Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Carolyn in Durant

Carolyn’s dementia is turning out to be a Hitchcock horror movie. Every since we started on this trip she has been sliding into the abyss. She has gotten louder and more insistent that I hurt her, or raped her and she hates me and will never love me or let me touch her again. Maybe Jerry Hirsch of Third Eye photography knew what was going to happen soon. He offered to do a photo shoot of us in romantic poses showing the love we had. He said it was all about memories, and to distribute them any way I wished, as memories is all we will have in awhile. 

In the last week she has told me loudly and incessantly how much she hates me, and how she will never forgive me, ever. I was mystified as to what I had done to deserve such hatred. My protestations of innocence just made Carolyn more angry and much louder, insisting I was lying.

During one of her diatribes at me this morning, she said, “You ruined my puberty and you hurt me really bad and I will never forgive you for what you did to me when I was a little girl.” The lights went on in my head, because I didn’t meet her until several years after she had gotten married, and had a daughter. I did not know her or her family during her puberty.

Somebody hurt her badly during her puberty—raped her—and I have become that person in her mind as her memories have faded into the past. I seem to be reaping what another person sowed. I could expound on the unfairness of it all, but that doesn’t matter now. My hope is to get her medical help and counseling until the memories of this trauma fade away also, hopefully.

Her exposure to the town of her childhood may have triggered the explosion she had. She just keeps telling me how much she hates me, and how much she doesn’t want to see me again, and I’ll never touch her “that way” again.


I have shed more bitter tears in the last week than in my whole life prior to this. That is the only thing keeps me sane, I think. The next few days will be pivotal in determining where she ends up, and where I am going to live. I still want to be near her, and visit her even if I have to take more abuse. I know she doesn’t really understand that it wasn’t me who hurt her, and hope that someday soon she will remember that I am the one who loved her faithfully for 46 years.  

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Why the Rancor?

WHY THE RANCOR?

There is a war going on in the Democratic Party. It has become a personal war, and is only going to become more bitter as we approach the election in November.

No, it’s not just Sanders/Clinton for the nomination, although that is part of it. It is also Harry Reid against Alan Grayson. It is Debbie Wasserman-Schultz against Elizabeth Warren.

Debbie is fighting Elizabeth and her Consumer Finance Protection Agency to prevent laws that would cap the usurious interest rates that pay day lenders can charge.

Harry Reid stated in a Democratic meeting that he hoped Alan Grayson would lose the next election. How’s that for party unity?

I received a fund raising letter from Sen. Grayson that I thought sums up the reasons for the war succinctly. I reprint the letter in its entirety, minus the links for donations. Please feel free to go to his website and give generously if you can. I feel his use of the word “betrayed” is not an overstatement.


 Dear Donald,

This is a short essay on progressive anger: its origin, its attributes, its meaning, and its cure.

We’re tired of being sold out. That’s why we’re angry.

The Democratic Party has long been the home for those who believe in justice, equality, and peace. And for just as long, our progressive wing has served on the front lines in this fight. We’ve made the calls, knocked on the doors, donated the funds, and stuffed the envelopes to get Democrats elected. We were grassroots leaders when Democrats took the Senate and the House in 2006, and the White House in 2008.

In my case, I heard the call for justice, equality and peace, ran office for the first time in my life in 2006, and lost. Then I picked myself up off the floor, dusted myself off, ran again in 2008, and won. Our party has benefited from a steady stream of people like me who care enough to get involved, and push as hard as we can to make the world a better place.

This election cycle, all that has changed. The same leaders, and the same party, for whom we’ve been the foot soldiers for so long have become dismissive, condescending and even malicious toward anyone who isn’t willing to “get in line” and follow the dictates of party bosses. Our own party politburo has accused us of disloyalty when we wouldn’t back yet another American war in the Middle East, or their sell-out schemes to expand corporate welfare. Our own party politburo has attacked us for opposing new fake trade giveaways to multinational corporations. And worst of all, our own party politburo has attacked us ruthlessly whenever we want the choice of our candidates to be made by The People, rather than party bosses and party hacks. In the hands of a corrupt and inept “leadership,” our love for the principles of Team Blue has become unrequited love. All they care about is obedience – “shut up, and do as you’re told, or we will hurt you.”

My campaign and other progressive campaigns were, of course, prepared for the inevitable attacks from the GOP. We were less prepared for the attacks by petty dictators from inside the very party we helped build. This election is going to be the most expensive in history, because we not only have to spend to fight back against the Republicans -- we have to spend to fight back against the corrupt Establishment ruling class of our own party.
Who wins, when malicious Establishment Democrats viciously come after progressives like me? DC “political consulting” firms, and the Republican Party. Who loses? The American People. Our so-called “leadership” is not just putting their thumb on the scale – they’re smashing the scale.

I used to say that you had only three friends in life – God, your mamma, and the Democratic Party. It’s getting really hard to say that these days.

We’ve been betrayed by the Party that we built, the Party that we love. So we’re angry. What are we supposed to be, bemused? Nonplussed? Mildly dismayed?

How can we stop this cancer from destroying our party, making it the unDemocratic Party, and letting the Republicans win? It’s simple. Give the Democratic Party back to the People. Let the People, not the party, decide who our candidates are.

If we want to continue to be the party of the People, then we need to be a party by the People, and for the People. It’s just that simple.

We’re fighting as hard as we can to win back the heart and soul of our party, but we can’t do it alone.
Let’s teach the politburo a lesson: The People, united, can never be defeated. That’s what the Democratic Party has to be all about – whether the party hacks like it or not.

Courage,

Alan Grayson

May 21, 2016

Saturday, April 30, 2016

A Bug in the Yard

About Stepping on that Bug

This morning I went out to mow the lawn. Well, in truth, I went out to shorten the weeds. If I don’t do something, the mustard weeds, thistles and cheat grass take over the yard.

As I was pushing along, not thinking about much of anything, I saw a black bug out in front of the mower. My first thought was to run over him, just because I could. My second thought was, ”Why?” I liked the second thought better. I think I just barely passed the test. I went around the bug.

I remember as a little boy, my mother told me about this weird Indian religion that didn’t believe in stepping on bugs, but carried brooms to sweep their path so no bug would be stepped on. In the years since, I have studied eastern religions (and also early Christianity) almost obsessively, and found that religion to be Jainism.

The western perception is they refrain from killing bugs because they believe in reincarnation, and worry that the bug just might be their grandmother, or something like that. That may be a part of the motive, but I think there may be more to it than that.

A fundamental difference between most eastern religions; Jainism, Zoroastrianism, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc. and most western religions is the object of their efforts in this life. Most eastern religions are all about improving yourself to make this life better. If you allow the right spirit to dwell in you, and learn the right choices, your life here will be happier and more satisfying. There is little push for believers to convert others or tell others where they might be sinning—the emphasis is on knowing yourself.

On the other hand, most western religions; Christianity, Islam, etc, are focused on having the correct conception of God, and the correct doctrines to believe, and the correct actions we must do to be saved. A lot of emphasis is on convincing others they are wrong and converting them to the “truth.”

When that bug first came into my awareness, my thoughts could have been about whether killing that bug is against some religious law, or whether I could end up in a bad place for killing that bug. Well. the Good Book says nothing about killing bugs, so I guess I don’t have to worry about hell, do I?

Hinduism has a plethora of gods who are in opposition to each other, warring for controlling your life. (They also say there is only one god with different attributes, so they have the same metaphysical problem as Trinitarian Christians.) They have Shiva, the Destroyer, and Rama, the Creator. We all have elements of both within us at all times. Which way do we go? Which spirit will we allow to control us?

Buddhism teaches us to study our every action, and try to determine the consequences. As we study, and modify our actions to achieve better outcomes, we will insure a happier life for ourselves and those around us.

What difference would a bug make? Very little, unless you also believe, as Buddhists do, that we are all interconnected—our lives are not lived in isolation to all life around us. Maybe killing that bug wouldn’t make a lot of difference to me. But it tells me something about my own spirit. I need to improve my empathy and loving spirit. If I would step on a bug without a second thought, would I also go to Africa and shoot a old lion dead just because I can? Would I beat up an old beggar on the street just because I think he needs it?

There is a aspect of Christianity that is much ignored, but expresses the same belief. Paul mentions it in 1 Corinthians 13, Matthew chapters 5 and 6 also make it plain, and Matthew 25 explains how we will be judged. But just doing the deeds so we can get to heaven and avoid the fires of hell isn’t going to get you there. We must have the spirit of love within us, and any deeds we do are just manifestations of that spirit dwelling in us.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness and faith, meekness and temperance. Galatians 5:22,23.

Jesus said, “If those who lead you say to you, ‘See, the Kingdom is in the sky.’ then the birds of the sky will precede you. If they say to you, ‘It is in the sea.’ then the fish will precede you.
Rather the Kingdom is inside of you, and it is outside of you. When you come to know yourselves, then you will become known, and you will realize that it is you who are the Sons of the Living Father. The Gospel of Thomas verse 3.

To kill that bug or not is a test of my spirit. I know my spirit passed a tiny little test. I’m happy today!


Don Rogers
April 30, 2016

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Sunday, January 24, 2016

A Lifetime of Wishing and Hoping


A Lifetime of Wishing And Hoping

I was born during World War II, during the presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt. I was too young to remember him, but all my life I heard of the revolution he performed for the country.

Before Roosevelt, for workers to unite and form a union was dangerous, if not illegal. At Matewan, Ludlow, and many other places workers were machine gunned and bombed for uniting and asking for better working conditions and higher pay. There was no limit on hours worked, or child labor, or low wages.

There were no safe retirement options, since all were invested in private corporations, and many people lost all their years of savings when the Great Depression destroyed the economy in 1929. All across the country were “poor farms” and “old folks homes” for people who had lost all their money to financial swindles and crashes.

Young people of today have no concept of the depths of desperation and cynicism then. Workers who had lost their jobs, with hungry wives and children at home, began to look at Communism as the path out of the cycle of business crashes that came every few years. Some present day estimates put the percentage of the population looking favorably at Communism as 35% or more.

The unfavorable ratings of Republicans was even higher. Millions of starving people in the middle of the country, began calling jackrabbits “Hoover hogs”, since that was the only meat they could afford. My father-in-law, born and raised in Oklahoma, was fond of saying,”I may go to Hell, but it won’t be for voting Republican!” I know friends today who refuse to call that dam holding back Lake Mead anything but Boulder Dam. Roving bands of desperate people looking for work lived in settlements of squalor and destitution called “Hoovervilles.”

I read somewhere that FDR saved Capitalism from Communism and I believe that may be right. I also believe he did it by moderating Capitalism with Socialism—the belief that if we all work together and help each other, all will be better off.
Roosevelt didn’t just believe in a minimum wage—he believed in a living wage—that anyone who works a full time job should be able to support their family without needing supplemental assistance from government.

He also believed that if private business could not provide enough jobs for all those who needed them, it was up to the government to provide jobs to carry them through the hard times. Then as now, there are a million projects in this country that need worked on badly, and there is no reason unemployed men and women can’t be put to work making the country better.

FDR believed that if companies could get together and hire private armies to combat their employees, the workers should have the right to get together and hire lawyers and negotiators to stay even. He signed the Wagner act, which required companies to allow the workers to vote for a union, forbade them from firing any organizers, and required them to negotiate in good faith with the union. This was the beginning of a true Middle Class, which had never been seen before.

Even though Franklin Roosevelt came from the wealthy class, he worked hard to make life better for the working class. He was not well liked by the rich businessmen of the country, and he once said,”They are unanimous in their hatred for me—and I welcome their hatred.” That attitude is hard to imagine in the modern age, where politicians of both parties accept millions of dollars from bankers and financiers without a trace of shame.

He called his programs the New Deal, and he became so popular that he was elected to four terms, and the Democratic Party dominated the presidency for the next forty years. The only Republican between 1932 and 1978 was Gen. Dwight Eisenhower, a WWII hero, and he said it would be foolish to try to tear down the programs of the New Deal.

Once upon a time we believed in the power of government to lift the country out of poverty, to create an interstate highway system, to take us to the moon and back, and regulate the financial industry to create the largest Middle Class ever seen in the world.

Then Reagan came along to convince us that our government is the problem, not the solution. By lowering taxes on the most wealthy corporations he impoverished the whole country. By attacking the working people he started the demolition of the Middle Class.

We no longer can afford to send astronauts to the International Space Station—we have to rent space on Russian rockets. Our bridges and highways are falling into dangerous disrepair. We haven’t actually won a war against a real enemy since World War II under Roosevelt. All across the country beggars sit on street corners asking for money for food or shelter. Many are veterans of our failed wars, for which we had no money afterwards to care for those grievously wounded.

Every president since 1980 has catered to the wealthy corporations and Wall Street financiers. The only difference is the Republicans do it up front, and the Democrats claim to be for helping working people, and then they sell our jobs to China and Mexico and do nothing as companies destroy the unions and fire any worker who dares to complain.

The state of our economy depends on where you put the yard stick. If you measure at Wall Street—the Dow-Jones, the NASDAQ, Standard and Poor index, we are doing fantastically. If you put that yard stick on Main Street, we are approaching Third World status. We have more hungry children than any modern country, we have more homeless people than any civilized country, and even though we have mandated health insurance for all, we still have the most unaffordable health care system in the industrialized world.

All my life I have waited and hoped for a worthy successor to Franklin Delano Roosevelt. I have held my nose, shed tears, and voted for the lesser of two evils. I have voted for third party candidates. I have been punting for a lot of elections since I first voted in 1964. I may not have many elections left in my life.

Bernie Sanders has my hopes up again. He not only says he is for working people, he has thirty years of record to validate his words. He is not being paid by Wall Street firms. He is not giving speeches to banking firms. He is for removing the insurance firms from our health care system and going for a national government run health care system that removes the profit motive from healing people.

This year I’m not bunting anymore. I’m swinging for the fence. I’m working hard to see Bernie Sanders become the next President of the United States. Join me! This may be our last chance!

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Driving Across Nevada

Donald Rogers
Oct. 19, 2015

Driving Across Nevada

Driving across Nevada is good practice for life.

Three years ago I-5 was blocked at Wells, NV, and we were forced to turn back to Wendover on a rainy night, then turned south for about 100 miles,  turned back northwest through Secret Pass to intersect I-5 at Halleck. We got home about four hours late.

Two years ago we were stopped 25 miles north of Las Vegas by a flash flood across Hwy 95. We turned around, went forty miles back the way we came, turned west on Hwy 160 through Pahrump, NV, and came around Mt Charleston on the south side on Blue Diamond Rd. We got in about two hours late.

Today we were stopped at Beatty, NV, and told all roads through Lathrop Wells were blocked by deep water and there was no alternate route in Nevada for at least a day. I asked about Death Valley, but he couldn’t tell me what was happening there except all of southern California and Nevada have been deluged with major thunderstorms and flooding for two days.

So it looked like a good day to see Death Valley to me. I consulted with some of the other stranded drivers and we decided to go for it. I had a full tank of gas, enough food and drink for a week and we were looking for adventure anyway.

We had a beautiful trip through Death Valley. It was only 91ยบ at 3:00 PM in the afternoon at Furnace Creek, and we only had to ford shallow water half a dozen times on State Line Road just south of Death Valley Junction. We got in to our room about three hours late this time.

Life seldom goes exactly the way we planned it, but the detours can be more fun than we expected.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Shoes

Donald Rogers
October 27, 2015

Shoes
How my life has been ruled by shoes.

My wife and I have decided to tear out the carpet in this house, and replace it with laminate flooring, which is not too expensive and looks great. I wish I had done it years ago when my wife was suffering with pulmonary problems and asthma, and spending a lot of time breathing inhalers and nebulizers trying to get back to breathing easily again. She first started having breathing difficulties after we bought new carpet for the front room years ago. I wish I had been more observant and noticed the connection then.

Since we replaced the carpet with laminate flooring a year ago in the front rooms, she has not had to use the inhaler or nebulizer at all, so we are going to do the back bedrooms now. This entails a lot of work moving furniture out and emptying the room so we can rip up the carpet, pull out the nails and tacks, and sand the floor down smooth.

The hardest part for me seems to be the shoes. Back in a corner of the bedroom was a pile of shoes gathering dust, most of which hadn’t been worn in years. I must have some kind of obsession, because it causes me anxiety to contemplate throwing out shoes that still have some wear left in them.

I suspect that Imelda Marcos and I have the same obsession. (When she and her husband were driven out of Manila by a revolution, thousands of pairs of Imelda's shoes were found in the presidential palace). I’m pretty sure we share very little genetic material. I’m not that familiar with Imelda’s childhood, but I’ll bet she was not raised rich enough to have new shoes for the asking, at least not until she got older and married into wealth. I was raised by my mother after my dad left the family, and for several years in my childhood shoes were a scarce and luxurious commodity.

I remember going to school with holes in the soles of my shoes, which I covered with cereal box cardboard insoles every day so my feet would not actually be walking on the ground. Luckily I lived in central California, and the weather was never cold enough to worry about frozen feet.

I also remember the soles would come loose from the tops out in front of my toes, and trying to lift my feet a little higher so that the sole wouldn’t catch and fold back under my foot. It wasn’t just the discomfort that I worried about, but the idea that some other person would see that and know how worn out my shoes were. I remember the embarrassment of being asked about the loose sole once, and trying to make light of it by explaining it worked well for scooping up coins from the sidewalk.

One time my great uncle Roy took me downtown to a “surplus” store where people took used clothing for poorer people to rummage through. It was similar to a Goodwill or Salvation Army store, but I don’t remember any prices—I think you just took it away if you liked it. It was on 16th Street in Merced, CA, which was “Skid Row” then, before the freeway went through. All those bars and flophouses are parking lots now.

Anyway, under one of the rude wooden tables where the clothing was laid, was a pile of shoes of all sizes and styles, most of which were for adults and were much too large for me. But as I crawled around under the table, I found a pair of shoes, “tennis” shoes, sort of, with laces from the toe to the top, ankle high, that not only fit, they were barely worn. Most wondrous of all, instead of being made from canvas, which would wear out quickly, they were completely leather! I’ve never seen any like them, before or since.

I stayed under the table putting on those shoes because I wanted to make sure that they would be mine and nobody could take them away. I emerged with the old, decrepit shoes in my hand, looking for a trash can. Uncle Roy looked just as surprised as I did when he saw those shoes. We both left very happy and satisfied.

For many months thereafter I wore those shoes everywhere. Not only to school, but to church, too! They outlasted any other shoe I had ever worn—especially the ones we bought at Karl’s Shoe Store, which my mother swore were made of cardboard instead of leather.

So when I look at that pile of old shoes in the corner of my bedroom, still with intact soles and no holes in the bottom, I just have a terrible time throwing them away, even though they may  be scuffed and misshapen. I think to myself, out here on the farm nobody will notice if I use them again, even though I never do.

Not many people will understand my obsession. Just me and Imelda.