Sluggish Saturday

I’m saddened today by the news that President Jimmy Carter is beginning to receive Hospice care at home. I think he’s among the best, most compassionate of notable people during my lifetime. Stories about him and First Lady Rosalynn Carter, along with their actions through the years, helped me believe, as I said to Jim and Tim earlier, “His is the soul of a humble giant.” Also, I’m so grateful for Hospice workers and the care they provide to patients and their families.

It’s all made me quite contemplative today, just when I’d finished a moody section of the novel and was about to embark on a happier one. I guess it’s not sexy or hot or sellable in these times, but it’s been my effort to write characters who try to embody the best of us, even as I so often read and hear about the worst of us. I don’t believe people used to be better because times used to be better. Times have always been problematic, and I believe good people are still in the majority.

So I go forward to create and love and appreciate my playlist of blues, pop, rock, country, whatever shows up as I write. These are from yesterday and today.

Keb’ Mo’, Slow Down

Alicia Keys, Songs in A Minor; B.B. King, Blues on the Bayou; B.B. King, Original Greatest Hits (2-CD set); B.B. King, The Best of B.B. King
Carole King, Tapestry; Carole King, City Streets; Lenny Kravitz, Greatest Hits; Jonny Lang, Wander This World; John Lennon, Lennon Legend

Happy birthday, Yoko Ono, who turned ninety today.

Tiny Tuesday!

Yesterday, I got my best writing done before noon, without any music, because I had to stay laser-focused since I knew I had to leave the house at twelve. By the time I got home mid-afternoon, I was tired and drained*, though I did work a little bit more in the evening before I had to call it a night.

So this morning, I took a suggestion from the book that launched Tiny Tuesdays in the first place.

It wasn’t quite as glorious as it looks with the Instagram filter, and it was more brunch than breakfast (because I have to wait at least an hour to eat or have any dairy products after my first meds of the day, I usually forget to eat and end up doubling up breakfast/lunch, then have a snack mid-afternoon to tide me over until dinner). One egg that was supposed to be over-easy, but I broke the yolk so ended up scrambling it, a mini bagel with cream cheese, a small apple, two strips of bacon (halved so I could fit them in my favorite small frying pan), with coffee, water, and a wee glass of orange juice.

This is the music from yesterday. I have more Fleetwood Mac, but there were a lot of repeats found on the CDs I’d previously listened to, so I finally moved on to the “G”s. Who’s up next, I wonder? (For part of it, my timing is perfect, because Tom is working in the office today. He wasn’t at all excited about maybe having to hear one of my favorite bands from my early teens. He doesn’t mind when my iTunes shuffles them in an occasional song at a time, but entire CDs in one sitting are a nope for him. 😂)


Fleetwood Mac, Behind the Mask and The Dance; Peter Gabriel, US.

ETA: *I’d forgotten to put a note about one reason I was drained. Too much news. I get so exhausted by our national news when I see news from other parts of the world–like southern Turkey and northern Syria right now, dealing with the devastation and loss of life from earthquakes. So many parts of the world have to cope with those things when they are already reeling from humanitarian crises. Here, we have so much and often give so much, at home and abroad, but we behave so deplorably toward one another within our borders. Even bringing these things up publicly, one runs the risk of accusations of performative politics, being “woke,” being a sheep and a “libtard.” If that’s what compassion and hope and the occasional plea for awareness, kindness, and education are, I reckon I’m guilty.

The place of lost things

When I looked through photos from one of my older computers to try to find a Photo Friday photo, I saw this one, taken in 2015, from an outdoor art exhibit on the Heights Boulevard esplanade. I’m not sure whether I shared it on here before.


Joe Barrington, “Sock Monkey,” 2015

Then today, when I searched a drawer for a pair of socks, I randomly pulled out these sock monkey gripper socks.

They made me think of a couple of sock monkey ornaments I didn’t hang on the tree this year. (The tree’s so full of ornaments that a lot of the larger fabric ones didn’t make it. Clearly, we need more trees.)

Is all this sock monkeying around a sign? I’ve mentioned on here before that I’m keeping a list of things I can’t find that have no reason for being misplaced or missing. One of those is a small, oblong tapestry case that could be used for makeup. I always stored random things in it, like this sock monkey flip book.

The book is here, but the case and the rest of its contents, like a wee sock monkey, are missing. On my list of ten missing items, two have been found (if you care, a set of T-shirts that vanished and a print that was mislaid sometime around the Harvey flood), but not this tapestry case. I am henceforth, when I review this list or add things to it, going to tell myself I can’t find items because they are on Hunter Biden’s laptop. That makes about as much sense as the other reasons that laptop is brought up as a red herring by people even loonier than I am.

As long as I have my memory, I’ll never willingly forget any of this

ETA: On 12/15, a New York Times article gave this information on children and gun deaths in the U.S.: “Guns are now the No. 1 cause of deaths among American children and teens, ahead of car crashes, other injuries and congenital disease…. The U.S. accounts for 97 percent of gun-related child deaths among similarly large and wealthy countries, despite making up just 46 percent of this group’s overall population…. The U.S. has more guns than people…”

Before Thanksgiving, I mentioned a project I was doing with the blog that would be of little interest to anyone else, but I was motivated by several reasons.

I believe I was a sophomore in college when I had to choose from suggested topics to research and write a persuasive paper for a speech class (I didn’t have to give a speech or participate in a debate; this was strictly a writing assignment). When I browsed the choices, the one that caught my eye was gun control: pro or con.

Two things interested me. First, my father was retired military. Specifically, the Army, and more specifically, the infantry. I knew he had to be proficient in weaponry (years later, I’d find papers that showed some of the weapons and tanks on which he’d been trained). Yet we never had a weapon in our home.

Further, I understood the culture he grew up in. As a boy and adolescent, he would have hunted. Whether specifically for food or for the camaraderie and skill of the activity, any fowl or other animal killed would have been used for food. Yet I couldn’t remember him talking about hunting, nor do I remember any occasion when he went hunting alone or with other hunters.

My high school boyfriend, who became my first husband, was also a hunter. Again, when he and our friends hunted, they hunted game for food. After we married and had our first post-college home, there were hunting weapons in our house. I never went near them, and he was meticulous about how he stored them.

All that in mind, I wasn’t sure why guns needed to be controlled. Did my father have a reason for not wanting them in our home? This was long before PTSD related to military service was a commonly known and discussed topic. I’d heard of “battle fatigue” and “shell shock,” but I didn’t know if those applied to my father. Did other people keep weapons in their homes? People who weren’t hunters? I had no idea. No one ever showed me any.

Since my ignorance seemed so vast, I picked that topic. I was diligent with my research, and I was stunned by the kinds of statistics and the number of tragic stories I read. Mass shootings were an anomaly back then, but the number of accidents in the home that killed children and other family members was numbing. The number of suicides in which a gun was used, the number of guns used in domestic violence, the crimes that turned deadly because of guns… All that juxtaposed against the Second Amendment rights that people cited as their right to “bear arms,” and our history of wars against U.S. citizens (1860s) and indigenous peoples (encompassing our expansion beyond the lakes, the prairies, the mountains that divided us from the Pacific Ocean).

When I wrote my paper, I chose to take the position of pro gun control. My position wasn’t that people shouldn’t have guns or should give up their guns. I chose instead education, training, registration, systems that I thought would protect, in particular, children from gun deaths, accidental deaths–because in that time, the idea of deliberately murdering school children was unthinkable. I read, studied, and interviewed to find compromise between gun safety and liberty.

I got an A on my project, and I got a conference with my professor, who told me I had one of the best researched, most thoughtful and thorough arguments on the topic he’d ever read.

In the years after that, I came to know people whose lives were impacted forever by guns, as was my own. In a broader sense, assassination attempts on Presidents Ford and Reagan were chilling reminders of the deaths of John and Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X. The murder of John Lennon kept mental health and gun violence part of the pubic debate.

But nothing in my research, and nothing in the world I grew up in, could have led me to predict that military weapons, weapons of war, would ever become common in police departments, first through SWAT teams, and later, with access to decommissioned military weapons, not quite as regulated. Nor would I have thought that private citizens would ever own weapons that have ONE purpose, a purpose that has nothing to do with protecting one’s home and family or with hunting. That purpose is murdering as many people as lethally and efficiently as possible.

I’ve only become more certain that with gun ownership should come gun responsibility, and once again, that leads back to training, education, registration, as well as things like waiting periods, age restrictions, and background checks. In jobs I’ve had that had nothing to do with weapons, I’ve had to be registered, fingerprinted, and provide proof of residency and a criminal-free record. We all have to provide proof of insurance, license, and ownership for many things… but not weapons. It makes no sense to me.

Now we have this myth of “good guys” with visible guns patrolling public streets, eating in public restaurants, standing in front of public buildings. They dress like military. They are armed like military. They are not military. They are not National Guard. They have to provide no proof of training or mental competency to be in public with weapons of war. I have no interest in being where they are because this seems insanely unsafe to me.

Gun violence is at the worst it’s been during my lifetime. I haven’t forgotten the things I learned. I haven’t forgotten interviewing responsible gun owners. I haven’t forgotten that my father, trained for the wars he was part of, left military weapons with the military.

Ten years. It’s been ten years today since twenty children and six staff members were murdered at Sandy Hook Elementary School in the village of Sandy Hook located in Newtown, Connecticut. We can’t say things have gotten better, only worse in these ten years.

.

The names below, of those killed, are not in the same order as the photos above.

Allison Wyatt, 6
Ana Marquez-Greene, 6
Anne Marie Murphy, 52 (Teacher)
Avielle Richman, 6
Benjamin Wheeler, 6
Caroline Previdi, 6
Catherine Hubbard, 6
Charlotte Bacon, 6
Chase Kowalski, 7
Daniel Barden, 7
Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung, 47 (Principal)
Dylan Hockley, 6
Emilie Parker, 6
Grace McDonnell, 7
Jack Pinto, 6
James Mattioli, 6
Jesse Lewis, 6
Jessica Rekos, 6
Josephine Gay, 7
Lauren Rousseau, 30 (Teacher)
Madeleine Hsu, 6
Mary Sherlach, 56 (Psychologist)
Noah Pozner, 6
Olivia Engel, 6
Rachel D’Avino, 29, (Therapist)
Victoria Soto, 27 (Teacher)

What I learned with my work in HIV/AIDS awareness and the NAMES Project is that names matter. Names remind us of the humanity of lives lost. My project I mentioned has been to research the eighteen years I’ve kept this blog, including the first on LiveJournal, find the victims of mass gun violence during my blog’s duration, and publish their names. It’s a daunting project, and I’ve barely begun to compile them all. I began with school shootings, moved to shootings at places of worship, and am now adding shootings at workplaces and commercial sites (e.g., grocery stores, malls) as well as those designated as domestic terrorism. As I find older posts on related subjects, I’m adding the tag “gun-reform” to them as I am to all new posts. As I find more details about incidents I’ve already recorded, I’m adding those. I haven’t provided names of the shooters, whether or not they died during the incidents.

I’m doing this because these deaths matter. These deaths break families’ and communities’ hearts. These deaths tear at the fabric of who we are and who we should be as citizens and neighbors. These deaths take deadly aim at the foundation of our country.

We are problem solvers. We are innovative. We are not evil. We can do better. We must do better.

Button Sunday

The second Sunday of December is Worldwide Candle Lighting Day. At 7 pm local time in every time zone, people light candles in memory of children who have died. The intention is to embrace the globe with warm light for a full twenty-four hours to honor and remember children who have lost their lives, whether to illness, accident, violence, or any other reason. You can read more about this day and its history from many Internet sources.

Although the observance of lives cut short too soon is a sad one, I believe any of us who have experienced such a loss find comfort in our memories of joy, of laughter, of every quality that made a child unique and lovable. We want lost children to be remembered by others, and we want to express the fullness of what we’ve lost.

For me personally, I envision the light of a candle sparking an inner fire to transform grief into action. Working toward peace in war zones, raising awareness of diseases that take children, advocating for gun reform, and breaking silence on suicide or child trafficking and exploitation are just some of the ways those impacted by the loss of children find purpose in surviving and remembering those they loved–in fact, continue to love every day.

If you haven’t known such loss, and even if you’re not with others, lighting a candle during your 7 pm hour makes you a part of a global community. We’re never alone when we recognize our shared humanity.

ETA: Tonight.

they wanted to have a night out

Five people were killed and 17 were injured by gunshot, one1 was injured but not by gunshot, and one2 was a “victim with no visible injuries,” as a perpetrator opened fire with multiple firearms including an AK-style rifle, in a shooting inside Club Q, a gay nightclub in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Patrons at the club were able to subdue the perpetrator until law enforcement arrived.

Those killed were:

Derek Rump, bartender, age 38
Daniel Aston, club supervisor, age 28
Ashley Paugh, age 35
Kelly Loving, age 40
Raymond Green Vance, patron, age 22

1This number have been increased to five injured without being shot.
2 This number has been increased from one to twelve victims with no visible injuries.

Surrendering to the scarf


Today I took a selfie to post for a couple of reasons. The first: If all goes as planned, tomorrow my hair will FINALLY again be a few inches shorter and the mess I’ve made of my bangs over the last eight months will be corrected.

The second: I’m finally giving in to the idea of using a scarf on days like this. I have beautiful knitted/crocheted scarves that were gifts of friends, and they’re great when winter hits for its short season in Houston. Those scarves are too thick and heavy for the brisk days of fall. I like this shirt–it’s an old one that’s the ideal weight for this weather and has the three-quarter-length sleeves that I prefer. The V-neck offers me little relief from cold air, however, so today I added a scarf. It worked just as I hoped. Is wearing a scarf an old lady thing? That’s fine. I am an old lady.

Somehow, all of this brought me full circle to a post that’s been percolating in my brain provoked by a quote I recently read about kindness. Some of it is based on a thought I had yesterday in reaction to a news story: It’s like six years of an abusive relationship has suddenly spun itself into an infinite loop. It was the “six years” that startled me. It’s the number of years–1980 to 1986–that I was in two successive (albeit VERY different kinds of) abusive relationships.


The writer part of me wishes for a way to weave this all together. The private part of me is not inclined to do so.

Is the scarf protecting my throat or warming my voice? Maybe both? Bags to unpack for days… Like the ones under my tired eyes.

ETA: This post has been edited because I erred in what I remembered about a quote I read, and that led to a discussion in comments based on erroneous information, so that comment thread is now unpublished, as well.

they wanted to go to school

A gunman opened fire with a handgun on the main campus of the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, killing three people and wounding two others before escaping. He was later apprehended.

Those killed were Devin Chandler, age 20, Lavel Davis Jr., age 20, and D’Sean Perry, age 22. Another victim, Michael Hollins, was shot but is expected to recover. A fifth victim, Marlee Morgan, was later discharged from the hospital.

Button Sunday

The Astros are the World Series champions. I did watch the game, but I also took a page from Lynne’s book (literally, as she gave me the journal I was coloring in, and by example, as she’s been coloring while she watched the World Series) and worked on the coloring page I started yesterday. I finished it this morning with the hour the time change returned to us. Writing, coloring, cooking, and cleaning will be my go-to things over the next few days because elections are hard on my nervous system.


(covered up what I wrote in my journal, because it’s a journal 😄 )