I live a rainy part of the world and now that it is fall, it is hard to see much of the time when it is rainy and dark. I was driving my kid to school this morning and had to break hard at a crosswalk where two ladies in light colored coats and light colored umbrellas were still very difficult to see as they crossed the road. It was not their fault I had to stop quickly for them, I simply did not see them with visibility as poor as it was.
But it got me to talking with my child about the need for a soft reflective tape that is added to umbrellas and rain coats. Currently there is some reflectors on some running shoes and backpacks, but they don't get folded, so it would need to be soft, water resistant to handle both rain and washing, have a strong adhesive (velcro maybe), but it would be best if it didn't look like reflector tape, so kids would not be embarrassed about wearing it. There is a reason very few folks wear those orange vests with the reflector tape in big stripes across them. It makes sense when you are working on the road, but we need to be able to see the kids waiting for the school bus or the ladies in the crosswalk. Street signs are reflective without the big tape, so maybe there is technology that already exists and just needs to be modified.
It would be nice on the cuffs of the rain jacket, the brim of the hood and maybe at the waist, so movement would help capture it. I was also thinking about LED lights, but no kid is going to want to walk to the bus stop lit up like a Christmas tree. So it has to be subtle, like they don't even know it is there. I have seen the stiff stuff on dog collars and leashes (great idea by the way as I have a black dog), but again, it looks like reflector tape. Why it isn't already on every umbrella ever made I have no idea. Perhaps it is heavy and that does make a difference when carrying it around. Also, umbrellas get left behind, they blow inside out, they break rather easily. So, the product would have to be inexpensive enough to be added to an item with a short life span.
To recap, I want a reflector tape that doesn't look like reflector tape that doesn't cost too much or weigh too much that can be added aftermarket to rain coats and umbrellas. That is not too much to ask for, is it?
Monday, October 31, 2016
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Sisters tattoo
I am the luckiest woman in the world when it comes to sisters. My parents were divorced when I was quite young and they both remarried at least once to people who has also been previously married. So my family of two sisters became 6 sisters and 4 brothers when all were counted. I presume that number will remain as my folks are in their 70s.
Some of these siblings I lived with a significant amount of childhood days, others I did not as they either lived in other parts of the country or they were older and had launched already. But in both cases, these people have still shaped me and given me a bedrock of those I know I can count on if I ever need to. I could show up at their doorstep and they would at least feed me and let me sleep on their couch. Considering how I loathe asking for help, it is good to know it is available to me should I need it.
But out of the 10 siblings, I am closest to 3 of my sisters. I adore my younger brother, but his life rarely contacts mine and that makes me sad. Perhaps when we are old old, rather than middle aged, we can find the time to be together. However, my sisters spend a bit of time with me each year and I am so enriched by their presence. They are funny and smart and beautiful and strong and wise. I rest in them. It is profound.
We got together recently and decided to get a sisters tattoo. Some wanted to include homage to their mother or father, and though I love my parents, the bond I have with my sisters is different. At times, my sisters have parented me, for certain, but they have also been my friend and confidant and enemy to some degree. I have felt jealousy toward them, but never toward my parents. It is a different sort of bond.
At this point, the tattoo consists of an arrow with circles around it and the word "sisters" is written in the circles in Morse code. It is simple and strong like my bond with my sisters. I thought about using a different color for each letter, but that turns into a rainbow which, though a powerful statement, it is not the one I am going for here.
I have thoughts for tattoos for my children, but I have not settled on anything yet. I think perhaps because they are still forming at this point in their lives. I can easily say who they are today, but when they fully bloom, they may be a bit different, so I am waiting for that I think. Though when I told my oldest daughter about the sisters tattoo, she mentioned maybe getting a mother/daughter tattoo. I was touched and I would absolutely love that. I could be covered head to toe with marks of those I love. Right now I am, but not in ink. The only word that fits is blessed. The love I have for my family supersedes my doubt and gives me faith in a divine. I am humbled by their love. It is God manifest. I don't need more religion than that.
Some of these siblings I lived with a significant amount of childhood days, others I did not as they either lived in other parts of the country or they were older and had launched already. But in both cases, these people have still shaped me and given me a bedrock of those I know I can count on if I ever need to. I could show up at their doorstep and they would at least feed me and let me sleep on their couch. Considering how I loathe asking for help, it is good to know it is available to me should I need it.
But out of the 10 siblings, I am closest to 3 of my sisters. I adore my younger brother, but his life rarely contacts mine and that makes me sad. Perhaps when we are old old, rather than middle aged, we can find the time to be together. However, my sisters spend a bit of time with me each year and I am so enriched by their presence. They are funny and smart and beautiful and strong and wise. I rest in them. It is profound.
We got together recently and decided to get a sisters tattoo. Some wanted to include homage to their mother or father, and though I love my parents, the bond I have with my sisters is different. At times, my sisters have parented me, for certain, but they have also been my friend and confidant and enemy to some degree. I have felt jealousy toward them, but never toward my parents. It is a different sort of bond.
At this point, the tattoo consists of an arrow with circles around it and the word "sisters" is written in the circles in Morse code. It is simple and strong like my bond with my sisters. I thought about using a different color for each letter, but that turns into a rainbow which, though a powerful statement, it is not the one I am going for here.
I have thoughts for tattoos for my children, but I have not settled on anything yet. I think perhaps because they are still forming at this point in their lives. I can easily say who they are today, but when they fully bloom, they may be a bit different, so I am waiting for that I think. Though when I told my oldest daughter about the sisters tattoo, she mentioned maybe getting a mother/daughter tattoo. I was touched and I would absolutely love that. I could be covered head to toe with marks of those I love. Right now I am, but not in ink. The only word that fits is blessed. The love I have for my family supersedes my doubt and gives me faith in a divine. I am humbled by their love. It is God manifest. I don't need more religion than that.
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Political Noise
I am a "Highly Sensitive Person" and and empath to some degree. It is so nice to have a label that means really nothing helpful. I don't notice it as much as I did when I was a child. My skin is still just as thin, I am simply better at avoiding things that hurt me. But it is an election year and election years are not kind to folks like me, perhaps they are not kind to anyone, I can really only speak for myself.
The election is weeks away, so the pressure is mounting. I can no longer watch television, listen to NPR or spend much time on Facebook because it is getting ugly. Everyday but Sunday, mailers arrive telling this or that about this candidate or that candidate, mostly how awful and self serving they are. On my drive around town, I am assaulted with visuals to vote for this guy. Do it. DO IT NOW! They are signs, I realize, but to me it is like someone screaming at me. Don't bother thoughtful consideration of the candidate, do what your neighbors are doing, do what others tell you to do. It is socially acceptable bullying and I hate it.
A few months ago, I received a call from a kindly voiced woman insisting she was not selling me anything, but is taking a poll and would I be willing to answer some questions. It won't take but a minute or two. Sure, I said. She did ask me questions, but what she was really doing, as it soon became apparent, was telling me about her candidate. She was canvasing, but she lied about how she was doing it. She lied. Now, if I am considering voting for someone, I think outright lying should be avoided by my supporters. I am sure he was a great guy, but his campaign was based on a simple lie. No, it was not a poll, nor did the call only last a minute or two. Simple. Semantics. Lies.
I have voted for people who seemed like real, thoughtful, reflective individuals that really wanted to make a difference. And now they have been in for a number of terms and they have been altered into politicians. It is probably inevitable. In order to accomplish anything, absolutely everything is up for negotiation. I do not think they recognize that their souls have been eroded and everything they do is to win the next election. Their ambition to represent the people has been lost. I try to not vote for the incumbent hoping they can retrieve their souls before they die in office.
When things happen mid session, it is often heard "Remember this come election time!" I bet politicians snicker to themselves every time. Because we don't remember. We are lured by visits to VA Hospitals and mining towns and factories. We are blinded by the spin. We vote based on what we learned yesterday, not last year or two years ago. We are sheep who believe we are wolves.
The election is weeks away, so the pressure is mounting. I can no longer watch television, listen to NPR or spend much time on Facebook because it is getting ugly. Everyday but Sunday, mailers arrive telling this or that about this candidate or that candidate, mostly how awful and self serving they are. On my drive around town, I am assaulted with visuals to vote for this guy. Do it. DO IT NOW! They are signs, I realize, but to me it is like someone screaming at me. Don't bother thoughtful consideration of the candidate, do what your neighbors are doing, do what others tell you to do. It is socially acceptable bullying and I hate it.
A few months ago, I received a call from a kindly voiced woman insisting she was not selling me anything, but is taking a poll and would I be willing to answer some questions. It won't take but a minute or two. Sure, I said. She did ask me questions, but what she was really doing, as it soon became apparent, was telling me about her candidate. She was canvasing, but she lied about how she was doing it. She lied. Now, if I am considering voting for someone, I think outright lying should be avoided by my supporters. I am sure he was a great guy, but his campaign was based on a simple lie. No, it was not a poll, nor did the call only last a minute or two. Simple. Semantics. Lies.
I have voted for people who seemed like real, thoughtful, reflective individuals that really wanted to make a difference. And now they have been in for a number of terms and they have been altered into politicians. It is probably inevitable. In order to accomplish anything, absolutely everything is up for negotiation. I do not think they recognize that their souls have been eroded and everything they do is to win the next election. Their ambition to represent the people has been lost. I try to not vote for the incumbent hoping they can retrieve their souls before they die in office.
When things happen mid session, it is often heard "Remember this come election time!" I bet politicians snicker to themselves every time. Because we don't remember. We are lured by visits to VA Hospitals and mining towns and factories. We are blinded by the spin. We vote based on what we learned yesterday, not last year or two years ago. We are sheep who believe we are wolves.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Dilemma
I am facing a dilemma that is troubling me. I can often push such dilemmas aside, ignore it until it fades away like a puddle evaporating. But for whatever reason, this puddle either remains full or gets filled over and over again.
I have been thinking about how values change over time, especially over great periods of time. I am no historian, let me be very clear on that. My eyes glaze over as specific dates are mentioned or ruling parties, etc. My mind is a sieve that allows all that detail to slip right through. But I hold on to bits of flotsam and that is what I mull over. And then I compare what I am all about now to what folks were like historically. And then my mind begins to jump. And jump. And jump. It is exhausting and exhilarating at the same time because I know my mind is working in way most other minds do not seem to. Or they don't talk about it.
One of the topics I have been thinking about is racism. Currently, Black Lives Matter is a campaign that is influencing people around this nation. There are advocates and opponents, though the opponents are often only partially in opposition. "Yes, black lives matter, but so do all other lives as well." And the BLM campaign seems to be saying "Yes, that is true, but you are missing the point." It both contains and does not contain police violence and racial profiling. It is about poverty, but not exactly about poverty. As a white woman, it is confusing, so I, in my own life, try to treat people with decorum and respect. I try to pay attention. Because I am so confused, I have been looking at historical evidence of racism both within the United States and outside of it. At times, racism is blatant, other times it is subtle. It seems we as a society wish the past to remain in the past or we take lengths to eradicate it from our historical record. Should we retain the physical remains of the horrors that have been committed yet at one time were wholly accepted by society. Where do we begin? Where do we end?
Do we tear down the mental institutions where people were strapped to their beds or were otherwise tortured in order to break down that which made them insane? If one looks at the reasons for insanity, it is a vastly different definition than one we would use today. What about the prisons? Americans strongly disagree about whether or not the death penalty should be implemented. Will we look back in time and say what barbarians we were to execute our criminals. Or the reservations that still exist where the native people of this land are able to govern themselves honoring their culture, but not exactly because the roots of their culture were violated when they were moved to reservations in the first place.
I was looking at my front yard this morning and thinking, what if in a few decades, we discover that cultivated landscape is the leading cause of global warming. Not only the pesticides we use to keep our lawns lovely, but the mower and the trimmed shrubs or the non native flowers. The future will judge us for our stupidity. How could they not know? How could they not see? Do we not look back at institutionalized racism the same way? How could these people who were members of their community, went to town meetings and church on Sunday justify the brutal treatment of the people they "owned" and the level of poverty and general suppression they subjected them to? How could they on one hand, refer to the slaves they held as sub human, more animal than human, yet breed with them, often through rape, though I would bet not always was it rape. Was it fear of their innate power that reinforced this system of control? I have heard that said of the Hitler regime, that he feared the power of the Jewish community where much money was held. Not so much the religion as the livelihood and financial success of these people. And all the people that agreed that killing them off was the right thing to do? How could these town meeting attending, church going folks justify their brutality. America rounded up all of those of Japanese descent and moved them out into the wastelands behind barbed wire fences. No, we did not kill them, but we painted them all with the same broad brush and we stole all their property.
And now, in 2016, we look back and safely judge the actions of our ancestors. I see the appeal of burning it all down, erasing it from the historical register, wiping the slate clean and starting again. But we did not get to this point in our collective journey without being at those other points in time. Most likely it was not in our own lifetime, but sometimes it was. I am thinking of Guantanamo Bay and Iraq. Mostly likely it was not by our own hand, but sometimes it was, that moment we sneered or judged or looked away. I have not actively tortured another person, but I have not always gone out of my way to feed the poor or comfort the needy or love another person. I have felt judgement and fear and apprehension toward my fellow human being. I used a gas lawn mower and drove cars that failed the emissions test. If we burn it down, are we not at risk of pretending it never existed or that we are not still impacted by it? We cannot fix it. We cannot fix anything, really. All we can do is try and be better today. Not even our best selves, just our better selves.
I have been thinking about how values change over time, especially over great periods of time. I am no historian, let me be very clear on that. My eyes glaze over as specific dates are mentioned or ruling parties, etc. My mind is a sieve that allows all that detail to slip right through. But I hold on to bits of flotsam and that is what I mull over. And then I compare what I am all about now to what folks were like historically. And then my mind begins to jump. And jump. And jump. It is exhausting and exhilarating at the same time because I know my mind is working in way most other minds do not seem to. Or they don't talk about it.
One of the topics I have been thinking about is racism. Currently, Black Lives Matter is a campaign that is influencing people around this nation. There are advocates and opponents, though the opponents are often only partially in opposition. "Yes, black lives matter, but so do all other lives as well." And the BLM campaign seems to be saying "Yes, that is true, but you are missing the point." It both contains and does not contain police violence and racial profiling. It is about poverty, but not exactly about poverty. As a white woman, it is confusing, so I, in my own life, try to treat people with decorum and respect. I try to pay attention. Because I am so confused, I have been looking at historical evidence of racism both within the United States and outside of it. At times, racism is blatant, other times it is subtle. It seems we as a society wish the past to remain in the past or we take lengths to eradicate it from our historical record. Should we retain the physical remains of the horrors that have been committed yet at one time were wholly accepted by society. Where do we begin? Where do we end?
Do we tear down the mental institutions where people were strapped to their beds or were otherwise tortured in order to break down that which made them insane? If one looks at the reasons for insanity, it is a vastly different definition than one we would use today. What about the prisons? Americans strongly disagree about whether or not the death penalty should be implemented. Will we look back in time and say what barbarians we were to execute our criminals. Or the reservations that still exist where the native people of this land are able to govern themselves honoring their culture, but not exactly because the roots of their culture were violated when they were moved to reservations in the first place.
I was looking at my front yard this morning and thinking, what if in a few decades, we discover that cultivated landscape is the leading cause of global warming. Not only the pesticides we use to keep our lawns lovely, but the mower and the trimmed shrubs or the non native flowers. The future will judge us for our stupidity. How could they not know? How could they not see? Do we not look back at institutionalized racism the same way? How could these people who were members of their community, went to town meetings and church on Sunday justify the brutal treatment of the people they "owned" and the level of poverty and general suppression they subjected them to? How could they on one hand, refer to the slaves they held as sub human, more animal than human, yet breed with them, often through rape, though I would bet not always was it rape. Was it fear of their innate power that reinforced this system of control? I have heard that said of the Hitler regime, that he feared the power of the Jewish community where much money was held. Not so much the religion as the livelihood and financial success of these people. And all the people that agreed that killing them off was the right thing to do? How could these town meeting attending, church going folks justify their brutality. America rounded up all of those of Japanese descent and moved them out into the wastelands behind barbed wire fences. No, we did not kill them, but we painted them all with the same broad brush and we stole all their property.
And now, in 2016, we look back and safely judge the actions of our ancestors. I see the appeal of burning it all down, erasing it from the historical register, wiping the slate clean and starting again. But we did not get to this point in our collective journey without being at those other points in time. Most likely it was not in our own lifetime, but sometimes it was. I am thinking of Guantanamo Bay and Iraq. Mostly likely it was not by our own hand, but sometimes it was, that moment we sneered or judged or looked away. I have not actively tortured another person, but I have not always gone out of my way to feed the poor or comfort the needy or love another person. I have felt judgement and fear and apprehension toward my fellow human being. I used a gas lawn mower and drove cars that failed the emissions test. If we burn it down, are we not at risk of pretending it never existed or that we are not still impacted by it? We cannot fix it. We cannot fix anything, really. All we can do is try and be better today. Not even our best selves, just our better selves.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Night Music, the coffee house
I dream of businesses I would like to own someday if failure were not something I had to worry about. As it is, failure paralyzes me from taking most leaps of faith. But I can and do daydream about things. Night Music is not my first such fantasy business, but it is my latest.
There is a strange piece of property not far from my home that has been for sale for some time. It has not been snatched up by a real estate developer probably because it sits primarily on a wet land that likely has serious restrictions upon it. There is a parking space that is only slightly larger than the driveway of my own home, so the only business I could imagine there is my own, Night Music Coffee House. If I lived in a city instead of a town, it would be okay to have a business without parking spaces, but that just isn't done in suburbia, so my lot would be a parking lot for Vespa Scooters and the like.
Night Music Coffee House would be built elevated above the wetlands with screened in porches jutting further into the forest swamp with the sound of the swamp coming through the screens, though not the creatures. Each porch would have its own theme. Acoustic music in one, poetry readings in another. Maybe way out in the distance could be a room for smokers. They like coffee too, but to be within the law, it would have to be 30' away from the main building and probably could not be screened, but I am not certain of that.
The coffee would be made by some brass and copper monstrosity from Italy with baristas who knew their trade and were proud of what they brewed. There would be no "To-Go" cups. One could bring their own ceramic cup from home or buy one at the premises. Delicious desserts would be served on plates with actual metal forks. I had not thought about linen napkins, but that would make sense and be in keeping with the lack of disposable merchandise. The linen napkins could be made from odd Goodwill garments.
The desserts would be spectacular confections. No spinning pie case, but a glass case to showcase the delights within. My oldest daughter would be the main baker as she has talent in this arena and I would love to offer her work she has passion for. I have some skill here too, so maybe we could work together.
The place would smell of coffee and spices. And in the evenings when the sun goes down, the sounds would be of the quiet night music for those with ears to listen.
There is a strange piece of property not far from my home that has been for sale for some time. It has not been snatched up by a real estate developer probably because it sits primarily on a wet land that likely has serious restrictions upon it. There is a parking space that is only slightly larger than the driveway of my own home, so the only business I could imagine there is my own, Night Music Coffee House. If I lived in a city instead of a town, it would be okay to have a business without parking spaces, but that just isn't done in suburbia, so my lot would be a parking lot for Vespa Scooters and the like.
Night Music Coffee House would be built elevated above the wetlands with screened in porches jutting further into the forest swamp with the sound of the swamp coming through the screens, though not the creatures. Each porch would have its own theme. Acoustic music in one, poetry readings in another. Maybe way out in the distance could be a room for smokers. They like coffee too, but to be within the law, it would have to be 30' away from the main building and probably could not be screened, but I am not certain of that.
The coffee would be made by some brass and copper monstrosity from Italy with baristas who knew their trade and were proud of what they brewed. There would be no "To-Go" cups. One could bring their own ceramic cup from home or buy one at the premises. Delicious desserts would be served on plates with actual metal forks. I had not thought about linen napkins, but that would make sense and be in keeping with the lack of disposable merchandise. The linen napkins could be made from odd Goodwill garments.
The desserts would be spectacular confections. No spinning pie case, but a glass case to showcase the delights within. My oldest daughter would be the main baker as she has talent in this arena and I would love to offer her work she has passion for. I have some skill here too, so maybe we could work together.
The place would smell of coffee and spices. And in the evenings when the sun goes down, the sounds would be of the quiet night music for those with ears to listen.
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Loss
A few hours ago, I learned that my husband's father passed away. The man had lived a long life, though in the 20 years I knew him, his health was poor as he suffered from a variety of ailments that made his world ever smaller as it appeared to me. My children had only met him a few times and have no real memories of him. So the loss is not mine.
But it is my husband's loss, so it is mine and it is my children's as well. We are tied through our love for one another and we grieve because he grieves. I wish we could see, if only for a moment, how we are tied to one another through our love. We are woven together through smiles and heart aches. It is not just to those closest to us, but to friends, acquaintances, folks in our community, our region, our state, our country. If we open our hearts with compassion, we feel for those who hurt across the world, perhaps we even cry for them. Most recently, there has been a photo of a young refugee sitting on a plastic chair covered in what looks like ash that has gotten our collective attention, but there are countless other photos of those who are suffering that I believe make us want to have an impact on easing the suffering of others.
And there is a feeling a futility that we cannot ease the suffering of others. Not my husbands, not my neighbors, not the child across the world. Perhaps we cannot. But if we can glimpse the threads that twine us all together, perhaps we will not feel so alone in our grief.
So farewell sweet father in law. I do hope that you feel no pain now that you have left your body behind you. May your energy fly fast and strong into the universe to join all other energy in becoming something altogether new, altogether wonderful. You will be missed. You are loved. You are part of us all.
But it is my husband's loss, so it is mine and it is my children's as well. We are tied through our love for one another and we grieve because he grieves. I wish we could see, if only for a moment, how we are tied to one another through our love. We are woven together through smiles and heart aches. It is not just to those closest to us, but to friends, acquaintances, folks in our community, our region, our state, our country. If we open our hearts with compassion, we feel for those who hurt across the world, perhaps we even cry for them. Most recently, there has been a photo of a young refugee sitting on a plastic chair covered in what looks like ash that has gotten our collective attention, but there are countless other photos of those who are suffering that I believe make us want to have an impact on easing the suffering of others.
And there is a feeling a futility that we cannot ease the suffering of others. Not my husbands, not my neighbors, not the child across the world. Perhaps we cannot. But if we can glimpse the threads that twine us all together, perhaps we will not feel so alone in our grief.
So farewell sweet father in law. I do hope that you feel no pain now that you have left your body behind you. May your energy fly fast and strong into the universe to join all other energy in becoming something altogether new, altogether wonderful. You will be missed. You are loved. You are part of us all.
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