Memorial Day 2012-a Salute

I've got to admit I'm a war-like passifist.  In other words, I don't like war and would prefer to pursue any way to get around it, but once we're in, let's win it and get our soldiers back home.

One of my cousins is my personal hero. A Vietnam-era veteran, he wears the scars of war in both body and mind, but he does so with dignity.  I remember well when he left to join the war effort, spiffy in his pressed uniform and close-cut hair--a youthful eagerness enveloped him then. He was always one of my favorite cousins and it was hard to see him leave and know he might not return. When he finally came home, some years later, I found a man much older and "wiser"; one who experienced much in my place, and one who would do it again should he be called.

So, with this experience in mind, I thank all the men and women who fight to keep us free. Salute!

Topless mountains-can we still call them mountains?

I saw my first flattened mountain a couple of years ago while driving to Kentucky. Soaking up the abundant, verdant beauty around me, I was unprepared for the specter looming in front of me: the mountain was gone. In its place was a gaping hole in the sky.  Dust, grit, carved tracks and deep ruts, despair and sickness filled in the gap, while someone--possibly you or me, made off like bandits with the energy robbed from that place.

The shock of that day is still with me and hard to think about, but recently I was again confronted with it, this time through a movie--The Last Mountain. In it, I saw more than just that one mountain stripped and flattened--there are thousands of acres of land decimated all the time, most of it in Appalachia.   The wealth from mining goes not to its few workers who run mammoth machines, but to robber barons who stand on the backs of our people, strip the earth of its resources and then send it someplace else.

Will we ever learn that the earth is more than a resource and that much of what is here is finite?  Can we restructure corporations so that blind acquisition no longer drives them to rob our world to line the nests of the few?

 The thing about most energy sources is that once we use them, they are gone. Whack the mountaintop off, rob it of the coal and other minerals collected through the eons, and there is no more. Gone; used up.

Farmers Markets, Then & Now

In the fifties, I went to my first farmer's market with my grandfather in his cream-colored Ford coupe. It was a  big day for us and held in a very special place in downtown Tallahassee, Florida. In those days many farmers still worked the land with mules and draft horses and it was exciting to see the wagons piled high with colorful produce parked in shade in front of the market, where the mules and horses accepted pats and gifts of food as city folk passed by.

Held less than a mile from the state capital building, the market stood behind an ancient live oak, its trunk knotty and broad, with branches spreading over the building to shade and protect all within.  It was an open-air, long, rather primitive building, built of nothing more than pine poles and a tin roof, but under that roof were tantalizing smells, bright colors and wonderful sounds. Linguistically, it was a smorgasbord of southern back-country/elite southern/northern accents mixed with the occasional bray of a mule, a heavenly cacophony of sound to my young ears.

While I've not been back to a market in Florida in many years, I have been to a fabulous farmers market in Paris, France, where it seemed every vegetable and every piece of fruit was dripping with luscious flavor and color, with piles of burgundy grapes, pears and greens set as if in a painting. Lyrical French was spoken there as strolling musicians played violins and guitar, and mimes turned up on every corner; to me, everything I saw and heard was beautiful.

  Here, in contemporary Jonesborough, TN, I enjoy the market for what it gives me beyond organic fruits and vegetables. Here, I am part of a community, buying from farmers I know, eating from the land on which I live, and I find the experience both comforting and exhilarating. Here, I've eaten lettuce just taken from the earth in Curtis and Marilyn Buchanan's garden, and reconnected with folks I met while in a play.  Here, I've made new friends, like farmer Jose` who grows the tastiest potatoes I've ever put in my mouth, played with Betty, the nattiest little chicken ever, and bought a lovely deep berry-red Mandevella for my garden.

  When it comes down to it, not only is it healthier to eat organic and close to home, but there's also the organic experience of becoming part of the place in which one lives. Long live the farmer's market.

Medical Care for the Multitudes

One of my neighbors spent his weekend with several thousand others in line for free medical care. A veteran of the Vietnam War, he is now retired and living on an extremely reduced income. Luckily, he has access to the VA for most of his medical expenses, but not dental.

So what is getting adequate care like for those of us who are not flush with money and have little or no insurance? Daunting is a good word for it.

Finding no dentists willing to work for almost nothing, my friend heard about the free clinic coming to the Bristol Motorway in Bristol, Tennessee, and left here Saturday morning at daybreak to cue up for a ticket. By the time he got there (and thank goodness he has a car to get there in), all of the tickets were gone.

"Come back later this afternoon, between 6-9," said the compassionate attendant, "Maybe you can get a ticket for tomorrow." He went back--by now having driven two hours on borrowed gasoline.  He left again at five and snagged a ticket, went back to his car and slept the night in the cold--again, thankful he had a car, as some did not. The next morning he saw a wonderful dentist who was able to help but told him a root canal was necessary. This is where things get complicated--the one clinic in our area that serves needy clients isn't accepting new patients.

I can see it now: the well-heeled executive, or person who has always had access to insurance, who might be reading this may be thinking, "Well, that's the way the cookie crumbles." I'm here to tell you the cookie has crumbled.  Many of us are sick and tired of money low-paying jobs or no jobs at all, and all of the money being suctioned upwards in well-crafted funds and trickery. There's no such thing as a "trickle down" effect.

Some time ago, I was in an accident and tore the meniscus in my knee. The pain was beyond excruciating. I've been considered uninsurable most of my adult life due to several chronic conditions, so when I called the clinic I attend, they told me to go to the emergency room. There, while I was treated politely, I was treated lightly--a clumsy Velcro brace that refused to stay up, nothing at all for pain, and no physical therapy. I can assure you that had I had insurance, my treatment would have been completely different.  While many fuss and complain about the concept of universal healthcare, had there been such a thing, my treatment plan would have been completely different.  And while we are at it, for those of you who complain the poor get free care at the emergency room--sometimes that is true, but the kind of care differs drastically from what an insured person gets, with no follow-up.

 Money buys almost anything, doesn't it, and it has bought the most wealthy among us freedom from taxes--and some have the gall to say requiring payment is class warfare on those who have worked hard to make it.  Phooey! The absence of money is a nightmare, and those who would refuse healthcare to those without it should experience it first hand. That might make a difference.

Thank goodness for compassionate medical providers who are willing to give of their time to those in need, but where is Scrooge's ghost when we need him for those who consider themselves above us all?

Marketers to Cell Phones Beware: Do Not Call.gov

I've been privy to the protection of "do not call.gov"  on my home phone for a number of years, but when the most recent round of cell phone warnings cropped up, I ignored them. My cell phone is safe from marketers, I thought to myself. The thing that changed my mind and made me take it more seriously, was when a random "fool call" call got through and irritated the living daylights out of me.  Frankly, folks, some things need to remain private, and to me, that's my cell phone.  It's an expensive piece of communication equipment, I carry it at all times and usually answer when someone calls; that makes it a vulnerable target for the cut-throats of the marketing world and they are working hard to break through the barriers we've erected to protect ourselves.  It's my opinion that I shouldn't have to go to such lengths to enshroud myself with a veil of impenetrable mystery, but there it is, and so I have just now made the call to "do not call.gov" on that phone, to protect myself from unwanted intrusion. How about you?

Tornadoes--life and death

After the tornadoes of last night, I, and millions of others, find myself confronting fragile mortality again.  So many people lost their lives--at last count, 28 people who were alive and vital just yesterday are no more.  They are simply gone, erased from a planet rapidly growing more and more inhospitable to our kind.  As I watched the news this morning, it was with a deep sense of anguish, and felt the odd catch in my breath as I identified with the losses.  I understood my life, too, could have become a statistic, but it wasn't my turn.

When I went to bed last night, dire warnings filled my head, I wondered if it would be my time to experience death. Blessed sleep overtook me, while others experienced hell not far away. Death is present in every breath we take, every sneeze we make, and each tiny bug we casually squash underfoot, but the reality of the kind of monumental loss from the massive erasure of a big storm, or that of volcanic activity,or tsunami is something for which we cannot prepare.  As one man said this morning, his community thought they were prepared, but the storm was bigger than they were.

The sight of a mobile home pad covered with debris was especially disturbing, since just last year the mobile home that previously occupied the same site was also destroyed in a tornado.  It's easy to grow complacent when life seems "normal," but perhaps it's time we realized normalcy as we experienced it is a thing of the past.  For whatever reason,   we live in precarious times--the weather is not predictable, and its violence is increasing.  Perhaps it really is time to live in the moment.

Kindness at the end of a Big Black Boot

I just did the most foolish thing--I wrote an entire piece on this blog and neglected to save my work.  There's something about this setup that fools me me into believing my work exists on its own, but it doesn't--it must be SAVED!

I wrote about the Big Black Boot I wore for several months after taking a nasty fall on a puddle of water December 6.  My life changed in that moment, and I learned about pain and endurance instead of partying, telling delightful Christmas stories and enjoying holiday delicacies with my family. Fortunately for me, this was the year my children were coming to me in the mountains of East Tennessee, but until they arrived, my neighbor and good friend, Jim, took over, nursing me, keeping the apartment from falling into a total shambles, and taking me to the doctor. I will never forget his kindness.

Kristy flew in from Tallahassee and hit the ground running.  She knew I was mortified by my apartment and wanted it clean and decorated for the holidays, so by the time Kitty and Ron and the grandchildren arrived, all was neat, clean and ready. Then Kitty did the laundry and Ron shopped while I played with the grandchildren. Such love.

Speaking of kindness, it is alive and well, at least where I live.  It took about a week for the word to get around in the community, but when I posted on Facebook, things started perking, particularly among my cronies in the storytelling and poetry groups. Until I began to drive again two weeks ago, I never went without food.  Ben brought gourmet chili and then potato soup, Marlene brought fresh rye bread and beef and barley soup, and Sandee sent all kinds of delicious goodies.  Marjorie and Harry brought props for my back and legs--the list goes on and on, including toothpaste from Linda when I was scraping the tube.  They provided everything including vacuuming, the laundry and more. I am still amazed by it and learned much.  Now when somebody needs me, I will be there with some idea of what to do, but it took being on the receiving end of kindness for me to truly understand the nature of what it means to be kind. It's that do unto others as you would have them do unto you thing, and it seems to be a universal truth. I'm glad I learned it, but if I need further instruction, I'd just as soon not have a broken bone for a teacher.