A Journal Of A Different Type

Weeks ago I became aware of a type of journaling that I never considered.

Like a seed, it got planted in my brain and has bloomed into a new possibility.

Years ago I wanted to keep a traditional journal.  You know ... the hand-written kind using paper and pen.  I think of it as an analog version of blogging - but a private one.  Five days into the process, however, I decided it was too cumbersome for me.  My brain did not engage with my pen well at all, and when it did, the first words would be not quite right, crossed out, erased, edited, ending in ... a mess.  I wanted to be neat and clean, but my writing is neither neat nor clean.  I deeply edit over and over until my brain narrows things down.  Blogging on an electronic platform allows all that massaging I need and is why it has been such a consistent practice for me - even if only episodic as of late.

But recently I discovered a journaling method that won't leave my brain.  It is called 5 Year Journal.

A 5 Year Journal typically presents as a normal diary that assigns each day of the week to a full page, but each page is divided into 5 equal sections - one section for each year.  As shown below - all the journal entries for January 1 are shown on one page.  The first year of this journal you are writing only in the top section.  Then when January 1 of the next year rolls around again, you return to the January 1 page once again drop down to the second section for your entry.  Obviously these are short sections - usually only 5 lines. It is just a short snap shot of what is on your mind on that day.  Brief, concise, specific entries.

Doesn't sound like me at all, does it!!  Ha!

In my research of these journals, I discovered that some versions offer a one sentence prompt per day.  I was intrigued by that idea as I don't feel my personal life is all that eventful or interesting.  Then I drifted into the possibility of only one word prompts - something to comment on as it relates to your life.  The choices of journals are beyond describing.  Some of the books are leather bound creations of great beautiful.  Some books' pages are stitched into the book while others can be refilled or switched out.  There are small books and large ones.  There are expensive and cheap ones.  Believe me - if you have problems with choices, don't Google a topic - it can be overwhelming.

But still it attracted me.

I tried to determine why this type of journaling was haunting my thoughts and why did I feel like I must begin one this January 1.  It was hard to put my reasoning into words - maybe a sign that I was attracted to the materials rather than the practice of a 5 year journal.  So I Googled "Why keep a 5 year journal" thinking maybe someone's words would capture my thoughts.  Hahaha.  Like Googling something EVER made anything more clear. NOT!

So after much thought, here is what I have come up with from my own brain!

If I looked back over my last 5 years - if I had started writing a 5 year journal in 2014 and I was writing in the 5th year of December 2019 section today - I could look back at all the Decembers - specifically I would see that in December 2014 I struggled with mom's last days, facing her death, struggling to do the right things for her.  I would find it interesting to see what my mind and heart were dealing with at that time 5 years ago - the things I felt important to put into words.

Over the last 5 years other changes have happened as well.  Big ones.  We moved.  I became a grandmother!  I reconnected with a childhood friend.  I lost 2 dear friends.  I had knee surgery.  The list goes on.  My life was eventful in many ways.  I think as time passed, and I approached this book to post another entry, I would find interest and remembering of things that happened to me on those dates a year or more ago.

I sort of wish I had that book today.

But looking back is only half the story.  My next 5 years will also be filled with events - some sad and some joyful.  I think about the next decade or so - and at 72 it is a daunting thought.  My brain shies away from what the future might actually hold at this point.  Might it be a good idea to put pen to paper now in an abbreviated way to capture these last important years for myself?

Why doesn't the online blog do this?  Well, for me, the blog is a public forum, but a written journal is a place where only I will visit - a private thing.  I seldom look back in my blog to past entries, but in a 5 year journal that snap shot entry would be evident every time I opened the book.  Is that important? I am not sure - but I wish I had the previous 5 years recorded in a useable way.

I think if I were younger and had the expectation of many years ahead of me - I might not see a value in this kind of journaling.  But time passes by very very fast the older you get and sometimes the brain starts to stutter a bit.  Somehow putting pen to paper puts more stability and continuity into my daily living than launching a blog post into the great electric unknown of the web.  I will still blog because there is a social interaction in that type of journaling that is good for the soul.  But once the post drifts into the distant past ... it fades - no matter how important the topic was.  The 5 year journal seems to fill a different need.

Will I still have problems putting pen to paper?  Probably.  I guess it is time to exercise a 'mental muscle' that hasn't been used since the 90's - 'from brain, to hand, to pen, to paper.'  It will be hard at first - but new skills are good for old folks like me.

So I think I am going to start this for 2020 and hope it goes to 2025!

The journal is ordered.  Leather covers, but mid-priced and refillable as opposed to pages stitched in place.  I might change my mind on that after I see the book in my hand.  I loved some of those leather imprinted covers.  I have opted for blank pages - knowing I can set up the dates and the years easily.  I might change my mind on that as well.  I may use one word prompts for each day of the year  - but who knows, I might ... you know, change my mind on that as well. :-)

Have you kept a paper journal? 

Have you heard of 5 year journal?

If so ...  

how has traditional journaling worked for you?

And why did you keep a journal?

This 'journaling mind' wants to know!!

Little Discoveries

You would think after 72 years on this earth

I had these simple discoveries under my belt!

#1 Medicinal Milk Shakes

Yes, there is such a thing!  While I was recovering from my first (and shortest ever) cold of the season, I made a wonderful discovery.  Medicinal Milk Shakes.  I am sure that any flavor would do but for me it was a Chocolate Milk Shake at my local Chick Fil-A drive thru.  I was on my way home from shopping for Christmas and decided to pick up some grilled chicken nuggets - no sauces or breading - just the grilled chicken nuggets.  Yum!  Waiting in line I decided to "balance" my healthy choice by adding a little treat. Small Chocolate Shake.  My head was stopped up tight and mouth breathing was what was left to me - so to reward my mouth for doing double duty with at milk shake!

Photo credit - Chick Fil-A

Discovery - the cold of the milk shake against the roof of my mouth suddenly shrunk my sinuses cavities enough that I could breath normally!  Wonderful discovery - worked wonders.  Try it!

You're welcome!

  😋😋

I am thinking of experimenting a little further ... using milkshakes to ward off head colds!  I believe that in a world filled with useless studies (just listen to the news most nights), this question has never been explored.

I am willing to "take one for the team."


#2 Fatter is better!

This discovery is a little more troublesome.  You would think after 20+ years of knitting, I would intimately understand the importance of gauge and needle size.  Apparently I felt after you passed size US10 knitting needles ... fat is fat no matter what the pattern says.

The third color is a cream and
 not available for pictures as it is on the blocking board.

I finished all the "tiny-knitting-needles-and-skinny-yarns" knitting for Christmas projects. While I was adding buttons, care labels, and sewing all the loose ends, I got the desire to "go-fat."  (And this has nothing to do with the milk shakes, in case you were wondering.)  Weeks ago I picked up two skeins of Bernat Mega Bulky yarn in cream and silver gray at Joann's ...  I was drawn to the big stitches, the softness of the acrylic (they have really made great strides with acrylics) and the desire to have instant gratification project in my near future.  The 'near future' had arrived.

Silver Gray and Plum
Colors are truer to the actual colors.

This yarn is so thick the pattern calls for size US 19 knitting needles.  The largest size I had was US 15.  No matter ... 15 or 19 .... both are fat!  (Knitters and crocheters - I give you permission to cringe right about now!)  I charged into a one skein cowl pattern in this squishy soft wonderful yarn!  So fun!  And as expected I had a finished a cream colored cowl in a matter of a few hours.  Boy, I needed that!!  Start to finish in one sitting.  I tried it on!  Hmm ....  Seemed a little tight. Go figure!  Gauge counted!!  Ha!  A fatter needle was needed, I returned to Joanns to purchase more of the cream -  I would just add to the cowl till it fit better.  Of course, the cream was sold out.  I wanted 2 cowls for gifts so I decided to buy yet a third color (for me) and the (very important) US 19 knitting needles.

This plum one is for me.

What a difference it makes to use the right size needles!  The cowl fits as it is supposed to - with the right amount of ease and drape.  I decided to take the lazy man's way out on the cream cowl and try to block it a bit bigger.  The jury is still out on that effort.  Blocking acrylic usually is not suggested but since THIS acrylic is "hand wash, lay flat to dry" (unusual for acrylic), I am hopeful that blocking adds the needed positive ease.

So lesson learned.  Fat is good.  Fatter is better!

How I wish that was true in my body one other area of my life. 

😏 

#3  Learning from my experiences is not my strength!

This fall while racing to complete my Christmas knitting projects, I fretted internally that I would not meet the deadline.  Retired to me means - a deadline is 'four letter word.'  Deadlines are meant for other people who live their lives by the clock - as I did for so many years.  I cursed my deadline setting.

All that frantic knitting and worry meant that I was done earlier than I expected.  Hence the interest in knitting a cowl, then 3 cowls, and if that wasn't enough ... a man's hat!  This hat is for my son who wears his thinning hair military style - shaved close to the scalp.  He isn't one to wear a hand made sweater, but maybe a hat.  I can get that done before Christmas, right??

The color is called Blueberry! 

And if I am reeeaaallly fast, I have enough yarn for a scarf ... before Christmas!!!

*sigh* Some people just never learn from their own experiences!

The yarn used is one of my all time favorites called Waterlily by Classic Elite Yarns, an extra fine merino wool made in Italy.  It was discontinued years ago, but before it left the market I stocked up and my sister stocked up.  Then my sister moved to mostly weaving.  She traded all her Waterlily to me for my most of my weaving yarns since I am not weaving - well .... not at the excellent level she weaves.  My Waterlily stash is now huge and making this hat has reminded me just how much I love this yarn.  It is soft, easy on the skin for wool and has a lovely bounce back when squeezed.  Stitch definition is perfect.  It boarders on an Aran weight, but can pass for Worsted Weight.  And it has subtle colorations - reminiscent of a kettle dyed yarn.

Why this yarn was dropped from production baffles me!  In all my years of knitting, I have never found a yarn I loved more.

😍😍

My next post will be all the knitted projects I did for Christmas - before they are wrapped.

Head Cold

So ... let the winter 'bugs' officially begin their romp through my immune system - (even though we are technically a few weeks away from the first day of winter.)

😷😷😷😷😷

Last year I had a grand total of 5 colds of various descriptions.  It was a record number for me for one season.  And just to top things off with a grand flourish, in April I got the flu despite getting the senior flu vax.  Spring was in full swing, sun was shining, flowers blooming, temperatures exquisite - and I was down with the flu.  Not a touch of the flu either (is there such an 'animal'?) but the full-blown 2 to 3 week variety that actually landed me in the ER at one point so we could get my swollen throat under control and avoid airway obstruction kind-of-flu!!!

Yeah ...  believe me, I was glad to see the end of that cold and flu season.

Fast forward to this merry month of December!

Symptoms began on Sunday and I chalked it up to allergies.  By Monday I was sure it wasn't allergies but the beginnings of a head cold.  Oh Joy!  It isn't even winter yet.  No fair starting early.  I kept going with my to-do list - except I cancelled my night out with friends.  Friends don't make other friends sick - especially when the friends you are seeing are all around your own senior age!

Today, Tuesday, I got up at my normal time and decided... hey, this head cold isn't advancing - it is just stuck in my sinuses.  It is pretty much the same as yesterday.  Great news!  Really!! I had breakfast and then decided to lay down for just a bit before getting dress.  I awoke at 12:30.  Yikes!  I got up, got dressed, had lunch and answered some email, and before you know it, it felt like nap time again!  Literally I was standing for about 15 minutes and sitting the rest of the time.  Another nap was ridiculous.  I cancelled today's activities.

I did think b*tching about this cold was not ridiculous.  So here I am.  I cancelled tomorrow's activities.  Being pro-active.

This minor cold counts officially as Cold #1 of the season.

One down, four to go.  

I think I will skip the flu this season. 
I wish I had thought of doing that last year!!

My 2019-2020 goal: Skip the Flu.

Getting in under the wire!

Here I am slipping off the November calendar into December without leaving a post!  I am fixing that right now.

November has had its ups and downs.  It started out UP!  Going into November I was eager for the coming season.  Winter is just around the corner!  My favorite season.  But then it began to slip.

It began with several sad announcements that always seem to come in threes: the death of a long time friend from cancer, the death of my mom's 94 year old Long Island friend who became my friend as well, and a second cancer diagnosis for another long time friend.  By the time we heard the third bit of bad news - I was ready to say "uncle."  Please, please stop.  My husband made the observation ... now that the generation before us is gone, we and our peers are the next in line - and I should get used to it.  Sadly true.  My mom outlived most of her friends and it was sad to watch.  It does, however, put perspective on how I spend my own time - shedding things that really don't make a difference in life and putting more energy into family and friends.   Simplicity in life still remains a value for me.  But being there when it counts for those you care about is worth the complexity it adds.  The friend with a second cancer diagnosis is a single guy with little extended family.  His friends will be pitching in to drive him to his treatments.  I will be on that volunteer list.

My physical therapy sessions continue but reduced to once a week.  Progress I guess.  The leg is now stronger.  Maybe too soon to expect the symptoms in my knee to be resolved.  But the exercises do make my leg feel better.  It is just frustrating to know that I will have to do these exercises (in both legs) for the rest of my life.  Falls for seniors are the #1 cause of hospitalization ... and in older seniors - #1 cause of death.  It was true for mom and it was true for her Long Island friend.  I have added a 5 pound weight routine for my arms to my regular exercise.  My grand baby is growing and gaining weight - although she is still a string bean - and I want to be sure I can continue to lift her.

My Christmas Tree and Esk's chair with Santa Cat!

Christmas preparation is well underway.  My daughter helped me put up my Christmas tree the weekend before Thanksgiving.  That is a record for me.  I actually dislike decorating the tree and put it off 'till I have no choice.  It is a small tree so there is no excuse for it.  And I do enjoy it while it is up.  Thank God for beautiful and helpful daughters.  Shopping is happening mostly on line so it is not too painful.  The next big goals are gift wrapping and party prep for a December 15 event at our condo for some friends - and finally, Christmas Eve prep for the family at our condo.  Christmas Day is usually a day of rest for me - but this year I will either be sitting in a chemo clinic with my friend or visiting my parents' grave site.  They both died within days of Christmas - so that is always part of my holiday.

And .... Ta Da!!!!  Big announcement.  My grand daughter, Eskarina, finally calls me "ga-ma" ... her version of Grandma.  It is music to my ears.  In fact, we had a sleep over last night and I got to hear that over and over and over again.  Ha.  I would be standing in the kitchen and she would be coming from the living room chanting Ga-ma, Ga-ma, Ga-ma, Ga-ma, all the way into the kitchen.  I, of course, came to meet her half way - asking what she needs.  She smiled up at me and just said "hi."  Its like she is making sure that this is the best word to get my attention!  It works and I love it!!  She went back home this afternoon and the house is like a morgue.  The quiet makes my ears ring!  She will be 2 in February ... the adventure is just starting!  Thank you God for giving me this grand baby!!

Knitting is happening at a snails pace.  Oh, I am not knitting slowly.  I am knitting fast and a lot, but the projects I picked were designed for thin yarn and small needles.  What ever was I thinking.  I won't ever make that mistake again.  All the knitting is done - except for one sleeve which is 25% done.  Then I have to add buttons, sew in the loose ends and block.  I'll make it but I hate the pressure.  It takes just one unexpected "something" to throw everything out out wack!

That pretty much sums up my life.  Hope all is well in your world.  I'll be back in December!!

The Difference

(Looks like this will be my October post - 
now that I appear to have dropped back to only one post a month.)

Time is passing at an almost incredible speed ...
While I seem to be slowing down at about the same speed. 

I am more aware of time passing than at any other stage of my life.   In all other stages I was just too busy with other things like jobs, and kids, and hobbies, and travel, and caregiving, and whatever - to ever seriously recognize the speed of time.  Now a lot of those things are behind me and gosh ... why is it passing so fast!!

At the same time it seems I am slowing down - naturally slowing in what I can physically accomplish, mentally juggle and emotionally handle.  In fact, although I still maintain a to-do list (a crutch for a brain that has a 30 second hold time), I generally don't feel obligated to spin my wheels getting that to-do stuff done.  I guess that includes blogging.  Haha!   I still want the list to exist so the items aren't lost into thin air - as so often happens, but I am comfortable letting them sit on that list for as long as it takes.

Ten years ago ... everything I just said would be characterized (privately - in my brain) as just crazy talk.  I would move heaven and earth to accomplish everything.  Now I find "heaven and earth" can wait ... I am busy doing ... well ... sometimes nothing at all - just rambling around in my own thoughts.

And then there is that image in the mirror.

My image has changed for sure when I look into the mirror.  I remember a time when that image got spruced up every single morning, with blow drying my hair, adding making up, and clothing myself in stylish clothes that suited my frame.  Now I accept the fact that my image is who I actually am - and I am not so hell bent on changing it.  In fact, that acceptance has been very freeing.  No matter what I do ... there is little chance I will be mistaken for someone 30 years younger.  So my focus is more how I feel from the inside out rather than the outside in.  Comfortable clothes, moisture cream for my skin and good sanitary habits are good enough.

Is it laziness on my part that I don't try to control all these things as I once did?  Or have I just managed to accept my current stage of life?

Still some of my peers resist relaxing into senior years.  I have watched a few expound on about "never give in!!" or "never give up!!" or "push back that clock"?   Believe me when I say I have seen a few versions of that kind of aging ... and is far from attractive.  If that is what they are going for - attractive - it is an epic fail.

There is a trite but true little prayer that comes to my mind more and more.

The Serenity Prayer 

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And wisdom to know the difference.

And there is the rub ... knowing the difference!

What are the things I care enough to make a difference on!  If I accept the natural limitations of my age like ... I wake slower, I walk slower, I heal slower, I think slower ... really, what is it that I don't accept.

• Getting off the floor can be a struggle.  I don't want to be that person you see in TV ads that can't get up off the floor and needs an emergency button to call for help.
• I want to move freely without discomfort.   I welcome PT and the regular leg exercises to keep myself walking on 2 legs (not 3 legs - a cane, or 4 legs - a walker.)
• Endurance - easy to lose, hard to get back.  Yeah ...  a work in progress. 
• I now call my "to-do list" a "suggestion list."  To-do lists are so over rated!  After all - nothing comes to a screeching halt if I don't do it.  (Gosh that was a hard lesson for my thick head to accept.)
• And ... I encourage the reality that everything I have just said will probably change as years pass and I am ok with that!  

Is that grace in aging?  I don't know.  But I am spending precious (and speeding) time rambling around in my own brain at times to figure out if 'grace' is the right word.  I am also stepping outside myself just a bit and to observe my own travel through aging.  Accepting some things, pushing back on other things.  And figuring out the difference.

 

Knowing the difference!

I think that is my major accomplishment

 in this stage of life!

Angry White People - 8 New Rules

I am fairly critical of Facebook.  I still have an account, despite my sincere effort to delete that account several years ago (by the way, they may say they will delete your account at your request - but they lie.)  But sometimes I find really worthwhile things on this site.  This piece is one of those worthwhile things!  

Attention Angry White People: 8 New Rules

KC Compton

Aug 25 · 7 min read

A few days ago I had a great margarita at my favorite Mexican restaurant, where I visited with the wait staff , all members of the family that owns the restaurant. La abuela doesn’t speak English, so explaining to her that no, really, that was all of the queso fundido I was going to eat and no, there was no problem, got a little complex. But with sufficient broken Spanish on my part and her grandson’s help, we got it sorted out — and enjoyed a moment.

A couple of days after that, I met a young woman from Ukraine whose English wasn’t great, but we managed to have an interesting conversation anyway. She told me she wants to start a YouTube channel for immigrants to share their getting-started stories. I told her it was brilliant — and I think it is.

Last week, I had a couple of medical tests; two of the technicians were Latinx, one was Chinese and the other looked as though he might have had a Viking up the family tree. My doctor is Japanese. My physical therapist is from India.

Yesterday in Target, a young mother wearing a hijab was checking out in front of me and taking longer than her adorable toddler daughter thought was necessary. The little girl started fussing and Mom was getting frustrated, so I played peekaboo with her until Mom had completed her transaction. As she was leaving, she mouthed “Thank you!” over her baby’s head.

Today, I went for a mani-pedi and the young technicians were laughing and talking in Vietnamese as they tag-teamed my fingers and toes. The one who spoke the clearest English asked me how long it had been since my last pedicure. I shrugged, rolled my eyes and she wagged her finger at me, scolding, “You come sooner next time…” and we laughed.

In the past couple of months, I have eaten food from at least six nationalities (go, Seattle!) and have had personal interactions with black people, white people, Latinx people, transgender people, Asian people, gay people, Jewish people, Hindu people, Christian people, Muslim people, unaffiliated reprobates like myself, male people, female people and people who have chosen not to pick sides. And probably a number of other categories I’ve forgotten by now because I don’t care. This is just how my life rolls in a diverse city, among a diverse community, with a heart that is richer for all of them.

I recently read a Washington Post article about the shortage of labor in Maine — where the population has now grown sufficiently old that the World Bank terms it “super-aged” — and the crisis they’re dealing with because there are not enough young workers to care for all those old people.

This imbalance is a harbinger of things to come for all U.S. states, the article said, but particularly for those who have fewer immigrants.

Derp.

People from other countries have long filled the ranks of medical professionals and caregivers in this nation, but with harsher immigration policies and a public sentiment that makes the U.S. less inviting, the immigrant population will, predictably, dwindle. Not having sufficient professionals and workers to care for elderly people will be a social and economic catastrophe in a decade or less (it’s already happening in Maine and another dozen states). One of the recommendations for the future is to “reshape the workforce” and I’d bet my hat, ass and overcoat that will involve … you guessed it! … more immigrants.

I wonder how some of the horrible white people we are seeing on a daily basis these days insisting in the local Starbucks that the people a table away (who weren’t talking to them) SPEAK ENGLISH!!! or castigating the waiter in the MEXICAN restaurant where they were buying tacos (!!!) to GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM (“Unh … it’s my restaurant…”) are eventually going to deal with the fact that their lily white bum gets wiped by a foreigner or it doesn’t get wiped at all. That should be a day of reckoning, for sure.

I understand that some people are convinced — possibly by a 30-year diet of Fox and Rush — that they are the master race and every one not their particular shade of beige and of their particular pedigree should bow down and make way. If that’s the way they want to play it, OK, I guess. You can’t make people not be hateful. But there need to be some guidelines. These wannabe white separatists need to fully understand the dimensions of the narrow little world they’re condemning themselves to.

If I were named Queen for a Day, these are a few of the new rules I would hereby order for all those angry white people:

1. If you don’t want immigrants to live in the U.S.A. and/or you think brown people of any type are your inferiors, you will be required to wear an indelible stamp across your forehead (not a tattoo, because we want you to have a change of heart) with a big, fat purple B for Bigot. If you are sporting this stamp, you cannot purchase anything brought to this country by an immigrant ever or made by a brown person. Food, clothing, jewelry, electronics … nada (or in English, for you, “nothing”).
2. If you are wearing your required B-for-Bigot stamp and you become ill, you will not be able to access care by anyone brown or from another country, especially Muslim or shit-hole countries (is “shit-hole” hyphenated or one word? Whatever). You may die, but you’ll have the comfort of dying while being right about race.
3. You have to give up any food that any immigrant group has ever introduced here. No Mexican food, no Chinese, no Thai hot, no sushi, no Indian buffet, no soul food — no nuthin’ but potatoes and whatever some Native American might be kind enough to cook up for you. They will retain the right to refuse. You cannot eat anything harvested by any immigrant ever. You will starve, but again, you’ll retain your righteousness on the way out.
4. You will not be able to sell anything to anyone from an immigrant group or with skin darker than copy paper. If you’re a business owner or manufacturer or a tradesperson or … oh hell, anyone … you’ll notice the economic impact quickly because immigrants and brown people are, you know, drivers of our economy.
5. You must relinquish all access to any music imported from any immigrant group or via brown people. This leaves … unh … gosh … hmmm … still thinking. Even bluegrass or old-time country are out because that came to us courtesy of that pesky Irish/Scot invasion and, even though these were my people and they borrowed heavily on the African traditions already taking root in the South, they were, you know, nasty immigrants. Certainly no blues, jazz, rock & roll, hip-hop, classical (all those Eye-talians, doncha know). Maybe you can listen to some nice Native American flute music, indigenous to this country, but again, you’ll have to rely on the kindness of the original residents of this continent and, frankly, some of them are weary of your bullshit.
6. You will never be able to enjoy any electronic devices again — iPhones, tablets, laptops, PCs. According to the Census Bureau, despite making up only 16 percent of the resident population holding a bachelor’s degree or higher, immigrants represent 33 percent of engineers, 27 percent of mathematicians, statisticians, and computer scientist, and 24 percent of physical scientists. According to the Partnership for a New American Economy, in 2011, foreign-born inventors contributed to more than 75 percent of patents issued to the top 10 patent-producing universities. Immigrants and brown people have been all up in the development of all of the electronic stuff for a long time, so … sorry. It’s not easy being racist. Buck up.
7. Alas, no sportsball. Given the preponderance of players of color in basketball, football, tennis and such, no B-for-Bigot can enjoy the sportsball games anymore, either in person or on TV. They’ll have NASCAR … hockey … lacrosse, so that’s something. Bottom line, you don’t get to enjoy the fruits of other people’s labor if you aren’t willing to grant them as much humanity and value as you grant yourself. Very simple, actually.

I could go on and on, but you get the drift. So you go ahead and sit over there in your little whitey-tighty corner, wrapped in gauze and buffered from any encounter with anyone not on your list of approved races, ethnic groups and/or gender expressions. I haven’t seen this list, but I assume you’ve all gotten together and worked it out, right? Because you seem to have such a clear picture of who is and isn’t a human being entitled to the full rights and respect one gives to others, I figured you’ve put your heads together and gotten very clear about who’s in and who’s out. Oh… that reminds me of Rule № 8.

8. You have to spit in a vial and/or swab your cheek and get that DNA sorted out. I know I’m white because I did that and was quite disappointed that the results came back white-white-whitey-white — British Isles all the way, yo. I was raised being told that for sure we had a Native American ancestor (I feel you, Elizabeth Warren) and probably an African American one. So imagine my chagrin to discover I’m “pure.” You, on the other hand, may not know your pedigree and it’s essential that you do. If you’re going to be such a hate-weasel about racial purity, you will need to scientifically verify that you are actually pure. Otherwise we add the orange H for Hypocrisy stamp to your forehead. It’s gonna get crowded up there if you don’t lighten up.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are going to go about our daily lives, enjoying each other’s company, benefitting from mutual relationships, taking pleasure in varieties of flavor and music and accents and skin colors and ages and religions and hair styles and personalities different from our own.

Just being, you know, decent human beings who are grateful for each other’s presence in this delicious world we get to live in together.

K.C. Compton is a journalist living in Seattle. She has worked as a columnist, reporter and editor at newspapers throughout the Rocky Mountain region and is a former editor with Mother Earth News. Pronouns=she/her

What I remember - 9-11!

This is my 9-11 post from 2015!  I am repeating it again - as it is my only statement on this tragic day!  This is what we must remember. To remember only the sanitized patriotic images that float around the internet does a disservice to those who suffered and died!

This is what I remember!

9-11

Every anniversary of this terrible day the TV, the blog-sphere and social media is flooded with 9-11 remembrances.

I support remembrances.  We must remember.

What I don't support are the images that emotionalize, sanitize or minimize the truth of that attack.  Beautiful waving national flags, a tearful statute of liberty with the smoky towers behind her, the struggles of the heroes to save lives ... those images do not show the terror, the desperation and the horror experienced by the innocent lives trapped in those burning buildings.  To remember that day with vanilla patriotic images fades the stark truth.  It separates us carefully and gently from the actual ugly event.

I don't think we should do that.

This is the image

 we should hold in our minds.

Remember

 this man!

Remember

 that some people jumped to certain death

 rather than stay in the inferno of those buildings.

Remember

 that as our innocent citizens fell from the building

  they knew with certainty that these were their last seconds of life on earth ...
approximately 10 seconds ...

Remember

 that those on the ground below

 will never forget the terrible thudding sounds of bodies hitting pavement

one after another - over and over - about 200 times.

If this post makes you upset, uncomfortable, angry, or sad, then I have achieved my goal.

We must never forget the real images.

This is how we do honor to those who died in that attack.

Remember.

Post Script:

• My last blog post on 9-11 was September 2012. The title was Jumpers.
• From the reading I have done - it appears that the New York chief medical examiner's office does not consider these people "jumpers."  Jumping indicates a choice and would imply suicide.  These people did not have a choice probably because of the force of the explosion, the fire behind them and the lack of breathable air.  Because of these conditions the deaths were ruled homicide.  It is a small but merciful distinction.   They most certainly were murdered.