Your Dying Spouse 759 - National Brotherhood Week {Five Minute Friday}

And it goes on.

A black man dies in police custody, part of a city is looted and burned, threats on one side, hand-wringing on another, and it's enough to make you want to emigrate to Mars.

Can't we all just get along?

No, we can't. We never did, and we never will.

But it does not mean that we don't have to try, and as Christians, our mandate is very clear.

No, not to change society. You can't mandate bigotry into oblivion. Flags and slogans can't be legislated away, because they're of the psyche.

Not to make a public confession (if we're white) of 'white privilege', because it's a shibboleth...you can't know the meaning because you can't know the other side, what it feels like to be black...and no amount of reading books by black (or Asian, or Muslim, or whatever) authors can tell you.

That road just leads to the same old place...us and them. "Oh, those poor people."

We have to change our own hearts, which is a big enough job for an entire lifetime.

Quick, an experiment...how many times have you seen a photograph of someone involved in a crime, and said to yourself, "Yes, one of them. Of course."

The face is black, or it is white. The body wears a tank top or a police uniform.

But there's your reaction, and there you go.

It's like looking at a woman with lust in your heart; adultery's already happened.

And when you look with dismissal in your heart, you have murdered a soul.

We cannot presume to know

what happened on that day;

we see what the pictures show,

we hear what people say,

but you and I, we were not there,

and thus we cannnot judge,

but we cannot fail to care,

and must not begrudge

compassion for the ruined lives,

for those now bereft,

parents, children, friends, and wives,

whose joy has been eclipsed

by the darkling ignorance

of hatred, fear, and violence.

Music from Tom Lehrer, with National Brotherhood Week. The 'Sheriff Clarke' in the first stanza was Jim Clarke, sheriff of Dallas County, Alabama, in which Selma is located; Clarke gained noteriety by opposing civil rights protestors in Selma in the 1960s.

With the world having gone mad, it seems gauche to speak of my own problems, but suffice it to say that the situation has become unspeakable, with intractable pin and nausea, and vomiting and the runs to beat the band. Tumours like tennis balls in the neck and chest and abdomen, and they really do hurt. Could be worse. I could be slow, soft, and ugly.

I do try to answer each comment in a timely fashion, but with Internet providers really stretched, I have only about half of the access I once did. Please bear with me!

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Your Dying Spouse 758 - In Dreams

An interesting stage along the cancer-journey; not pleasant, but worth relating.

If you know someone who's terminal, do ask how their nights are. They may really need to talk.

I can only 'sleep' in one position, on my left side, and nights go on forever, watching a window stay dark until I can bear it no longer, when the faintest grey seeps in.

And then the dreams, which are more waking hallucinations; I'm aware of my surroundings, but am also a helpless and hapless audience to things that are sometimes rational, sometimes bizarre, and never comfortable.

I';d talk abut these to Barb, but not being able to speak makes that har. You can't sign them, and once you write them down, the immediacy is gone.

So, a sonnet, to describe the ambience as best I can.

The mad alchemist's formulary,

great Goliath's head;

now springs to life the bestiary,

a summons of the dead.

Wings of feathers and of wax,

too high to touch the sun,

notice-boards devoid of tacks,

announcements held by gum

that tell of meetings from last year

that I have somehow missed,

and there grows a mortal fear

that I cannot resist

the siren-call of fever-dream,

not even knowing what they mean.

Music, of course, from Heart, with These Dreams.

I do try to answer each comment in a timely fashion, but with Internet providers really stretched, I have only about half of the access I once did. Please bear with me!

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Your Dying Spouse 757 - Nonessential {Five Minute Friday}

As COVID-19 becomes so last week, it's times to pay tribute...

...to those who died...

...to those who lost friends and loved ones...

...and to those our local and state governments decied to destroy through dehumanization.

The nonessential.

How does it feel, to have put your heart and strength into building up a business that serves a community, employs your neighbours, brings in tax revenue for the common good, and then have it declared nonessential and summarily shut down?

The TV adverts said, with a background of soaring violins and muted brass, We're all in this together.

Not, however, if you own a hair salon. In that case, your business is not needed, and your employees can apply for government help.

But as the owner, you can't get unemployment.

Same thing for bookstore owners here in New Mexico, who weren't even allowed to offer curbside pickup.

Baby and bridal? Nope. Get married in your sweats (oh, the church is closed, sorry!), and don't you know about hand-me-downs?

You could buy sporting goods at Walmart, but have your own specialty shop? Too bad.

But...the property leasing companies are essential, so the rent's still due. So are the baseline utilities.

When this is over, we have to help...and for those brave souls who defy the prohibitions, we really have to help.

Buy your books locally, or havethem ordered by your local bookseller. Amazon won't go broke without you; Bud's Paperback Barn will.

Get your hair and nails done, and yes, guys, you can get a manicure without having your caveman card revoked. (It's a nice feeling, and you may get hooked. Seriously.)

Go to a biker bar and have an overpriced Diet Coke. Bars were hit especially hard, and bikers have kids, too.

Eat out, three meals a day (you were looking for an excuse for this!).

Go to the Muscle Mall and buy a set of weights that can gather dust in the spare bedroom. 

We are what makes community.

"You're not needed," they've been told,

"and you must just shut down.

Yes, perhaps your shop may fold,

but lose that selfish frown!

You just have to take a look

at what needs to be bought;

no one really needs a book,

but tokers need their pot.

As your leaders, duly sworn,

we had to pick and chose;

no nappies for your newborn,

but we can't disrupt the booze.

So suck it up and face the facts,

and don't forget to pay your tax."

You'll notice that I didn't mention 'nonessential' churches and gun shops (and yes, in case you haven't guessed, a Bible in one hand, a rifle in the other...). Didn't mention them because they're a weighty Constitutional issue, and another topic altogether.

Here's Phil Collins, with In The Air Tonight.

I do try to answer each comment in a timely fashion, but with Internet providers really stretched, I have only about half of the access I once did. Please bear with me!

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Your Dying Spoue 756 - The Poet

Just for fun...

I’m writin’ all this poetry,

my soul doth wax poetic,

but re-reading, seems to be

a mental diuretic.

Words rush out and find collision

at the gates of brain,

and in their mad indecision

shout to all that I’m insane.

I need them to get organsed,

rank and file, and toe the line,

and not rear back, shocked and surprised

at some rhyming Frankenstein

whose giant mudswept stomping boot

has some new message to impute.

Music from Burt Bacharach, with Something Big. Why not?

I do try to answer each comment in a timely fashion, but with Internet providers really stretched, I have only about half of the access I once did. Please bear with me!

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.

Your Dying Spouse 755 - Bad Hair Day {Five Minute Friday}

This post was to be one of many things...

...a meditation on how my condition went downhill hard, and the slide's not stopping...

...thoughts on the fact that sometimes you just wonder why you can't die, already...

...a diatribe against the use of the word nonessential, and how demeaning that can be for people caught in its cruel jaws...

...and then Barb came in out of the wind, and the subject chose itself.

There are bad hair days, and then there are...

Bad Hair Days

A photograph? Seriously? Look, I know I wrote above "...sometimes you just wonder why you can't die, already...", but I didn't mean it!

Must be something in the water,

or maybe I had too much wine,

but you look like Wolfman’s daughter…

wait, no, “Bride of Frankenstein!”

Please don’t take it as an insult,

but I really think it suits

that your style is bright result

of some monsters in cahoots

to put aside the scary mold

and make a hipster statement

that would not require cold

storage in Mad Science Basement.

Go forth, my dear, unto this day,

but make sure your lunch is dead, OK?

Music from the Groovy Ghoulies...

I do try to answer each comment in a timely fashion, but with Internet providers really stretched, I have only about half of the access I once did. Please bear with me!

Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.

Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.