were always worth a look. 
What happened to change all this? The arrival of the internet? No- what happened is I started to fall behind. I got busy with life, with other things during the day, and I wasn't able to fit reading the newspaper in so I set it aside to read it 'later'. 
This became more and more frequent and before I knew it I had a whole pile of newspapers to read, which I did, and it was a chore but a necessary one for one had to do this to keep informed, right? And I was very informed. 
My head was full of trivia. I never knew I could pack so much in there, and how little that information was doing to actually serve me. The more information I read the less it seemed to matter! Maybe the notion of being 'well read' and 'well informed' was the newspapers' way to keep me pursuing some sort of preposterous level of overall understanding, this only attained by consuming superhuman amounts of content. 
Over time, the local and national news seemed to be throttled and stale renditions of 'life'. This was also true about the crime section, where no matter how many bad guys and gals got busted and taken off the streets, more seemed to crop up, 
In the sports world, things got ever more involving as leagues expanded pretty much across the board, 
The social and leisure scene events had a repeating seasonal theme to them, which I recognized over the years, 
I found I never could make sense of the financial world, no matter how many of their columnists and pundits claimed to have their fingers on the pulse of things, 
and the Classifieds seemed to be the same old same old week in and week out. 

All those words gotta mean something, right?

Waldemar Brandt- Unsplash.com

The big Sunday issues I could spend hours reading, which is something you could do to while away a Sunday afternoon, but after whiling away enough Sunday afternoons I started to want to read them less and less because, like the dailies, they weren't that enlightening. 
Back and forth I went like this, for well over a decade, seeing the pile of papers accrue, tackling it, watching it build again, taking a day off to read through it, skim through it, whatever it took to say I got caught up and then.....
...one day I just let things slide completely out of control and the pile grew and grew until it was two stacks of newspapers, each stack rising knee high from the floor. "Enough! I'm not going to read that!" vowed I, and I didn't. 
For what had started as a pleasure had become a chore and a duty, which was so sparse on payback as to be laughable. 
  And then along came the internet. With this a news junkie could get his fix twenty four hours a day, and didn't have to wait for it to be delivered. Ka-boom! What great news this was! 
But now my news was all over the place. Different sites ran different content. Local stuff was a little bit here, a little bit there, or wasn't even being covered at all. I started to miss newspapers and still do to this day because with newspapers, everything was in one place. 
Those days aren't coming back though, no way. However, through my experience with the amount of data in newspapers, I know of the impossibility of 'keeping up' and 'keeping informed' so The World is just going to have to turn without me knowing every damned detail about what is going on. And this is true for everybody else too. Nobody knows or can know it all, there's just too much and most of it is fluff. Filler. 
Added to that, who's editing this internet stuff? Newspapers used to have credibility. They had pro editors. Sure, the papers had 'slants' to them, many were privately owned, but if they ran a story it was similar to the ones other papers ran. With interent 'news' you don't have a clue. Could be a guy that shot a video in his back yard, or a montage of images doctored to look real. Use your imagination!
So this is where intuition comes in. You need it now more than ever. Bypass the fake stuff and the filler and let your guidance bring to you that which you absolutely need to know. Got a better system? I don't. All I need to remind me to apply intuition to this issue is to think about those piles of newspapers laying on the floor of my living room begging for my attention and what a waste of time tackling all that 'data' was. I'll take a short cut to what passes for 'news' any day if it leads me to a clearer and far less laborious conclusion.

Time

     Oh, 2018, where art thou gone?

To the nether regions
N'er to be seen again,
save in archived footage 
that gives evidence of what once was, then
so that future generations, historians, can pick apart and study
that which so rapidly took place, 
present to us cause and effect,
connect the dots,
and show us how it happened
because when it did, it happened fast. 
We were befuddled then, and couldn't make correlations.
But, in the light of meticulous process,
through the triangulation of myriad sources,
and in the piecing together of evidence,
evidence that at one time was seemingly unrelated, dubious, or speculated, 
true causes have been identified 
and now serve as study for those who seek to thwart reappearances 
or, for others not so nobl'y inclined,
     enables them to present the same in a new guise
in order to do 'it' again, whatever 'it' is.
But, it also may be the case that true causation might never be known,
and people will only be left to shrug, 
for in the pace of events, 
not many are that interested in the past.
But some are. 
     I am one so intrigued and thus
 those are the kind of books I read, 
films I watch,
and videos I peruse. 
Documentaries, they are called. 
For ones in the thick of portentous things
  be they in the heat of battle
upon the storied field
or experiencing the whirlwind of success
only see what is in front of them, at the time
while I, later, observe the greater picture of
how things unfolded,
what effects actions had, 
and the legacies that were left behind. 
Momentous change indeed has by these ones been spurred.
But the unsung played their parts as well,
for all actions great and small
affect the whole
and none of us know what the effects of what we have done 
have had upon the whole until later, if at all
for effects build on effects
and who can sort out the varying degrees of impact
save only God
though I don't want to sound religious

God occasionally checks on things

John Towner- Unsplash.com

but when it comes to supercomputing capabilities,
he (or she) is still the champ.
And what all this means, or where it leads,
is anybody's guess
because we can't imagine that which lies beyond what we know
and we don't know much.
But at the same time
it can be said that we must know a lot
because earth is a school
and the fact that we're all still here
says that we must be good at cooperating.
And so,
as the calendar starts anew, the game continues,
and time marches steadily on,
as do we,
it can be said that nobody really knows why we're here,
or why we bother keeping track of years,
and all that years contain.
It must be for an important reason
but the only one I can ascertain is that 
we do it simply because "We Exist!".
     We're proud of what we have created, mainly.
     The new year is an opportunity for us to create better renditions of, well,
     everything.

2018

2018 shuffled slowly towards the exit. His shoulders were hunched, his face was etched with the creases of worry, and his skin had the weathered look that comes from too much sun and not enough moisturizing. In his right hand he carried a scythe, which he here and there grasped with his left hand, and through the power remaining in both his spindly arms, he swooshed the scythe across some growth to reap a bit more news. The harvesting was almost done. Yea, it was old Father Time himself. 
I hailed him.
"Father Time! Looks like you've had a rough year! Thanks for doing what you do"
Father Time looked at me, astonished. "I've never been thanked before. Thank you for thanking me. I get a lot of pushback. People mistake me for The Grim Reaper, which I am not. I am, however, as relentless as he"
"That you are. We're just about done with this year. Only a little more, er, 'reaping' left"
"I am tired, citizen. My workload has steadily increased over the last three hundred or so years. I have so many more endings to officiate"
"Any benefit in that? For you, I mean?"
"None whatsoever. Being Father Time, I can wait for no man. I am duty bound to reap the fullness of whatever crop I am called to harvest, be it a life, a company, a leader, a country. I am the Omega"
"And here comes the Alpha" I quipped, spotting Baby 2019 crawling up the lane. "Is he an 'upgraded' version of you? Better, different, New & Improved? I've always wondered"
"He appears to be different, but nay, he is only me in a different guise. He is the appearance of youth and promise, new beginnings, and fresh starts. A blank slate upon which to draw upon. In time, he will mature and by the end of 2019 he will appear as I do now, withered and old, weary and wobbling, yet still able, for The Universe gives him strength, to complete his appointed task"
"Somebody has to do it"
"Somebody has to act as a reminder that time passes for your culture has made the passage of time almost a taboo subject. You are entranced with youth, perpetual youth. 'Forever 21' is your ideal mindset. But I must show you always, every single day, the fleeting nature of your existence. I must show you things like road kill, dying flowers, and the obituaries of famous people"
"Are you the one that brings us all that death stuff we see on TV, you know, zombie and vampire shows, crime shows, horror movies, that kind of stuff?"
"No, that is Satan's department. My task is to simply show you that the world of form is an illusion. There can be no permanence in the world of duality. There is only emergence followed by disappearance, birth and death, arising and dissipation"
Father Time got busy with his scythe, mowing down some outdated concepts, passe words, and terminally ill technology before turning his attention back to me. 
"See what needs to be done? Were it not for me no room would be made for my replacement" He pointed to Baby 2019, who was crawling up some steps that led to a stage. 
"That is where the ball is going to be dropped at the moment 2019 arrives. Baby 2019 has to be there, amongst the cheering throng"
"A destiny thing" I said, observing.

“An absolute” Father Time corrected me.

I looked directly at Father Time. "And where will you go, at that moment?"
"I will be no more" he replied, without a hint of trepidation or remorse.
"Sounds uber harsh. Just like that, winked out of existence? Hopefully, there won't be any pain"
"There won't. I will simply reappear in the embodiment of Baby 2019, and start over"
"Wait a minute! Baby 2019 is a separate entity! You can't be in two places at once!"
"You have a lot to learn, young man"
"Obviously you haven't seen the gray hairs! Here, I'll turn a bit so they pick up more light"
"I have seen them, but you're still a youngster to me. I have lived forever! As time itself, I cannot be bound to the concept of the passage of time, as you are"
"Ooh. Got me there. I'm very much bound by time. It's all I think about. "How much time do I have left?"
"There will come a day when that won't be an issue for you, and you will simply celebrate existence, like I do every 'day'"
"Mowing things down with the scythe of time is celebratory? That sounds kinda sick!”

Winter is the appropriate backdrop

Seth Macey- Unsplash.com


"It's not. It's necessary. Without me, you would not be able to orient in your world. You would have no reference point and things would appear to be happening in a random fashion. Time is the tool humans use to measure sooo many things. You are fixated by the concepts of progress and history, and compare your 'standards of living' and 'evolvement' to years, decades, centuries, and epochs gone by. The calendar you swear by, the careers you toil within, the vacations you take, the children you raise, the accomplishments and accolades you gather, the contributions you make to this thing called 'society'- all of that is computed in your minds and out comes the result of your efforts- the purpose of your existence! These things matter not outside of this planet you ride upon, whose existence is measured in billions of years. You think you're important but you couldn't stand to see yourselves as I see you- as temporarily animate motes of dust in the void!"
"Gulp!"
"Gulp is right! Be thankful that I am gentle with you, and stay confined mostly to the shadows. Enjoy your 'time' in the sun while you can"
After sobering me with that wintry blast crotchety old Father Time left me, and I must admit I was very glad to see him shuffle off, muttering, looking this way and that for something to lay his scythe into. Meanwhile, Baby 2019 cooed cutely upon the stage. Some people up there were already decorating it and polishing the glittering ball that would be raised, and then dropped, at the moment 'he' (Baby 2019) arrived. 
I turned away. There were still a few days of 2018 left to experience, but I gotta admit, after Christmas, the rest of the year seems like a lame duck. "Is it over yet? everybody wonders, because they're ready for the next year to begin. Ready for all the events that will happen in the next 365 days, those days marking our planet's orbit around a timeless sun.

Naught Of The Day

Due to The Holidays or some other reasons, perhaps many, some of which I am aware of and some that I am not, The Mind has been quite still. 
Thought trains still occur, but they derail not long after leaving the station, leaving me trudging back to the platform to catch the next one, which- you guessed it- derails too.

“Why, it’s Christmas Day, Mr. Scrooge!”

Josh Harrison- Unsplash. com

So why fight it? It is what it is. Thought Of The Day is known to take time off arbitrarily like that because, well, because that's just the way it goes, when it's the right time it's the right time, and now is not the right time to wright did I get that right? I think I did but it doesn't matter. It's all good. 
Expect more fresh words when- er- whenever. Which just might be tomorrow. 

Until then, Happy Holidays to you and yours.

2019

Was peering into the crystal ball here, analyzing future trends. There are a lot of things that could potentially enter into the mainstream and totally upset, highly alter, or slightly modify the existing social structure/power base. A futurist I heard speak said that analyzing such trends has become much more difficult than in the past, and to that I agree. 
Dig- in the olde days, say during the heyday of the Sioux tribe, the people of that tribe had few possessions because they were driven by the need to source food and their main food source (bison) was mobile. The method of moving from place to place was by tribe members toting gear and by dogs pulling contraptions called ‘travois’ upon which gear was tied (crude but effective). The introduction of the horse changed everything, so much so that the concept of wealth was introduced, something they hadn't known much of before. Horses could carry a lot more stuff, so why not accumulate more than Just Enough?
Compared to those days, only a hundred and fifty years ago, we have tremendous wealth. Food is readily available, we are protected from the elements (most of us), we live in much more permanent dwellings, we're only mobile if we want to be, we're much ‘better’ educated as to what's going on in the rest of the world (but have lost touch with the natural world), it's been quite a ride. However, much more is coming, and like the Sioux, our way of living might drastically change- or it might not. Either way, adjustments will have to be made. 
So many variables could surface that their effects cannot possibly be calculated because these variables will play off of one another. Possible variables on the horizon are: Free energy, decentralized banking (cryptocurrency), cloning, ‘designer babies’ whose genes are selectively edited, drone travel, driverless cars, nanotechnology, virtual reality, A. I. and its assorted applications, and a whole lot more. These game changers call for continuous and imaginative problem solving. 
Some givens are that governments are slow to catch up as the private sector is usually the one to introduce new technologies and systems, wealthy or connected people always have first access, and First world countries rapidly adopt new systems while Third world countries lag behind. This has been happening, and is obviously happening now, but the pace could accelerate even more. 

Twenty First Century,

Year Nineteen.

Free energy could create communities where none have existed before. Cities could be built in the middle of deserts, or in frigid climates inhospitable to man. Life on ships at sea could be commonplace. 
The need for people to work could be substantially less and governing forces would be faced with the prospect of a citizenry with loads of free time on their hands, something that has never happened in history. 
The race might mutate into something different. Physical forms might decrease in vitality and mental abilities might grow more predominant as the focus shifts from doing physical tasks in order to survive to searching for new and satisfying reasons for being. 
Sexual orientation could shift towards the unthinkable- androgyny. Pansexual and transgender people are already surfacing in some areas. Sex robots- as well as military ones- are currently under development (no surprise there). 
Existential questions could abound. Religion would be tasked to answer those, as well as psychologists and spiritualists. The world's problems could actually be on their way to being solved and a race devoted to drama could find itself living in peace and cooperation.
People might not leave their houses or properties for the duration of their lives, if they so chose, while other people might travel full time and never know of 'home base'. 
Countries would find their identities blurring across borders as a newly minted gypsy class would follow the seasons, their various interests, and/or the festival circuit.
Vast swaths of land would be freed from human control due to decreases in industry and ranching. Communal living could take place, for those who chose it, severely affecting the hallowed single family home market and all that depends on it. Municipalities would shrink, or grow, depending not on jobs but on 'Desirable Living Indexes'.
The need for and associated expense of militaries around the world would vanish for in an egalitarian world, what would need defending? 
So much could potentially happen, and a lot of this stuff is not so far off as to say it's pure fantasy. Progress could, as it is now, be slowed by political means and as a way of preserving power but how long can progress be kept at bay? Indefinitely? Methinks not. 

Who can accurately forecast all of this? What country or business has the ability to think-tank these things, or better still, play-act them in controlled arenas before unleashing their new products, technologies, or systems upon the general public?
If the current climate is any indication, the exact opposite occurs! New technologies emerge, then pounce upon and trounce the existing ones. Growth and market share are goals to be captured at any cost and only well down the road, after any potential competition has been vanquished, can the effect of variables upon that which was in place before be calculated. But the variables, once introduced, constantly alter, mutate, and create spin offs. Governments step in occasionally to act as containment, while the powerful seek to funnel things their way, and forward we go, albeit hobbled by one rein or perhaps many on galloping Progress.

So the conclusion is "Who knows what is going to occur?" There are so many potentials out there right now it's hard to keep up on all of them. I’m not that much interested in being androgynous, or becoming physically frail, and some of those other things, which could be well off into the future, but some technologies or societal changes are already here or are soon to be. ‘Hope for the best and deal with the rest’ many of us will, while some will actively intend and throw their wills into the mix that way. Inevitably, things will play out, and we’ll all be left at the end of 2019 saying "Now well, wasn't that interesting?!"

Mr. Jepson's Annoyance

Reginald Jepson, the illegitimate son of Sir Percival Jepson, an English ambassador, and a Japanese geisha named Mir Ling, was raised in Sheffield, England, and schooled at Oxford. He was overall a kindly fellow but one that could just as well be easily annoyed. A man of culture and learning, he all too clearly saw how the cruder members of the human race, as he put it, could find ways to exemplify modes and means of behaviour that he took issue with, no matter how he wished they wouldn't, couldn't, or shouldn't do what they did, nor could he find it within him the ability to condone their actions. 
In a nutshell, the behaviours of people rankled him. 
While he knew that these others could never be like him, he fervently prayed for some sort of resolution to come to his mind over these matters for the torment it caused him was relentless. Some days it was more, some days it was less, and no matter how he tried to pinpoint the cause of his distress and dismay in hopes of alleviating it he could not, for people's actions could be attributed to numerous factors, all of which were out of his control. His say in any matter mattered not, nor would his input ever be heeded by those he often mentally pleaded with to "Please curtail your annoying activities!" 
  What to do, what to do? 

What uncouth fellow calls my name?

Jia Ye- Unsplash.com

He tried drink, but that was not allowed during the busy portions of the day when annoying behaviours were at their peak. Of what use was drink afterward, when he was mulling over the day's events at home, and rueing the moments when he thought negatively about people, wished them unwell, and mentally threw comments their way, all this in order to quell the inner torment he felt inside? 
He tried prayer, and religion, which espoused loving one's fellow man, but he loved them not, though he tried, he surely and sorely tried. Of what use was it to love your brother or sister if they loved you not back? How many times could one turn the other cheek, for after a while it became sore from all the slapping!
  He tried to ignore other's patterns of behaviour, but that's like telling someone to not notice the elephant in the room. He tried to justify people's actions by saying that they did not know any better, that they were 'unaware'. That didn't work either for when would they ever become aware? Not soon, from the looks of things. It seemed the only reason many people were on the earth was to simply annoy Reginald Jepson, and when it came to the ability to annoy, they were masters at it. 
Television brought annoying people, events, and situations into Reginald's home every night, and most TV channels thrived on bringing such fare to his table. Of non-annoying stations there were few, but those ran annoying commercials! The internet, when it arrived, bought more choices but, you know- on the internet, anything goes.
Over time, Reginald Jepson became a recluse. He holed up in his house, only leaving if he had to, in order to keep his exposure to annoyances to a minimum. But, one can only do that for so long because more annoying than the annoying people that annoyed him was the call of Life, with a capital L, to come out and play. Life called and called, pestered and vexed, insisted and beckoned, would not take no for an answer no matter what answer Reginald gave but still Reginald would not move. 
So Life moved him.
Life, and Reginald's soul, the greater part of him, conspired to plunge Reginald into circumstance that would cause him to face his greatest fears and no greater fear for Reginald was losing the tidy sum of money he had inherited, which happened, and "Now what?" was the question. Unable to magically manifest more o' the green, Reginald, sound of body, was faced with the prospect of going to work, something he had never done, for he had grown up moneyed. 
Work was to be his crucible, where over time, over many years in fact, he was faced with and faced directly the most annoying people on God's green earth and though many times he thought he was about to die, and wished to, God would not let him for dying would not serve Reginald Jepson. He could, if he fervently wished it, die, for at a deep soul level he had that right, but the wiser part of him vetoed that notion for it saw the benefits that were to come were Reginald to choose to stick it out. 
There were times when it was touch and go, and those watching Reginald's progress from unseen bleachers were on the edge of their seats, not knowing what he'd do, how he'd react, but they were also rooting for him and he felt it, he felt their presence though he did not know what 'it' was- relief in a dream, a sudden feeling of peace or confidence, a 'chance' encounter with a well wisher, or an encounter with a teacher who espoused timely and profound knowledge- not in a great hall, but in an ordinary setting. 
And so, in regards to Life, Reginald's annoyances became less and less until one day he noticed something, something he had never experienced before- a situation that had annoyed him greatly in the past he had no reaction to in the present. He thought that he had arrived. 
He had. But in the very next day another, similar situation vexed him terribly and he relapsed, thinking that all he had gained was suddenly lost, and it was. For a while. But peace returned, a little longer this time. 
On and on this back and forth process went, for sooooo long that he thought he'd never get there but when he did get there he didn't even know he had arrived until months later, so subtle was his crossing of the threshold. 
Nowadays annoyance rises in him and passes away in seconds. He can't ever get rid of it, this he has learned. It's part of who he is. He simply watches it arise, and then dissipate, knowing that it's not going to overtake him. It's just a thing that happens, like lifting a hand to scratch an itch. You do it and it's done and that's all the thought you give it. 

Life goes on. And on, and on. Perhaps someday we will be in another dimension, and our bodies will have changed into light. We'll look different than we do now, and maybe we won't think about things so much, we'll just know. And nobody knows how this will happen, but it's probably not going to happen overnight and when it dawns on somebody how much we've all changed, it'll be years after the fact, when some historian measures our progress. 

"Wow!" we'll think. Life will go on for us, the multifarious variations of Reginald Jepson in the world.

Customer Service Recovery Facility

The patient came into our facility in a wheelchair. Incoherent. Nothing we at the center couldn't handle. A typical case, one that we'd seen hundreds of times before. 
"How much exposure has this one had?" I asked the nurse on duty. 
"Eight hours" she shot back. It was a busy day, and the intake was filling fast with new patients. 
"Standard procedure, Room 12"
  "Got it!"

A few minutes later I made my inital evaluation of the newly arrived group of patients in Room 12. There were about a dozen, all suffering from various stages of exposure. Not only had they been recently exposed to customers, they as a group were suffering the cumulative effects of long term exposure. I could readily see it in their faces, postures, demeanor, and in their responses to a few cursory questions I posed.
  Each inpatient wanted to tell me a short but dramatic story about what they had recently experienced. I call this near overwhelming urge the 'dumping' or 'venting' reflex. Unable to do this at work, where the credo is 'the customer is always right', each patient had repressed and internalized the natural human response to being subjected to insult and indignity, which is to respond in a defensive way. I allow only a bit of venting to occur, which is usually enough to bring about a degree of calmness. They have more stored up within though, and this has to be remedied. 

The pool at our facility

Bernard Hermant- Unsplash.com

Our approach at the center is one of genuine caring and concern. If we tell a patient "Appreciate it!", "Thanks for the help", "Have a nice day!" or some other commonly used saying in response to an action they take you can bet we actually mean it. But, our using such a phrase in an insincere manner, through being rushed or momentarily annoyed by something unrelated to the patient, can trigger relapse and we don't ever want that. I myself strive to use variations of well wishing that they probably haven't heard 1,000 times before and to this I am always met with amazement. The common reaction I receive is "Wow! You're an actual nice person!" followed by an almost knee-jerk (and I must admit embarassing) latching onto my arm. "Don't go! Stay with me! Forever!” they plead.
This I cannot do. Instead, I bring these traumatized ones experiences that will counteract the effects of obnoxious customer behavior. These people have only been doing their jobs, or trying to do their jobs, but have met interference aplenty, sometimes ferocious.  

Instead of reinforcing their experiences of isolation, of being the uniformed one in a sea of brusque civilians immune to consequence, I have all present sit in a circle and round we go, each person in the group sharing just a few of their latest customer service interactions. Heads nod all around and previously shut down people eagerly await their turn to share. Invariably, there is danger in this becoming an all night affair so I try to limit our initial venting session to a mere eight hours. 

The next day is individually tailored, according to what I have determined by interviewing each patient and from taking notes during the venting session. To one I might prescribe hot tub immersion. To another, pampering at our in-house spa. To a third, exquisite meals, to a fourth, classical music, and so on. 
The next evening, and for many successive nights, comes what I call 'reorientation'. Here each customer service person is reprogrammed by seasoned staff members, including myself, as to what 'reality' is in the customer service field, for they have been exposed to unrealistic expectations to the extent that some of them have been expected to alter time, magically solve complicated issues, instantly manifest personnel, and perform other such miracles for their charges.
Group sessions then follow, where customer service interactions are role modeled first by staff and then patients to further seat the cure. Here are introduced such topics as "How to get your customer to be okay with waiting", "Allowable responses to vitriol", How to handle petulance and condescending attitude", “What constitutes customer ‘entitlement’?”, “Seven methods of getting even", and others. The level of joy the patients experience in these playshops signals to the staff that healthy self worth has returned and that they are ready for release. Our facility will always be available for drop ins, should each recoverer at any time feel the need, and the gratitude that each one expresses tells us that finally they have come across some people that have their backs for each has experienced the phenomenon of managers disappearing at critical times and company officials and stockholders higher up the food chain using them only as a firewall behind which they can garner profits. 

It is a blessing to see healthy customer service reps leave our facility but it is sad that there are ones we can't help. Certain patients we wheel in have what I have come to describe as 'The Thousand Yard Stare'. Severely traumatized, they have retreated to an inner world, one we are unable to reach. 
These cases are referred over to Long Term Care, where specialists in Burnout Recovery apply soft but steady rehabilitative methods to bring these patients back to the here and now. It is rare that any of these ever return to Customer Service- but they make good gardeners. 

My plans for the future? Expansion. There are millions of afflicted in this country alone. The market for our services is vast. And not only that, I see no move by companies to treat employees as anything more than machines manning profit centers, which will continue to bring us a steady supply of new patients.

Think of us as a sort of Workmans Comp for the psychologically perturbed.

Inquisitive Rex

     Saw a video of some guy down in Southern Cal, one of those upbeat reporter types, and his job was he would go around with his crew and film the answers to questions that his viewers posed. Today's question, posed by 'Sam', was "What the hell happens to all them bottles what gets put into recyclin' bins?"
"Good question, Sam! Let's find out!"

The crew travels over to some recycling facility on the outskirts of town and next you know our reporter, let's call him Rex, is standing near a huge pile of brown bottles. 
"Wow! Look at all those bottles!" Rex exclaims. 
The recycling facility manager then comes onto the scene. He's got a hard hat on and is wearing a gray company-issued official shirt complete with the embroidered company logo. His name is Renaldo. Renaldo welcomes Rex and they shake hands.
"What happens to all these bottles?" Rex asks Renaldo.
"Well, we've got three kinds of glass here" Renaldo says, pointing at different piles. "Brown glass, green glass, and flint"
"Flint?"
"Yeah, flint. You know it as 'clear' glass". 
"So.... what happens to these piles, these mountains (Rex gapes again at the huge pile of brown bottles in front of him) of bottles and (further in the distance) uh... ...jars?"
"Let me show you".
  Renaldo has probably given The Tour a hundred times by now, he's all business. Rex is led to the 'intake area'. 
"We're gonna show you how we process flint, or 'clear' glass" Renaldo says, as a guy driving a front end loader dumps a huge scoop of clear bottles and jars into a hopper, where a rotating steel bar busts 'em up into little pieces. 
"Wow! Look at that!" Rex exclaims. The front end loader guy motors over to the pile to get more clear glass while Renaldo leads Rex to where the broken pieces are exiting the hopper on a conveyor belt and are being taken into the plant. Inside the plant they go, following the stream. 
"Next a series of screens filters out contaminants" Renaldo explains. Inside the plant, belts are going up, down, and making turns all over the place, carrying glass every which way. In the background we can see facility workers dully monitoring the debris flow at various points, they all wearing protective gear and probably thinking only about quitting time.
"That's a huge amount of glass!" Rex gushes, standing next to a conveyor belt.
"Yes it is" Renaldo explains. "We can process about twenty tons an hour. Our series of screens, magnets, and gravity traps effectively removes 99% of the contaminants from the stream. They take away dirt, plate and automotive glass, ferrous and non-ferrous metals, liquids, plastics, eyeglasses, and other contaminants, which end up in this bin over here (he points to a medium sized hopper). There's still a little bit left in the stream but we've got it clean enough to divert it to this line here...."
Rex looks upon a diverter gate where the stream of glass is redirected and starts to move upwards into a deeper part of the facility. "Wow!"
The duo then walks into that area where a lone worker is standing atop a pile of cleaned glass that's flowing out of a funnel. The worker has a rake in his hand. 
"What's going on in here?" Rex asks, upon coming across this odd and dimly lit scene.
"This worker is raking through the ‘cullet’, checking for the purity of the stream" Renaldo says, shouting somewhat 'cuz it's noisy in here. "Cullet is what we call glass that's been cleared of contaminants. We're going to ship this to a glass plant and we want to make sure it's of an acceptable level of purity so they can process it"
Rex nods his head. "Can I climb up on that pile of glass?" he asks.
"Sure" 
"Woo hoo!" Rex yells. It takes him two attempts but he finally gets up to where the utterly  bored worker is standing with his rake. "Howdy!" Rex yells at him. "How's it goin' up here?!"
"How the f___ do you think it's going?" the worker undoubtedly thinks as Rex pokes around a bit before making his way back down to where Renaldo is standing. 
"Next" Renaldo says, leading Rex along, "the cullet is removed to waiting trucks" 
Over at a loading area at the other end of the plant another front end loader driven by some worker bee is scooping up cullet and dumping it into the vast hopper bin of the kind of truck that hauls gravel and rock.
"Way cool!" Rex bellows to his viewers. "That there is a lot of glass! Let's follow this truck and see where it goes!"

Welcome to the Leingalter family of associated companies

John Cameron- Unsplash.com

In the next scene Rex is standing next to another facility manager. This guy's name is Larry. 
"Welcome to the Liengalter glass manufacturing facility" Larry says to Rex. "Put this hard hat, jacket, and pair of safety glasses on and we'll take a tour of the facility"
Rex puts on the gear. "Wow! Nothing like putting on the official gear!" he exclaims into the camera.
Larry leads him into the facility. 
"It's hot in here!" Rex blurts.
"Sure is" Larry says. "We're at the 'head end' of the glass making oven. This is where the cullet begins its journey"
Larry and Rex look on as cullet is fed into the maw of a massive oven by mechanical means. 
"We run the cullet, along with some limestone, soda ash, and sand, through this oven as a batch. Cullet makes up 50% of the batch"
“50%!" Rex says. "That's a huge amount of recycled stuff!"
"It sure is. It takes a lot of raw materials to make glass. Recycling saves us from using a lot of that and so we'll end up using less energy as a result. This batch will take us 36 hours to process"
"36 hours! That long? Wow...."
"Yeah" They walk past the head end of the oven, an oven that looks to be a hundred yards long, to a place where there’s a little porthole. Larry cautiously opens this porthole, which lets out a glaring beam of yellowish-white light and a lot of heat. He holds up a piece of dark glass and peers through it to see what is going on inside the oven. He then hands the dark piece of glass over to Rex. Rex peers through it.
"Looks like lava in there! How hot is that stuff?"
"About 2,100 degrees"
"Whoa!"
"Yeah. That's hot but It's a little cooler here than it was at the head end, where the glass started out at 2,700 degrees". Larry sounds like a guy that has seen bubbling lava glass a million times.
Moving on down the oven, they get to a critical point, the beginning of the bottle manufacturing process. The molten glass has actually, through gravity flow, made its own way down to this end of the slightly sloping oven. Here, machinery pinches off gobs of the stuff and sends them swooshing down various chutes. It's utterly amazing to watch and instantly mesmerizing. 
"These gobs of flint" Larry explains over the din of clanking machinery and numerous cooling fans, "are being sent on their way to be turned into bottles"
"Jeez!" Rex is almost speechless as he observes this part of the process. Larry leads him on. 
"Down here the gobs are pressed into molds"
Steel bottle molds await as gobs of glass get dropped into them, whereupon they go through some convoluted motions and voila out come perfectly formed bottles, three at a time, still glowing orange at their bases from the heat. These bottles are pushed onto slowly moving, wide conveyor belts containing thousands of bottles. 
"The newly formed bottles have to cool slowly so the glass doesn't get stressed" Larry explains. Halfway down the cooling line they come across a quality control technician whose sole job seems to be occasionally grabbing one of the (now cool to the touch) bottles off the belt and placing it on a measuring stand where its various dimensions are checked. The viewer of this cannot even imagine the mind numbing boredom they would have to endure were they in this tech's shoes but the tech gal seems to be okay with her job. Perhaps she's only thinking about her kid's tenth birthday party tonight and how her daughter is going to react to the cake she baked, a new one, angel food.
Larry leads Rex further on, to a point close to the tail end of the production area.
"That's a lot of bottles!" Rex says, gaping at thousands upon thousands of bottles that are moving along various cooling conveyors through this part of the facility. Obviously, there is more than one batch oven. "How many bottles does this place make in a day?"
"About three million" Larry somberly replies. 
"Three million?”
"Yeah, about that many"
If ever Larry had a reaction to that number, it was probably two decades ago when he had first started working here because now he's dead to it, man, you can just see it. But, the pay and bennies keep him coming back. 
"After this point the bottles get shipped out and that's about it. I hope you enjoyed seeing how bottles are made" Larry says, all official company business representative-like, then he finishes the encounter by giving Rex the requisite firm handshake.
"Well, Jeez, thank you the tour, Larry!" Rex crows. Larry gets back to monitoring production while Rex turns his attention full on the camera. "And now we know what happens to all those bottles that go into recycling bins! Thanks, Sam from Loma Prieta, for asking us this question! On our next show the crew and I are going to find the answer to another burning “What The Heck?” question that our viewers have so until then it's so long from Inquisitive Rex! See you all next time!"

Don't you just want Rex's job? No mind numbing, do it 'cuz it pays the bills, soul sucking worker bee repetition for him!

  Bloody tourists!

Better Than TV?

Ah, that's been the promise, hasn't it? All these tech companies are delivering where TV fell short. Look at the plethora of offerings. Truly, our cups runneth over. But the tradeoff has been that our privacy has been invaded and continues to be and there's a whole lot of data being gathered. TV never did that. 
TV was just broadcast, and by broadcast I mean it blanketed an area in the hopes that it could capture the largest market possible. TV signals operated close to the radio frequency spectrum and so signals could be blocked by hills, buildings, or what broadcasters referred to as ground clutter- trees, billboards, water towers, anything tall and in the way. 
  But that is no more, and hasn't been since analog went the way of the dinosaur about a decade back. Now the signal travels via cable, fiber optics, satellite, or cell phone towers and nothing gets in its way. 
Right to your device the signal travels and as long as it’s there, why doesn't it snoop around a bit, learn a little more about you, and then send some data back so as to better 'help' you? Bring you precisely targeted goods and services that you might buy, bought in the past, or that you've been thinking about? We know which shows you watch, what music you like to listen to, and which web pages you've been on lately, last week, last month, during the last season. We know how much you earn and what you usually spend your dough on. We know your address, where you've lived in the past, what skills you possess, if you've ever been in trouble, who your friends are, what they do, who you've had relationships with, where you work, what your religious and political affiliations are, what health issues you've had, are facing, or might potentially face because we track your habits. 
Oh, we don't tell you all this because we really don't want you to know and as long as you don't you're unlikely to demand legislation be put into place to curtail us. 'Cuz we just wanna help. 

Even the cash registers track you

fancycrave- Unsplash.com

We know everything about you but you know very little about us or where all this data is going to or being stored. Sorry! We're working on transparency but there are sooooo many projects we wanna get a leg up on before 'the competition' does. (this so-called 'competitive playing field' growing ever smaller and more concentrated)
But don't worry. We're really smart people who have things under control, or at least we thought we did but data breaches will happen, we're afraid. It's part of the growing process any company undergoes. We just happen to be working with highly sensitive personal data but hey- back in the day you guys handled radioactivity and didn't think that was a big deal. 
Just sayin'! 

So, as to further help, why not get one of our personal assistants? They'll listen in and should you need anything that they can do, like change the channel on the TV, cue up that movie you've been wanting to watch, answer a question for you, pull up a recipe, tell you what the weather is, how much flights to Vegas are, or a host of other things we've got that- and it's on sale!

Please don't block us or deny us access because we need your location in order to operate and/or communicate 'properly' with many other apps you’ve loaded. We assure you it's all for your own good even if you don't know everything that's going on and if you do, you might not after the next upgrade!
(which is overdue, by the way)

Didja hear about our latest remote entry/monitoring capabilities? We can unlock your front door as you're pulling down the drive, if your kid comes home early from school, if the service guy shows while you're out walking Fido, or if Aunt Paula shows up on her own from the airport when you're at Pilates class. 
If you're far, far away from home, don't worry- and forget about those old school light timers! We can have you monitoring your crib from a multitude of camera positions and turning the lights on and off while you're sunning on the beach in Playa Del Sur.

Bottom line is, you're stuck with us. Without us you can't make a phone call, watch TV, or check up on the news anymore in most places. What once was commonplace, relaxing, and user-friendly doesn't even exist anymore. But don't worry, it's all for the good. Coming up is we're also going to eliminate your needing to go to the bank and drive a car, because we got a better way figured out for those processes. You'll see. Some companies right now are developing nanopills that will relay back to us if you've been taking your meds! 
Chips in your credit cards, Google glasses on your face, bio sensors on your wrists, we want to know everything we can about you, in real time. Like last week, when you lingered for 8.723 minutes on a webpage. What drove you to enact that behavior, when usually you won't linger for more than 2.156 minutes, on average, on any one page? It doesn't fit our algorithm for you. Perhaps somebody else was using your phone that day? 
  We don't like outliers like that, let us tell you, but fortunately it was a one time deal and you quickly reverted back to your predictable pattern. 

One that grows clearer and clearer with each passing day. We've been running DNA test advertisements on certain webpage sidebars lately hoping that you'll bite there but so far you haven't. We would sure let to get our hands on your genetic background, if we can. To assist you, of course.

Again, thanks for sharing! Your data. We know soooo much about you but you know next to nothing about us, who we are, where we're located, or what we're doing with your stuff. Oh well. We sorry!  

If you have any questions, feel free to call our 24/7 tech support number, or we can connect by chat. We won't be able to answer all of your questions but we will try and aid you in any way that we can.

In parting, an FYI for you: 
We've done away with human phone operators and have gone to a full A.I. staff. 

Sunset

     Every year about this time of the year it's time to go down The List. There are usually quite a few items of interest on it, things I didn't know. About them. The ones who have died. Passed away. Moved on. 
     Each one of them gifted us with something, didn't they? The famous ones, I mean. ‘Cuz there were others…..

With so many transitioning each year that I didn't know I can only say 'Godspeed" to them but to the celebrities, or quasi-celebrities I did know about, follow somewhat, or took a great deal of interest in, it's time to pay my respects.
It's amazing how much they contributed to our culture, each in their unique way. This one starred in this or that show, or movie, or wrote the book we all had on our minds at one time, or did the deed that was so spectacular that I was inspired by it. Or maybe I thought about what they said, wished I had been in their place or had had a similar opportunity, or else I was glad that they had the guts to do what they did 'cuz I never could have done it.
These kinds of lists are easy to find, the people that are on them are ranked by their popularity, usually, and it's pretty predictable which people are going to be on them but the most interesting obituaries I have found to read have not been the 'Top Twenty Five' or whatever annual ones come out but the daily ones about quasi-celebrities or even ordinary people. Such diverse lives they have led! 
These kind of obits are very local or they're localized, meaning that a listed person's influence encompassed a larger area. Every newspaper runs them. Being a everyday reader of the New York Times for a while, I have seen that artists, dancers, and writers are featured in their obits regularly. Scientists who discovered this or worked on that. People that contributed unique things to the New York culture- restauranteurs, sports heros, politicians, and business people. As well, there are social misfits and fringe dwellers of every stripe, people who were thoughtful and urbane (and hardly ever read, save by a few), punk rockers, mob figures, etc., plus there are quirky people who did things that maybe were only for a short while interesting or impactful, but were enough to shift the direction much of the populace was moving in. Remarkable stuff. 

Adieu: Ken Berry, George Bush Sr., Roy Clark, Stan Lee, Paul Allen, Burt Reynolds, Neil Simon, John McCain, Aretha Franklin, Tab Hunter, Anthony Bourdain, Kate Spade, Phillip Roth…..

Thomas Bennie- Unsplash.com

I try not to read the NY Times obits on a regular basis, I don't want to be reminded, but they're there in the sidebar as I scroll down the page so I get exposed to them a lot and now added to that, we've come 'round to the tail end of the year when the annual lists start showing up. The annual lists are interesting but through reading the daily obits I know that it's not just celebrities that do extraordinary things. Each of us has an impact, however slight that may be, just by being here and being alive. We affect those around us and maybe that's not noticed or noticeable at the time but over time the affect we have accrues. 

Outside of celebritydom we others, removed from our usual social circles, are simply 'that guy' or 'that gal' that people know only on sight, encounter briefly, or catch a glimpse of just once. Most of us are like movie background. We're members of the crowd on a busy street, patrons in the restaurant, fans in the stadium, bicycle riders passing by, a lone dog walker. Fellow participants in life. We're out there, doing our thing. 
Personally, this gives me the feeling that progress is being made by society as a whole towards some meaningful ideal. I may not know you, but I take solace in the fact that you're out there doing whatever it is that you do because without you doing that, this would be a very uninteresting, purposeless, and lonely planet indeed. But I don't necessary want 'you' over at my house, nor could I realistically ever accommodate you. There are just too many yous! 
     And it's likely that we'll never get to know each other, or of each other, unless we do something that gets us on The List that nobody really wants to be on, the list that tells me a little bit more about you than the billions of others because you did something that official list compilers found interesting.

So as I read The Lists ('Most notable deaths of 2018', 'People we have lost in 2018', etc.)  I feel that there are an incredible amount of others worth mentioning who are not being remembered. However, I think they have been noticed in a different way and are definitely on the ledger of a higher power. 
Not that their being put on this one has any effect whatsoever on whether they get to stay where they are or get sent elsewhere, no, this eternal list is a highly individual one and is tailored like an evaluation, where you get to see what areas you were strong in and in which ones you were weak so that the next time around you might want to work on building skills in your weak areas (but that will be totally your choice). 

'Cuz there will be a next time, for most people. They wouldn't want to miss playing another role in this unfolding drama for anything. 

Meat Bar

I grew up a carnivore and will likely remain so, it's in my blood. Hearty Wisconsin fare was what I was raised on. 
I've tried eating light, hell, I've tried every way of eating there is and every kind of food to see what works and what doesn't and that has resulted in a diet unique to me and in that diet I eat meat. 
I don't eat a lot of it, or a little, I try to make it 'just right'. My daily dietary intake almost always includes that which they call the 'entree', and that one containith meat. 
  Meat is the star, the prized portion of most entrees, and entrees are what meals are always built around, especially as pertains to fast food, which I used to eat a lot uh.... .....back in the day. There was McDonalds, Burger King, Wendys, Dominos, Godfathers, Shakey’s, KFC, Chick-fil-A, and whatever little local joint I could pop into before or after work that offered quick, take out sort of fare. 
  I'd go in or call ahead and select my 'meal' of choice. Seems archaic that I used to eat like this, for now I am not that way. I incorporate lots of greens and organic and have cut out the salt and sugar to a great degree, many of the fats too. I don't eat fried so much. 
So what did I do to get away from the standard fast food fare? I had to learn make lunch or dinner myself. Well, making it yourself involves learning how to cook which calls for recipes and equipment and ingredients and time and to all that I groaned “Hey- wait a minit- I'm workin' a full time gig!” Cooking, I found, takes time- a lot of time (and that equation applies to your partner too, when you partner up). 
I have to ruefully laugh when I read a lot of recipes where it says the prep time and cooking time are only 'this much'. No- the process is actually much longer. Because there is also the shopping for ingredients time and the dishwashing time that comes during and after food preparation which easily doubles the prep and cook time. So what's a carnivore to do? Deal with it, right? 
And I did.

The classic burger, dressed up meat bar style

Oliver Sjostrom, Unsplash.com

So imagine this carnivore's delight upon finding such a thing as a 'meat bar', which I did at Whole Foods a couple of years ago. It was like coming across an oasis in the desert of carnivorian choices. I could just buy meat! Already cooked, ready to go, as much of it or as little of it as I wanted. Who woulda ever thunk it?
Being by then a fan of the low carb lifestyle, I was already onto the building of dishes around protein sources, and here was the ultimate protein source, sitting in trays right in front of me. "Hallelujah!" I cried, while simultaneously crying tears of joy. "This is gonna save me so much time....."
Now, like anything else, you can't go hog wild at the meat bar. Too much meat is not good for the system. Balance, remember? Moderation in all things. So standing at the meat bar (or, if I'm at home, staring into the refrigerator) I ask myself two questions. "What protein source does the body need?" is number one. "And what can I combine with that this day?" is number two.
  These are the basic questions I ask myself when thinking about food intake. I have asked myself these questions for thirty years or more, on a daily basis, I have really tuned in on occasion and asked "What is the body needing right now?” because sometimes it's not meat but more often than not it is. 
  So, if I'm looking for meat and happen to be standing in front of the meat bar this day, I carefully peruse the selection in front of me. Do I want brisket? Tri-tip? Pulled pork? Some sort of assorted sausage dish they've thrown together? Chicken? Meatballs? Meatloaf? Ribs? Burgers? Yesterday they had turkey breast, in gravy. Yum!  
I load up, then source my carbs and whatnot in other parts of the store, or I have those parts of my diet in the car, already prepared. Its easy and I love it. Costs me some, 'tis true, but every time I hit up the meat bar I think "Thank you, Whole Foods, for doing this, thank you thank you thank you!". 
'Cuz on my way out I pass the fast food joints that line the strip on my way to work. They're still serving up their staid old 'meal's of sandwich, fries, and drink and I just shake my head at that. There's even cars waiting in line at some places, five or more deep. 
"Not me!" I gleefully say as I’m driving by, while chewing on a hunk of teriyaki tri-tip. I feel like a frickin' king.

Pre-Christmas Sightings

Even in Hawaii we know that Christmas is near. Evidence started to show soon as Thanksgiving dinner was being put away in leftover containers. The first Christmas commercials started running on TV. 
The next tipoff that the yuletide season was fast approaching came a day or so later when I spotted a 'Reindeer Horns On The SUV' guy. I identified this 'reindeer' as Rudolf, 'cuz his SUV had a shiny red nose. 

The first time I ever saw this corny reindeer horns thing was a few years ago. It was startling to see initially, and then despite my fervent hopes to the contrary, it took off at a pace approaching viral. Now it's settled down a lot and become commonplace. Along with these guys and gals is the staid old 'Wreath on the front of the SUV, minivan, or pickup' look. Carryin' that Christmas spirit on down the road these folks are, "Ho Ho Ho" ing their way through midday traffic, a place where there's never a lot of jolly going on. 

Next thing I saw, 'cuz I got home from work at night a few times, was that the Christmas lights people (thank God for those) had been active. You know, the ones that every year dig the display and the lights out of the garage, set it up, and shoulder the additional charge on their electric bills to bring the Christmas spirit out into the neighborhood, these guys being the antidote for the non-display people whose homes stay dark, as dark as the deep night of winter. "Bah humbug to that!" the display faction says. "Let those lights of ours shine, and let them shine bright!" All through the night, even at 3:00 a.m., some of these displays are still lit, in case a lonely traveler should pass by, his spirits downcast, as if still reeling from an encounter with Ebenezer Scrooge. "Thank you" this traveler might mumble inwardly, and quite unconsciously, upon seeing Santa's sleigh upon some roof, giant candy canes and glittering snowmen in the yard, and mischievous little elves carrying packages right to the front door, which just might be his front door. You never know. Despite Scrooge's admonition that you had been naughty a lot during the year, sometimes you were nice. 

Moving on, it's still a little early, but I know these guys are coming. I'm just waiting for the first one to show. I don't know how the appropriate moment is decided upon but when it is, all the others seem to come out of the woodwork and then they're everywhere. I'm talking about the Santa hat people. I really don't know how to take them. For the most part I'm able to avoid them but.... ....every now and again I can't and we interact. Is this person representing Santa as his official agent of merriment while Santa is busy in his workshop? How should I act? I don't know. I guess I should be jolly, filled with good cheer, and "letting nothing you dismay", like the song. Giving hearty nods and a brisk handshakes, that sort of thing. Getting into the spirit. That good enough for ya? 

Hopelessly outnumbered! Gimme a hat so I can blend in already!

Jack Levick- Unsplash.com

You have to go to the mall to experience the next pre-Christmas sighting but sometimes I see them waving at me before I get to the mall. They're out on the street, perhaps in front of a tree lot, or a car dealership. Santas! I know this can be confusing for little kids, to see him out there on the lot, on a billboard, or driving in his SUV when he's (again) supposed to be in his workshop but Moms and Dads can readily explain such multiple Santa sightings away. 
At the mall, Santa is there on his throne (always a big, wide, sturdy one) while wide-eyed thumb suckers trepidatiously wait in line for their turn to talk to the big guy, the guy that grants wishes. Oooh, the power this magical being has! The little one on Santa's lap is whispering something into Santa's ear like he's the Godfather while the parents, between taking tons of pictures, give big smiles to their kid(s) to assure them that everything’s alright. It's a rite of passage. Every kid in America must go through it. 

Office parties. I have never been to a Christmas office party, because I have never worked in an office. But I've seen them in the movies and they always look like a frickin' riot. How come my company never throws a bash like that? Every place I've ever worked for the bosses bailed for lengthy stretches of holiday time off beforehand and left the employees lame catered food spread out on tables that they could consume while on break at work. That was our 'party'. No booze, no drunken debauchery, no suppressed-passion holiday trysts, no scandalous stories to relate around the water cooler for weeks afterward. Bor-ing!

Before I get to the last one, my partner and I did experience Christmas Carolers once. Was that ever weird! Outside, we could hear some kind of commotion coming closer down our street. It sounded like singing. Nobody ever sang in the neighborhood, not publicly, anyway, and here this unusual sound kept coming closer and closer until a knock was heard upon our door followed by a lot of rustling going on outside. I opened the door, my partner and I looked out, and a group of Christmas Carolers loudly wished us a “Merry Christmas!”, after which they sang us a song! Like they really cared about us! It was, well, shocking. Not used to such adolation, we have to admit we were a little bit uncomfortable- at first. But when they didn't stick around to adore us more, we felt let down as they showered the spirit of goodwill upon our neighbors next door. Oh well. It was good while it lasted. 

Finally, my fav-o-rite thing that tells me that Santa is almost here are those old school Christmas specials that they've been playing on TV since I was a tot. Frosty the Snowman. How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer. Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown. Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol'. I love those shows. Awkward animation! Narrated by Jimmy Durante! Super cool Cratchits and Marleys and Scrooge’s played by polished Shakespearean actors! Times were simpler then, and if you got stuff like Army men, a Tonka truck, a bike, or a Barbie set for Christmas you were positively thrilled. 
Nowadays during one of these shows they cut to the T-Mobile ‘flashing lights’ commercial that damn near blinds you by all the funky fun dancing young people that are getting so much data for their buck that they can't help but think they're the coolest and smartest people on God's green earth and then we're back to the show again. Talk about odd juxtaposition!

  But, that's Christmas 2018 for you. It's all good. Nice to see that the spirit is there. Enjoy it while it lasts, because right around the corner comes..... ….you know….
....January.

Rhythm And Rhyme And Harmony

     Spent the last three days listening to the radio and yeah, I got my wish of listening to mostly new music and/or covers I hadn’t heard before but it was a bittersweet affair 'cuz a lot of it didn't ring my bell ifyouknowwhadImean. 
     The DJ's playing these tunes didn't share that same opinion, they thought they were spinnin' the good stuff because during breaks in the entertainment they sometimes waxed long upon the artist, about how this or that song had personal meaning for them, or that they knew something about a particular song's history, how it was created, and they wanted to share that. 

Old Skool analog, no data plan required.

Eric Nopanen- Unsplash.com

Which led me to the thing I want to write about, which is the song creation process (and the creative process in general). 
Songs are mainly written by bands, which is plural, so there is involvement to varying degrees by mates within the band when it comes to accessing the creative magic from which the song springs which they then describe to curious magazine (nowadays podcast) interviewers in this way: "Me an' me blokes crafted a tune over some whiskey and beers that’s about a girl Johnny had a breakup with. It took us an hour to write it on a sotted Sunday afternoon when we were hungover from the LA gig", which gets you to think that that is how all rock songs are created. Easy! Just like that!
Somebody comes up with the lyrics, somebody else comes up with the rhythm, melody, or beat, and then somebody else goes "Hey mates- why don't we cut out that last lil' bit 'n put this in there" upon which he does a slight riff on his guitar and the other band mates go "Oye, mate! That is bloody perfect!" and the next thing you know 'Satisfaction' or whatever is gaining serious airplay and then interviewers swarm ‘round the band and hound them for further insights on their creative process (and extraordinarily un-ordinary lifestyles).

One astute guy I listened to casually talked about his life in the music business and related that he was part of a gypsy community that traveled the world doing gigs as part of this or that band. When he had a break from touring he would touch base at a certain studio where he had an opportunity to record all the songs he'd been working on as a solo project on the side, one of many such solo projects he'd done over the years. He’d collaborate with all kinds of other gypsy musicians that he knew and were in town at the time and I couldn’t help but think “is that the coolest life or what?" as he was relaying it. 
    He had gotten onto 'The Circuit' and once within it, contacts, connections, leads, resources, equipment, collaborators, and like-minded people seemed to abound. The people within The Circuit got along very well with each other because they all liked what they did for a living and were making good enough money to be able to forgo working at a regular job, or any kind of ‘job’ at all. 
Then, as if that wasn’t good enough, they also gained Satisfaction from having an impact upon the world that they could readily measure because they said that they could walk into a mall, a bar, an airport lounge, or whatever and hear one of their songs playing, a song that they had imagined into existence. How is that for having an effect? It's like creating a gift that keeps on giving to the world because, if it's a good song, it could be played one day short of forever. 
     Writing (wordsmithing, I call it) bares little similarity with songwriting. Not nearly as public, the words that are written in pages are only selectively read. They are not widely broadcast like the lyrics in songs are but then again, if you rethink it, are not all movies written and then broadcast to the public at large? All TV series too? Even the intensely private thoughts of a standup comedian can make it to the airwaves. 
So what am I getting at here? Other than in singer/songwriter solo acts, stand-up comedy, and book writing (there may be some others), there exists collaboration. This means that the person that holds the initial vision accepts a loss of control over a project and allows input and change that in the end may or may not match his/her initial vision. This tradeoff is necessary because in collaboration most of the big projects get done. You have to have the visionary, but you also have to have those ones who are good at what they do to take the project to the next level. In doing so, you are taking risk that the project will lose its way, yes, but in that collaborative risk taking there is the huge possibility that something can be created that can surpass anything an individual could ever bring about on their own. 
Maybe you and your mates collaborate and put an album together in the studio like four blokes in England did fifty years ago called The White Album or you have a cast of thousands and a budget of millions and end up crafting a masterpiece like Raiders Of The Lost Ark.

Who knows? There’s magic in individuals not knowing everything.

Not Quite It

I worked on a piece yesterday and no matter how I tweaked it I didn't like it.
Being naturally lazy, my first, second, third, and fifteenth impulse was to continue to work on it, which I did, with the intent of salvaging it, but in the end I couldn't remove the flavor or aroma wafting from the thing and I thought that if I did publish it it would taint my writings, my body of work, forevermore as if in the future somebody would point to that particular one out of everything else I'd ever done and say “This is where artists fail, right at this point! They cross a line and that's it! You can never trust them after that!” or some wild claim and since I'm all about reputation and ethics and trying to do the wright thing through my wrightings (a little nod to fellow intrepid pioneers Orville and Wilbur there) I would be seen as doing the wrong thing or having a proclivity to do so and my readership would drop off and I would be labeled as 'that guy'. 
     But what if? What if I did publish that piece, which started out innocently enough and after all, it is Thought Of The Day and that was the thought train I was on. Can't fault a guy for that, eh?
And who's to judge as to how it would be perceived? Perhaps it would be just the thing for some people and by not publishing that work I would be denying those ones the opportunity to see things perhaps in a different way. 
    That sort of thinking didn't remove the flavor, though, of the piece in my mind, me thinking that I could have done better. 
    But so what? It's just words, water over the dam, flowing into the past, there for a moment and gone- unless I somehow write a classic that ends up gracing the shelves of every library in the land. 
     Articles, essays, and Thought Of The Day do not necessarily quality for such distinction however. These writings are meant to be fleeting things that someday may be compiled in a tome as a body of work that hopefully inspires and may even qualify for something like that. TOTD gives evidence that I did do something with my life other than watch SportsCenter and eat Almond Poppyseed muffins and drink craft beer like any other Joe. 
    So, after all that, here's 'Before Coffee, After Coffee', version 16, for your reading enjoyment (or not). Either way, it's only for a day.

Before Coffee, After Coffee

     Before Coffee (or 'B.C.') this morning I was heavily in thought about the opioid epidemic. The stats on this are truly alarming. The number of overdose deaths in the U.S. hit 70,000+ last year, which is the number of people in a medium-sized city or more guys than were killed in the Vietnam war. 
     A large portion of these overdose deaths were caused by Fentanyl, an extremely potent pharmaceutical developed to control pain. Used by anesthesiologists, this scary drug has made its way to the streets and can quickly take you out. The lethal dosage is ridiculously small, 2 milligrams, or enough grains of the stuff to cover the date on a penny. 
     This nasty white crystalline substance has got to be hugely troublesome for law enforcement 'cuz you can just forget about the movie cliche where the cops bust in and there's a pile of clear plastic bags containing a white powder, one of which the lead detective cuts open with a penknife, dips his finger in the powder that has spilled out, and tastes it. "Yup, it's cocaine" he mumbles. 
Do that with Fentanyl and "Bam!" you're on your way to the morgue.

Ain’t no tourists here

Linda Xu- Unsplash.com

But, an hour of searching Wikipedia and other such research sites later, I'd had my fill of the opioid crisis. This closely coincided with the After Coffee (A.C.) period, which perked me up a bit and cleared all those nighttime sleepy clouds from my mental sky. I hadn't wanted to think about the opioid crisis but morbid curiosity, shock, alarm, dismay, and WTF?! reactions to this bizarre social situation had to be experienced by social scientist me and once that was done, and enough coffee had been ingested, I took on the usual sunnier outlook that is the hallmark of A.C. time. 
'Cuz there's a big difference between B.C. and A.C., you know. 

Before Coffee I'm stumbling about, rubbing sleep out of my eyes, trying to remember the dreams I'd had the night before; perhaps I'm obsessed with this idea or that, but After Coffee I'm on much more level ground. You could say I need the stuff, that coffee is my 'drug of choice'. I could be a tea drinker, one that concocts a morning smoothie, a water drinker, or I could be the kinda guy that slams an energy drink for breakfast. Or I could, as some others do, start my day off with a soda, or a shot. But no, coffee it is for me. I'll pass on the hard stuff.

Through the ingestion of coffee I become alive, fully functional, and ready to meet my day. 
    It's just the way I am. I'm a creature of habit in this regard. It's my morning routine. I'm sure you have one too. My routine is unlikely to change, though at times I have strayed from it. Experimenting, they call it.

I tried to live the 'Before Tea, After Tea' lifestyle, back in the day when tea was all the rage. It didn't take. 
     I never wandered far into energy drink territory. After a foray or two I knew I was not that kind. I didn't like the idea of lighting the fuse on an inner rocket ship, but now that I think about it, maybe that's the stuff all the speeders on the roads around here drink. 
     Water? As W.C. Fields so famously statred, "During one of our trips through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew. We had to live on nothing but food and water for several days"
Er... maybe that's not the best analogy. But, I get part of my necessary daily water requirement filled through drinking coffee, right?
Smoothies to me are like injecting sugar directly into my bloodsteam, and soda is even worse, so my staring fluid of choice is coffee.
    I don't know why. 

But I do know this: Scientists research this sort of thing. There are people out there that are attracted to various substances and no matter what you do, you can't keep them away from them. This is certainly true in the case of hard drugs, for despite stringent laws against, there are still some people for, even for the devil's own drug Fentanyl, which has the unwanted lethal side effect of making you dead. The scientists say it's addiction that is driving the users. What is addiction? You don't really want to know, it's one of those things that is best known theoretically and not experientially. Addiction at that level sounds like hell, it's been described as an almost insatiable psychological craving coupled with physical symptoms to match. Sounds like a hard lesson, perhaps one of the hardest ones in the pantheon of human life lessons. 
"Moderation in all things" is the key to health and longevity. I've read interviews of wise and very old people from around the world and they always say that. "Not too much, but never too little! Enjoy life!" 
And that's what rings true for me. I'm there. No hard drugs anywhere near me, no thanks. Just coffee and craft brew. And as far as coffee goes, Before Coffee is too little while After Coffee is just right. I have learned to find that happy balance. 
And it's not like I drink coffee all day in order to maintain that balance, unh uh. There is Before Coffee, and then there is After, and then there is no coffee for a long while until the cycle starts again. 

They say that with any addict there is withdrawal and that a true test of addiction is that you try and not take the stuff and find that you're helpless in that regard, you will seek it out and seek it out until you find it, even if finding it finds you in some movie set dark alley somewhere with ominous music playing. Hooded characters who are totin' heat are passin' baggies and crumpled bills back and forth and you'd better grab your daily fix and get gone before something ugly goes down 'cuz there are sirens in the distance, multiple, some from cop cars that could be racing towards your location and others from ambulances that are carrying the afflicted away and damn how did I fall this far but I gotta have it and whew I'll be ok now 'cuz I've got my stuff.

Jeez! It's not like that! 

An' with me it never will be.

Lightness Of Being

    One of the joys of my job is that I get to be around kids every now and again, kids of all ages. I don't have any kids of my own and didn't want any 'cuz I figured the world was doing a good enough job of populatin' and also because I had 'been there, done that' lifetimes ago and this time around I was going to place my focus elsewhere, which I did. 
This has made me ageless in a way (something I wrote about once before) because I don't have a measuring stick like (God forbid!) my son is this old and my two daughters are this old (which I hear adults my age say a lot). I say 'God forbid' in the sense that "God forbid I should have three kids 'cuz I can't imagine it!" because whoa- isn’t raising kids a hellacious, daunting, fearsome, and most times (crazier still) voluntary taking on of work? But you oughta see what I see every day. 
There are plenty of volunteers for raising babies! They populate the airport in much higher concentrations than anywhere else (save schoolyards) so if you have any doubts that the number of people willing to have kids is less, that can be a real eye opener. 
Anyway, since I didn't have kids of my own I haven't really been around them much for decades. But in my present job, there they are- newborns, toddlers, precocious three to five year olds, regular kids from six on up to about twelve, awkward early teens, and then older pre-adult teens with that attitude of disdain that they tend to have. 

Exhausted after a full afternoon of doing absolutely nothing important

Blake Meyer- Unsplash.com

I see a lot of kids and I see a lot of parents and I can tell what kind of people the parents are by the way their kids act. It's a joy to me to see well-adjusted, happy kids but it hurts some to see kids who are withdrawn and guarded because that tells me that they haven't been treated very well. I do what I can to make those ones' day better but I can't help 'em anymore than that. 
My fav kids are the three-to-five year olds. Lord Jesus they are amazing. Their parents might not always think so, they look kind of tired, bored, and weary sometimes. "Enough with the cuteness already!" the parents are thinking, 'cuz they have to deal with the little darlings when they're not being adorable and are being 'difficult', but damn do those little guys brighten up the mood nearly every time they're around.
For example: If I get a group of just adults together they can vary between being clipped and hardly talkative to each other to positively buzzing (which is rare) but the kind of stuff they talk about is adult stuff because you know they have to represent. 
But get just one of those three-to-five year old angels onboard and little sparkles, I swear, fill the air. They approach whatever they're experiencing with a sense of absolute wonder as if they are experiencing it for the very first time, which they probably are, and all of a sudden the world is a magical place. Many adults have totally forgotten how to see things like that but I never really did so I can relate to kids. We're kin, though we aren't. We're kin in that we share a secret which enables us to laugh and play at the drop of a hat because we know the world really isn’t a serious place. Sure, there are grown up things that have to be done and super important rules about physical safety and survival that have to be followed but a lot of that 'other' grown up stuff is meant to dampen, control, subdue, and condition people. Fortunately with the little ones none of that 'other' stuff has taken yet. They're still free, wild, enthusiastic, trusting, open, and naturally kind, like the adults used to be, until they learned how not to be, or hid those parts of themselves away.

Now understand, I wouldn't want to be around kids all the time. I just like to take 'em in small doses because yeah, I gotta admit it, I'm not really into that much frivolity and silliness. I like being an adult. But if I ever get lost in adulthood, or have become jaded from dealing with dour, businesslike adults at work, kids serve as instant reminders of just how lost I've become.

The best possible antidote for lostness is me doing my job, a three-to-five year old kid, that kid's parents, and a grandparent. Let the young parents take care of business, which they, with firm parental resolve and grim determination, adamantly insist on doing themselves. Mom will muscle with her personal stuff and the multiple bags that Moms always lug around, while Dad tries to figure out where to grab the damn carseat while he’s at the same time struggling with two big, heavy suitcases.

That gives the rest of us a little time to play!

The Ides Of March, 2020

I've been following astrology for decades and have seen a lot of different astrological configurations. Every now and again the planets line up in such a way that their effects are heightened. But not every configuration has a big impact.

There are eight planets (excluding earth) in traditional astrology, plus the sun and the moon. Some astrologers add in extra objects like asteroids and the North and South 'nodes' of the moon, and other such things, but I have enough to deal with in the traditional style so I don't go any farther than that. 
Keep it simple, I say. And so let's look at the planets, the sun, and the moon and see if we can calculate their impact by their speed of movement. As seen from the earth, the moon moves the fastest, it passes through each sign of the zodaic in about two and a half days, which is roughly a month. Next is the sun. It moves a little over a degree a day, thus the 360 degree circle of the zodiac, and the 365 days of the year. Mercury accelerates ahead of the sun, then backtracks in retrograde movement about three times a year. Venus does the same thing, only in a slower fashion, it goes retrograde about every eighteen months. 
Mars is the next fastest planet, it keeps up a steady pace but eventually appears to stand still and then move backwards, relative to the earth. Mars goes retrograde about every two years for ten weeks.
I call these aforementioned objects 'fast movers'. Their effects don't last very long because these ‘planets’ don't stick around very long. Unless any of these ‘planets’ goes stationary, that period at the very beginning and end of a retrograde movement, they won't be lingering on any degree for long in your astrological chart. 
But now we move on to the heavies, the slow movers, which can take years to transit areas of your natal chart, and the further out we get, the slower they move. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. Some astronomers want to remove Pluto from the list of planets, saying that it is too small, but astrologers say it is a planet and I tend to agree with that. It didn't show up by accident in the first place, and it does a handy enough job of representing the underworld, so let’s keep it there. 
So- continuing here, every person born on earth has an astrological chart that is cast at the minute they arrive, their natal chart. This chart shows where every planet, the sun, and the moon were at the time you were born. This chart represents who you are, what challenges you are going to face, where your strengths lie, and all other sorts of initial life path information. There are plenty of books out there that go into detail about this. 
There's also a lot of interpretation out there, a lot of argument, the use of different astrological charts, calculations, etc, etc. Keep it simple, see if it represents you, and move on already. 
  Ok. Now that I've said all that, I say this- the heavies are the long term influences, the 'grinders', and their effects are felt for years. Most astrological aspects, I've noticed, tend to rise like the incoming tide. Their influence is felt long before, as they are approaching, and the peak of their influence comes just before the planet hits the exact degree on your chart. After that, it's pretty much over. The influence has been felt and from there on, the lesson has been learned, hopefully, one way or another, and the aspect lessens in importance. I've found I'm much more affected during the approach to exactness than I am during the actual period when aspects are exact, and that I really don't care much during the slow decline that happens afterwards. 

Gotta like the Romans. Men were noble then.

Nils- Unsplash.com

Your natal chart is a fixed set of, in astrological terminology, 'planetary' positions. The next thing we are concerned about are things called 'transits'. These are the positions that the planets are currently in, in relation to the fixed planets of your natal chart. 
Say if your natal Mercury is at 2 degrees Capricorn, like mine is, the transiting planets in your transit chart may or may not be having an effect on that position. Effects are determined by the transiting planets’ positions relative to the fixed positions of the planets on your natal chart. Strong positions are called 'aspects'. These represent particular angles that a transiting planet is making with a fixed planetary position.
Transit angles are 'Trines' (120 degrees, a favourable aspect), 'Squares' (90 Degrees, a challenging aspect), 'Oppositions' (180 degrees apart, kind of a standoff), and 'Conjunctions' (0 degrees apart, an amplification, or dilution of power, depending on which planets are in conjunction).
    There are other, minor angles that come into play, and there are usually numerous angles happening at any one time in a transit chart, so interpreting these charts is something best done by somebody who has been doing it for a long time and has somehow managed to be able to interpret all this data. Because it's not all just aspects and angles! There are also astrological houses, the positions of the planets in those houses, detrimental positions of planets, exalted positions, nodes (as mentioned before), ascendants, descendants, degrees of influence, waxing aspects, waning aspects, rare and unusual formations like the 'Grand Trine' harmonic convergence of August 24, 1987, 'Grand Crosses', 'T-squares', 'Yods', and the like. It can be exhausting. 
So, moving on, something is coming up. Slow movers are grinding through Capricorn or heading that way. Two planets are already in Capricorn- Pluto and Saturn. They will be joined by Jupiter in 2020, and then in March of that year, by Mars for awhile, and all of this is taking place on or within a few degrees of my natal sun! Is that good? Not so good? I don't know. I think it is significant, though. But not just for me. Everybody is going to have this concentration of heavies on some degree of their chart, and save for fast moving Mars, this confluence of planets is going to be in place throughout 2020. 
The last time Pluto, Saturn, and Jupiter were all together at the same point in the sky was way back in 1285. For that configuration to reappear, and tie in with the degree of the sun in my natal chart in 2020 is incalculable and makes the meeting sound full of portent and at the same time somewhat ominous, does it not? But, I've survived, as has everybody else, numerous powerful astrological configurations before and while some of them have been stressful periods, it's all been for the good, right?

Right?       

Family Gathering Time

Thanksgiving is the time when extended family members get together, usually after a long time apart. It marks the start of the holiday season. Thanksgiving is when relatives ('The Rels') gather over at the designated family gathering house, which in my case, was always Gramma's-on-the-farm.
It was like the damn Waltons over there. I mean, there were aunts and uncles and kids- lots and lots of kids. So many, and so many new ones, that you had to struggle sometimes to remember names. I thought everybody had experienced this growing up but only years later did I realize that not everybody had experienced burgeoning swarms of relatives on Thanksgiving Day. Some people never knew what it was like so I'm here to tell you that it was just alright. 
It wasn't like we were all warm with each other, like me and my numerous cousins were super friendly with each other. We were cordial, let's say. Our aunts wanted us to get along like we were long lost kin but Nah! We didn't. There were some I bonded with, some I just tolerated, and some that were in between those two poles. Some of this was due to the fact that we only saw each other once or twice a year. The local cousins I might see numerous times during the year, the more distant ones maybe once or twice. 
This was in Wisconsin so it was at that time of year pretty damn cold outside, the first snow had fallen a week or so before and on Thanksgiving week the snow usually started sticking, and would, until spring. Wouldn't be melting off anymore. Deer hunting season was also in full swing, and always coupled with Thanksgiving was the sight of blaze orange-clad hunters and deer carcasses gracing the beds of pickup trucks or deer carcasses strung up between trees, ready to be 'dressed', as they said it. 
Gunshots were occasionally heard coming from the woods around town where I lived, and around Gramma’s farmhouse, sometimes in rapid succession, and this was necessary because if the deer weren't reduced in population many might starve during the long winter or, come spring, they would become road hazards and invade the farmer's fields. Just the way it was up there. 
So relatives that had been hunting and relatives coming from town or places farther away would arrive at Gramma's doorstep. Coming in from the frosty cold they would be met by two things- a lot of heat from the many things cooking on the stove, and the gang inside the house, which seemed to grow by the hour. 

Cousins by the bushel! This here’s Aunt Nan’s boy!

Luke Southern- Unsplash.com

Now Gramma's (Gramps was there too, but he had dementia to where he just sat in his chair) house wasn't that big but we all fit in there, the women all fussing around in the kitchen trying to help Gramma, the younger kids running around in their wild ways, occasionally being scolded by their respective mothers if they got out of hand, me and my cousins awkwardly trying to get along with each other, and the older men, uncles and husbands of aunt so-and-so, sitting at card tables playing poker while either The Lawrence Welk Show (Gramps’ favorite), NBC, CBS, or ABC holiday specials, or better yet, football was playing on the black and white TV in the living room. 
By nightfall, which came pretty early at that time of year, dinnertime would be announced, and it was everybody grabbing plates and making their way around an extended kitchen table covered with good eats. There was a huge turkey, of course, a big sliced ham, mashed potatoes, boats of gravy, cranberry sauce, green beans, home baked bread and butter, lots of other stuff, and at least three different pies to choose from. More than enough for everybody- and please help yourself to seconds. 
There wasn't enough room at the table so everybody just found a place to sit and eat and we did, happily so, 'cuz nothing was better than Gramma's food I swear to God there was something special about it. Might not have been the healthiest in today's estimation but our ingestion of large amounts of butter, bacon fat, Crisco shortening, sugar, and salt didn't seem to do us any harm. All those older people 'round the table at the time lived a great number of years afterward. 
After dinner the kitchen table was cleared and the women sat around it and played Canasta and Pinochle for hours. Many of the kids and uncles joined in or watched, or joined in the easygoing conversation that passed around the table. It was good stuff. 
Then the first yawns started getting shared and it was time for the families to gather up kids and get their jackets, hats, and gloves from the pile off the spare sofa in the corner nook where the adolescents hung out and make their way to the kitchen door to get their boots on. Goodbyes were said and off they'd go, the crowded house thinning out in this way until the last family was left. 
Oh, the dishes had been cleaned up some and most of the food had been put away but Gramma would hear none of any attempts to clean up everything, she'd get to that later. And then when the last family left it was just her and Gramps alone and Thanksgiving was over and down the long snow covered and icy gravel country road family members would drive back to the paved county road, which led to their places some twenty miles or more away. 

Whenever I think about Thanskgiving I think about those days, which didn't last very long. We kids grew up fast and eventually Gramma and Gramps passed, the old farmhouse got sold off ('cuz none of their kids wanted to do hard farming work), and it never was the same again. Thanksgiving was a smaller affair after that and it still is. It's hard to get people together in that way year after year anymore, people live so far apart now, or at least my family does. 
But that's okay. I had my Norman Rockwell Thanksgivings growing up and while they were bustling and bonding times, so is every other Thanksgiving I've experienced special. The spirit of Thanksgiving is what makes it so. Doesn't matter if you're with a crowd, if there's only the two of you, or if you're even just one. Just know that the very act of getting together and putting aside differences for awhile warms up people's hearts and gets transferred to the populace at large. Everybody benefits.

I Am Relevant

I think I am. Or I was- yesterday….
Yesterday I was front page news. All the websites were running pictures of me, or at least the relevant websites were. Upon those sites my words carried weight. My image was telling- my gestures, my facial expression, the clothes I had purchased or somehow fabricated. The decisions that I had made, or was mulling over making, created buzz. 
Reporters clamored to hear my words. I was badgered in the hallways, sidled up to, pestered for clues about what I was thinking and where I might go with that thinking. I set policy. I was a decider, a kingmaker, a player.
Others looked up to me. I was a role model, something to aspire to, a leader. I had the right stuff. 
The press couldn't get enough of me and I often had to hide from them. I had bodyguards, read prepared statements, had aides, assistants, underlings, spokespersons, lieutenants, and (it was widely speculated) henchmen. The clergy was (sometimes) on my side. I had clout. 
But I also had my detractors, my enemies. Oh, did they rail against me to anybody who would listen, or read the stories they had written about me! I was endlessly analyzed, over-the-top scrutinized, and even though my history was thoroughly combed over they still couldn't understand what made me tick. I kept 'em guessing and stayed one step ahead. 
I was clever. Smart. Smarter than them, for I was above and they were below. Who was the camera pointing at? Me!
I was relevant. 

Picture books about my life and the impact I had

Designecologist- Unsplash.com

But then one day the camera pointed away. Somebody else had showed up with more interesting things to say or do and try as I might, I couldn’t capture the media's attention anymore. No matter what I did they weren't interested. Power was draining from my brand, my image, my camp, and accumulating in theirs.  
Oh, members of the media would come around from time to time, do follow-up stories on me, see what I was up to, sniff around to see if I had anything that might vault me back into the limelight for if I did their star would rise too but I had nothing of much interest to offer them. 
I had become irrelevant. Even though I was still respected, and would long be, I was not captivating anymore. My star had faded, and it had happened so suddenly! One day I was king of the world, at the head of the conference table, calling the shots, had the ball in my hand, was under the spotlight on stage playing my role, and the next I was obscure. Just another Joe. 
But it was fun while it lasted. I tell everybody in the club here about my former life, my many and varied friends, my family at home, and anybody else I can corral, or I just sit alone and reminisce about my days on top. 
  Lookit there, on the TV! The latest hot new personalities. I kinda feel sorry for them, they're going to get milked for every ounce of interest that they can provide then the machine will discard them. I oughta open a consulting business to help them capitalize on their fame but it's hard to get through, there's such a mob of helpers and enablers around the relevant ones all the time. Never know though, I might get lucky. I'll give so-and-so a call, lay my best pitch on 'im. Got to strike while the iron's hot 'cuz who or what's relevant today probably won't be a year from now. From obscurity to the limelight and back again is the cycle.

Whew! They were right about fame being fleeting!

Death

All of my life I have been obsessed with death. Isn't that weird? But it's not a morbid obsession with death, it's a sort of measuring where I stand as the sand from the hourglass slowly runs out. 
You see, I have done this before, this thing called life, so I treasure it, oh do I ever. I know how tenuous it is, how fleeting, how tragic and sad and gruesome the end of it might be. Death is that part of life that we never want to look at and when we do, it usually ain't pretty. 
So we hide death from view as much as we possibly can, in order for life to shine that much brighter. We try and bury death under distractions and busyness and purpose and goals and future and we can be quite successful with that but death always has the final say. 
Were death to be not so, we would have perpetual life and if that were so, what a dysfunctional one that would be, looking around and seeing how we approach life. We’re not exactly aces at that, are we?

Angels are cool

Sandy Millar- Unsplash.com

 
One of the absolutely amazing things about death- Death! Finis! The End! - is that although everybody knows it's coming, they treat it as if it's nothing to be overly concerned about! You’d think- any animal would think- that if I only have X number of years and that's it I'm gonna be one wild crazy bad ass mo'fo and get what I can while I can get it. Anarchy would rule the day because with no future beyond life, and no God to answer to, there would be zero consequence. 
But the very absence of anarchy is telling. It indicates that there is consequence, which is ruled by conscience. No matter what people might say outwardly, they inwardly- even the atheists- believe in God, or something that just might be best left un-pissed off when they transition. 

You can hold up a yardstick to any accomplishment in the earthly realm and death only laughs at it. You can rise to the highest position, lord over minions, store gold and art in Swiss vaults deep under the mountains there, and none of that matters at the end. 
"Ain't never seen no U-Haul behind no hearse!" I heard some African American lady say once and I thought "Ain't that right!"
'Cuz it is. Death is. So spin out on whatever tangent you want, you ain't gonna spin out on death. Death ain't no fake news.
You can though, as so many do, treat death as something to never, ever think about and be quite sucessful in that approach. So successful that in the end you haven't paid it hardly any mind at all. You almost cheated death in that way. Wow. Good for you. For these people it's like death comes sneakin' around the corner and right at the last second goes "Hello" and it's over. 
    Is that wrong? Is that right? I don't have an answer for that. All I know is that for me, death is a curiosity, a thread, that once pulled upon, drawn closer, and fully examined, has shown me more about life and what it means than I ever could have imagined. My obsession with death has brought to me books about the afterlife, research on NDE's (Near Death Experiences), and so much more. I don't know exactly what happens after we die but I feel a lot better about it now so when somebody mentions death, or I see that somebody famous has died in the news, I think that they've chosen to transition so that they can go to some heavenly place and reboot their soul, change things around some, so that when they can come back, in all likelihood, to this earthly realm they can try life out again under a different set of conditions and build upon what they already know. It's a beautiful system. 

I've heard it said in the future that we'll have this life thing figured out well enough and we'll feel like sticking around longer. We won't need to transiton and be reborn so often. We won't need to pack in a lot of intense experiences. 
Sounds good to me. I'm ready for that. Sign me up! 

'Cuz an only four score and ten years or so lifespan hasn't even gotten me out of adolescence. I mean, really. 

Gratitude

Seems there is a genr’l lack of this these days, there is a massive sense of entitlement going around. I see it in young and old people but hey I was young once, unconscious once, and had attitude aplenty. 
     But if you've ever had to work for a living boy do you change that tune. 
Not everybody is gonna know what I'm talking about here, there are a few who have never worked in their lives and never will. To those, I say you cannot possibly understand (which is the same thing that parents tell people that don't have kids, interestingly enough). Because, in a way, when you have to work, it's kind of like dealing with kids all the time. The problem child might be your boss, or it might be your coworkers- a lot of working people can relate to that one- but most likely it's the customers you interact with. 
  Things need to get done, employees do it, and customers are the recipients of those efforts. Simple, right?
Should be. But when you throw attitude into the mix, the customer entitlement quality that workers find so annoying, well, that just doesn't make for a good exchange. Yes, we know you paid good money for this, your time is valuable, you're in a hurry, your elderly parent is waiting in the hallway, or the 1,001 other reasons you have but- say it nice. 
That's all you gotta do. 'Cuz I can guarantee you if you don't, that is going to slow things down. Hit the worker bee with not nice and his or her heels are going to dig in. Whatever process, transaction, or function that bee has to fulfill is now going to be done less than joyfully because they have to deal with you. 
Now while it’s true that there are some bad apple worker bees out there, it’s more likely than not that the one you’re dealing with is not naturally surly, woke up in a bad mood that morning, or is in the 1,001 other ways customers imagine, to be ‘shirking their duties', no. 

Dig- If you have to face hundreds of people a day, say you're a checker in a supermarket, a gate agent at the airport, or a pool attendant at a resort, the people with attitude and not gratitude wear on you until you get to the point where you're numb, uncommunicative, and just going through the motions. You’re not really there mentally though physically you have to be- which is the very definition of a zombie.
  This traumatized person is on the road to burnout and probably desperately looking for another job due to all the attitude that has come his or her way. Managers won't step in to curb most disrespectful customer behavior because they’re usually not around and even if they are the caveat 'the customer is always right' (they bring in money) applies, so weathering attitude is the (aptly named) 'front line' employee's burden to bear. This is soooo unnecessary, because all it takes is a little understanding on the customer's part on how to communicate their need(s) in the right way. Say it nice. Have a little consideration. Pour a little sugar on it.

People that work with the public understand how to do this, watch the pros and learn from them next time you're out in the field. They might be getting barraged by some unconscious lout's attitude but they'll never lash out in response. They know how to deal with the children of the world because over time they have learned that the problem isn't that they are being unreasonable. Truly, these ones have developed the patience of saints. Oh, they could tell you stories.....

‘Hey! Uniform! Where’s the bathroom?”

“#$!%#!”

Anna Dziubinska- Unsplash.com

We live in a very fast paced, internet-fueled, Do (a lot of) It Yourself world. It closely resembles a sort of instant gratification convenience store. People don't want to wait for anything. They want to grab and go, and pack in a crazy amount of experiences, but in order for them to do that there has to be other people manning the stores, restaurants, resorts, airports, and doing necessary maintenance and upkeep. The ones on the go should get up in the morning and thank God that these people are smoothing the way for them. While not exactly so grateful that they're stopping to wash these people's feet (the fantasy every worker bee has) the Grab and Go crowd should be awestruck by how blessed they are to be given the ability to move seamlessly through the world, all the necessary support functions being taken care of for them so that they can have their precious experiences. 
So, Me Firsters, the next time you interact with a person that's making it happen for you, try and muster up the ability to be genuinely grateful because that person isn't a robot, or your butler, or ol' Go an’ Gettit. That person is only playing a role for you and someday, if there is any justice at all in this world, it'll be their time to Grab and Go.

And when that time comes, believe me, those who have truly Been There will shower gratitude upon every worker bee that crosses their path.