In The News – Page 4 – This Old House 2

This and that on a rainy Sunday

Not very creative with the blog post title, ay? But it is raining on this Sunday afternoon and I can justify sitting here to blog for a bit.

How have you all been, what’s it like in your neck o’the woods regarding pandemic living? Here in New England, many are abiding the mask wearing in public tight quarters spaces. Our town Hall is still only open by appointment and working via e-mail, phone, etc. for the most part. Businesses are open with the restrictions many of you are familiar with. Strange times. I don’t yet feel comfortable sitting indoors in a restaurant, but we have dined at a few with outside patios.

I feel sorry for the teachers who are dealing with a mess of kids wearing masks (talk about awkward and frustrating) … and the fear some of them are feeling being so exposed if they’ve been very vigilant in their own social distancing. And I feel sorry for the youth who have been so restricted in their socialization and education experience. Parents are trying to assuage their fears, balance work and home and childcare needs, a nightmare, really. Healthcare workers are now seeing the second wave, according to my friends in that field. Every sniffle, every achy muscle day (for me that’s always, damned fibromyalgia) every scratchy sore throat brings a little thread of dread – is it the virus? The bad kind, the mild kind or the no symptom kind? .. should I quarantine? Should my husband and I be sleeping in separate beds? (hey, sometimes that’s actually appealing anyway) Jeez I wore my mask, washed my hands,…. the anxiety of it all rolls on and on…. I no longer wipe down every single surface of every item I bring home from the grocery store though, as I did initially. That got old and tedious and felt like overkill. Washing the produce and washing my hands after handling feels like it’s enough.

We’ve been getting stuff done around the farm, my daughter and her significant other love their home nextdoor and it’s a joy to see them mowing lawn, weeding garden, seeing the back door light go on at night while they let the dogs go potty. And having my daughter nearby to share the barn chores again is a huge blessing. My son is building his home on a lot at the back of our farm. I may have mentioned it’s what we do for a living, home building, so this is one area where we -get stuff done- in rapid succession and at a more reasonable price than the typical homeowner.

A glimpse of my son’s home to be – the red “barn” is his garage… the interior of the home being done slowly as materials, labor and bartering come along, the upstairs will remain unfinished until they become a young family. The goal is to have as minimal a mortgage as possible (young couple and all that goes with it).

The joy these two goat girls give us are immeasurable. They are so friendly, talking to us all the time, from a distance and right up close. Truly they are like two toddlers looking for our companionship and attention whenever we are outside.

The upcoming election – oh, man. ( here’s where you skip the next two paragraphs if you still remain a 45 supporter, I’m not looking to insult anyone) – It has taken a toll on me, watching what I believe is the slow unraveling of America as we (I? I shouldn’t speak for you) believed it to be. I’m sad for us all. I’m not a huge fan of B*den but I also recognize he’s not the slow sleezy do-nothing some would have you believe. His running mate choice was his best option in my opinion. I look forward to watching K*mala debate the deadwood P*nce. I am encouraged by some of my republican friends who are now saying there is no way in hell they would vote for Tr*mp again. One dyed in the wool republican neighbor said 45 is a trainwreck he’s ashamed he voted for and he will vote B*den come November. I’m hoping there are many many more out there like him. And yet…. there’s the uncertainty of what will happen should he lose. I doubt he’ll accept the results, no matter what they are, unless he is the winner. And there are so many nuts threatening civil war, it’s frightening. We are at a crossroads, this country… and I hope and pray and beg and plead for our collective soul to rise and rid itself of all the corruption, hate and fueled divide – especially the politicians, including the current P*TUS, who feed it relentlessly. We the people deserve better.

Yesterday it was reported the P*TUS lost his younger brother, of which he was close. I would imagine that is a very tough loss for him, and even more so now. While I despise what he’s doing to our Country, I find I have empathy regardless. Although the reason for his brother’s passing has not been revealed, I suspect he may have contracted COVID-19. When he was first reported as ill was precisely the same time the P*TUS started wearing a mask occasionally in public. I don’t know if we’ll ever know the truth of it. After having dismissed initial warnings about the virus and playing it down repeatedly for a length of time, well.. the irony and indeed the tragedy of it is what comes to mind. Of course, I’m speculating only.

Stella by the sea remains a respite for all of us. We each use it together and separately when free time comes up. It does my heart good to see the kids enjoy the kayaks, the grilling of burgers and hotdogs and roasting of marshmallows in the firepit with their friends (small safe gatherings are possible outdoors). I am loving my new kayak – the one that is discontinued and I bought for a bargain price. She glides through the water easily and while a little more tippy than my old steady Ruby, she’s fairly stable regardless and is more agile, lighter to carry. I have yet to come up with a name for her that feels right- but every vessel must have a proper name…… suggestions welcome. She’s red orange and yellow.

A photo I took while kayaking – some of the Thimble Islands out in the distance..

We finally laid my father to rest thanks to the kindness of dear friends who have a lovely old 1976 Egg Harbor boat. It was a small gathering, just my sister and I, my husband, my niece, and the lovely couple who took us up the Connecticut River to the mouth of the river into LI Sound – just beyond the lighthouse at Saybrook Point. Since it’s not technically legal to dump ashes there , that’s not technically what we were doing . There was the traditional burial Psalm 23 reading, we tossed white roses out into the waves along with what wasn’t really my father’s ashes in a biodegradable urn, and read the following below as well… my tears were for several reasons, but the most important one was the overwhelming knowledge in my heart that it was exactly as my father would want it – exactly where he wanted to be in the end. I felt a sincere closure for him and for me, and that is such a blessing.

Wishing us all good health and peace of mind during these trying times –

Leaving us with a gem I hope we harvest and sow again and again

The last published words of John Lewis – sent two days before his passing…

Q&A: Representative John Lewis Will Never Lose Hope

While my time here has now come to an end, I want you to know that in the last days and hours of my life you inspired me. You filled me with hope about the next chapter of the great American story when you used your power to make a difference in our society. Millions of people motivated simply by human compassion laid down the burdens of division. Around the country and the world you set aside race, class, age, language and nationality to demand respect for human dignity.

That is why I had to visit Black Lives Matter Plaza in Washington, though I was admitted to the hospital the following day. I just had to see and feel it for myself that, after many years of silent witness, the truth is still marching on.

Emmett Till was my George Floyd. He was my Rayshard Brooks, Sandra Bland and Breonna Taylor. He was 14 when he was killed, and I was only 15 years old at the time. I will never ever forget the moment when it became so clear that he could easily have been me. In those days, fear constrained us like an imaginary prison, and troubling thoughts of potential brutality committed for no understandable reason were the bars.

Though I was surrounded by two loving parents, plenty of brothers, sisters and cousins, their love could not protect me from the unholy oppression waiting just outside that family circle. Unchecked, unrestrained violence and government-sanctioned terror had the power to turn a simple stroll to the store for some Skittles or an innocent morning jog down a lonesome country road into a nightmare. If we are to survive as one unified nation, we must discover what so readily takes root in our hearts that could rob Mother Emanuel Church in South Carolina of her brightest and best, shoot unwitting concertgoers in Las Vegas and choke to death the hopes and dreams of a gifted violinist like Elijah McClain.

Like so many young people today, I was searching for a way out, or some might say a way in, and then I heard the voice of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on an old radio. He was talking about the philosophy and discipline of nonviolence. He said we are all complicit when we tolerate injustice. He said it is not enough to say it will get better by and by. He said each of us has a moral obligation to stand up, speak up and speak out. When you see something that is not right, you must say something. You must do something. Democracy is not a state. It is an act, and each generation must do its part to help build what we called the Beloved Community, a nation and world society at peace with itself.

Ordinary people with extraordinary vision can redeem the soul of America by getting in what I call good trouble, necessary trouble. Voting and participating in the democratic process are key. The vote is the most powerful nonviolent change agent you have in a democratic society. You must use it because it is not guaranteed. You can lose it.

You must also study and learn the lessons of history because humanity has been involved in this soul-wrenching, existential struggle for a very long time. People on every continent have stood in your shoes, though decades and centuries before you. The truth does not change, and that is why the answers worked out long ago can help you find solutions to the challenges of our time. Continue to build union between movements stretching across the globe because we must put away our willingness to profit from the exploitation of others.

Though I may not be here with you, I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you truly believe. In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace, the way of love and nonviolence is the more excellent way. Now it is your turn to let freedom ring.

When historians pick up their pens to write the story of the 21st century, let them say that it was your generation who laid down the heavy burdens of hate at last and that peace finally triumphed over violence, aggression and war.

So I say to you, walk with the wind, brothers and sisters, and let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.

The Hail Mary

Having read Mary Tr*mp’s book… his behaviors now are no surprise, nor is it fake news that his father covered his ass for many years. Fred Tr*mp was the real estate mastermind, amassing a HUGE fortune, which Tr*mp has repeatedly grabbed from to save himself from his own repeated failures… .Tr*mp steaks, Tr*mp Vodka, Tr*mp University, Tr*mp’s Atlantic City casinos to name just a few. Even his books were written by someone else.

Tr*mp ran into multiple failures as his father faded and could no longer play behind the scenes to keep his son on the pedestal, losing some of the political and banking power he had built.. and then died – This is not fake news, it’s all public record. Donald Tr*mp and his father carefully groomed his Powerhouse image, but it was mostly a farce held up by Fred Tr*mp’s keenly laid and mega successful foundation. The media went along with it because he frequently gave them fodder to sell papers. The Banks used them just as they used the Banks.

Tr*mp was raised by a father who deemed kindness and empathy a weakness, lying was a tool and used frequently as was division, even within the family. . And money is the only currency. Both Tr*mp and his father played a huge role in the demise of his brother. To read through that story is painful, even as a complete stranger. They were merciless in their disapproval of his kindness in general, and his choice to become a TWA pilot instead of a grunt for the Tr*mp Organization. “A glorified bus driver”. Every effort he made to become a self sufficient man they hammered down, and his alcoholism as a result was no match for their ruthless dismantling.

There’s no doubt in my mind Mary wrote this as catharsis for the anger she feels for her fathers death and she and her brother’s (Fred JR’s only children) removal from her grandfathers will- which had no basis other than “their father was dead”… so they weren’t entitled to any portion of his 20 % ownership in Tr*mpworld. That was the reason given. Donald of course, held the strings. I was aware of that and no doubt Tr*mp will use it to say she’s lying and spinning because she’s “a loser”. The truths are all out there, so her motive makes no difference, it’s not lies with a bent.

Mary makes clear – They are never wrong, they never admit mistakes, they will use anyone to get what they want, and Donald in particular will use a charm that panders to lure you in, as long as you cater to him, praise him, never criticize. If you do criticize or stand up to him in anyway, you are a throw away, you’re “nasty”. Fred made sure Donald got away with any transgressions, he was pampered in that respect his entire life. Again… You don’t have to take Mary’s word for anything, it’s all out there in plain sight. When he ran for President she thought his poor preparedness for such a leadership roll would be obvious and that was clear when not one of the family save his children and spouse endorsed him for president, because they knew who he has been his entire life, and yet to their shock he was elected.

She notes that taking a look at many of the people who attend his rallies and cheer his hate speeches… these are people he would never socialize with in his circles, he would consider them beneath him. but he knows how to use them to get what he wants, and they’ve fallen in line, like so many others, not yet realizing it’s all about him. That has become abundantly clear to me in his handling of the Pandemic, in his cowtowing to Put*n, in his inability to make any attempt at Unity anywhere, in his stance on racism…or I should say lack of stance.

In his newest interview.. Tr*mp says about the pandemic… “I’ll be right eventually. I will be right eventually. You know I said, ‘It’s going to disappear.’ I’ll say it again,” Tr*mp said in an interview on “F0x News Sunday.” – Meanwhile… 140,000 dead, many sick, ICU beds completely full in some regions, and not one single word of empathy for the victims from the President.

PS: Bravo to Chr*s Wallace, who produced a brilliant and telling interview with the Orange Scream. He literally doesn’t give any fucks what Tr*mpworld thinks, he was after the truth and he exposed it.

The Saving Grace

Do I even touch on the shit storm out there in the greater world? I think not. So much to cover, so little desire to plunge into that muck today. I’ve started painting again and while I’m no professional artist, not by a long shot, I like the title one of my mother’s friends gave my art – Outsider art…

(fresh off the easel – “Cousins” … my daughter age 8, son 3 and nephew 2… many moons ago on MV)

Outsider Art basically means one who creates stuff without any formal training. That would be me.

Between creating and spending time with my animals here on the farm and down by the sea, I am finding some calm in the storm and I hope you have discovered little pieces of yourself again by indulging in those small but important things you enjoy but don’t normally give yourself enough time to do.

So… while the most intelligent life forms on earth continue to pollute it with their selfishness and greed and willful ignorance, the animals and nature and the creativity they inspire remind me there is still much beauty in this world and it’s forever worth fighting for

I’ll leave you with a few scenes from the spaces and creatures I am so fortunate to tend and love…. and some simple words of wisdom… Have a safe holiday weekend, all… I’m off to fold some clothes and mow some lawn. Focusing on the simple things I have control over has truly been a saving grace in these troubling times.

And you’ll know you’re on your path

when you really don’t care what anyone thinks of it –

Kung-Flu and other nonsense

Watching Trump’s Tulsa rally the other night was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. Such a rambling jumble of nonsense. Not three notes strung together on Unity – and if you don’t have your head up your ass right now the unrest in our country is alarming to say the very least, the continuing unjust deaths and blatant racism, and the most ignorant statements on Coronavirus that his handlers later tried to spin as a joke. Of course.. today he corrected his own staff by saying he was not joking. Since that rally, 8 of his staff at the rally have tested positive for the virus. His direct quote “”Here’s the bad part: When you do testing to that extent, you’re gonna find more people, you’re gonna find more cases. So I said to my people, ‘slow the testing down please!'”. He also called it the “Kung-Flu” – That .. is so… fucked… up. As a person who lost her father this month to the disease, and as a person who as empathy for the families of the other 122,000 people who have died of it…. (and he has expressed ZERO empathy for the lives lost, zero) …. believe me, having witnessed a person die of it personally – it’s no flu. My father’s entire organ system shut down going from 0 symptoms to dead in days. Days. To hear the President of the United States speak this way is truly unbelievable. That whole speech was truly unbelievable – That he even HELD A RALLY despite health officials in that town asking him not to, despite the ongoing pandemic, is unbelievable.

I’ll share with you some photos and funnies to cleanse that ugly palette of information up there…

This morning’s mist was so thick if I had a bar of soap with me it would have lathered up as I drove the gator to the manure pile.

My new kayak, a perception Tribute 12.o they don’t make anymore for some reason, is everything I hoped it would be. And I got it for a bargain basement price – score! I just can’t gain any weight – like not 2 more pounds. really. 😳

A lovely person left this beautiful rock in my mailbox this morning with a card full of kind words. I had posted a video some weeks back on FB of my chickens walking with me to the coop – and mentioned perhaps my Indian name might have been Walks with Chickens.. She got such a kick out of that she decided to make some art for me… I just love it and she’s so talented!

These two memes below made me laugh right out loud and it’s been a difficult week, I sure needed it.

I hope you are well and staying sane. Thank you for stopping in –

Till soon –

Observations from a Person of a Certain Age

I am editor of a small town publication and I sometimes ask Mom to write a piece for me when I feel a topic needs mention but submissions or my own writing don’t cover it. I have to be careful not to inflame, my job is to stay neutral, and in a small town like ours that’s monumental. With all the racial upheaval, I felt somehow it needed to be addressed in the next issue, and yet I knew it’s nearly impossible not to insult someone. I wasn’t looking for finger pointing or shaming or blaming, but an acknowledgement of some sort. So… I tasked my mother with this difficulty… and I think she nailed it.

Observations From a Person of a Certain Age – by Kathleen Amoia

As a white middle class woman of a certain age, I spent my childhood and teen years within the safety of what those adjectives implied. In the late forties and throughout the fifties, my friends and I felt simultaneously free and watched over. We had an unspoken sense that the future would treat us kindly and our comfort and success could be taken for granted. In our ignorance, we imagined most kids lived the same way.

But as our teens morphed into young adulthood, we saw another America. Our TVs brought racial injustices and brutality into our living rooms. The childhood and teen years I had experienced were the polar opposite of what black children my age had lived. The Civil War was only yesterday, and Jim Crow was now.

By the time we were taking on the responsibilities of career, marriage and families, we were also facing multiple protest movements and assassinations. I was teaching fifth grade when an ashen and shaking principal came to my door and told me that John Kennedy had been assassinated. I was teaching third grade when Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy and Malcolm X were assassinated.

Our city streets were afire with the anguish of inequality and its blow back. Marchers were beaten, hosed, attacked by dogs and jailed. Fires were set, city blocks destroyed. Black and white civil rights protesters were murdered. Through the fire and pain, President Johnson, a Southerner, a Texan, pushed Congress to act on his Civil Rights agenda and bipartisan progress was made. It was slow, sometimes ugly and painful, but it was made.

The struggle for racial justice is front and center again, sparked by the killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer. It is hard to predict just what will galvanize a mass movement, there have been similar cases very recently. But Floyd’s death triggered this one.

The marchers today are more numerous and significantly more diverse. Positive interactions with police and National Guards men and women have been encouraging. The movement is being carried into all corners of our democracy. And with some unfortunate and regrettable exceptions, the protesting has been remarkably peaceful.

The understanding that systemic racism needs to be eradicated wherever it lives is gaining wider recognition and acceptance than ever before. From my prospective as a witness to both the 60s and today, I think we are in a better place to get this done than we were then. We are starting farther down the road and therefore closer to bending that arch of history toward justice.

What I have seen throughout my life is that good people usually do good things. Most often they are our family, our friends, our neighbors, our local officials. There is no perfection here. Mistakes will be made, fault lines will surface. “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. ” (Leonard Cohen.) But I think we can come out of this movement a stronger and better nation. It is not guaranteed, but if we are willing to do the hard work ahead, thinking of ourselves as “each other” and not “the other,” we can get there for ourselves and all our children.

“ It is in the shelter of each other that we live,” an Irish blessing for the times.

I Can’t Breathe….

“‘I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.’ George Floyd’s last words. But they didn’t die with him. They’re still being heard. They’re echoing across this nation,” ……
“They speak to a nation where too often just the color of your skin puts your life at risk. They speak to a nation where more than 100,000 people have lost their lives to a virus and 40 million Americans have filed for unemployment — with a disproportionate number of these deaths and job losses concentrated in the black and minority communities …..And they speak to a nation where every day millions of people — not at the moment of losing their life — but in the course of living their life — are saying to themselves, ‘I can’t breathe.'”

– Joe Biden

Our Country in Orange flames

Another black man dies at the hands of a racist, Riots in the streets across America, looting, cars on fire, National Guard called in. 103,000 dead in three months from a pandemic our President and his son initially called a democratic hoax. 40 million now unemployed. Yesterday he retweeted a message that included “ the only good democrat is a dead democrat”. By anyone’s account that alone should be considered an extremely poor choice for the leader of this Country. Last night instead of addressing the nation, he continued to spar on Twitter.

Sooo much winning. This is not a Great America. M A G A

Cops are not the problem

Cops are not the problem. Disturbed sick people who take the position of power because it gives them license to do heinous things that appeal to their mentality are the problem.

Priests are not the problem. Disturbed sick people who take the position of power because it gives them license to do heinous things that appeal to their mentality are the problem.

Trump is not the problem. People who applaud a man who is proven by his own deeds and words to be divisive, lies regularly, spreads false accusations and conspiracy theories, has cheated his entire life, a mocker of handicapped reporter, a self proclaimed pussy grabber who believes there are good people on both sides of a white supremacy event… because some of what he does appeals to their mentality are part of the problem.

For those who will say “Oh look, she’s politicizing a racist event” … you’re damned right I am, because it’s all interconnected. We are not totally powerless when it comes to horrible events such as the death of Mr. Floyd at the hands of a racist officer. There are steps we can take to fight the negative tide. And if each one of us did those simple things, we are each and then as a whole the collective answer to that horrible scream of violence and injustice everywhere.

Stop supporting or defending the undefendable. It comes in many forms.

My “thoughts and prayers” go out to the Floyd family, to all families who have suffered loss at the hands of racism, which is still rampant ! , to all the decent law enforcement folks, first responders and healthcare workers who are doing the good work every day, literally putting their lives on the line for all of us, every single day… but my “thoughts and prayers” aren’t anywhere near enough. It’s going to take more than a village to clean this world up…. it’s going to take every single one of us to realize we each at least have the power with our own actions, and at the very least to vote hatred out.

I hope that’s your choice come November. I don’t know of any peace that can be bestowed on Mr. Floyd’s family, there’s no taking back what’s been done… but I hope justice is served.

Love in the Time of COVID-19

In recent years the political and ideological divide we’ve all been a witness to here in our Country and around the world has been tremendously disconcerting. It bubbles over as our governments and our peoples struggle to sort out and best react to the tremendous challenges of fighting a worldwide pandemic. Both economic and health concerns put an additional strain on an already beleaguered civil unrest and it can be hard to find a balance, to look for the good when it feels like the whole world has been shaken like a snow globe and the dust has yet to settle. Some of us have lost our jobs, our source of income – or it’s been put on hold temporarily. Others are on the front lines either in hospitals or food service stores, pharmacies, etc trying to protect their own health as well as that of their patients/customers. Many are isolated from their loved ones, most are not living the life they had just three months ago. The worst off are dying without family nearby to comfort them and say farewell.

When something as awful as this pandemic grabs us by the proverbial throat, something else happens along with it. Remember the response we all had to the 9/11 terrorist attacks? As horrifying as that event was, and I hope we never witness something like it again, it also brought us together. There were flags everywhere! People waved, honked, and thanked first responders, healthcare workers, police and firemen – those whose careers and COURAGE! put them on the front lines every day. We were nicer to our neighbors, didn’t matter what their political affiliation or nationality, they were us and we were them. We were proud of our flag and it stood for what it should – our pride and love for our Country. We were Americans, all. This virus spans the globe, not just our Country. We’re really and truly all in this together. Perhaps some good will come of it, a coming together of sorts as we figure out how to wade back into some sort of normal. Those flags are now rainbows drawn on sidewalks, hearts in windows and on mailboxes, red ribbons tied around trees. They say – THANK YOU, WE’RE WITH YOU, WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER. And indeed, we are, once again. Let the good things that come out of this pandemic ripple out and the togetherness remain.

In the meantime… I’ve picked up my paint brushes again to see what I can create…..finished this last night … Little Cinnamon Beach, Peter Bay, St. John…

Made this a few days ago and oh, man.. easy to make, delicious too – give it a go if you like to cook, and maybe even if you don’t! It’s sooo good…

And… I’ve been playing with goats! Our new little Star and Bella have been a wonderful distraction from the troubles of the world. Goats are so friendly when raised with kindness. They call out to us when they see us walking up to their little pasture and come running to rub up against us. If we’re sitting with them, they’ll lie next to us or try to climb up on our shoulders, no kidding! No pun in tended!

As the world begins to lift the stay at home orders and businesses begin to re-open, stay safe and be kind. Those with significant health issues will need to be as vigilant as ever. Anxiety will still be present, the concerns are real and the virus has not gone away. As my friend Sean says at the end of every post… WashYourDamnHands.

Till soon, friends…