Kindness to others

Duped

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And now you know the rest of the story.

That sentence, the tag line of famous broadcaster, Paul Harvey, would end his mini-biographies and histories about obscure facts of history or little known details of famous – or infamous – people familiar to the American public. It would not be uncommon for a listener to utter, Wow, after each episode, having just learned of some detail of an event or character trait of someone that often would utterly change his or her understanding of that event or person.

And yet, today, we seem to forget that there is always a “rest of the story”, lurking behind the headlines or latest utterances of TV or radio pundits. And the result is that we are being duped – day in and day out almost unceasingly. In our current desert of despair there appear very few oases of candor, honesty and integrity.

Recently, I’ve taken to listening to a number of Podcasts by Mike Rowe of the television show, Dirty Jobs, fame. Judging from his range of topics and assortment of guest conversationalists, Rowe seems to be curious and fascinated by a range of subjects, ideas and people. One recent podcast ( Click Here) featured Megyn Kelly, formerly of Fox Cable and now doing her own podcasts and speaking tours. Her conversation with Rowe was entertaining and enlightening. One particular comment, by Ms Kelly, in response to Rowe asking what did listeners and viewers really need to know about the news – how to be critical thinkers and listeners – caught my attention. Kelly’s response was that viewers probably didn’t know how much the news programs and talk shows desperately wanted to scare you and outrage you and to keep you that way.

In days gone by, many television news programs would feature blood and fire to hook viewers – “If it bleeds, it leads” was the motto. Now, it seems, it is fear and loathing…of one another. No, it is more a fear and loathing of nearly everyone and everything. How did this become so? How have so many become Howard Beales, screaming, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore” in the film, Network? Click Here. Is it because, since the dawn of the 24 hour news cycle, our outrages and fears and hatreds have been created and fed? Have we become so trusting or reliant on News Personalities that we have lost all ability to think critically – to think for ourselves?

Are bad things happening? Absolutely. Is everyone out to hurt us? No. Can we change things? Maybe. But, the only way to find out is to try.

Think. Seriously, just think. And ask yourself why things are the way they are. If you see things have gone wrong, think how you can do something about it, rather than just complain.

Learn. Read, research, compare, verify. Don’t rely on one source. Learn the history.

See the humanity in one another. Here’s a challenge – and NOT a “tic-tock” one: No matter where you live – small town, country, large city; whether you live in a single home, HOA, an apartment building…whatever, invite 5- 8 people to get together for a meal. Everyone takes a turn hosting a dinner. It doesn’t have to be fancy. As a matter of fact, simple is better. At the end of the cycle of everyone getting together it is almost certain that you will have made several new friends. You will also have been exposed to different points of view (avoid the taboos: politics and religion!) and discovered some really interesting people. Keep these get-togethers going and you may be surprised at how differently your world begins to look.

Make it a point to be sincerely polite to people you come into contact with on a day to day basis.

And, most importantly, pray. Pray that God helps you to be a better person. If enough prayers are answered what a better world this can be.

The Magdalene

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Several years ago, on another site, I wrote a story about one memorable afternoon’s encounter with a remarkable young woman. At the time, I had a little furniture business that specialized in bringing old, American made furniture back to life. That particular winter afternoon, I was on the hunt for something really special and was exploring “junk shops” in an old mill town. Perhaps, it’s because looking out my window and seeing overcast skies and a construction dirtied street that I am now reminded in some way of that town and that day. But, what I found that afternoon has stayed with me all these years.

Would you tie this for me?

She held up a silver medallion hanging from a short, thick cord. It seemed an act of someone both innocent and yet filled with a nothing else to lose resignation. Annie has been around. 

Sure, why not.

She stepped from behind the display counter, turned her back to me and lifted her long brown hair.

Why was I nervous? Maybe, because I feared for her vulnerability. I was, after all, almost a complete stranger. After a bit of fumbling, a decent knot was tied and Annie admired her new bit of flash. I could see, too, that she really had a thing for rings. Every finger of both hands had at least one.  If hands could talk Annie’s would cry, See me, please. She had become invisible to everyone but herself.

With no one else in the shop it was easy to talk. She told how she displayed the furniture and bric-a brac and the care she would take in polishing the old wood.  She loved having something to do. She loved making things that had seen better days look worthwhile again. If only she could get a few more hours or a bit more money.

It’s hard getting thirty dollars for an eight hour day, she said. And, only three days a week at that. No one else will give me a job. Heck, hardly anybody around here will talk to me. My sisters won’t. My brother, either. He lives only a few blocks away and he won’t talk to me. My boyfriend mostly yells at me and calls me stupid. Hits me sometimes. But, he better watch out.  Someday…

Are you tired, Annie? I guessed what her tiredness was. I had seen it before.                                        

No, she said, it’s my medication. Actually methadone. I take the train to Bridgeport to get it. It really makes me tired. But, it’s better than… You know.

Yeah, I do. How long have you been off the stuff, Annie?

Oh, for years.

Where is this conversation coming from, I’m thinking?

I started when I was nine.

What! Nine?

Yeah. My parents were users and they gave it to me – my sisters and brother, too.  We lived in Bridgeport, then. She told me the street.

I knew the place well, it wasn’t really a street. Annie had grown up in an alley and I had driven past it several times every day for three years. I didn’t recall seeing Annie, though.  At least not this Annie.

So, my father molested me. And, then, so did his brother. I really hate him. He still tries to see me. I’d like to kill him. My sisters tell me to just let it go, it happened to all of us and, it’s in the past. But, I can’t let it go. Annie gets quiet and stares at nothing…but at something.

Well, at least I got off the stuff. No more heroin. Or coke. No pills. Just the meth. It makes me tired, though. I know I messed up my life.

But, Annie, you’re trying. You never really got a break.

She polishes a table top for what seems a long time, trying to hide the scratches and scars. 

You know, no matter how much they beat me down, I’ll never completely break, she says.

No, Annie, never give up. Never.

Then, a customer walks in and I turn to leave the shop.

Wait, she says, and walks me to the door.

Thanks.

For what?  

For talking to me. I won’t forget it. Really.

Neither will I, Annie. I hope you have a happy Christmas.

Well, at least I got one present, even if it is from myself. She lifted her new medallion and smiled.

She could not possibly know that she had also just given a gift to me.

Merry Christmas and may God protect you, Annie.

Living in The Real

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Farms, Augusta County, VA

One of the pluses of living in the country is that one is required to live in The Real.

I had especially noticed this sense of living in The Real during my many visits “Back Home” to Ireland. Being of the first generation of my family born here in The States, Back Home meant the family place. For us it was the West of Ireland – County Mayo and in particular the then small town of Charlestown.

My first visit was a real eye opener. Despite stories of having descended from Irish Royalty (weren’t we all?) the reality was the family was materially poor.  My father and generations of family before him was born and raised in a single room cottage that was, upon my first visit, still occupied by my uncle and his family. No electricity, no running water, no plumbing. That was home.

Politically, it seemed the family was all over the place. Uncle Batty, when I showed up unannounced at his workplace, thought I was an IRA hitman that had “come for him”. I never asked why he thought that. But, the joy he showed that it was the son of his never-met older brother standing at his doorstep erased all need to explore the matter further. His wife, Evelyn, was a nurse, educated and trained in England.  Her political views, expressed only once, was that, Yes, things had been bad in the past. But, she said, “Without the English we’d all now be a lot worse off”. She was living in The Real. The world as it was right then, not what it had been, good or bad.

I’ve thought many times of Evelyn’s words and contrasted them with those of my father. Yes, he had seen a bit more of the brutality of an occupying army.  Not allowing even English Toffee into the house, however, seemed a bit much, even to a little urchin. But, the day that my eldest sister had a would-be “suitor” call at the house was a real humdinger.  Dressed in a tweed suit, he carried a gold pocket watch that he allowed me to hold.  Yet, the real treasure was a strange coin with some type of antelope stamped upon it.

South African Springbok coin

“Dad, look at this”, I blurted out. Examining the coin, my father seemed to enjoy the novelty of it as much as I. Until he turned it over. There it was. The image of Queen Elizabeth II in all her youthful beauty.

The “Sum of all Fears”…Elizabeth II

 First, his jaw went slack, and then his eyes started blinking out some type of Morse code. We had seen those telegraphing eyes before. Whatever was coming wasn’t going to be good.

“You’re a *&^)#%@*^# ’Limey”, shouted my father. “I say”, said my sister’s Caller. Well, he didn’t get to say much else, I can tell you that. The last we or my sister saw of him was the back of the tweed bending over to pick poor Elizabeth up from the sidewalk in front of our house.

It would be several years later before my sister would agree (with permission, naturally) to marry a very nice man. Of Irish descent, of course. All went well until the day before the wedding.  It was then that dad found out that while the young man about to marry my sister was indeed Irish, he wasn’t the “Right Irish”. His great-grandfather had come from…get ready…Belfast, Northern Ireland. My sister was marrying a “Collaborator”.  Neither I nor anyone else in the family knew what the heck my father was talking about. Which brings me back to the beginning of this story, living in The Real.

When I say that we live in the country it’s that we are surrounded mostly by farms. Dairy, goat, poultry, horse and agriculture farms abound here. Some are small, some quite extensive. Our immediate neighbors in this neighborhood come from different backgrounds and professions: teachers, technical engineers, business owners, medical professionals, skilled labor, etc. Many come from small towns or farms. And, of course, this city boy. Each of us have been drawn to this area for reasons, while specific to us, have similarities, too: the need for “elbow room” in order to have privacy or to have a garden, the need to escape the costs, congestion and craziness of large cities.  Yet, there is the tacit understanding that we would help one another. And will be kind to each other.  Perhaps it is by being so close to nature, to God’s abundant blessings, that we have become so aware of how beautiful life is.

And so, this past week, we celebrated our good fortune in two ways. First, we had a “block party”. Every family in our little hilltop neighborhood came to “the crossroads” to enjoy a beautiful, sunny day and sharing food, laughter and the feeling that, at least within our little community, all is well.

Caption on sign: A Farmer Learns More From A Bad Harvest Than a Good One.
Cattle grazing on hillside, Spring Hill, VA

Secondly, The Redhead and I ventured out for a drive yesterday that took us out beyond Route 42 into deep farm country and finally heading westward along Route 250 through the Allegheny Mountains into the small town of Monterey. Monterey is the home of the Maple Festival, drawing craftspeople and maple syrup product connoisseurs from great distances. Unfortunately, like most other festivals, this year’s was cancelled due to the pandemic.  Nonetheless, Monterey is a nice little town (really small) but it has several nice country- style restaurants, inns and spectacular scenery. I will say, that prior to yesterday, driving over the mountain was something beyond my comfort level. Do it slowly, carefully and in good weather and you could have a nice outing. Hint: Monday may not be the best day to make the trip – some things are closed. 

The Curly Maple Restaurant, Monterey, VA

Along this section of Route 250 you will also find the Confederate Breastworks and the battle field of McDowell, dating from 1862. Both locations, near one another, while relatively limited in scope, were where Confederate and Union troops clashed for control of this mountain pass. Standing at the Breastworks and looking down the valley where so many men had struggled, fought and died two thoughts came to mind: What a terrible tragedy that Civil War was, pitting neighbor and family against one another. And, later last night, after mistakenly watching a few minutes of the “news”, I thought back to the beauty, bounty and friendship we had seen all around us this past weekend and wondered, why this country is being torn apart.

Confederate Breastworks, Route 250, looking toward McDowell VA

Will we ever let the transgressions, real or imagined, of Queen Elizabeth, Stonewall Jackson, Columbus, Kit Carson, Junipero Serra and on and on stay in the past? Will we ever again live in The Real?

Just the Facts

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We are now past the one month mark since the United States began declaring a state of emergency regarding what is known as Covid-19 or the Wuhan Flue.

Government officials and health “experts” have given varied and sometimes conflicting information to the public. For those that are eager to have a better understanding of the Covid-19 virus pandemic, one that is free of political or monetary motivation and based on science, it can be difficult to find knowledgeable, unbiased sources. It is also especially difficult to find someone that is knowledgeable about which practical and sound measures can be taken to cope with this pandemic, both as individuals and as a nation. Obviously, I am referring here to the response of the United States, but the same or similar measures might be used by a number of countries, depending on several variables. Fortunately, there are two sources that are now gaining more attention based upon their real expertise and experience.

Both of these sources were recently interviewed on television. Yes, these interviews were on Mark Levin’s, Life, Liberty and Levin program, but I sincerely ask that those of you that may dismiss anything coming from Fox, please give this your attention. Mark Levin has shown himself to be a knowledgeable, able and respectful interviewer.

The first interview is with Dr. David Katz, a Board Certified specialist in preventive medicine and public health. The interview can be accessed by clicking: https://www.marklevinshow.com/2020/04/20/dr-david-katz-on-whether-the-fight-against-coronavirus-is-worse-than-the-disease/

The second interview is with Dr. John Ioannidis of Stanford University. The clip is here: https://www.marklevinshow.com/2020/04/20/dr-john-ioannidis-on-the-race-for-real-data-on-the-coronavirus-pandemic/

If we are to emerge from this pandemic bruised, but not broken, we must have a better grasp of the facts: what should be done to protect ourselves from the sickness and what must be done to protect our nation from a catastrophe we can not even begin to imagine. While there may be some that wouldn’t mind pushing us a little further to the edge, I believe – and pray – that the overwhelming majority of us want the best for our families, our neighbors and our country.

There is a saying, “Knowledge is Power“. But really, “Knowledgeable Action is Power“. We need to get the knowledge and then proceed.

Pray, Don’t Worry, Be Kind.

Wake up and Smell the Coffee

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At 7:00 a.m. this morning there was a worldwide sharing of prayer for the end of the Corona Virus. Rather than being a sign of panic, this uniting in prayer is one more – and probably the best – weapon in our arsenal to defeat this sickness. If you missed this event, rest assured that millions upon millions of people are praying all the time for this scourge to end and we can join them at any time.

But, in addition to prayer, we can do something else with this quiet time we have been forced into.

How are we spending this time? For me, I have, for now, just about reached my limit with both Netflix and Amazon. The other day I attempted to find movies dealing with how people endured times of war. Not much luck – at least with finding decent movies that did not require additional fees. So much for watching the classic, Mrs. Miniver. Reading has always been a passion for me, but nearly all of our books have been packed in anticipation of our move. Thanks to our friend, MaryEllen, I do have a few that are still unread and were tucked under my nightstand. Whew!

Social distancing has certainly kept our personal contacts at a minimum.

Are Ya’ Home?

But, many folks continue to check on family and neighbors however possible, even if it’s a text or phone call just to say, Hello, how are you, can I do anything for ya’? Small things go a long way.

Speaking of small things, one small but significant highlight for us is our cup of coffee. Usually, we’ll have one (maybe two) in the morning and later in the afternoon. We enjoy it and recently my doctor told me that coffee, in moderation, can be beneficial. Since Costco is off limits for us now, we no longer have access to their store brand of “100% Colombian” coffee. For what is termed, commodity coffee (basic), it’s pretty darn good and cheap. With all this new found time and the need to seek other sources, I’ve “discovered” two new favorites.

First, is a whole bean, Mocha Java coffee from Mayorga Roasters. It’s smooth and flavorful. It’s available in 2 pound bags from Amazon or directly from Mayorga. Our Second new favorite is an organic whole bean Honduran coffee available from Aldi. Pretty good and we’re glad we found it.

Two of my favorite coffees

So, what’s your favorite coffee that you make at home? Let me know!

Pray, stay healthy, keep in touch and… Wake up and Smell the Coffee!

Bill

Living with Crazy

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Hemingway at work on, For Whom the Bell Tolls.

Ernest Hemingway, in a 1929 interview with columnist Dorothy Parker in which they were speaking of courage, stated that “guts” was having “grace under pressure”.  Lately, I have seen more than a few examples of grace under pressure.

We hear stories of cops and firemen and medics (personally, I dislike the term, First Responders) who risk their safety to come to the aid of others. Whether by training, habit or vocation, most of them do this day in and day out throughout their careers. And much of the time without recognition or fanfare.

But, it is of the everyday acts of generosity, thoughtfulness, courtesy and, even, humor that I have recently witnessed that I am now referring to.

The all-pervasive virus news has featured stories of people loading up multiple shopping carts at the Costcos and Walmarts with toilet paper and paper towels. Maybe they have a hygiene issue or maybe they’re just plain “panic hoarders”.  But, the image that comes to mind more frequently is that of a lady at our local Food Lion walking ahead of us in the “paper goods” aisle. Only two packages were left in the entire otherwise empty aisle.  She looked at them and said, “Take one and leave one”. Thoughtful.  A similar situation at another nearby grocery store took another twist. The paper goods aisle had only a few packages left and people were looking anxious (kind of like seeing a highway sign saying, “next rest stop 25 miles”. Suddenly, you gotta’ go!). A nicely dressed woman eyed the situation and blurted out, “I don’t give a darn about the toilet paper, but they better not be out of coffee”! Grim faces suddenly turned into grins. Laughter is truly the best medicine.

Our little Shenandoah Valley town of Staunton is coming together, one neighbor to another. Small food businesses are helping area residents and one another by setting up an on-line ordering system for food staples from nearby organic farmers and food suppliers. These suppliers and farmers will bring the orders to a central location and the residents can pick them up without even getting out of their cars. Restaurants are offering curbside take-out service. It’s a win-win in difficult times.

Churches, including our beloved St. Francis of Assisi parish, are increasing their aid to the needy and to those that may be more vulnerable to catching something. Our pastor, with the aid of parish staff, managed to livestream this Sunday’s Mass. To partake spiritually in the Mass along with our fellow parishioners, even from a physical distance, was a great comfort to us .http://stfrancisparish.org/homily-lent4.html

Just the beginning of new floors

In the meantime, despite setbacks and these very trying times, the construction on our new home is continuing. The siding seems to be nearing completion. Installation of the hardwood floors started this past Saturday. Our newest target date is from the end of April to mid-May. Let’s keep our fingers crossed!

Chris fitting section of Hickory floor board.

So, let us all remember to be calm and kind and patient with others and ourselves.  And, to have Faith. We will be alright. God is watching over you and us, especially in these crazy times!

And, for goodness sake…Don’t Run Out Of Coffee!!

As always, Comments, Likes and Follows always welcome.

Bill

My Mother Loved Him

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My mother loved him. My aunts loved him, too. It seemed just about every “older woman” I knew (and that was every female over the age of about 14) thought he was great.

Nearly 20 years to the day after my mother’s death, the news was filled with reports of his death. The world had certainly changed in those years. He wasn’t remembered so much for his musical ability (which actually was very good) or his philanthropy.  Nor, was he credited for inspiring other entertainers such as Elton John, David Bowie and even Elvis. And, certainly he was not remembered during that news cycle because he was good to his mother. No, the news of Liberace’s death that cold winter day in 1987 was filled with sordid tidbits meant to scandalize his memory.

As a 12 year old boy, I figured him to be just weird and really corny. He certainly was different. He was no Davy Crockett or Jim Bowie, two of my favorite t.v. heroes.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is davy-crockett.jpg
Fess Parker as Davy Crockett

I enjoyed watching the Ed Sullivan Show with the family, I mean, who didn’t like Topo Gigio or a troupe of harmonica players featuring a dwarf? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Pnv42IRmNY But, when he came on the t.v., I would just look at my mother and say, “How can you like this guy, he’s awful”? I’m not sure if it was his smile or his wild outfits or his music. But, I couldn’t think of anything good to say about this guy. Nothing.  So, mom gave me the best answer she could give a 12 year old lunk-head: “Well, he’s very talented and he’s good to his mother”. End of story.

So, it remains. Our “news” continues almost incessantly to be filled with “gotcha” moments of celebrities, politicians and even private folks caught, or pushed, into moments in which their better natures are not on display. Some folks, it seems, have these moments more frequently than others. But, might it just be possible, that before cheering for “our side” when someone of an opposing viewpoint or group is maligned that we maybe consider that they were “good to their mother”?

Thank you, Mr. Liberace, for being the impetus of a lesson well taught.