Monday, November 17, 2014

More About Tomas

   
Posted on Nov 16, 2014

By Chris Hedges  of www.Truthdig.com

  Tomas Young reads “A Message From a Dying Veteran,” his letter to George W. Bush and Dick Cheney, in this screen shot from “Democracy Now!” With him is his wife, Claudia Cuellar.
(I left off the picture of Tomas and Claudia; same one is below in another post. signed Sissy)
Tomas Young was shot and paralyzed below his waist in Iraq in April 2004 when he and about 20 other U.S. soldiers were ambushed while riding in the back of an Army truck. He died of his wounds Nov. 10, 2014, at the age of 34. His final months were marked by a desperate battle to ward off the horrific pain that wracked his broken body and by the callous indifference of a government that saw him as part of the disposable human fodder required for war.

Young wrote a poignant open letter to Bush and Cheney on the 10th anniversary of the start of the Iraq War. He knew that they, along with other idiotic cheerleaders for the war, were responsible for his paralysis and coming death.

Young, who had been in Iraq only five days at the time of the 2004 attack, was hit by two bullets. One struck a knee and the other cut his spinal cord. He was already confined to his bed when I visited him in March 2013 in Kansas City. He was unable to feed himself. He was taking some 30 pills a day. His partly paralyzed body had suffered a second shock in March 2008 when a blood clot formed in his right arm (which bore a color tattoo of a character from Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are”). He was taken to the Veterans Affairs hospital in Kansas City, Mo., given the blood thinner Coumadin and released. The VA took him off Coumadin a month later. The clot migrated to one of his lungs. He suffered a massive pulmonary embolism and went into a coma. When he awoke in the hospital his speech was slurred. He had lost nearly all his upper-body mobility and short-term memory. He began suffering terrible pain in his abdomen. His colon was surgically removed in an effort to mitigate the abdominal pain. He was fitted with a colostomy bag. The pain disappeared for a few days and then returned. He could not hold down most foods, even when they were pureed. The doctors dilated his stomach. He could eat only soup and oatmeal. And then he went on a feeding tube.
Young hung on as long as he could. Now he is gone. He understood what the masters of war had done to him, how he had been used and turned into human refuse. He was one of the first veterans to protest against the Iraq War. Planning to kill himself by cutting off his feeding tube, he wrote a poignant open “Last Letter” to George W. Bush and Dick Cheney in March of 2013 on the 10th anniversary of the start of the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. He knew that Bush and Cheney, along with other idiotic cheerleaders for the war, including my old employer The New York Times, were responsible for his paralysis and coming death. After issuing the letter Young changed his mind about committing suicide, saying he wanted to have more time with his wife, Claudia Cuellar, who dedicated her life to his care. Young and Cuellar knew he did not have long. The couple would move from Kansas City to Portland, Ore., and then to Seattle, where Young died.

Veterans Affairs over the last eight months of Young’s life reduced his pain medication, charging he had become an addict. It was a decision that thrust him into a wilderness of agony. Young’s existence became a constant battle with the VA. He suffered excruciating “breakthrough pain.” The VA was indifferent. It cut his 30-day supply of pain medication to seven days. Young, when the pills did not arrive on time, might as well have been nailed to a cross. Cuellar, in an exchange of several emails with me since Young’s death, remembered hearing her husband on the phone one day pleading with a VA doctor and finally saying: “So you mean to tell me it is better for me to live in pain than die on pain medicine in this disabled state?” At night, she said, he would moan and cry out.

“It was a battle of wills,” Cuellar told me in one of the emails. “We were losing. Our whole time in Portland was spent dealing with trying to get what we needed to be at home and comfortable and pain free. THAT’S ALL WE WANTED, TO BE HOME AND PAIN FREE, to enjoy whatever time we had left.”

Last month they moved from Portland to Seattle. They would be closer to a good spinal cord injury unit. Also, Washington was one of the states that had legalized marijuana, which Young used extensively.

When I saw Young in Kansas City last year he told me he had thought of having his ashes sprinkled over a patch of soil on which marijuana would be planted, “but then I worried that no one would want to smoke it.” After they moved to Seattle he and Cuellar again pleaded with the VA for more pain medication, but the VA staff said Young would have to be evaluated over a two-week period by a “pain team.” The pain team could not see him until the last week of November. He was dead before then.

“Last week I called because his breakthrough pain started happening throughout the day,” Cuellar said in an email. “I was using more and more of the morphine and Lorazepam. I was running out of pills. He had a high tolerance for pain, but it was getting bad. I called to report to the doctor that it was getting bad fast. I would not have enough pills to bridge him to the appointment on the 24th. The doctor was unsympathetic. He gave me a condescending lecture about strict narcotics regulations. I said, ‘but my husband is in pain what do I do?’ ”

Young tried to take enough sleeping pills to sleep away the pain. But he was able to rest for a prolonged period only every few days. The pain and exhaustion began to tear apart his frail body. He was dispirited. He was visibly weaker. He felt humiliated.

“Maybe he got so exhausted by the enduring of it all that he took a last sleep and never came back,” Cuellar wrote. “My conclusion is that he died in pain from the exhaustion of having to endure it. Early morning Monday, when I thought he was sleeping, I heard a silence I had never heard before. I couldn’t hear him breathing. I was scared, but I knew. The first thing I did was liberate him from all the tubes and bags on his body. I cut off the feeding tube. I took off the Ostomy Bags. I removed the Foley Catheter. I cleaned his body. I played music. We smoked a last joint together. I smoked for him. I started making calls.”

“The funeral home instructed me to call the police,” she wrote. “They arrived and concluded that there were no issues, but because of his young age they had to refer this to the Medical Examiner. The Medical Examiner came. He made the determination that due to his age that they would have to perform an autopsy. I said, ‘Hey look at his body don’t you think he has been mutilated enough? Are [you] going to desecrate his body even further?’ So he was cut open some more.”

The VA called her to ask for the autopsy report.

Young’s final days, Cuellar said, were often “hopeless and humiliating.”


It is an old story. It is the story of war. Two days after the 9/11 attacks, Young enlisted in the Army, hoping he would be sent to fight in Afghanistan. He was seduced by jingoism and calls for a crusade against evil that he eventually came to realize were a mask for lies and deceit. He became a voice for other young people who bore the physical and emotional scars of war. He became our conscience. He spoke a truth about war, a truth many do not want to hear. And he condemned our war criminals and demanded justice. He wrote in his “Last Letter” to Bush and Cheney:

    I have, like many other disabled veterans, suffered from the inadequate and often inept care provided by the Veterans Administration. I have, like many other disabled veterans, come to realize that our mental and physical wounds are of no interest to you, perhaps of no interest to any politician. We were used. We were betrayed. And we have been abandoned. You, Mr. Bush, make much pretense of being a Christian. But isn’t lying a sin? Isn’t murder a sin? Aren’t theft and selfish ambition sins? I am not a Christian. But I believe in the Christian ideal. I believe that what you do to the least of your brothers you finally do to yourself, to your own soul.

    My day of reckoning is upon me. Yours will come. I hope you will be put on trial. But mostly I hope, for your sakes, that you find the moral courage to face what you have done to me and to many, many others who deserved to live. I hope that before your time on earth ends, as mine is now ending, you will find the strength of character to stand before the American public and the world, and in particular the Iraqi people, and beg for forgiveness.

We must grieve for Tomas Young, for all the severely wounded men and women hidden from view, suffering their private torments in claustrophobic rooms, for their families, for the hundreds of thousands of civilians that have died in Iraq and Afghanistan, for our own complicity in these wars. We must grieve for a nation that has lost its way, blinded by the psychosis of permanent war, that kills human beings across the globe as if they were little more than insects. It is a waste. We will leave defeated from Iraq and Afghanistan; we will leave burdened with the expenditure of trillions of dollars and responsible for mounds of corpses and ruined nations. Young, and here is the tragedy of it, was sacrificed for nothing. Only the masters of war, those who have profited from the rivers of blood, rejoice. And they know the dead cannot speak.

“Did anybody ever come back from the dead any single one of the millions who got killed did any one of them ever come back and say by god i’m glad i’m dead because death is always better than dishonor?” Dalton Trumbo wrote in his great anti-war novel “Johnny Got His Gun,” “did they say i’m glad i died to make the world safe for democracy? did they say i like death better than losing liberty? did any of them ever say it’s good to think i got my guts blown out for the honor of my country? did any of them ever say look at me i’m dead but i died for decency and that’s better than being alive? did any of them ever say here i am i’ve been rotting for two years in a foreign grave but it’s wonderful to die for your native land? did any of them say hurray i died for womanhood and i’m happy see how i sing even though my mouth is choked with worms?”

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Did You Know Tomas Young? He Has Died.





It is possible you didn't even know the name, Tomas Young.  It is possible you never heard the words of his letter to Bush and Cheney.  I did know his name and I also read his letter when first published. 
Again, today, I heard and watched as he struggled to read his letter found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dtUctHW23o .  He was paralyzed from the neck down, you know.  It is with a torn heart that I watched the video.  Hopefully, your heart will be torn too.

This young man was a true patriot; felt he was doing the right thing; as so many feel.
Regrettably, he paid too high a cost, just as millions have and still the many will continue to pay the high cost of wars.  I ask you: Is it worth it?  No it isn't, absolutely not!

It is a shame and shamble that the civilizations of this planet see no way to settle differences but by killing and destruction.  It is a very sad state of affairs that we citizens of this world do not put all the destruction and death behind/aside and  learn to live in peace and to love one another, knowing that each of us is a part of the whole.  "Do unto others as we would have them do unto us".  These words are only a heartless joke to so many.  You and I know who they are; the ones who exist only for power, controlling power. 

Ironic that Tomas Young ceased to breathe the day before we 'celebrate' Veterans Day.  I wonder how many more recent young veterans chose also this day to cease breathing. There are many choosing this pathway out of their personal hell, every day.  Maybe you aren't aware of the rash of suicides occurring with the military; the numbers are tremendous! It is highly possible one of them is of your family.  I lost a beloved in this manner; his agony released by suicide.  He could no longer exist with the horrors in his mind and heart, having lived with this since the Vietnam war.

Tomas Young, Veteran Author of ‘The Last Letter,’ Dies at 34

Iraq War veteran and activist Tomas Young has died, "Democracy Now" is reporting. There is no word as of this posting about the cause of death.

Young was the author of "The Last Letter," a message to George W. Bush and Dick Cheney, published by Truthdig, in which he stated his intention to die. Young, who was in hospice care at the time and required assistance to live, later changed his mind, saying he wanted to spend more time with his wife.

Chris Hedges wrote about Young and worked with him. The columnist wrote, "Young will die for our sins. He will die for a war that should never have been fought. He will die for the lies of politicians. He will die for war profiteers. He will die for the careers of generals. He will die for a cheerleader press. He will die for a complacent public that made war possible. He bore all this upon his body. He was crucified."

In March 2013, we named Tomas Young our Truthdigger of the Week.

In his seminal work, Young said, "I write this letter, my last letter, to you, Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney. I write not because I think you grasp the terrible human and moral consequences of your lies, manipulation and thirst for wealth and power. I write this letter because, before my own death, I want to make it clear that I, and hundreds of thousands of my fellow veterans, along with millions of my fellow citizens, along with hundreds of millions more in Iraq and the Middle East, know fully who you are and what you have done. You may evade justice but in our eyes you are each guilty of egregious war crimes, of plunder and, finally, of murder, including the murder of thousands of young Americans—my fellow veterans—whose future you stole."

He will be missed.

—Posted by Peter Z. Scheer  at www.Truthdig.com


Friday, October 31, 2014

Thoughts from The Sea Gypsy Philosopher

Thursday, October 30, 2014

WHAT I THINK I KNOW

by Ray Jason

Ray on his birthday 2014






Today is my birthday, and as might be expected, I am in a particularly reflective mood.  As a gift to myself – and hopefully to you as well – I am going to attempt to clarify my current beliefs about “How the world works.”  This is not an easy task because those who are actually in charge of the planet relentlessly conceal their true motivations and methods.  If this subject proves intriguing to you folks out there, I will revisit it each year on my birthday.
                                                   
                                             *******          
But first, here is a short meditation on birthdays and age.  Because I am zealous about staying in shape, I am often asked how old I am.  My usual answer is, “I am in my Middle Years.”  Although this answer sounds evasive, it actually stems from a deeper inquiry into this topic.  My analysis is that there are four elements to human aging.

·        CHRONOLOGICAL AGE   Unfortunately, this is the dominant method that our culture uses to measure someone’s age.  But I contend that it is probably the least reliable marker.
·        BIOLOGICAL AGE   This is a far more accurate denominator of a person’s position along their life path.  How strong and pliant is your cardio-pulmonary-vascular system?  Are your joints troublesome and has your muscle dissolved into fat?  Is your mind still sharp or is your memory a shifting fogbank?  These markers will provide a much better assessment of your true age than any calendar can.
·        EMOTIONAL AGE   Do you handle the disappointments and tragedies of life with composure and grace?  Someone with a short fuse and a long stress horizon will probably be older than their calendar years might suggest.
·        PHILOSOPHICAL AGE   This is the category in which a person should strive to be older than their chronological total.  If one can achieve the “Wisdom of an Elder” at an early stage in life, this will bequeath them an inner harmony that will normally lead to increased longevity and greater happiness.
So my belief is that true age is a tapestry of these different threads.  If a person can achieve advanced emotional and philosophical maturity early in life, and if they combine that with healthy eating and exercise, this will lead to such vibrant biological wellness that they can practically ignore the calendar.
     
                        *******
           
            And now back to the main topic of this meditation – “What I Think I Know.” I truly cannot remember any time when I was not inquisitive and idealistic.  Life lessons from a great mom instilled in me a passion for trying to figure things out and for trying to make things better.  These same elemental desires still provide the foundation for all of my efforts to understand and to communicate.  
I also received inspiration and guidance from some wise quotations from three great thinkers - Socrates, Whitman and Thoreau.   Socrates bolstered my inquisitiveness with his counsel that “the unexamined life is not worth living.”  Walt Whitman further reinforced this with his injunction to “question much and obey little.”  And Thoreau outlined how a simple and unencumbered material existence helps foster an abundant philosophical life with this statement: “a man is rich in direct proportion to the number of things that he can live without.”
And now, as I look back from my Middle Years, at all of my striving to understand and improve, what have these pursuits bequeathed me?  Unfortunately, the answer is DISILLUSION and DISCOURAGEMENT.  It has not yet degenerated into DESPAIR, but sometimes I feel like I am standing at the border about to enter that bleak territory.   
I challenge anyone to deeply investigate this world, and not emerge with their beliefs shattered.  Every institution that we are trained to respect in our formative years, is at best fraudulent and at worst pathological.  The State, the Church, the Military, the Police, the Intelligence Agencies, the Corporate World, and the Media are all corrupt to the core and are now just metastasized tumors of greed, hubris and violence. 
·        THE STATE – The Western Democracies are a total charade.  They might claim to answer to the will of the people, but their actions prove that they answer almost exclusively to the will of the RICH people.  They are a more subtle - and therefore more insidious - modern version of aristocracy or oligarchy.  Competing with these depraved, lip-service democracies is a truly frightening retro form of government - Islamic Theocracies.  Seeking to reinstate cultural codes that were repugnant even in the Iron Age, these aberrant social deformities continue gaining ascendancy as a counter-weight to what they perceive as Western degeneracy.  With these as the two main governmental options, the term “lose-lose situation” leaps to mind.
·        THE CHURCH – The earthly mission of Religion Inc. can be summed up in one word – CONTROL.  Churches want to dominate people’s lives.  And they do this with hideous weapons – either fear-mongering or the promise of salvation.  Any cult whose foundation rests upon two concepts that cannot be proven – namely that a god exists and that there is a heaven and a hell – should immediately be suspect and presumed to be a con.  But instead, the religious powers have managed to convince most of the planet that such absurdities don’t require evidence and can be accepted on the basis of faith.  And even though the priests and rabbis and mullahs claim that religious savagery is a thing of the past, just look at today’s headlines and it is clear that sacred butchery is still a global scourge. 
·        THE MILITARY – The most powerful element of what I call The Malignant Overlords is the military/industrial complex.  Their lobbyists roam Washington like bloated locusts campaigning for endless war.  Indeed, in the last few weeks Leon Panetta has claimed that the conflict with ISIS could stretch out for 30 years.  These people are putrid inside.  They create the most obscene weaponry and just when you think they cannot get any worse, they come up with something even more despicable.  Now they want to weaponize space and cyberspace.  And because of our “no-future for young people economy” they have a steady stream of poor kids for whom killing and getting killed is their best economic option.
·        THE POLICE  - Only a fool can look at the evolution of the U.S. police force and still believe that their role is to serve and protect.  They look like galactic storm-troopers and they behave like a playground bully on steroids.  Vets returning from the Middle East repeatedly claim that U.S. cops have better combat gear than they did overseas.  They have not been militarized by accident.  The Malignant Overlords realize that the serfs will eventually reach a breaking point; and so they intend to have enormous tactical advantage.
·        THE INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES – It is difficult to not bring up the “military intelligence is an oxymoron” argument here.  But even more important than their rampant incompetence, is the depravity of their mission.  Essentially, their duty is to undermine any leader or government that refuses to “play ball with America.”  This is code for allowing U.S. corporations free reign within that sovereign country to avail themselves of the best resources and the cheapest labor.  In the good old days, the U.S. Marines would pave the way for the United Fruit Company.  But now it is the spook agencies that “open up markets” for the American multi-nationals.
·        THE CORPORATE WORLD – Where should I begin when citing the evils of the Multi-nationals?  Their only allegiance is to PROFIT.  They don’t care about people or countries or the planet.  The scorn they have for their workers is aptly demonstrated by their policy of “off-shoring.”   This is OrwellSpeak for firing millions of workers and vaporizingh entire industrial areas; leaving behind a wasteland of poverty, addiction and despair.  This off-shoring also ravages the peasants at the other end of this profit river.   Those largely self-sufficient farmers suddenly find themselves lured or forced into sweatshops where they are overworked at slave wages.  But as bad as the manufacturing corporations are, they seem enlightened when compared to the financial institutions which have become a massive part of the global economy.  These soul-less entities, receive billions in taxpayer bailouts and yet won’t even make loans to Main Street.  Instead they play the international financial market casino in which vast profits are made through the trading of absolutely nothing of value to society.  It’s all high-frequency gibberish and voodoo.
·        THE MEDIA – I am tempted to use the phrase “The Pimpery” here, even though I doubt if there is such a word.  But it surely is appropriate.  When almost all of the major media are owned by six or seven major players, who are all obscenely rich, whose interests do you think they will promote?  I am old enough to remember a time when there were reporters who sought the truth or the story behind the story.  Now they seek only career advancement and face time on the Tube.  I can’t watch the nightly news without an air sickness bag nearby.   
This brief description of the corruption and perversity of the bedrock institutions of modern civilization is profoundly troubling.  But the future appears even bleaker, when one assesses the trajectory of events.  It is as if the Malignant Overlords have taken Orwell’s 1984, which was written as a cautionary novel, and turned it into an operating manual.  It genuinely appears that they are trying to structure a society of rulers, technicians and serfs.  Their spying capabilities, their militarized police, their desire to plant microchip tracking  devices in everyone, certainly leads one to conclude that what the elites truly desire is a HUMAN HERD that can be controlled and dominated. 
                                       *******
As I survey this panorama, from what I hope is the maturity of my Middle Years, I see little cause for optimism.  Electoral politics surely won’t change things.  And revolution is practically suicidal, given the surveillance powers and the militarized police that the State can wield. 
So what is left?  I believe that the only possible solution is COLLAPSE.  The whole putrid, artificial and violent edifice must fall.  Don’t try to reform it!  Don’t try to overthrow it!  Abandon it!  Escape!  Flee!   Go somewhere and find a mode of living that provides you as much separation as possible from the tentacles of a soul-less, joy devouring civilization.
And as it slouches towards self-immolation, prepare yourself to survive the collapse.  It could source from any or all of what I call the Big Bad “E”s – Energy, Economics or Ecology.  It will be massive and destructive.  And if you do “make it through to the other side” as a singer/poet once said, I hope you help sculpt a neo-tribal future that is sustainable, just, caring, joyous and authentic. 
By the way, that is a future that I live in the present.  You can do so as well!  If I help inspire you in that direction, then that can be my birthday present to you.   
Happy birthday  - my unknown friends!         
________________________________________
PS   You can find more of Ray Jason's thoughts at his blog listed to your left. 
sissy 

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The Poodwaddle World Clock

http://www.spiritofmountshasta.com/#!clock/c1zpx

A most amazing collection of up-to-date information of the whole world.   Statistics for the year, month, week, day and now.  Check it out.

Saturday, October 25, 2014

Spent Time, Not a Dime

    Whew, it's cold outside. The dogs  yapping and yarping to go puddle woke me at 2 am.  They then plotted: "Give her ten minutes to go back to sleep".  They did, then started yelling, "OPEN THE DOOR.  Don't you know its cold out here"!  No, they aren't those famous Plott hounds, just ordinary little varmints that know they have me well-trained to jump at their commands to fulfill their wants and wishes.

     Now I'm up and at it - only for awhile - I feel my blood is barely oozing through my arteries this time of day.  Good thing I'm not on a 'normal' schedule like most folks, wouldn't you say?  I go about most of a day in a dragging mode, eyelids drooping, head pounding.  Needless to say, I've got the days and nights mixed and mingled.  So what; I'm in sync with the weather.  Yesterday was one fabulous, sunny time but come sundown it got so cold, on came my heat and I lay my tired body down and pulled up the kivver.  No wonder I'm now up and 'at it'.  Six hours sleep fixed me for a couple of wakeful hours.

     As I was saying, yesterday was wonderful, as the sun finally came out; the sky was splattered with small but brilliant white puffs.  Is there any sky as blue as an October one?  Yet I may ask the same thing on a spring or summer morn.  With remaining fall colors and my freshly mowed GREEN, (oh so green) grass, that sky just showed itself proudly.

     I bundled up early to go out.  Oh my, its so cold; my feet felt frozen in quick order, wearing my holey walkers.  Being outside early to work in autumn is not one of my habits at this stage of life - not normal at all but I'd whacked down some scraggly  plants a few days before and decided I'd best try to dispose of them.  Got half that job done before I decided I'd do some major slashing and piling.

     In betwixt breaks I got enough done that I saw my property is bigger than it has looked in a long spell.  Piled up enough brush for a good bonfire, expecting any moment for the fire brigade to come rushing in to jump me for not having a permit.  I was just too tired and dragging to come back inside and call for one.  But I'm a fairly good fire bug/watcher, with enough sense to first make a fire break. No wind was about, so I had no problem, except my hand clippers soon broke.  Then the long handle of my swing sickle snapped - twice.  Okay, that's it - I'll call it a day.  Gathered my remaining half-unusable tools, sat watching the fire burn down, then dragged to the house. 

  Though before reaching the door, I decided to hull a few more walnuts.  Nasty job!  Last week I picked up a few bushels, poured them in the side drive and rolled the truck's tires over and over again on them.  That helps.  I don't know what kind of creatures those yucky, yellow, wiggly things are but they must be 'walnut-stained' maggots.  Nasty things, yet they help the cleaning process.  You better believe I wore gloves, leather gloves.  Bucketed another gallon.

     NOW, if I can only finish the cleaning process ahead of that one lone, most energetic squirrel that competes against me every year.  That little sucker carried off about thirty bushels of butternuts one year while I sat shivering inside, watching him through my window.  I don't do snow! That year I didn't do/eat any butternuts (white walnuts) either.

     I think Mr. Acu-Weather says that next week I'll have plenty of sunshine, so my plans are in place; that is if I can first fix some tools.

     I reckon there's no need to mention that sizable white/silver rectangle object moving along behind the airplane's contrail yesterday, is there?  Nobody pays any attention just 'cause I have my eyes on the sky a lot.   Guess they think I'm standing around day-dreaming the day away.  Could be, could be.  You think?

     So goes my time.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Maybe Meetings Should Cease?

Makes Good Sense to Me!


The Spooky Men's Chorale presents
their simple but elegant solution to
Australia's political difficulties.

Their advice is probably the best for
any democracy: One term and you're
out.

The Chorale's highly-skilled musicianship
is very evident in the wind-up.

"Oh, Lord, it causes me to wonder what
disease possesses us to vote the
bastards in?

"Down on our knees, we nicely pray, take 

the lying scumbags away, scumbags
away..."


Vote The Bastards Out  
 http://www.ForbiddenKnowledgeTV.com/page/26769.html

Copy and Paste the above or see on YouTube

Saturday, October 18, 2014

We are only Iotas - Itty Bitty Iotas



 "Oh, Such Problems...

Really?

How It Really Is"

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Rainy Sunday Ramblings

Oh dear, what a wet time it is.  The rain has stopped only for minutes over the last few days.  I don't ever recall this happening but it could have, I reckon and I've just forgotten.  Been thinking about Washington state, of how it has a lot of rain in the winter.  I love rain but enough is enough, wouldn't you think;  yet, better rain than SNOW. Always wanted to go out Washington way and spend some time.  Years ago we had a friend here, going to college, who lives in Eugene, Oregon.  He painted us glorious word pictures of the area and hoped that one day we could come west and spend time with him and his parents/family on their ranch.

Mr. Smutz  studied for the ministry; has his church in Eugene, far as I know.  He married a local girl here and took her home to Oregon.  I found on the Internet that Carol, his wife, has a meat business, so apparently a ranch is still in the picture. Awhile back I was thinking strongly of them and tried to make contact but never did.  I still think of Irwin as the young man we befriended those years he lived and studied here.
It takes me moments often to realize that all those 'young ones' of days gone by are aged right along with me.  Now all of us are OLD!
.....speaking of OLD...

I dread seeing what has further occurred out in the old store building after all this down-pouring-monsoon.  I've been getting a few items out and cleaned fairly well.  I fear one part of the roof will totally collapse very soon.  Guess I may as well cut my losses and quit crying over "spilled milk".  There is no way to get any of the furniture out through the stuck doors.  I did hope to save my big craft table and my Italian provincial chair though.  Tough luck!  The books?  I have no where to store them, even if I can get them out.  I do treasure my reading materials; so I am fretting.

If I don't soon get out of this penned-in situation, I may totally lose it.  All the puppers have reached a breaking point too.  I know what I need - a raincoat and some good shoes that won't get soaked every time I walk to the mailbox.  Heck, I need some new feet; age is the pitz.  I've walked at least a 'million' miles over the years and my feet hurt so much.

Did I tell you I'm getting huge piles and more piles of tree chips?  Yes, 7 truckloads so far; Oh, boy, am I ever going to have fun in the future with piles of black dirt.  I'm thinking too of going begging for cow barn 'leavings' this fall.  There are cows on the hillside over from me.  I don't know the people but feel they may be generous and share that gold.   Now I realize why my gardening attempts were a failure this past summer, especially after meeting the wonderfully weird lady up-road, with all her producing-pets.  I had already decided there will be no gardening for me anymore but I've got high hopes once again for the coming season ...whenever that will be.  Shucks, I'm just barely into autumn and already thinking of what beautiful goodies I can grow come spring and summer.  I hope to order some heirloom seeds this year.  I took a handful of very old asparagus seed and threw it in one of my houseplant pots outside a few weeks back.  You would not believe the many plants sprouted and thriving today.

Well, I've rambled long enough this dreary evening.  Think I'll settle down and read a bit of my latest book by Adriana Trigiani.  She sure knows how to tell a story.  Surprisingly, so many are based on true facts, although that isn't mentioned; I only discerned this after reading her one non-fiction book. By the way, did you ever see the movie "Big Stone Gap"?  It's hers! It was made in Big Stone Gap, Va too, where Adriana lived when young.  BSG isn't too far from where I live.  Some day when I can afford the gas, I want to take a drive there and check out the small town, see if I can recognize any of the places she writes about in her books.

So, Toodle-ooo.   Hope you are staying dry and warm.