Uvalde's Mirror

And so the finger-pointing goes on.

Too many guns!

Not enough armed teachers!

Red flags ignored!

Slow response!

I won't debate any of the above, here, rhetorically, or in comments.

First, I'm not qualified, and second, like Melville's Bartleby, I would prefer not to.

I will say this, that no-one is talking about the root cause of the problem... alienation, and a carefully nurtured cult of individualism, and non-belonging, watered with angst and fertilized with anger.

Was it Benjamin Franklin who said that we've got to hang together, or we'll surely hang separately?

I think he would have found wry irony in our fashioning our own noose.

For further reading, I'd like to suggest Robert Putnam's Bowling Alone , which looks at the deterioration of the American social fabric through the lens of decreasing participation in bowling leagues. First published in book form in 2000, before the almost complete fracturing of community by the Internet, it's all the more relevant today.

Barb added her thoughts, that there is really very little disciplining of children in these years; a spanking is considered by the government to be tantamount to child abuse, and I have heard tell of kids going unpunished after physically assaulting teachers.

We've got troubles; it's up to us, and not our elected officials, to solve them.

Oh, right. The sonnet.

Our nation's fabric has been rent

way past social distance,

for we've gone where we always went,

the path of least resistance.

Once we had bowling and bridge,

a BBQ for all the block,

but now it's Netflix and the fridge;

front door's got a double lock.

We might wave to our neighbours,

but have we heard their heart's?

We claim to have a Saviour,

but still we keep apart

from His edict; we resist,

"Two or more, I'm in your midst."

The only music I can think of for this is Ed Ames' Who Will Answer?

Please give it a listen. It's really a song for our time, and he's got a lovely voice.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is HEAL.

You can't heal by making rules,

you can't heal in public speeches.

Better to be rum-soaked fools

lolling on Caribbean beaches.

You can't heal by written word,

or by heartfelt YouTube talk.

You can't heal with sharpened sword,

but only if you walk the walk

and use your life as an instruction

of danger we won't face, but see

of convenience as destruction

of what should be community,

so put aside the screen and start

a healing with in-person heart.

Sylvia approves this, and...she sez: "Be doggy, be part of a pack, but I'm NOT sharing my ice cream!"

 

Lord Of The Dance

Chose dancing clothes and party hat

with care, and wear them well,

for this might be the outfit that

you soiree in, in hell.

It's no sin to hold dismay

at this state of affairs,

but better far to be quite gay,

not putting on false airs,

but meeting monsters with a smile

and wave and friendly "Hi!",

while you're knowing all the while

that you will never die,

but rise from this, the worst of graves,

dancing with the One who saves.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is KNOW. Yeah.

This week has SUCKED. So please forgive the attitude, but I will go down fighting, red in teeth and claw.

Know this clearly, all who hear,

know this, and avert your eyes,

know that there's a time for fear,

and know ye that somebody dies.

Know that there is nothing gentle,

know that there are guns and knives,

know this is the fundamental

way we're fighting for our lives.

Know there will be no surrender,

know so long as I have breath

that I shall be pleased to render

hate unto a cancer'd death,

and when on Heaven's streets I tread,

even God will bow His head.

And here are The Dubliners, with Lord Of The Dance.

Can you dance while eating ice cream?

 

Los Conquistadors

 You don't separate brothers.

Cocoa and Latte wound up at Animal Humane when their owner had to go to a care facility. They knew, I think, that they might be parted, or worse.

And then Barb showed up. "Two Chihuahuas? Sure, no problem!"

They enjoy their life, and so do we.

This is Cocoa. He likes to walk upright (remember, he's nine years old). Please pardon the background... we're cleaning!

Chihuahuas running to and fro,

Chihuahuas dancing hither, yon,

Chihuahuas always on the go,

Chihuahuas rise before the dawn

sounding like a car alarm,

"Let us out, we mean RIGHT NOW,

or we'll do your ears more harm,

leaving you to ask just how

two tiny dogs could come so fast

to rule what had been ordered place,

to upend first unto the last

and ensure you call it grace,

and thus by now it should be clear,

it's our world, you just live here."

When you look at the south end of a northbound Chihuahua, you'll see the Chihuahua Bounce, an insouciant hip-swingy prance.

It's catching. Daughtrie, our somewhat ancient Blue Heeler, now walks like that.

So does Barb.

With Chihuahuas, it's always Manic Monday.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is VISION. Easy.

The vision of Chihuahuas

is quite easy to see,

just give them enchiladas

and then please let them be,

for they have not been bred to share

their food, or of blessings bestowed,

and they truly do not care

what other canines think are owed.

Belle the Wolf has now been tamed,

The Killers are embarrassment,

for the Dogs Who Won't Be Named

are not in the least content

until they rewrite God's own laws

and the world is subject to their paws.

Three minutes, ChiChi supervision.

The Killers are twin sisters, Ridgeback-Pit mixes. They were the first to surrender to Cocoa and Latte, crawling, humiliatingly, on their bellies.

Sylvia's ice cream, though, won't be rushed.

Unless the Chichi's will have it.

 

Your Dying Spouse : The Loneliness

For a while, I called this blog Your Dying Spouse, with subtitles. But dying can take awhile, and I got bored.

Still, you may have a spouse or a mate or a neighbour who's for the high jump.

That individual is lonely beyond your wildest nightmares. (Now, this isn't my situation; I'm truly blessed, but I can see over the wall.)

It's loneliness born of a forced withdrawal from life. The river flows and you're on the beach with a plastic pail and shovel...and, yes, the childish image is intended, because well-meaning folk can confuse compassion and condescension, and make the experience infantilising. ("How are we doing today?"...ugh!)

DVDs and books can help, but they always seem to have a point, a lesson, and a satisfying ending.

As Gilda Radner put it..."Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end."

When life is like that, a person needs more... someone else nearby, who can share the reality, and help validate the rest of Ms. Radner's comment...

"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.”

This can't be done alone. The perspective is too narrow, too personal.

If you want to help, what can you do?

You can do wonders by just showing interest, by being there, treating that person like a full adult.

Don't know what to say? You don't have to say much, beyond a sincere Howzit Going?, and What Have You Been Up To?

My God. Just to be asked by someone willing to listen, and care!

Maybe life has tightened to simple necessities and a bit of make-work...as mine has... but even those have to be somehow imbued with meaning, with value. If making one's own dinner comes at a cost, it's nice if someone recognizes it.

And stay awhile. Put in a couple of hours to watch Lord of the Rings, and turn a focused message into something that satisfies Delicious Ambiguity. Maybe more than a couple of hours, but escaping with a friend from The Sentence, even for a short time, is a pearl beyond price.

Maybe you will want to justify it by What Goes Around Comes Around. Fair enough.

But know this, that the good that goes around is appreciated far more than you'll ever realize.

Please ask me how it's going,

please ask, "What have you there?",

'cause when you do you're showing

that you really care.

Come by and watch a movie;

it won't take long to do,

and it would sure be groovy,

spending time with you,

for although I'm dying,

I still have much to give,

and I'm really, really trying,

dear God, I am, to live,

so please, dear heart, pick up the phone,

because I can't do this alone.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is BOTH.

It takes two to fix-trot

(or did you expect 'tango'),

which I would have said were it not

that its only rhyme is mango,

which is a taste that I enjoy

as additive or by itself,

and I'm glad Coke did employ

to place it on the groc'ry shelf,

or was it Pepsi? Could've been,

they sort of seem the same to me,

and I am not really keen

on studying to Nth degree

which is now ahead in stores

in the eternal cola wars.

Ok, five minutes. And yes, one of the cola giants does have mango flavouring. It's pretty good.

Music from the Foo Fighters, with Walk, from the movie Thor.

I'm never gonna die. Strong words, and untrue in the temporal, but my heart will go on, and that's a song for another time.

Sylvia's always up for LOTR, but she prefers Adam Sandler.