It’s that TIME again.

It’s that time again, where if you are not actively angered that people in this country are being targeted by cops (professional police??),  because of their color, race, religion, sexual orientation than you are seriously confused. This is war, brought on good black citizens with permits and nice cars driving with daughters and mothers and aunts. They are being killed and when it gets to court, well, “it was a mixed race jury, what can anyone do?” So they die, people say “Oh, so sorry.” or “Surely they must have done something to antagonize the “Professional” law keepers?” All of the question marks are extended again and people scream racism and go home to dinner where they don’t turn their TVs on until their show, because it’s just too much. Yeah, I’m white. I’m angry. I’m so angry I’ve already started letter writing. My mother is so angry she’s sent money to the ACLU and the Southern Poverty Law Center and sends it every month out of her pension because it is important. And nothing the two of us can do will stop these executions without the rest of our citizens acting. We started yelling in Ferguson, Alexandria, Prince Georges County, New York, Kentucky, Baltimore, DC, Alexandria, Florida, and many more places, and nothing changes. People just give it a week or two and it starts all over.

Oh dear, I see a pattern here. I’ve taught patterns to kids. Kids see the patterns. I’m supposed to tell them that the police are the good guys and girls. Guess what. I can’t do that any more. It only takes one bad cop to kill the reputation of all the hard working ones. I know there are good cops, I celebrate them. I want to see them act against those who don’t follow our laws. But I can’t tell kids to trust someone who could very well killing them. I tell them, do what the cops say. Put your hands up. Don’t move until you’re told. I don’t want any children or men or women having to be told not to trust. But we can’t trust, not if this trait continues.

Want to know why black neighbors aren’t talking as much with their white neighbors? Read the news. Look at the video on the computers. What do they see? BENGAZHI. Four people died doing their jobs. More die overseas in Afghanistan all the time. People are bombing people because of religion, color, and guess what? It’s okay as long as it is overseas and not close.

It’s not okay, folks. We’re supposed to be one of the best countries in the world. But we don’t have safety, or happiness, or equal education, or the ability to earn a solid income. We don’t have people protecting our elders, or teens, or battered wives. We just keep encouraging people like, yes, I will say his name, TRUMP who encourages people to hate and fear and not trust and to be violent and never take responsibility. We are exposed to stupid nonsense, politicized nonsense, we’re told the world isn’t our fault, that someone else is responsible. Wrong. We celebrate ignorance and think it’s funny.

It’s the people who don’t respond, oh, they might care, but they don’t do anything to change the world. My hat goes out to the black population who take to the streets. My hat goes out to the others, like my son, who won’t put up with others being hurt. My heart goes out to anyone with a phone who records these things and keeps the pressure up on a Republican congress that wants someone else to be in charge. Our neighbor’s lives are being ruined. WHY?

Just help do something, and make sure no one forgets. I’ve used my big brush and labeled us all. I rarely if ever use this brush, but I’m angry and hurt. And saying sorry doesn’t fix things, neither does praying.

Squamish

Here again is a lovely post about words and people. It’s from Sesquiotic.wordpress.com

sesquiotic's avatarSesquiotica

On a scale from squamous to squeamish, how would you rate Squamish?

Do you know where it is? Or what it is, even?

For me, Squamish is where you can buy Whistler day passes at a discount and get your coffee on the way there. For at least one person I know, it’s where Quest University is. For a lot of people, it’s the midpoint between Vancouver and Whistler: It’s at the north end of Howe Sound on the Sea to Sky Highway.

But what makes it stand out is not Howe Sound but how it sounds. It doesn’t have the V-neck verve of Vancouver or the crisp sifflation of Whistler. It has the sounds of squat and squeamish and qualms and a balance of the scaly words squamous and desquamation and such like. And it sounds so wishy-washy at the end, not firmly squam but just squam

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Revolutionary Scenes from Jerusalem Mills

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These are just a few of the reenacts of both the British forces and Colonial Forces. My mother drove us out there so that we could meet the people who were acting out one of the units that we had an ancestor in. He didn’t survive the war, but he had a wife and children who did. He was part of Washington’s bodyguard. They are the gentlemen with horses in the green coats.

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It’s Rained on my Fourth of July

It’s raining outside, and I can’t say I’m sad about it. So many places in the US and Canada are suffering from drought. I like the rain, although I can’t go to a ball game or to the fireworks tonight. My grass is green in July and the air is mild. I can go and splash in the puddles, jumping up and down like a kid as the neighbors call for reinforcements and my husband shakes his head. My garden is blooming and I haven’t had to set a sprinkler yet. I’m saving money by watching nature at work. The little green frogs climb the side of the house for the bugs at night, and the fireflies are hovering just over the grass if they are males and about six feet up if they were females. They prefer nights and I prefer them to the mosquitos who hunger for flesh.

I have movies that I love on the Fourth. 1776, Yankee Doodle Dandy, Forest Gump, anything not to violent but that represents history. There was a great show on Edison and how his lack of mathematics eventually worked him out of the electric business. They rarely mention the things that he did to Tesla, although he wanted to be the genius to think of things, he didn’t want to be a team player. So, we ended up with General Electric and Westinghouse which were a very important part of my upbringing.

I’ve been to the fireworks in Washington DC, Chicago, Akron, Minneapolis, St. Paul, San Francisco and I love the color, the sound and the smell of the different chemicals. My son and son in law buy from local legal firework stands and make safety a part of their private show in our driveway. They even make me put my shoes on. Sometimes we have been in the mountains when people start firing their fireworks off and you can see them for miles. Traveling in the US is something that became Americana in the time right after WW1. My dad learned to drive a Model T by accident when he took the brake off at the top of a hill, or that’s one story he told. He said his father was angry, really angry.

I served in the US Army and marched in parades on the Fourth as a member of the 6th US Army and 1st US Army. Marched up and down the coast of the Pacific, and visited a lot of places that needed music on the Fourth. I’m pleased as punch that we entertained so many. Music is a passion of mine. It builds an energy that is transferred to an audience, as long as you play the right notes.

But the biggest part of being a patriot, is a series of behaviors that my parents modeled for me and I tried to model for my kids. Voting after studying the platforms of the candidates, that’s number one. Helping my neighbors if I can. Donating to food banks, clothes banks, and charities. Paying my taxes and telling the truth about what we earn so that schools, roads, police departments, farm subsidies, the military, etc. can do what they are supposed to do. People who put their faith in God to solve problems instead of following up their words with actions really take away from our society. I honor the President of the US with paying attention to his policies, writing him with my opinions, and being respectful of him or her. Respect and politeness, saying please and thank you, not gossiping or lying to make a point are all standards of behavior that I was told were American.  I taught school because it was a job with the honor of working with the people who would run my world when I got old and grey.

Our country was founded by a group of people as different as if they were the same. They shouted and argued but they also acted. They found people who could find ways to communicate to represent them. Granted there were problems, but the American way was to find a way through them. Injustices still exist that shouldn’t anymore. I hope we work our way though them soon. We were promised an awful lot growing up. I want everyone to have life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Enjoy the fireworks tonight if it isn’t too dry or too wet. Happy Fourth of July.

deuce, trey

Lovely site to go and visit if you love books and words.

sesquiotic's avatarSesquiotica

Now, where the deuce is that book? I want to blog about it. Did I lend it to someone? It’s a hardcover, so it should be on the top shelf…

Ah, wait. Let me turn this pile of books aside for the reveal…

Can you quite see it? There are two books side by side there that are my own copies of books I first discovered in the Banff Public Library when I was a youth and spent much enjoyable time sitting in that glorious wood-and-carpet high-ceilinged room reading (the library has since moved and the building it was in is now a museum).

Not the Machiavelli book – that was grad school. No, both of these books promise knowledge unknown to most but valuable to initiates. Secrets arcane and possibly even a bit louche. For one of them, the time and place I got my copy is a forgotten…

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