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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.
HOARDING EVERYTHING (AND I MEAN EVERYTHING!)
There are many of you out there who have seen or experienced my selective hoarding and failed OCD behaviors. The one I am most comfortable admitting to is my book hoarding. There is also the tchotchkes that litter my home and show my eclectic interest in pigs, elephants, religious icons, kitchen “stuff” and the never to be forgotten dust.
This morning Kim and I were using his day off to kick back and spend some relaxing time bopping around the internet. At one point, I said I wish they would invent something like a pair of glasses that could be used to manipulate the cursor on the computer screen eliminating the need for the physical manipulation through the mouse or keyboard. I know that something like that exists for the differently-abled population, but my needs would not require that degree of sophistication. Something like the soon to be discontinued Google glasses that would be cost-effective and allow me control the computer without wireless keyboard and wireless mouse.
And here is where the hoarding raises its ugly head. The truth is that at this point in time I have 31 tabs up and running for the current session. I also have 27 file folders on the bookmark bar that allow me to over 200+ additional sites that I may have a need for immediate access at any given point in time. These folders include “BOOKS” with its four sub-folders and 24 sites, or “NEW” with one sub-folder and 34 sites and the one titled “ok” meaning I need to get to these sites before logging off and leaving them just hanging in cyberspace purgatory.
Many have mocked me for this behavior (you know who you are.) Even I admit it’s ridiculous. I even found a kindred soul out there in webland with many of the same symptoms. waka waka waka knows of which I speak. He describes it thusly, “It’s the result of skittering about the Web reading items that contain links, opening the links for a moment in a new tab, and going back to what you were reading before or on to something else.” which hits the nail on the proverbial head.
Now, for the desired wish of those “special” glasses. All of this “tab hoarding” would be unnecessary if, with the blink of an eye, pages could be read and closed without the wasted time of keyboard strokes or mouse clicking. Plus, as an added bonus, the prevention of carpal tunnel syndrome.
So, get on with it you inventor friends of mine. I need to conserve energy and time so that I can use it for more meaningful activities. Like, not being forced into a sleep state because of energy wasted when a nod of the head would suffice or rearranging the hoarded books that I have glossed over so far.
(By the way, faithful readers, be sure and bookmark my blog so you can keep up with any and all additions. Thank you very much.)
SHE’S BACK!!!
Dear Friends and Loved Ones:
I know it has been a while since my presence was felt on the interweb, but I am here to put an end to it. If you want the short version here it is: I am well on my way to recovery and will be back to full strength soon.
For the stronger of heart and those who are dying for the details, read on.
The surgery I had on August 9th was to restore my body back to somewhat normal operation. Didn’t happen. All of you know that it wouldn’t be a medical episode unless somewhere along the line someone says, “It was the worst I had ever seen.” That’s what happened this time. Again. The takedown process on the ileostomy wasn’t possible. There was about a foot of my large intestines that had not been getting the blood supply that it needed to stay alive and as a direct result, it died. So, I will have an ostomy forever and will make poop jokes as often as I can. I am not freaked by it, it has basically been an “It is what it is” experience.
The reason I have not been discussing it before now came about because of the complications after the surgery. My adrenal glands failed and I ended up in Intensive Care for three days. Luckily I don’t remember this at all except for the part where they tied my hands to the bed rails because I wanted to pull the NG tube out. They were smart to not believe me because I was fibbing and we all knew it.
I ended up back on the floor pumped full of steroids with a body that resembled the Michelin tire mascot and with a bit more time than we expected in the hospital. I know, “Hard to believe.” For those interested in what I call the “I’ve never seen this before!” Nurse Award I will tell you that when they gave me the medicine to get all the fluid out of my body I ended up with 7 liters of pee pee (urine) bloating my pee pee bag and causing a general round of gasps on the floor.
It has taken until today for me to feel like venturing out of my self-imposed recovery and perspective adjustment period and I will definitely be back raising hell at full throttle within a day or so. Thanks for all of your support and understanding. I am sure that it was and will continue as a source of healing for me.
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.
MY NEW TOY (GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER)
I have managed to put on all the weight that I lost during my medical hurdles last year. That is due to my lack of willpower, lemon pound cakes and avoiding exercise. Hard to believe that would allow 30 pounds to jump on my ass in a mere 6 months. Well, believe it.
I am paying the greatest price for having smoked for 42 years with the big Emphysema. That means that exercise is fairly low impact and basically consists of walking. On flat surfaces. I can see myself as that person prancing around the mall at 7AM. As if I would get up at that time to walk, much less at the mall. But, that is probably the answer. I will have to walk alone since walking and talking are not compatible now. Maybe when I get more in shape and lose some weight that will change, but being the huffer (not heifer) and puffer that I am I am just going to walk against the clock, head down and hoping no one recognizes me.
I have already lost five pounds. I give the credit to my new toy. I have only made a few major errors with it. Finding out that kale is cruciferous, along with my other favorite vegetables was a real drag. Discovering that I would prefer to eat a raw carrot than drink one was a pure joy.
I don’t think I could eat a banana, a cup of raspberries, an orange, almond milk and yogurt for breakfast, but I can sure drink it. Having this be a basis for two meals with no real carbohydrates or added sugar is a real bonus. I have to grind my flax seed and add it along with protein power to round this all out to bonus levels of energy.
I don’t recommend this as the only juicing machine out there, I am sure there are many that are just as good, all I can really say is this one is amazing. So amazing I got one for my daughter who is now making smoothies for herself and her family.
Now to move on to the exercise stage of this venture. Does walking to and from the refrigerator count?
OSTEOWARRIORS, UNITE!
I know that most of you know about the past year’s worth of surgery, testing, relapse and on and on and on. I at peace with the process now and I just want to share what a very good friend I made from down in the South (you know who you are, Allie) who helped tremendously with the process of getting to this point and with a woman up here in the Northland (and, yes, Ellen it’s you!) who has also been a constant source of realism and humor!
Well, if you don’t have enough information by now, did you know WE HAVE A DAY? Unfortunately, it seems random depending on where you are, so I have decided EVERYDAY IS OSTOMY DAY! And there are even LOVE NOTES, T-SHIRTS (Of course there are T-SHIRTS!), NURSES, PAPER DOLLS, COMING OUT STICKERS and too much detail. Besides, I think I have already overwhelmed you!
So, from here on out, thanks to Ellen, I will be known as:
PRINCESS WILD COW
OSTEOWARRIOR
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)
My, My, Why Aren’t We Still Doing This?
There are definitely some things that escape my imagination. And, now I believe you will be as gobsmacked as I was!
The Migration of Pictures After Death will put you in the perfect mood for a beverage or two. Please don’t hate me for posting this, if you know me well, you know I couldn’t help myself.
WHATEVER WAS I THINKING? 