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RACISM: ITS INSIDIOUS SOURCE AND CONTINUATION
I have been trying to compose a post about racism during Black History Month. Unfortunately, I keep running up against my emotions are so mixed with this issue that makes this almost impossible.
I am thoroughly convinced the issue of racism in this country was built into the very formation of our government. I was attempting to find an origin that would explain even a little what had happened. And, guess what, I found it.
Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind, Peopling of Countries, etc.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
And in Europe, the Spaniards, Italians, French, Russians and Swedes, are generally of what we call a swarthy Complexion; as are the Germans also, the Saxons only excepted, who with the English, make the principal Body of White People on the Face of the Earth. I could wish their Numbers were increased. And while we are, as I may call it, Scouring our Planet, by clearing America of Woods, and so making this Side of our Globe reflect a brighter Light to the Eyes of Inhabitants in Mars or Venus, why should we in the Sight of Superior Beings, darken its People? why increase the Sons of Africa, by Planting them in America, where we have so fair an Opportunity, by excluding all Blacks and Tawneys, of increasing the lovely White and Red? But perhaps I am partial to the Compexion of my Country, for such Kind of Partiality is natural to Mankind. Source: Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind, Peopling of Countries, etc.Benjamin Franklin
Notes on the State of Virginia
THOMAS JEFFERSON
“Its animals were feeble and stunted in comparison to the hardy European breeds, and its native peoples hairless, enervated, and barely capable of reproducing themselves. Jefferson argued quite movingly for the nobility of Native Americans to bolster his case against Buffon as to the climactic splendor and present and future greatness of America. But as part of this argument he also argued for the deep inferiority of African Americans.”
“I advance it therefore as a suspicion only, that the blacks, whether originally a distinct race, or made distinct by time and circumstances, are inferior to the whites in the endowments of both body and mind. It is not against experience to suppose, that different species of the same genus, or varieties of the same species, may possess different qualifications. Will not a lover of natural history then, one who views the gradations in all the races of animals with the eye of philosophy, excuse an effort to keep those in the department of man as distinct as nature has formed them? This unfortunate difference of color, and perhaps of faculty, is a powerful obstacle to the emancipation of these people.” Source: Of Racism and Remembrance by Aaron Garrett
Now, to top all of this off is this newspaper clipping whose source I have very little knowledge of. I am sure that Google search will show the origin of many of the statements. I did find the sources for Franklin and Jefferson easily, but the others are for you to search for or accept. This does not mean that they are for you to search for or accept. I had just reached a level of disgust that I had to leave something for you to do.
I do not mean to infer that these are attitudes that remain unchanged throughout the lives of these men. I have read papers written later by most of them that softened their attitude somewhat. However, the attitudes that the original founders and representatives of our country had have followed down through the years and subtlely and viciously found a country that is still not ready to responsibly and reasonably address these issues.
And so the prisons are filled with black men whose children are raised in a society where their worth is not recognized, black women are disproportionately the head of households where children are exposed to the consequence of being a part of the “underclass,” and where the majority of the non-affected are quick to judge, blame and then fertilize the continuation of the status quo.
AND THE WHEEL GOES ROUND AND ROUND…
The truth is that life is like the dragon Ouroboros, and the wheel goes round and round.
It certainly does. I have been on the road to recovery for so long that it’s like I had no life before this. I know that’s not true, I just like being dramatic as often as I can. I am actually doing well. Had a few bumps with blood pressure issues (low, can you believe it?) and they are hopefully resolved by now. I don’t have the energy I would like and can’t wait for the physical therapy to put me back into prime shape. The thing that amazes me the most is that I am 66 with a 45-year-old mind. My daughter is 45 and I ask myself over and over, “How can we be the same age.”
The thing I need to focus on is setting up a schedule for a non-worker person. Procrastination coupled with my ADHD leads to some interesting scenarios around the house. The kind of scenario where I have to keep everything in the house on somewhat of an even keel and yet fail miserably. I have far too many books on organizing and if I had set that organization in place, I could find them.
Sam the Dog has become my constant companion. Following me from room to room as if I had the treats in my pocket and would just spontaneously give him one. Moo the Cat has been on a diet and has lost some weight but you would think we were starving him by the plaintive wails he emits by his food dish. The birds have discovered the bird feeder I put out last summer and now that it is fall are hitting regularly. This makes for Moo TV as he lies in the window just waiting for the opportunity to bang his head on the window when he sees a bird. I am going to have to find a more accessible spot for the winter since shoveling for a bird feeder is a little ludicrous.
I find that I work in spurts. There is so much to do that I can never see an end. Bottom line, we need a house that is three times the size of this for all of our treasures. Or, crap as some are sure to say. I have started winnowing the extras out. It meant I had let go of the worrying about the future when someday I might need it. I gave my giant slow cooker to beautiful daughter and lo and behold I thought I need it. Oh, but wait, don’t I have at least two dutch ovens that would cook enough pot roast for a family of 16. It came out great even if it was cooked in a traditional way.
This is the last post about health issues that I will write. Even I have of it.
YES, THOSE ARE MY FEET. HARD TO BELIEVE, ISN’T IT?
LOOK MY RIGHT FOOT IS DOING A MODIFIED PEACE SIGN!
Anyone that has known me for any length of time knows that I have denied having feet at all. I have had, what I call, BUTT UGLY FEET all my life. At about 27 I was lucky enough (if you want to call it that) to need surgery to have bunions removed so I could walk more than two steps. After that there were years of hiding the feet since every time I looked at them all I saw were monster feet.
As I aged they continued to disappoint me more and more. Growing from size 9 to 10-11 with sausage toes that started growing in their own little directions, I would only go barefoot at home and still tried to hide them when someone else was in the room. This would have been fine for the rest of my life without my wonderful girl child intervening.
“Mom, you really should get a pedicure, you wouldn’t believe how great it is!” “Sure, sure,” I under my breath which roughly translated into “It’ll be a cold day in hell!” This was the same phrase I had said to a friend a few years ago knowing I would never-ever-ever let anyone touch my feet!
Fortunately, I will be going for surgery on Friday and I looked at my feet that were truly turning chicken claws and my resolve dissolved, so to speak. She the and I entered the salon with my head hung in shame, apologizing all the way to the huge, massaging recliner where I would submit to the horror of it all. As he brought out the tools of torture that I knew were going were insufficient to the task. I thought of suggesting a belt sander, but held my tongue.
Slowly but surely I felt my resistance waning. There was the vibrating chair on my tortured back, the warm, bubbly water relaxing my clenched toes and the next thing I knew, my feet were almost pretty! The foot massage he administered forced me to admit, “Hey, this isn’t so bad after all!” Darling daughter picked out the polish, the coup de grâce being the dazzling, sparkles. You know, I might do this again and again and again, and I have no problem admitting that once again I was WRONG!
NOT THE BEST NEWS, BUT NOT THE WORST, EITHER.
4:30 AM starts the day off, or finishes the night off as I fell asleep around 3:15. And, oh, how i would have loved to pull that blanket over my head and pretend I was Grace Jones for just a few more minutes. After all I don’t have to be at the hospital until 7:30. And that would have been fine except the Monk in me kicked in. If I have to be at the hospital at 7:30 and a shower and face fix and hair comb only take an hour, theoretically, I could go back to bed until 6AM. Fat chance!
There I was, having completed all the assigned tasks as assigned to myself for being presentable at the hospital. Well, except one. I think I am going to take a survey of how many people can successfully give them selves a fleet enema at 5 in the damned morning with the sun coming up and the birds twittering a song which I swear is “Na na na na noo noo.” Finally I decide, they’ve put up with a lot worse than someone showing up without giving themselves the prescribed torture prep.
There I am, bright and shiny, at 7:30 just waiting. And waiting quite calmly due to the effects of ATAVAN. When I say that I add a flourish so that is comes out A-A-TA-V-A-A-AN. This makes it sound to me like I am calling for butthole M-A-A-AN. you know kind of like Super Dog, Mighty Man, WONDER WOMA-A-A-N. Kinda like my own personal super pill.
When I say “Drugs are our Friends,” I mean it. I am too damned old to be trying to toughen up and take it like a, a what, an idiot. No thanks, pass that Atavan and keep it coming. It makes the fact the first x-ray machine was broken and after thrashing around for half an hour while the machine was manipulated needlessly because the DAMN THING WAS BROKE. It’s not one of those things you kick and go, “Yep, I think tha’s going to do it.”
Hey, here’s an idea, let’s take this cranky old lady who has been suffering by being confined to this rock hard surface and try and delicately move her onto a rolling torture vehicle to another room where the second machine will surely work. Glory be, it does. The drawback to this room is the unnatural twist to my head as I view the x-ray in progress. Now, I’m not a doctor, but I could immediately see the situation had not improved, and in fact had worsened. That was when SHIT, FU*K started bouncing off the walls in this small , metal enclosure. I only said it twice. I thought it another 145 times.
That parts over and it’s time to see my wonderful Doc who is going to tell me what I already know. Starting semi over. Removing some more of the large intestines, rehooking the two ends back up and waiting three months to see if it works this time. This all started a year and a week ago. It kind of reminds be of groundhog day…or the song: Here We Go Again…So around the middle August I will be layed out on a stainless steel table with masked avengers hovering around me looking forward to digging into an abdominal cavity that has seen better days.
And me, well, I’ll read, try not to get caught up in Candy Crush again, sneak as much chocolate into my diet as I can, followed by cheesecake and let out one of my little snorts which translate to, “So, what else is ne?”
The real bummer. My best friends are getting married on August 23 after living together in sin for over 25 years. I thank them for the effort and energy they have expended in their lives together to reach this point. Way to go…best wishes, mazel tov and don’t let the bastards get you down.
WHAT? NO DOCTOR APPOINTMENTS FOR THREE MONTHS?
Apparently I have passed a milestone. This is the joyous news that I do not have a doctor appointment for at least three months. That is amazing! For the past nine months I have had between two to four appointments per month just to keep me on my toes. I still face another surgery, however, by waiting for three months it will be an easier task.
No gory details. The biggest problem I have had for the past few months has been the most incredible mood swings of my life. All who know me know that mood swings are a general operating procedure for me. However, the moods have mostly been on the down side and through the joys of chemistry and oral medication I have been able to pull myself off the roller coaster and can think with a clearer mind. This means reading has returned as a joy, I am learning the value of finding the lost socks under the bed and have even mended a shirt. Don’t worry, I have not become completely domesticated. I still don’t see dust.
I am teaching myself refrigerator maintenance. This should have been a required course for me in junior high school as opposed to sewing. I am the queen of condiments. I love fourteen kinds of mustard, pickles, and peppers. I want immediate access to any fruit or vegetable that I knew I would eat come Tuesday. I am working on meal planning and learning that miscellaneous side accoutrements in stand alone deli displays in the grocery store.
So, who knows what the next three months will bring. Perhaps I shall learn the glory as Home Manager, Plant Grower and Domestic Goddess. Keep an eye open for an update. I won’t be getting my hopes up that this will be a total success and I recommend that you don’t either. Check back for updates and don’t be surprised by anything that may happen.
NINE MONTHS, NO BABY. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
OK, I am now in a place where I can talk about the past weeks medical events.
MONDAY: The invasive x-ray that I insisted on seeing in real time. Unfortunately, I have been through this enough times to see that news wasn’t going to be the best.
THURSDAY:Saw my Wonderful Doctor! He saw the same thing in the x-ray that I saw but was in a better position to interpret the results. The best news would have been that it was time for a takedown of the ileostomy. Worst news would have been this was to be a permanent fixture in my life. (Believe it or not, I have prepared myself for that by assuming the worst.)
Luckily, Dr. Wonderful had a few more things to say about it. There are three choices.
1. Just hang around for another three or four months and see if it heals itself finally and try not to think about it. (Right, not going to happen!)
2. Have another invasive procedure that Dr. Wonderful will perform while I am knocked out so that I won’t be there to assist in the diagnosis. (Smart man.) This will give a clearer picture of what is what in there and decide if #1 or #3 is the best solution.
3. Surgical do over and start the process again. Not the best option, but a possibility that exists. Not as frightening as I once thought but not what I want either.
4. Accept my new friend as a life partner and get on with it. The down side to this is more subtle than obvious. The most obvious downside of this for me is the eventual acceptance that I will just have to deal with the effects of cruciferous vegetables in a fashion that cannot be done without having to actively participate in it.
I have finally gotten to the point that I can honestly only rely on the words of a very succinct philosopher of our times:
“And so it goes…”
— Kurt Vonnegut (Slaughterhouse-Five)
FOLLOWING MY OWN ADVICE
I finally did it. Set up that secondary email account so that all of those fabulous shopping sites I love, registrations for retail outlets, email collection requests by hapless clerks and cleaned out my main account for more meaningful content. Like, uh, when someone repins one of my posts on PInterest, and the ever pleading requests for donations from the Obama Campaign. Yes, this is a secret address and makes me feel rather clandestine, sneaky or stealthy, depending upon the level of control I wish to exert.
As I work in retail, the amount of script I have to deliver to complete a sale now also contains this advice. I love it! As a matter of fact, I don’t care if they make up a totally fake one except I am sure they keep track of the “undeliverable” emails each person collects.
I should mention at this point that asking for email addresses can lead to some unexpected answers. I guarantee that the average of people with an “@aol” account measures closer to 70 than 60, that the guy with the greasy hair and ripped Fleshgod Apocalypse t-shirt has an email address he should have changed when he became eligible for a driver’s license, and then the hello-kitty crowd are almost too saccharine to make you wish the death metal dude was back. Oh, the travails of the working girl.
I am hoping that this gets this email fixation out of my system and I can return to the more important aspects of the interweb.
NOW THIS IS IMPORTANT
ADHD HOUSEKEEPING (OR MECCA LECCA HI, MECCA HINEY HO)
Can this be true? Of course it can:
Re-pot new plants- Clean mess from potting plants
- Dry table from potting plants
- Dishes
- Laundry
- Clean Oven(Actually cleaning itself after I accidentally used furniture polish on it.)
- Fold yesterday’s Laundry
- Iron (I don’t believe it, either.)
- Throw rubber chicken for dog
- Try and find camera to take picture of dog with chicken in mouth
- Check internet
- Decide to write blog entry….WAIT–BACK TO WORK, YOU SLACKER!
I have no middle ground. For some reason I seem to think that I can do one week’s worth of chores in one day. I am currently undergoing READING WITHDRAWAL and must return to it for rejuvenation.
Oh, wait, there is dinner or there is cookies for dinner. The nice thing about cookies for dinner is that it leaves a free hand for reading!
THINGS HALF STARTED AND THINGS HALF DONE
Today I thought I was going to go to the grocery store by myself. Ha ha! With my more giant than usual right food, it was going to require some extra special maneuvering. Ha ha! Stretching my right leg over to the passenger side of the car so that I could drive with my left foot. I don’t think there is a yoga pose that would have prepared me for that task. So, it appears that I will have to hunt down a chauffeur for tomorrow’s trip. That will give me time to hone my list into a OCD map for efficiency.
So, what will I do instead. Oh, my side of the bed is still waiting for some tender loving care. Big foot or not, this is a truly daunting task! It requires moving books that I haven’t touched in months but will want to read immediately upon storing them away. I thought my nook color was going to help with this problem. That is why I have over 200 books to read on the nook and have only brought home a limited number of books since then. Limited, my ass! Limited by only the number I can stack and blend into the others to justify my behavior as non-hoarding. Stay tune for the before and after of this exciting project.
I BROKE MY FOOT–CRAP!
What a exciting week for My Right Foot I (hereafter referred to as MRF.) I started Monday off with the first day of my two in a row off. That meant get as much done on Monday as I possible could so that I could spend Tuesday being a slob, also known as lying around, reading, surfing the web, generally doing nothing, in other words. What’s that line? “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.” Robert Burns jumped up and bit me in the ass.
First part of the day was spent shopping. Oh, joy. Best Buy, SuperOne, Target and finally, Office Max. For all of you that know me, I was ready to explode. At Office Max smiled and asked, “Are you having a nice day?” Now I work retail, I say all the things I’m supposed to say and at that moment I turned into the worst customer I could ever have. “It’s going to be great once I get home, I am suffering from retail overload and am ready to explode from exposure to flourescent lights.” Charming, I’m sure. He stumbled through the rest of the transaction and I heard a visible sigh of relief as the doors closed behind me.
Home again, home again jiggity jig. That always runs through my mind as I pull into the driveway, pop the van open, unload the groceries and start on the in home chores. In the middle of putting the groceries away, I decided to do a load of laundry so that I would be doing two things at once. Oh, and as long as I was in the basement I could clean the catbox. Joy, oh, joy. Karma for rudeness I realized. I grabbed the trash bags and headed down the stairs. Okay, I started down the stairs at a full rush. Eager to clean that cat box? No, not really, just fast is the only speed I know.
Wait, I also know STOP. And I came to a full one when my left foot went out from under me and my right foot bent a full 180° in the WRONG direction. I tried to “cow-person up” and hobbled over to the cat box and immediately knew that changing it wasn’t an option. So, I threw in a load of laundry, limped upstairs, then looked at my foot and went, oops, maybe I should get this x-rayed. Yep, it’s broke and it sure has slowed me down. As in “immobilized” me. So, here I am, sharing the news and letting you know that I have heard that lemon bars help heal bones, oh, and white chocolate raspberry cheese cake, and I don’t want to forget the ever healing properties of chocolate.
ADDENDUM: FOR THOSE CONCERNED WITH MY SHOPPING AT TARGET: I ONLY SHOP THERE WHEN THEY HAVE WHAT IS CALLED A “LOSS LEADER.” THAT IS SOMETHING THAT THEY SELL FOR LESS THAN WHAT THEY PAID FOR IT AND USE IT TO LURE PEOPLE INTO THE STORE TO SPEND EXTRA $$$ ON IMPULSE. I ONLY PURCHASE THE LOSS LEADER, THEREBY COSTING THEM MONEY AND USE MY DEBIT CARD TO PAY SO THEY HAVE TO ALSO PAY THE FEES. I FEEL BETTER NOW!
WHATEVER WAS I THINKING? 