Saturday and not yet tax day


Usually when I use the journal Lynne gave me last May, I color a little, write a little, etc. It means that if I want to take a photo of it, I have to block out whatever I’ve written because that journal, at least, isn’t meant for public consumption. So this time I colored, photographed, then wrote.


If my coloring choices are too subtle or are unfamiliar, let me be clear. The top colors are from the transgender flag. I absolutely support transgendered people and am appalled at the hate, lies, and vitriol being directed their way by an ignorant, cruel public and by legislators and courts. Once again, a person’s right to privacy, particularly in medical matters, is being violated, but even worse, there is a blatant call to eliminate transgendered people. This is fascism. This is inhumanity. This is immoral.

The middle colors should surely be familiar after decades of LGBTQ+ activism and progress, which is also currently under attack in terms of privacy and equal rights. If you don’t know where I stand on this issue, you’re new here.

I chose those last colors for all the people over decades who attended Sunday school or Vacation Bible School and sang, “Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.” Some of y’all had a lot more sense as children.

Also, I’d like to make note of my belief that if you think a child is too ignorant to recognize when a person is in costume, then maybe you need to avoid or end: Santa Claus; the Easter Bunny; Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas pageants; Halloween and every costume from Super Heroes to witches, to cartoon or video game characters, to ghosts and zombies and skeletons and vampires; high school, college, and professional sports team mascots; Chuckie Cheese and other characters in costume used to push products (Ronald McDonald? Hamburglar? that Buc-ee’s beaver? Mr. Peanut? Tony the Tiger? the Michelin Man? the Jolly Green Giant? the Chick-fil-A cows?); all characters in costume at amusement parks (yes, even princesses); the musical Cats (is that too easy?); and military, royal (real or Game of Thrones), religious, angel, fairy, gnome, hobbit, magician, wizard, circus, bodybuilder, hunting, role playing, chef, police, firefighter, nurse, doctor, judge, race car driver–whatever costume aka “drag” of all types that will ensure that you’ve stripped the world of everything fun, whimsical, imaginary, and creative.

I only wrote all of that because it isn’t what I wrote in the journal with the coloring pages, and I needed to put it somewhere. You’re welcome.

Continue reading “Saturday and not yet tax day”

Struggling?

Mid-March, a blog post included this quote from a character in Louise Penny’s novel A World of Curiosities: “Happiness as an act of defiance. A revolutionary act.”

It’s not a new concept, at least to me, but it seems that now and again, I need a reminder to affirm it. I think always of this quote from the song “La Vie Boheme” in Jonathan Larson’s musical, RENT: “The opposite of war isn’t peace. It’s creation.”

Two musicians I keep up with on social media both live in Nashville. One has a new song coming out tomorrow, and he posted his performance of a cheerful song (by another artist) to celebrate it today. I sent him a quick message letting him know that I’m aware things are tough in Nashville right now, and that I value his creation, like happiness, as “an act of defiance” and “a celebration of existence.”

The other musician posted a song he just wrote in reaction to the Nashville school shooting. He brought his wife and two children here from another country. They support his dream of success in the U.S., and I’ve been a fan of his since I found him on Instagram. He’s struggling with recent events. His home isn’t far from the site of the school shooting. His children’s school is even closer, I think. He’s come from a place without this kind of gun violence. I sent him a similar message to the one above, citing his particular circumstances. It’s heartbreaking to me that he’s experiencing, as a father, husband, and artist, too closely what people all over the world simply don’t get about this country and its gun culture.

I don’t get it, either. The posturing, the fighting, the name-calling, and politicizing while the slaughter of innocents continues in workplaces, churches, synagogues, mosques, grocery stores, malls, hospitals, nightclubs, theaters, and in homes. Schools? It’s estimated that about sixty-eight percent of gun-related incidents at schools were with weapons taken from the shooter’s home or from a relative or friend.* An estimated 4.6 million American children live in a home where a gun is left loaded and unlocked.* In 2022, 34 students and adults died while more than 43,000 children were exposed to gunfire at school.*

Is there any place gun violence doesn’t occur? Victims are every race, age, gender, affluent or poor, even if in disproportionate numbers, in every state, city, and town. Among all the perpetrators, there is no single defining, common characteristic except one.

Guns. They used guns.

All this overwhelms me. Makes me feel helpless. It robs me of hope and joy. When I feel this way, creative things I love to do, want to do, seem pointless. I know I’m not unique. I know we all suffer. Society suffers.

Today, I tried to write, and nothing happened, and I reminded myself that art is an act of defiance. Revolution. Resistance. Connection. Love. Faith. Reverence. Growth. Hope.

A search for more led me to a collection of quotes from others who have said what art is. Maybe there’s something on the list that resonates for you.

Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and deal with the mundane: computer issues that frustrated me tonight. Making and eating breakfast. Reminding myself to breathe. To feel gratitude for everything good in the world and in my life, including family, friends, home, dogs, nature, humor, kindness, and art.

I’ll open my manuscript and try again to make something with words that affirms or comforts or challenges or engages, as so many writers, artists, musicians–all of the arts–have provided before me and continue to provide. I’ll try to be the opposite of the violence, fear, aggression, hate, dishonesty, greed, and prejudice that are part of this gun culture.

I’ll think about this.

*Statistics taken from the Sandy Hook Promise site.

International Women’s Day

Despite my urge to say more related to International Women’s Day about what’s going on in the U.S. and worldwide, I can express it no better than this. Be you. Be kind. Persevere.

On a personal note, thinking a lot about Riley on the date of his birth. It never mattered how much of our lives were lived away from each other, or all we never had enough time to tell each other. The core connection was unbreakable… and remains so.

It’s a false narrative that being a feminist means hating men. A desire for equality, inclusion, and parity are not indicators of hate. The desire to prevent and eradicate those things… That’s hate.

Please stand by…

More technical difficulties with the site and a spate of insomnia has me behind. I’m doing this post mostly to see if I can post, and if I can edit a post, or if I need to seek tech support again.

When I wrote, those times I could, this was the music I heard. Hopefully all this stuff will be cleared up and I can get back to whatever normal is. Thank you for your patience.


Marvin Gaye, Gold 2-disk set. Nobody like Marvin Gaye. <3

Couldn’t choose only one of Marvin Gaye’s spectacular grooves, so I’ll link to this old Commodores tribute to Marvin Gaye and Jackie Wilson (both died in 1984). I have Commodores-related stories, but I’ll save ’em for my memoirs. =)

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.

Mood: Monday

Previously, I posted a photo here of Machine, a pencil on paper work by the artist Stefan Zsaitsits from 2013.

The first six-plus hours of my day have been spent dealing with tech issues…and certainly not writing or any other fulfilling activity.

Even if you don’t have a mood guess for the art, feel free to drop a comment so I know you can see this and your comments are being published. Been dealing with website issues. Thanks!

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.

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.

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.