Who's on 1st, What's on 2nd, I Don't Know's on 3rd

Somewhere in the past fifteen years I discovered Blogger, and things have never really been the same.  I took a look at life through the lens of the famous Laurel and Hardy bit referred to in the title of this piece.  Recently, it occurred to me that I am approaching a transition in my life.  Peering at life through the lens of "Who's on 1st, etc.," I can see my life in these three phases--Who's on 1st, What's on 2nd and I Don't Know's on 3rd.

Who's on 1st--my younger adult years were lived in a sort of whirlwind.  We married, had two children and I pursued the ups and downs and caroming around that was my life.  We caromed from South Bend to St. Louis, to Chicago, to Atlanta, to Savannah, finally coming to rest in Hilton Head.  Careerwise, I moved from liquor store clerk to Personnel Trainee to Assistant Director of HR and to Director of HR (the latter in a company that ceased to exist some six or seven years after I moved on).  I ended up as a Senior Labor Relations Consultant in a Fortune 100 Company (Big Deal!).  It was a career I enjoyed and one that took care of me and my family as well as we needed.  Throughout this period, I did little reflection, and never sat down to write about it unless I was preparing a resume.  ]

Somewhere in my 50's I began to think about what was coming next.  This has taken shape as the period of What's on 2nd, or what else does life have in store for me.  I thought about what was on 2nd and some of those musings found their way here as entries in my Whatison2nd.blog post.  Tonight, as sleep eluded me once again, I thought about an article I saw but skimmed very lightly in my email today.  All I get in my email these days are publications, magazines, newspapers, commentaries, ads, and more ads from every organization I've had the pleasure of doing even the smallest transaction with...  Is that the same for you? or do you actually receive a personal email on occasion?  Anyway, the topic of the article I'll be searching for after I finish this piece had to do with ending well.  Hence, "I Don't Know's on 3rd" comes to mind.

Now, let me be clear about this--it's not about where we will go next.  I have a strong Faith that answers that question for me to a great degree (although I do wonder sometimes about what this afterlife I'm hoping to head for if I live the way I should actually looks like?  Is it a single unified center of being that we are all returning to?  Is it a replica of all that is/was good on Earth--and does that include my Golden Retriever Walter?

OH, but back to the subject at hand--ending well.  I don't know how to do this, but I want to try.  Let me be clear on another point--the author of the piece I skimmed earlier today suggests that regular doses of LSD would be a good approach.  While that is a novel approach, I really don't think it is any good for me.  I am, after all, working hard to stay in my right mind through the end of my life.  

I just created my newest blog, entitled "I Dom't Know's on 3rd."  I have barely begun a layout, etc., but it's there--and this entry will appear in both What Is on 2nd (this blog) and "I Don't Know's on 3rd.  If you'll excuse me, I need to go look for that article I skimmed before I forget.  I'll probably return after I have read it through....

The White Man Label

Yes, it took me a lifetime really understand the resentment that people bear when they are labeled by their race, gender, religion or former national heritage (here in the U.S. it is "former," but I suppose this phenomenon exists in their nation of origin as well).  Anyway, it took the label of "white man" to really drive it all home.  Yes, I am a "white man."  Nowadays, that seems to mean racist, ignorant, blindly loyal to certain personalities, and more.  Even now, I hear it being extended to favoring gun rights and putting jobs and economic growth over the very environment in which all of us as humans must live.  White men, it appears, are thought to be of one mind on all of these topics.

I grew up in a home and with a family whose members at time have wildly divergent views on a host of subjects.  We were taught, sometimes by the example of our parents or, in my case, older siblings,
that having a different opinion doesn't make  you an immutable object of scorn.  Instead, you are to be treated with respect and, the occasional effort to soften or change your position.  I won't tell you we lived up to that idea all of the time, but we learned some things by making mistakes.  We did so in the warmth and safety of a family home,  not shouting in the streets somewhere.

So, guess what?  I don't share the opinions of this newly minted political mass called "white men," and, do you know what else?  I don't vote that way.  Politicians don't win my support by calling their opponents (and others who share their opponent's views) liars.  They earn it by walking their talk much more than their ability to twist the other guy's talk.  Where I live, I am represented by people of diverging views and of differing race and national origin.  While I don't always share their opinions, I respect the fact that they do as they say they will, and are respectful of people who may disagree with them.  In the case of one of these politicians, I disagree with many of his positions, but I also notice that he is respectful of others whose actions earn his respect.  You don't earn his respect by calling him a liar, or by never compromising, but by listening and looking for common ground.

I do accept the label of conservative, though I would point out as my Congressman has, that being fiscally conservative doesn't mean conservative in all ways.  One can be fiscally conservative, yet in favor of protecting the environment.  One can also be fiscally conservative and be socially liberal, or at least moderately so.   I don't mind having to demonstrate those distinctions when I find it necessary.  I also think that people have removed the veil from that "conservative" tag often enough to avoid having it work as a label.

But please don't try out that label "white man."  What does that even mean?  I happen to favor doing something about gun violence in our society, regardless of what group or another the victim has been designated as.  I don't think that is going to fit the label "white man" for very long.  Nor will the moderate or even liberal views expressed above about the label of "conservative."

In my working career, I ran across many who would pin others with labels by race and gender, and I saw the resentment those so labeled talked about.  I thought I understood, but not as well as I do now that I'm being labelled.  

Let me put this strongly--labelling me as a "white man" is just "Baloney!" (or, perhaps some other word that starts with a "B"....)

The Next Message You See Might Just Be A Letter

Lately, I have been giving this some thought.  How long has it been since I wrote a letter?  I thought back to the last time I wrote to my Congressman.  I wrote to both Representative Jim Clyburn and Senator Lindsay Graham   But alas, I sent those via email.  I know it has been some time since either of them have written personally to a constituent.  Each time I have received a reply that starts out something like this--"Thank you for your message to (Congressman or Senator) _______We are sure you understand that he does not have the to personally respond to each and every letter he receive...."

I have decided to actually send a letter next time.  It occurs to me that it won't be as easy to send an email reply, since the person responding won't be able to simply hit the reply button and send their reply (notice I have begun to go along with the now conventional use of the plural pronoun--in this case the possessive plural-- rather than using the old "his or her" when referring to the person responding to my message so as to avoid the insult of any previous stereotypical assumption as to the gender of the person (him), or even the awkward and perhaps condescending use of "him or her."

I am hoping that the onward march of the LBGTQ movement will still allow us to use the plural instead of the singular pronoun.   Even though we know that use of the singular of the third person pronoun would be more grammatically correct, that is, unless we have begun to share responsibility for sending the automated reply between two respondents which would be inefficient to say the least.  Conveniently enough, the plural pronoun is neither gender-specific nor expressive of one's sexual preference, so it is a single "tent" under which all can stand regardless of said gender or sexual preference--as if that matters when corresponding with someone you have never met, nor one you expect to meet.  Frankly, I don't need to know the gender or sexual preference of someone I meet in person.  A simple handshake and "pleased to meet you" will do nicely.

But, returning to the subject of a personal handwritten or typed (which should be OK if your handwriting is as awful as mine has become), I think it will come as a shock to that person, unless I have to call them to obtain their physical address.  (I'm really getting the hang if this plural pronoun thing, aren't I?).  I realize now that I will have to think long and hard about choosing to whom I send the first edition of my renewed method of communication--the letter.  From where I sit at the moment, I'm pretty sure it won't be my Congressman (I meant to say Congress-person, I really did!).

Someone’s Half Full Of It

There’s always someone talking about seeing the world as a cup that is half full instead of half empty. What are they doing looking at cups anyway?  Glasses have been used to correct vision for a long, long time. That makes better sense.  I could see if it were glasses they were looking at or through, but then what’s in that glass? There are lots and lots of liquids that aren’t very transparent.  You really can’t see much at all through a glass of opaque or even translucent liquid.  

Water, you say?  Oh, but what’s so special about seeing through water?  Surely you aren’t buying the notion that all water is crystal clear.  Not everybody’s water is clear, you know.  Oh, sure, if you’re looking at your feet in the water of the Gulf of Mexico. you’ll see the bottom of the water very clearly.  But in beautiful Hilton Head, the water is murky, and that’s probably preferable there. It’s easier to enjoy swimming and you’ll forget about all those sharks swimming around with you, even in waters less than a foot deep. Our beaches on Hilton Head Island are just around the corner (literally) from the Port Royal Sound, which is reputed to be the world’s largest spawning area for sharks (wait a minute—should I say literally or littorally? —I need to look that up… Yes, I did look it up and littoral is an adjective meaning “relating to or situated on the shore of the sea or a lake.”)

Ah, but back to people seeing cups half full being more than half full of it—why does anyone need to compare anyone’s world-view to a cup or glass half full or half empty?  Isn’t there something missing here?  Shouldn’t we at least mention what the cup has in it? Why assume it’s full of something wonderful?  Couldn’t it be full of something less than desirable?  Maybe it contains some unpalatable wine.  For some wine “experts” that I know that means one that costs less than $100 a bottle.  A wine-loving person we know calls such inferior beverages “patio” wines, meaning they wouldn’t be served at one’s dinner table.  I’m happy to enjoy a glass of wine on my patio on a cool evening, and—do you know what?  A cup or glass of such a beverage usually improves my outlook.  So, it might  just be possible that one’s world view can be influenced by seeing a half full glass of the right something.  Now please don’t get me started on seeing the world through rose-colored glasses!  

The Aftermath of Hurricane Michael

As Michael approached on that early morning,

Some remained in its path despite every warning.

They’d been ordered again and again to leave,

But the grave dangers of staying they didn’t believe.

They died as their houses like trees were felled

They’d hid under roofs they thought could have held 

Against those gusting winds that came along

As accompaniment to Michael’s song.

Some just waited too long and they disappeared

when their cars or trucks rolled as we had feared

Into water far deeper or currents much stronger

And they just could not hold their breath any longer. 

Some stayed disbelieving all those warning voices

And others stayed in the belief they had no other choices. 

Many were lost as surging waters swept in

And washed them away with the beds they slept in.

Now dozens are dead

Who, having not fled,

Having just chosen to remain in their places 

Was that courage or dread that shone on their faces?

In sadness we learned of brave rescuers foiled 

When their valiant rescue attempts were spoiled,

Halted by a downed electrical line or a broken gas main                                                

Thence all efforts to reach those trapped were in vain.

From The Weather Desk (A View of Hurricane Michael FromJust Outside His Cone)

The numerous reports had grown more than grotesque

As meteorologists droned on from their desk.

There were winds that would drive the storm ahead,

With towns and roadways to be left for dead. 

The news was devoted to dire predictions

With hurricane cones and other depictions

Foretelling events and calamities

Like flooded homes and fallen trees.  

They provided portrayals of people as they fled,

Not knowing which wild disasters lay ahead. 

Storm surges, wind gusts and heavy rains, 

Loomed in the visions in their dark brains.

My sister reached out wondering whether

We’d been offered protection from all this weather

When of a tornado they issued a warning,

She was sure we’d be homeless the very next morning.

Ah, but we were granted much good fortune

Blessing and mercy were both in our portion.

The following morning brought nothing grotesque—

Just a few gusts of wind I’d call Chicago-esque.

Florence Redux

Some things don't remain the way they first appear.
Signature moves can later disappear.
So it is with Florence whose fearsome winds filled us with dread as it grew near
Today they say it's rain, and rising water, not wind that we must fear
And so it goes with Florence redux
Whose rising waters make peoples' homes more suitable for ducks.