Our Children

I’m a news junkie. I love Keith Olbermann . My local NBC station is pretty reliable. I go to sleep listening to the news and wake up listening to it as well.   Since 9/11,  news has become an integral part of my daily existence.  I almost wish it wasn’t.  Friday, I was writing an extensively pathetic pity party for myself on my myspace blog.  I was looking for some kind of encouragement to continue coping with this ridiculous world that gets worse by the minute.  The suffering that my family endures, bears absolutely no comparison to what I heard on MSNBC news that day.  The family of Jessica Lunsford has endured more pain than most of us could ever imagine.  I won’t even speculate on what Jessica herself endured as the thought of it is emotionally wrenching and physically painful.  My empathy went into overdrive as the judge recounted in horrid detail this beautiful, innocent child’s heinous, cruel, torturous experience, from the moment that she was kidnapped until she was buried alive. It left me nauseous and reduced me uncontrollable tears for most of the weekend.  I have been distraught and distracted by it ever since. 

 For once, I have no doubts as to my feelings on the death penalty.  A death sentence for Couey is just too easy.   Justifiable torture would be so much better.  He should be forced to endure those same things that he forced Jessica to endure. Give him to the general population and let them mete out justice for a little girl that only wanted to go home.  The words of the judge will haunt me for a long time to come.  Another tragedy forever etched into my memory.  Further proof that our children are not even safe from random predatory violence in their own homes anymore. How I wish my children could’ve grown up in the 70’s like I did.  It’s frightening how much things have changed in 30 years. 

Rest In Peace, Jessica.  Justice has been served. 

On that same day two more babies met with a horrible fate.  A 7-month old was found in the heat of the day, dead in the backseat of a car in St. Louis, Missouri.  Another, a 3-year old was found in a sweltering SUV in a middle school parking lot in Cincinnati, OH.  The parents involved include both a staff pediatrician and an assistant principal at a middle school.  How?  How do you forget your child? Twenty-two children dead in vehicles this year alone.  Can someone please tell me what is going on? Last summer in Memphis, Tn this same kind of horrible incident occured no less than 4 times. Possibly more as I can’t remember for sure.  As a parent how do you go on living?  How do you not see, hear and feel your child in the backseat even if they are sound asleep?  Do these people not have peripheral vision????? I just don’t understand. 

EoF Part III – Heathen

Here is part I.

Part II is here.

Might want to read those first if you haven’t already.  Makes more sense that way.

So, I quit going to church of my own volition around the age of 9.  Well, I say *quit going to church*. I quit going to that church.   I still attended other churches with friends now and then. Sunday school, vacation bible school, etc.   Not very often mind you.  It was kind of like taking time off between high school and college to see the world.  Liberating is a good word to describe it.  I remember feeling deliciously decadent on Sunday mornings because I slept late and got in the big, swimming pool in the backyard, early in the morning,  all by myself.  Those are some of the most vivid moments of my life.  Floating around the water on my back looking into a vivid blue inifinite sky.  Sparks of bright sunlight refelcting off ripples in the water. Just me and the sun and the warm summer breeze and Rock 103 on the radio.  That was my time with God.  I didn’t know it yet but it would come to make perfect sense to me later on.   And, boy oh boy, were all my friends jealous.  I felt a little bit like a celebrity. 

It was a revelation to find that all those kids that I thought luhhhhved to go to church every Sunday were bored and miserable and didn’t really want to be there either. I was in shock.  They complained and said things like *you’re so lucky* and *I wish my parents would let me stay home too.*  I never explained to any of them what happened.  I just felt fortunate to be out from under the discomfort and stress.  The irony of it was that I actually wanted to go to church. Being a creature of habit, I liked the routine of it.   I wanted friendship and a common bond with the kids that attended but it was never offered.  As a child, I found comfort in saying the same prayer every night.  I knew God heard me way back then.  That was before any conscious memory of the church telling me that He didn’t.

Up until my teens, I didnt think much of the fact that I quit going to church.  It just didnt seem all that important.  I still prayed before I went to sleep at night.   I still asked God for forgiveness.  I still considered myself Christian because, I didnt think there was another option in northern Mississippi.  The only places to worship in our county were churches and most of those were Protestant.  There was only one cathedral  (there are only 2 to my knowledge now) and of course no mosques or synagogues.  I read about mythology -Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Aztec, Indian, Native American, Incan- at that time but I was too young to make the correlation between mythology and religion.  It started to become obvious to me that one spiritual scenario was every bit as plausible as another.  My young logic was that no one has ever died and lived to tell about it so ultimately no one really knows.  And then my brother died. 

Part IV – Rebel with a Cause

EoF Part II – Fear of Church

 Might want to start here if you haven’t read it already.

As I continued to go to church on my own, my sense of isolation became more pronounced.  Our pastor barely took notice of me.  The elderly couple that I rode withon Sundays were always the kindest souls in the congregation.  I joined the youth choir as I had a love of music and singing.  But even among those my own age, I felt different.  Most of the kids who attended my church didn’t go to school with me.  They attended a private Presbyterian school in Memphis, while I went to local public schools in my county so we knew little of each other.  (Presbyterian and Methodist were synonymous back them or at least it seemed so to me) In youth choir, we traveled the local area singing at nursing homes and the like.  I remember sitting on the bus or riding in vehicles with people that I knew but didn’t know.  It was like being invisible.  No one asked how my family was.  No one asked much of anything at all. 

During the service on Sunday, I usually sat alone.  In the midst of the congregation, I was the fat little girl whose parents were wrong for leaving and taking their checkbook with them.  I was looked upon with suspicion, further proof in my mind that I didnt belong.  And then at the end of the service *the call* would be issued again.  And I never heard it.  All eyes in the congregation turned to me every week, likely wondering why I didn’t move forward. I think I must have been the only one that hadn’t sought the counsel of the pastor. 

I wanted to scream, “Whaddya want me to do??? Lie??? In church??? Not me.  Oh, Hell no.”  So there I was 8 or 9 years old and thinking that God didnt want me.  He must not.  He didn’t speak to me like he did every one else.  He never called me so I was sure I must be the spawn of the Devil.  It became so uncomfortable, that I actually feared going to service.  Choir practice wasnt too bad.  It was about singing not sinning. 

I always wondered, if anybody really heard that *call* or if they just pretended or imagined it.  I was not bad, in fact I was just the opposite.  The epitome of the good child with manners and good grades and respectful nature. Did God not have my number?  Was I not important to Him as well?   Why would God not want me?  Being a child and feeling rejected by the most powerful omnipotent being the universe was a bit disconcerting.  No longer able to tolerate the accusing stares and the lack of compassion,  I went to my mom and dad at the age of nine and said I didn’t want to go back.  My parents said that was fine with them. 

Shortly thereafter, I overheard my parents saying that the people from the church came by to see why I didn’t attend Sunday services anymore.  When my parents told them, they accused my mom and dad of being *heathens* (a label that I wear proudly now  that were setting me up on a road straight to Hell.  At that moment, I washed my hands of that church.  The church that thrives to this day. It’s membership has grown exponentially since the late 70’s when I left.  Many of the members are the same people who attended when I did.  I have often considered returning there just to see if it is still the judgmental, hypocritical, intolerant environment that I remember.  I wonder if they would even remember me.  I just bet some of them would.  Don’t know if they would admit it or not but I just bet. 

EoF Part III/Heathen- Coming soon

I’m on a Mission

…a mission from the gods.  Here’s my plan.  

 Once a week.

Break out the phone book.

Open to the section containing places of worship (ANY places of worship; ie, temples, synagogues, churches, covens, etc).

 Pick one at random.

Show up at the appropriate time. 

 Listen with an open mind and an open heart.

Meet people. 

Ask questions and learn.

Speak with clergy, deacons and other church elders to learn more. 

Share what I learn with others.

 Here are my issues.

Don’t want to be converted or become a member.  I already know what I believe.

I am very very excruciatingly shy. 

Not wanting to offend others in any way or be perceived as intrusive. 

Having the option to come back and learn more if I choose to do so.

Sharing what I learn honestly and openly without offense.

Here are my questions:

How do I get past the shy thing?

Should I call or just show up?

Should I push the envelope?  (Look different in some way.  Bring attention to myself.  Ask difficult questions.  Open for suggestions as to how to handle this aspect.)

I don’t know that I ever could but, I’d love to do this.  Am I crazy?

Update on the State of Me

The state of me just started sucking that much more.  Due to the aforementioned condition of my trailer, I am now being threatened with eviction due to a non-existent sewage leak.  I have one week to fix the damage depicted in the pics in the previous post. (At least $3000 oto $5000 dollars worth).    If it is not fixed, we will be *asked to move our mobile home*.  Good luck to them,  getting blood out of a turnip and all.  If we are evicted, we have nowhere to go.  One week before school starts.  What a hell of a Monday. God, I hate the Trailer Park Gestapo.   My pessimism is showing.   They really don’t want me to drop the discrimination bomb. 

The Laws of Poverty

Today has been hot.  So was the day before that and the day before that.  I have been saying for most of the summer that it hasn’t been that bad this year.  Our highest electric bill (to cool 1280 sq feet) was $320.  Compared to the $497 bills from last year, when we had no air whatsoever, I can’t complain.   The predictions say 1oo degrees or better for the rest of the week here in the Kudzu Jungles of northern Mississippi.  In a trailer it’s like living in a toaster oven.  Window units don’t make a dent in this kind of global warning induced heat.    I covered every window in the house with aluminum foil yesterday.  It helped.  A little. Signals from the aliens can’t get thru anymore.  Housework is best saved for the evening hours. 

I found some pics that illustrate the dilapidated condition of my trailer.  Though it is embarassing to post them, I feel that I must.  Most of the damage depicted here is from water leaks that occurred under the floors.  Leaks we were unaware of until the pressed wood and the carpet soaked up the water like a sponge and started to expand, mold and then fall apart.  I’m amazed that no one has fallen through the floors.  I keep waiting to wake up one morning and find our furniture underneath the trailer.   

This is only a small portion of the damage that we are unable to fix.  Maybe when I start my job, we’ll be able to try again.  Knowledge is an issue as well as neither David nor myself are skilled in any kind of carpentry.   Unfortuantely, it always seems that we don’t have one or the other – time or money.  Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.  One of the primary laws of poverty. 

 Bear in mind also that our entire trailer park was built on what used to be a landfill.  In my mind, I’m thinking, this just isn’t good.  No residential establishment of any kind should be built atop what used to be a garbage dump.  Of course, I knew none of this when I moved in here.  I was just looking for a safe (it is safe compared to most places – I don’t have to lock my doors at night) place to raise my kids.  And it really doesn’t matter anyway because there is no where else in the entire county that I could afford to live.  It’s kind of like an aesthetically pleasing slum.

Our lot sits at the bottom of a very long hill.  Natural erosion is causing the blocks to shift out from under the back end of the trailer.  One good strong straight line wind would be all she wrote.  Our home has no structural integrity whatsoever.  you can actually feel it move back and forth in a heavy thunderstorm.  It scares the hell out of me.  I used to love storms.  Now they are just panic attack fodder. 

*Good things* Petal Pusher

We need so much more of things like this.  This man is doing exactly what I’m talking about and doesn’t expect a thing in return.  Check him out.  This man and his grade school sweetheart, married 65 years are doing it right.   

The Concept of Allgnosticism

Growing up in the Bible Belt was a life-shaping experience that led to the development a unique belief system.  We  call it allgnosticism.  Where an agnostic person doubts the validity of any religion, I turn that 180 degrees and say to you,  there is some truth and goodness to all religions.    That truth and goodness is often perverted by those who seek power and control.  Such is human nature.  We are a greedy lot.  A young girl recently tried to tell my 14yo daughter that she “couldn’t do that.”  All I can say is why not? 

How I arrived at my conlcusion is complicated and convoluted.  That’s a very, very long post (quite possibly a whole book) for another night when I don’t have to go school clothes shopping at 7:30AM.  (By the way, I am soon to have a real job at the new Best Buy that is opening less than 15 minutes from my house AND a bit of unexpected extra $$ may get us through the pending school year after all.  Thank the gods for Nonna’s, tarot cards and overtime.  Blessings rarely come at opportune moments for us so you can’t imagine how thankful I am right now) 

I want something with substance.  A world where doing the right thing gets as much attention as doing the wrong thing.  Where hands are joined in an effort to create a better place. Maybe what I want is Utopia.  Maybe it is impossible.  I prefer to believe that it isn’t.  The human race is capable of so much more than we know.  So much more than we are able to comprehend.  Unless of course we commit to find out just how much we can achieve.  It all starts with one person.  One idea.  One moment.  One step.  The power and belief….the conviction of just one soul can be a mighty powerful thing.  Imagine the power of 1,000,000 souls.  Who needs oil or electricity with that kind of power?  With that kind of power we could probably teleport. 

Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. – Albus Dumbledore

Allgnosticism is tolerance and understanding and learning.  It is agreeing to disagree and, vowing to not just respect,  but honor and exalt our differences.  I have a plan.  If I ever overcome my fears it is likely to have remarkable results.  My vision reaches far into the future to a better place for our children and their children and their children’s children.  I have had the unmitigated gall to call myself a prophet before.  Dare I say it again?  I think I will. 

 And so my quest finally begins…..care to join me? 

*Good Things* to Be Thankful For

…and the *Bad Things* they cancel out. 

1.  Window unit air conditioners.  Cancels out oppressive, Mid-south, summer heat and saves energy thereby saving the environment and money.  Having one in each room has saved us this summer.   When we were using central heat and air our electricity bills were between $400 and $500 a month every summer and IT WAS STILL HOT in the house.  Thank the Income Tax Gods for blessing us with enough money to buy some this year so that we could finally be cool.   

2.  Sacred Heart Southern Missions of Hernando, MS.    Cancels out desperate need in a kind, non-judgmental way.  The Sisters in at the Walls Mission helped us so many times when I was in a depserate situation in my second marriage.  They paid our electric bill without condescension or disdain.  They gave us food when we had none.  There is such a feeling of peace in that building.  Recently a dear friend was struggling with finances.  I suggested that she go to them.  She did and they ensured that her electricity wasn’t cut off.     

3.  www.religioustolerance.org.  Cancels out ignorance and misinformation.  A wealth of information for a religiously/spiritually challenged world.  Everything is explained here, form Christianity to Paganism to….yes, eek!…even Satanism.   Time spent here is time well spent.  All you can do here is learn and learning is always a *Good Thing*.

4.  Fridays.  Cancel out Mondays.

5.  Chelsea Clinton/Anne Hathaway/my 14yo daughter Lani the political-religious-social activist/Amanda Bynes.  Cancels out Paris Hilton/Nicole Richie/Britney Spears/Lindsay Lohan.  (Who dont need a link of their own.  We know enough about them already.) 

“Fear less, hope more.   Eat less, chew more.  Whine less, breathe more.   Talk less, say more.   Love more, and all good things will be yours” – Swedish Proverb

The Cleavage Conspiracy

Cleavage?  Now come on, is that the best you can come up with people? Cleavage????    I never even noticed that woman has boobs, much less cleavage until it was given prime air time on every morning news program.  She looks a bit flat chested to me although it may just be her choice of clothes. This morning, national news channels launched into full debate mode over whether or not Hillary showed too much.  Newspapers like The Washington Post gave it entirely too much attention considering there are much more important issues to consider.   

Here’s what I’m thinking.  Was it intentional?  A cleavage conspiracy pulled straight from the Clinton closet?  Did Bill say “Honey, you need to show ‘em what you got.  Wear that sexy little low-cut blouse today?”   ::gasp::  Did Hillary deliberately set out to charm the American public into submission with her girl-parts???  I think not.  It is ridiculous to assume as such and it just goes to further illustrate the pall hanging over US politics.  In the photos and videos I’ve seen there is no real hint of cleavage anyway.  Only a little more flesh than normal.  I think it made her look very feminine and more accesible.  Bless her heart, like me, style is just not her thing.  And there is nothing at all wrong with that.  It’s nice to see a woman more concerned with substance and change than Prada bags and Gucci shoes.  Even Condy  has a penchant for showing a little leg. 

Unfortunately, this is only the beginning.  I fear that things will worsen for Hillary as days to the nomination come down to the wire.   I remember the hell that Geraldine Ferraro experienced when she was added to the Mondale ticket as a VP candidate. The only female VP or Presidential candidate in history.  Ultimately, disclosure of her husband’s tax returns hurt them badly.  They were defated by Reagan and Bush Sr.  in a landslide.

Hillary is a pretty tough chick.  I have faith in her for the moment but then again, I had faith in John Kerry until he opened his mouth one too many times.  I am registered to vote for the first time in my adult life.  Something has got to change.  Hillary and her non-existent cleavage might just be it.