Anny Cook's Blog, page 26

Crazy

It's one of those days. The kind when you wonder why you crawled out of bed. Not gonna discuss it.

Moving along. The hunk went shopping. And stopped at the battery store to have a battery replace in my watch. It's not a wristwatch. I carry it on a key ring. And why? Because no watch (that I actually wear touching my skin) runs for longer than 24 hours. The little watch he had fixed hangs on a hook so I don't have to touch it. That's because I have too much MAGIC. I can make watches stop, light bulbs fizzle, phones die.

Maybe I could be an alternate energy source...

Diversity

One of my writer's groups has been discussing a blog written by another writer, calling out romance authors about their lack of character diversity. There's probably something to that. Especially, if the writer's circle of friends all look/think/live like him or her. There are lots of people who never really associate with folks that aren't part of their circle.

Most of us, though, deal with diverse groups of people in our daily lives. As we shop, go to the doctor's office, do laundry at the Laundomat, visit the library, and work, we brush up against a host of different individuals. The trick is to see them. Most of us don't.

Think about it. If I asked you to describe the last five individuals you dealt with (in any capacity), could you?

I'll be honest, I will be hard pressed to do this, but that's because I haven't dealt with five people in...two or three weeks. Hmmm. The cashier at Wal-Mart. She was a young woman, possibly Indian or Pakistani in background, very pleasant. Dark hair, and in spite of what is probably a tiresome job, her eyes smiled.

Another woman at Wal-Mart, obviously fatigued, but very patient, located and helped me tape an envelope closed so I could mail it. She also smiled. She was what I think of as standard Caucasian-American, on the skinny side, light hair going gray. 

At the post office, the clerk (I suspect he was a supervisor), very patiently explained the forms I needed to fill in so I could mail a package overseas. He was pleasant to deal with and smiled a lot, even though the post office was very busy. Maybe forties with dark hair, not fat, but solid.

So three people. All smiled and that's what I noticed first and last.

The first four books I wrote had a wide cast of characters:

Dancer's Delight--the hero was an assassin whose cover was as a concert violinist with a penchant for cooking. His heroine was a tall, queenly blue-skinned woman with pointed ears, tilted eyes, and fangs who was fond of gardening.

Chrysanthemum--the hero was King Arthur's son, a librarian in the castle with a penchant for...piercing. The heroine was the daughter of the king's wardrobe master and a wannabe historian.

Honeysuckle--the heroes were twin Firebird shifters serving the king (their uncle) in a security capacity. The heroine (Chrysanthemum's sister) was a fiesty redhead also serving the king in the same capacity (unbeknownst to them).

Traveller's Refuge--the hero (Dancer's brother) was a spy who longed for retirement and did stained-glass work as a hobby. His heroine, was also blue (sister of the heroine in Dancer's Delight), but shaped more like a pixie, who served as the potter for her village.

The cast of secondary characters were blue, white, asian, black, green, tall, short, skinny, fat, old (nearly 100), young (newborn), dragons, firebirds, unicorns, packits, dintis, pirates, knights, trolls, fairies, wizards, warriors, weavers, healers, 'working girls' and...even a couple really, really bad guys. I believe life should be interesting. So should stories. Variety is everything. I suppose you could say my books cover the diversity issue. I was ahead of my time.

Caturday

Hope y'all have a great weekend!

And The Candidate Is?

Political mayhem season is here once more. But then...it never really goes away. Before the votes are counted, someone out there is planning to run for office the next time around. I've read so many ideas about how to fix our political system. Some are possible. Maybe.

Regardless of what a prospective candidate might say, the number one reason to run for office is power. Number two is prestige. Therefore, once an individual is actually elected, what possible reason would he or she have to yield their position to a new candidate? None. Secretly, whether they admit it or not, every politician is aiming for the White House.

I think we should have a national Host or Hostess. This position would do all the social stuff. Welcome dignitaries. Host dinners and special events at the White House. Travel to other countries as good will ambassadors. And their political power would be zero. In order to qualify for the position, they would have to demonstrate their social abilities.

Then stashed somewhere out of the limelight--maybe at Camp David--we could have a CEO, elected every four years just like a president, BUT he would have to demonstrate his qualifications prior to running. Good looks, connections, and a charismatic smile wouldn't be important because this dude would never leave the country. His chance at a second four years would depend on his performance. Bad performance? He or she would be gone like the wind. And no Secret Service once he's done. No paycheck. No bennies.

The same for the members of Congress. Two terms max. Minimum wage paychecks. No bennies. No freebies. No retirement. No travel allowance. Senators and Representatives would be required to spend a minimum of 50% of their time in their home districts, actually available at an office open to their constituents.

Political mayhem season could be limited by law to four months. Except for the official 'season', no ads, no talking heads, no PR ops. After all, if they're doing their jobs, they won't have time for all that nonsense. They'll be working!

Instead of the so-called journalists covering non-events, they could actually work to inform the public with real information, detailing the real work of our elected officials.

The truth is the money we spend paying all these clowns, covering benefits, retirement, security, blah, blah, blah...would be enough to balance our budget. So I say, let them prove their worth or toss 'em out.

Brain Fog

Pills. Pills. More pills. My life centers around pills. One tiny pill first thing in the morning. Thirty minutes later, three more pills. Thirty minutes after THEM, I can finally have coffee, something to eat and...another two pills. Dinner time and another two pills. Nine o'clock and it's time for the insulin shot. And finally three more pills at bedtime.

None of these are vitamins or over the counter meds. Every one of them has weird side effects. One of the worst side effects is what I call fuzzy brain. You know that fog you live in after anesthesia? Yep, that's the one. It robs you of ambition, determination, and...I forgot the word I wanted to use here. Very frustrating.

When I watch commercials for pharmaceuticals, I have to laugh. They list this long string of possible side effects (speaking so fast you can't catch all of them) and then the actor says something like, "Ask your doctor if this medication is right for you." Why in the hell would you do something stupid like that?

Most days I'm thankful there are medications to keep me on the straight and narrow, but I have to confess I miss the days when my memory was sharp, when I knew what word I wanted to use, when I could remember what I planned to write, when my attention span was longer than the time it takes to drink a mug of coffee.

I'm not alone in the over-medication of the getting older crowd. I have friends who sleep most of their lives away. And some who eat like there's no tomorrow. Others sink into that murky brain fog bank like me. No one seems to notice an entire generation of folks have vanished into the medication swamp.

People worry about the economy or war or the idiot politicians running for President. Nah...don't worry, take another pill, and be happy...

Visual Cues

I believe the gift of sight is one of the greatest gifts we humans have been given. Hearing, speech, touch, and scent aren't too shabby, either. But who hasn't been arrested by the vision of something so beautiful or so terrible there are no words to describe it?

Whether it is a sleeping baby or the Milky Way, we stop for just a moment to inhale in wonder before going on with our lives. Every day we make judgment calls based on the information we receive through sight. The distance to our car. The depth of a step. How old an individual is. What skin color our neighbor has.

Wait. Is that a judgment call? Oh, yeah.

I started thinking about this judgment thing when a friend and I discussed scars. Another friend of mine is disturbed because she must use oxygen and people stare. Another is very self conscious about the swelling in her legs and arms. So...it appears that we use our sight to decide if another person measures up to our standards. One only has to watch the ubiquitous YouTube video of Wal-Mart people to see this is absolutely true. The entire video is based on what people look like. That's the only information the viewer has.

What if we couldn't see the people around us? What if they were invisible except for some pretty sparkles? How would we profile them then? What would we base our judgment of our fellow man and woman on?

Try the following exercise: Name five attributes of one of your best friends. How many of them were physical descriptions as opposed to things like kindness, humor, generosity, honesty?

Now think about the last stranger you encountered. Name five attributes of that stranger. Hmmmm. How many of them were physical? So...at what point does our perception change from what we see to what we SEE? When do we start looking past the outward shell to the inward reality?

* The baby pictured is my grandson.

Let There Be Yarn

Yarn. Thread. String. Rope. Whatever you might call it, it's magic. With the simplest of tools, the minimum investment, you can make articles of clothing, a blanket, a piece of art, a gift for a friend. Knit, crochet, macrame, weave, tat, embroidery, needlepoint--all are possible with the humble bit of string.

Ancient examples of handmade tapestries demonstrate the universal human desire to create. Yet, we've reached a stage in our culture when we no longer value the time and creativity in such creation.

Perhaps it's simply because so few of us take time to create anything with our own hands. As one person pointed out while watching me knit a sock, "But why not just buy a package at WalMart? That would be cheaper and faster."

Yes, that is true. But I wouldn't receive the satisfaction of wearing something I created.

I believe there is a parallel in writing, carving, calligraphy, painting or any other creative endeavor. A large part of the reason we spend our time engaged in such endeavors is the satisfaction we receive from the act of creation. I suspect if more of us created, there would be less time to hate. Maybe instead of guns, we should have paint brushes and yarn. 

Long Time Ago

Fifty-five years ago today, on a scorching sunny afternoon, we buried my mom. She was thirty-one. I was ten. At that time, I thought she was incredibly old. I learned the error of my ways when I approached thirty-one myself.

She died close to midnight in a head-on collision in the New Mexico desert on a narrow two lane road. My three brothers were in the back seat, but survived unhurt except for my youngest brother who suffered a broken leg.

I was with my father in our truck, traveling just ahead of her as we drove tandem-wise, moving from Arizona to Indiana. When we reached the next town, Dad pulled off at a closed gas station to wait for her to catch up. But she never did.

I knew something was wrong long before the police officer pulled up next to our truck. I knew she wasn't going to ever come to meet us.

The next hours were a bewildering jumble of images. And then my brothers and I were in the back of the pickup traveling back, back across New Mexico and Arizona to my grandparents' house in Chandler, Arizona. That was where we were going to have a funeral and bury my mother.

At ten, I learned the hard truth that people we love can die in an instant. And they never come back.

Perhaps that's why I worry so much about my family members, my children and their families, my siblings, my parents when they travel. I fear the day when a police officer will show up at my door to tell me someone has died in a car accident. Today, more than ever, when folks insist on texting and talking on their phones instead of watching out for the other vehicles around them, I worry more--not less.

If you're not paying attention, if you're driving while impaired by alcohol, drugs, or lack of sleep, if you're texting or talking on the phone...stop it. STOP IT! I am here to tell you the unvarnished truth. The survivors never recover. They never get over it. They might move on, because all life moves on. But they never, ever reach the point of recovery. Never.

I miss you, Mom. I loved you with all the love a ten year old can hold in her heart.

The Destroyers

The Internet. The information superhighway. It's morphed into a pile of inaccurate, purposely false 'facts' no one bothers to check before passing them on. Do you have a theory? Or just an off the wall idea? Or even a totally false story? Feel free to post it. With pictures, even.

I don't blame the posters. I blame the folks who pass all the crap on, clogging up the highway. Our culture has become a society of rumor-mongers. Well, we always were, playing that old telephone game with glee, but now we can reach thousands of people at one blow instead of the old way of one at a time.

Instead of spreading the lies person to person, now we can mass-bomb the untruths in one pervasive blast. I imagine the politicians love it. I can see them in their little planning sessions, rubbing their hands together as they plan their disinformation campaigns in the absolute certainty that the general public is soooo stupid we'll pass on ANYTHING, so matter how idiotic, without a thought. Anything.

We are the destroyers.

Conscienceless, irresponsible, and immoral in the worst sense. Our knee-jerk responses are dependable. Do you want something to spread like wildfire, to go viral? Post something totally outrageous, then post a rebuttal, and THEN watch it rage out of control like the riots in Baltimore last week. Boom! Rumor-mongering at its best.

Our besetting sin isn't murder or theft or adultery or even gluttony. It's GOSSIP. The Internet is absolutely perfect for spreading truth and untruth alike. And who can discern which is which? Who takes time to find out?

Not us. We're so eager to pass on the sensationalism, we can barely type. Isn't it wonderful the social media make it so simple to SHARE??? No reason to consider the consequences. No time to think about whether spreading another lie is the responsible thing to do. Nope.

And commenting? Oh, boy. The crazies have finally, FINALLY discovered their true calling. Instead of being confined by their tiny circle of like-minded friends, now they literally have the entire world for an audience for their hatred, bigotry, and outright craziness.

I believe the best thing that could happen to our country would be the complete failure of the Internet, cable and television. We'd have to go back to talking to one another. Who knows? Maybe we'd start to communicate in the purest sense, again. Hey! Maybe we'd even return to writing letters again. Now that's a thought...

My Circle

I rarely comment about politics, religion, or money issues. For one thing...I've never met two consecutive people who agree on such matters and I hate confrontations. That's not to say I wouldn't fight if necessary to save my life or the lives of friends and family. But in the general course of life, most of us are not called on to do so.

However, in the last few years I've been struck by the very aggressive, divisive, 'my-way-or-no-way' tone of the general public face we see, particularly on social media. Frankly, I don't understand the 'in-your-face' attitudes. Nor do I believe it solves anything.

I suspect most folks have no idea what I might believe about any particular issue. I take great pains to guard my privacy. I was raised on that old principle, 'If you can't say something good, shut up.' Hanging all your dirty underwear on the front laundry line accomplishes nothing except demonstrating you don't wash your clothes.

From the beginning of written history (and no doubt well before that), our human story has been one of war, aggression and greed. Perhaps that's why we find the story of Camelot so attractive--even while we ignore the reality there was brutal warfare first. 

I believe in one thing. 'Love your neighbor as you love yourself.' The 'L' word gets thrown around a lot. 'I LOVE those jeans.' 'I LOVE that car.' But true love is the love we feel for friends and family. Imagine how the world would be if we felt that way for every person we met...if we treated every individual the way we would treat ourselves.

Yes, there is much evil around us. But consider this--how can we perceive it when we are the very ones encouraging it? Evil loves darkness and we're the ones responsible for blowing out the lights. We ignore poverty, illness, hunger and abuse because they aren't our problems. We walk on by, walk on the other side, avert our eyes from the uncomfortable truths all around us.

There is a perception, a belief that those who live the path of love are wimps that lack courage. Not so. It takes great courage to stand in the face of evil and call it by name. I don't refer here to belief systems or lifestyles. It's not my responsibility to judge other people, whether they worship the stars or a deity or nothing at all, whether they are totally celibate or have sex in consenting groups. I don't care what they do as long as they harm none. Most especially children.

Evil in our day is most especially manifested as greed and selfishness. We can lay the blame of almost every ill our civilization suffers directly at the feet of these two roots. Think about it. If our culture wasn't so me, me, me centric, there would be less poverty, less hunger, and yes, less illness.

Today it's popular to have an exclusionary circle of friends, whether on social media or in school or even your neighborhood. This circle is often composed of those folks who believe exactly as you believe, politically or religiously or maybe even some particular hobby or skill you embrace. I wonder, though, if our efforts to create such circles doesn't limit our ability to see the outsiders clearly. Or...maybe we just don't want to admit our own failure to embrace the responsibilities we all bear.

How big is your circle?