Friend Face ThoughtSeries

Usually, I write something and decide to share, but this time, I friend faced and wrote my thoughts like a blog, one thought at a time. I got some surprising "likes" and "amen" commentaries, which were quite as good as my blogging thoughts, since there were women who really relate:

I'm feeling nostalgic today. Life was so simple then. After bedtime, I'd get up and go to the window when I heard the DDT truck go by, supposedly killing mosquitoes, and breathe it all in. That kept going on until Rachel Carson wrote her book, Silent Spring, impressing my Republican dad. But then, Republicans then were almost like moderate Democrats now. So, he was impressed that maybe they should stop doing that.

Yes, those were the days, my friend. We learned shorthand, not knowing its days of usefulness were numbered. Still, it was kind of neat. And we learned how to type as-fast-as-we-could to absolute perfection, on pain of death, which made me want to go to college, instead.

In those days, we girls were in the home economics class, learning how to sew, so our husbands wouldn't pay out so much money for store-bought clothes, which made me, again, want to go to college. (There were no male chefs teaching guys back then.) And we wore dresses and skirts to school, no exceptions. Our legs froze, but were willing to pay the price for being female. The only reason we were so willing was because it never occurred to us it was a "crock".

Memorial Day Memory

I woke up "naturally" today, but shot up, because I always want to walk down the hill to see the Memorial Day Parade. 
I tend to think about the soldiers in my family, and even wrote a poem about them called the "40th Anniversary of Two Soldiers", regarding my dad and my brother, on an earlier blog.  Now, it would be the 45th Anniversary.  The latter died in Viet Nam's TET Offensive, and my dad probably died of a broken heart, even though his death was attributed to cancer and other causes.  My mom observed that veterans tended to die earlier, even after surviving the war. 
But there was one meeting I had with my dad a couple years before he died, where I had the privilege of hearing about how he was at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked.
As for my mom and her family of three boys before my time, they were preparing to head for Hawaii to join my dad. But she shrieked in horror when the radio announced that Pearl Harbor had been attacked.
Dad had dressed in white to preside over the Sunday Service, as chaplain, when he heard what he thought was target practice.  He first thought it rather odd that the army was conducting target practice on a Sunday morning.  He didn't have to wonder for long, as he found himself flat on the ground in the middle of a strafing. He was, after all, dressed up to be a good target.
After the attack was over, he was assigned, graves registration officer. There were, undoubtedly, others. One of his more noxious observations was the increasing odor that grew worse day by day.  This is something the Cinema can never share in their war movies.  He had to identify slain soldiers, sometimes, with only body parts. And some, shot down in planes, were pretty much returned to the dust, so they had to look for dog tags and other kinds of identification.
There was, consequently, a list of casualties. Mom was informed by someone that they had looked at the casualty list, and her "sweetheart was not on it".
I was eventually able to see a documentary of this event on television, and later, a movie.  But the documentary hit me pretty personally, as it was so real. And if Dad hadn't survived it, neither would have I.

Joe Btsplk - a reprint from days gone by

Introduction - someone posted something about "thought forms" on "Friend Face", so I remembered what I'd written years ago.  The point of this is, "what you focus on expands", and this is a reprint:

I think my love of reading began when I was about ten years old and heard stories from the Tomahawk Public Library that inspired me to take out books.  I was able to laugh with delight over comics of Pogo, Peanuts, and even steal Mad and Al Capp comics from my older brother's room.

Al Capp, the creator of Li'l Abner, had also invented some other characters, one of which was Joe Btsplk.  He was a jinx who carried a dark cloud over his head, and everywhere he went, car wrecks and other unfortunate events took place, just because he happened to be around.

I hadn't thought of Joe Btplk until recently.

It was when I came to a realization one night after I had spent some time talking over some unfortunate events with our Creator in the privacy of a nearby park, that I came back after blowing my nose and smoothing my feathers.  I looked out the window that night, and it came to me.  I could visualize a "cloud" of electrical energy in the form of minus signs.  This "cloud" was something  for which I was responsible.  It was hanging in the air.  It was almost tangible. Wow, did that hit me!  What I was doing - expressing myself in a negative way -  was being revealed to me as something which was actually counterproductive.  There it was.  I was just like Joe Btsplk!

Years ago, my traditional, yet metaphysically-minded late dad and I attended a church where a fellow pastor of his spoke.  Dad was so impressed with the message, he called and told him.  It was about how the Israelites spent forty years in the desert (that means a "critical period" or until completion) and took such an incredibly long time there under Moses, because of what?  "Because of unbelief!"  This fellow pastor repeated that phrase several times throughout the sermon.  It seems the Israelites spent a lot of time complaining, carrying on, and telling Moses how much better they had it back in Egypt in slavery, and on and on, adnauseum.  This unbelief (you remember the Joe Btsplk "cloud") had actually delayed and deterred them from their goal of reaching the promised land within a time period that was more to their liking.

Sure, they had faith.  Otherwise, the account wouldn't be there, but the other side of it (for you and me of little faith) is to develop more faith.  It takes learning, a little stumbling, practice, and an awareness of the lesson Joe Btsplk has to teach us.

Since Ma Bell and General Tel

Ma called me on a Swiss Cow Bell,
Now, Moms call kids on a cell.
Used to call folks on the phone.
Now, "Leave a message at the tone."
Used to get the operator,
Now, punch buttons, wait till later.
Once checked to see if I had mail,
Now, I click my dail-e-mail.
Checked the bookstore for a book,
Now, I may look in my Nook.
Watched a few shows on TV,
Now, have many cable "free".
Teachers typed out purple papers,
Now, they copy with no vapors.
Used to thread the film projector,
Now, the DVD's effect-or.
Use to pass our notes in school,
Now, they have a texting tool.
Thought you'd left your schools behind?
Friend-Face classmates are online.
Seniorhood's not really boring,
When you're gaining quite a following,
On your blogs and network threads,
Are a bunch of talking heads,
Some annoyed, so then, "unfriend" you,
Just like school when couldn't stand you.
Most are gracious, have flip-flopped.
Respect, forgiveness hasn't stopped.
And if you write a silly Haiku,
Someone there may even "Like" you.

The Rest of the Story

I received a cell phone call last Monday morning, with a text, telling me my daughter was delivering three weeks ahead of time. At first, I thought it was the clock radio, but I hadn't set it.
I spent two nights with the 2 and a 1/2 year old, comforting her through the night. When I noticed her congestion had gone into her chest the second morning, Grandma Marilyn thought she'd better have her checked. She'd been worried about Naia catching R.S.V. fom baby James, her daughter's son. Sure enough; she had it. She had to be quarantined while Leela and her mother stayed here a couple nights.

Now, I know that Naia hadn't fallen into a well, but just before she was reunited with her mamma, I found myself going online to check out the baby Jessica story. Just about four years ago, Jessica was a grown woman with a son about the same age as when she fell, in 1987.
The reason I did that was a Unity/Rosicrucian woman, at that time, said the little girl, Jessica, was so in tune with her "God Self" that she sang songs down there. It was true. There had been reports of the child coping this way. And the whole nation cheered when they got the baby out of the well.

Our little one got quarantined for R.S.V. for an entire week, to protect her newborn sister, Leela. Although Naia had never been separated from her mother, she was strong and good natured during the time with her paternal grandparents.

I received yet another morning text that the mother/daughter reunion took place on my daughter Robin's birthday. It was a happy birthday, indeed!


(at two)

Who knows what companion(s) hover around our little ones. Don't make fun of their "imaginary" friends. We've just lost the ability to see our own.

Holsters and Tanks

I was going to publish a little piece that fit Christmas, but involved a gun, and I didn't think it was appropriate just right now.
It's getting hot on friend face, so I'm just content to blog, because nobody pays much attention to that, anyway.
If my blogger buddy, Clif Martin, doesn't mind, I still remember his blog on "Friend Face is so Political", wherein he states, "People say they're so glad when they wake up, that Obama is President. I'm just glad to wake up."
So, I say, be glad when you wake up. Our bodies weren't made to last forever, and life is good.
I don't expect anyone to have a sense of humor inappropriately, but it is important to return to it. It's healing, and I've seen some glimmers of humor return to social media. I've also been considering joining (more seriously lately) the Healing Story Alliance, so that may be my response.
I do wish to address the idea that somehow, we don't have to reconsider sensible gun safety and limitations, because of the use of fertilizer, knives, box cutters, dynamite, etc. Most of the incidents involved guns lately. Ironically, I read that the mother of the perpetrator bought guns for target practice and to protect herself, and it was used on her and others.
I don't want to live in a society where I have to have a gun. And as Michael Moore says, "I'm not leaving."
When I worked in the school system, I wouldn't have liked it if the sub caller, as they had them in the days I was on call, would say, "Don't forget to put on your holster and gun. And by the way, pray first, because God hasn't been spotted in the schools." An omnipresent, omniscient God, not there? Oh...please. And the American society is Godless? This is one of the most religious countries in the world! In fact, many who have religion need to study more, so it doesn't become a gun culture, at least, more of one. Please stop preaching to us who have studied. So, you think teaching's a racket, an easy job, one to disrespect, when teachers and administrators lay down their lives for the protection of their students? You're willing to not pay them or give them benefits, but instead, arm them? Looks like the teachers are being treated like the military personnel. And it would be very unsettling to see an army tank on the school's front lawn or near the playground.
When you're in the elementary classroom, you're supposed to be discussing things like, what the weather's like today, the various jobs kids are assigned, the class agenda, and storybook time. This is all of which teacher and kids should be focused, not defense.
Then, there's the admonition to not watch the news. I haven't been, but the social media is crammed with news. It is good advice to not watch it, as what you focus on expands. But on the other hand, I do understand that it's good therapy to talk about things.
Speaking of therapy, the issue is not quite so simplistic as mere improvements on gun control. We've got to expand mental health facilities and workers. We also have to take away the stigma of having mental problems. The impression some have is that mentally ill people always do violence. Not so. But we can spot those prone to violence more readily, if we deal with mental health issues in this country. Perhaps the mother should have been advised that if she had a mentally ill child, she also should not have guns in the house. Also, the documentary on the guy who did use fertilizer showed that here was a guy who was obviously P.T.S.D. and should have been watched. In fact, he probably thought he was in a war, over here.
And some people think we should be like a state that wants to secede and disobeys the federal government. Go watch the movie, "Lincoln". We paid a heavy price for becoming the U.S. of A.
All these edicts are fear based. Return to Love, also everywhere present, and Peace.
There was just too much to respond to on friend face. So, I'll blog, because nobody pays much attention to it, anyway.

Troubled Waters (or work without union protection)

As the blender began to spin in the cartoon I copied off to post, at work, I stood transfixed.
The cartoon was a picture of a blender filled with water. A goldfish swam on its surface. The expression on its face was one of dread, eyes wide open, mouth curved downward. The caption said, "So, you think you've got stress!"
I blinked my eyes and shook my head several times, looked up at the cartoon, and saw it return to its original standstill humor.
The only thing that bothered me was the question, "Is this portending something terrible?"
Admittedly, the new superintendent's behavior was unsettling. She was making negative headlines, claiming corruption in high places. I'd also heard her yelling and screaming at length at someone, in the supply closet.
It was clear she thought Joe Clark and Jaime Esperante were heroes, and she wanted to be the next heroine.
Yet, she stood there at a community educators' meeting and lied, assuring us that we would continue in her employ and be able to "keep our homes and feed our families". This was followed by applause.
Yet someone must not have trusted her, as I received an application for unionizing community ed and began to fill it out.
Alas, it was too late! She and the then Republican Governor were getting cozy, and before we knew it, our hours were cut. Then, not much later, my own boss got fired. Generally, community education got cut across the board, and charter schools popped up all over the state. I'd heard that, after the governor did his hatchet job, he left the state. She too went back to her home state. And now, as things developed over time, the head guys in the capitol are making this school system into a charter school.
Personally, I had to spend my summers doing temp work, so I wasn't rolling in the dough. Due to in-station politics in broadcasting, another non-protected profession, my husband had gotten let go, after 20 years in the field.
So on my new supplementary adult ed teaching job, I got wind of a mother and daughter graduating the same year, interviewed then, and wrote it up for a local down-home newspaper. It was a powerful argument for community ed, but it wasn't something that the politicians would take note of at the state capitol.
I began to sense that what the poor fish had forebodings about finally happened. I returned to the break room at what was left of my main job, looked at the still-life cartoon once more, as the blender, once again, began to spin.