Exeter Carr

6

May 22, 2018, Prescott-

No, he is not a future character

on “The Black List”.

Exeter Carr was a character

in a dream I had,

thirty-five years ago.

He was caustic,

knowledgeable,

sometimes articulate,

sometimes ridiculously

profane,

but always on point.

He took me to task,

for things I overlooked.

He resembled a young

Denzel Washington,

before the world knew

Denzel existed.

Exeter has surfaced,

in real time.

Deja vu,

with some timely messages,

albeit going by

a different name.

Welcome home,

Exeter Carr.

As Stupid Does

9

May 21, 2108, Prescott-

I woke this morning, to a message of excoriation, from someone who I deeply respect, but who can hardly be said to hold me in like regard.  It happens.

I’m no one’s slave, though I am gladly of service to many.  Don’t demand that I do your bidding or be at your beck and call.  I will serve a person’s needs because that’s what the Creator, through the Universe, has messaged me to do.

Slavery should never have happened, in the first place.  I hear, from minds more perceptive than mine, that extraterrestrials instituted the practice.  Whatever.  It should NEVER have been put into practice, period.

So now, as Dr. Joy DeGruy has so profoundly explained, in “Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome”, people of colour get to deal with the emotional and social sludge of slavery’s legacy.  People of pallour get to face up, and ‘fess up, to all that our forebears ignored and many of our contemporaries wish to sweep under the carpet or kick down the road.  Frantz Fanon and James Baldwin warned us of this, all those lovely years back, and who listened, exactly?

My angry correspondent dismissed me as just another stupid individual, not worth his time.  At least he has not banned me from reading his incisive work-so no loss on my part.  I will keep reading, and listening, and learning, because true stupidity comes from indulging in backlash, from putting up barriers, from being, “all in all……just another brick in the wall.” (Thanks, Roger Waters).

The Snapping Towel

2

May 20, 2018, Prescott-

Here is a little story that is tied to Towel Week, an Instagram series by a friend who is also here.  I can’t write very freely on IG, which is more about photos with short captions.  So:

Five boys hung out, the last day of school, and decided to make PE class REALLY count.  They soaked a towel, and ran around behind the lockers.  When Coach Willis walked in, clipboard in hand, SNAP went the towel.  Ben, who was holding the towel, ended up eating it for breakfast.

7RBj

DISCLAIMER:  This writer and Word Press stand firmly against bullying, in all its forms. No person was actually hurt, in the making of this video.

Instagram Maze

7

May 20, 2018, Prescott- 

In case anyone reads this, please give me a lesson on Instagram 101:  To wit- How can I access my phone keyboard, whilst on IG, so as to consistently write a text to go with the pictures that the site intermittently allows me to post?

Instagram is a cipher, with no clear means of explanation.

Peace, At Last?

4

May 19, 2018, Prescott- 

I reeled, a bit, at the latest slaughter on a school campus.   Truth be told, there isn’t much more room for me to be knocked over, anymore.  What the alt-right can’t refute, it denies completely. Yes, every time innocent kids are killed, my mind goes back to Sandy Hook, and the imbeciles who threatened a man who took in other people’s children and hectored the families of the slain.  I was angry enough, at that time, to go to Connecticut and dare them to continue with their outrageous attacks.  In the true sense of justice, they’d have faced charges of accessory to murder, after the fact.

I stayed put, here in Arizona, and while time has tempered my anger, it has not changed my view.  There was more than one killer, in Santa Fe, TX, yesterday.  The adults who bullied the young man who took so many lives (13, at last count) are just as guilty as he.   in addition, anyone who does him the disservice of excusing his actions, is an accessory to murder after the fact.  He gave himself up and, at least for now, is showing the courage to face justice for his deadly behaviour.

The larger question, ever since the Texas Tower slaughter of 1966, has been preventing the mentally ill from owning, or even having access to , any kind of deadly weapon, let alone a firearm.  I know there is a Federal law that allows confiscation of a weapon that has been specifically used to threaten the life of a person, because Bureau of Indian Affairs  police seized three guns from a man who had stated he would kill another man, back in 1998.  I know this, because I made the call that brought them into the matter.

I have been told, by my Congressman, that there are  a number of state and Federal laws that also regulate the possession and use of firearms by those not of age or of sound mind.  This is all well and good, but this passel of laws needs to be uniform. Otherwise, the many loopholes and jurisdictional disputes that allow illicit access to weapons- by people not affiliated with gangs or other criminal elements, but who are nonetheless a danger to self and others, will continue to find the path to mayhem all too enticing.

This leads me to mental health and bullying, which will be the next topics of discussion on this issue.

Stripping the Mindfulness Label

8

Finding Dharma

field-of-flowers.jpg

What is Mindfulness? I think the better question would be what is it NOT.

This year I have taken on the task of creating a business which offers mindfulness training and support for teachers (K-16) called Uplift Teachers. To start I completed an 8-week Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) course through the UMASS Medical School. Before doing this I was told by a mentor that I already was living mindfully but I have to admit I really wasn’t in a whole and complete way. I was doing daily gratitudes, trying to incorporate meditation into my daily life. I was definitely moving away from unrealistic expectations of perfection and the drive to push myself beyond my limits on a daily basis. This was all good and a definite beginning to living mindfully. But doing this course opened my eyes and showed me exactly how I was still caught up in the run…

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Putting My Foot Down

9

May 16, 2018, Prescott-

You say the only reason I am

involved with things

that don’t involve you,

is because I want to hide

from you.

You say the fact that

I do things that

are not directly

involved with matters

of faith

is because faith

is not my priority.

You say these things

and you are

just

plain

wrong.

Faith is my life.

You are not my overseer.

Faith is my life,

and I will work,

volunteer,

engage with community,

commune with nature,

travel the roads I choose,

with faith in my heart.

That heart soars, and

my feet are firmly on the ground.

Saving Bees

3

Reblogged from Soul Gifts.

 

soulgifts - Telling Tales

What’s all the buzz about bees?

Bottom line is we need them.  When I did a google search for ‘save the bees’ I got 2,950,000 results in 0.65 seconds.  There is a lot of initiatives out there about what is happening world-wide to help savethem. You can go big – or you can local in your own yard.  Here’s just a few tips on what you can do –

plant  pollen and nectar producing trees, shrubs and flowers that are local and native to your area

be mindful not to use pest control sprays etc that are harmful to bees

buy locally produced honey to support a healthy bee population and ensure you get good, quality honey

buy other bee products

if you spot a bee swarm, do not panic – instead,  call a beekeeper to come and safely remove them and add them to their apiary.  While these swarms…

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No Habitant, He

8

May 14, 2018, Prescott-

(This is Segment 4 of the Antonio Ribeiro saga.)

Antonio found his way to one of the few remaining public phones in Valleyfield.  He had made it away from the Palmieris. for the time being, by jumping on the back of a flatbed truck and staying prone, so quiet that the distracted operator of the vehicle didn’t know of his extra passenger until he drove into the small city, south of Montreal.

“Sacre Bleu!”, the discomfited truck farmer sputtered, once he did find a wayward Acoreno on his premises.  “Voulez-vous un grand battement, EH?”  Tony kind of, sort of, put the message together in his head and bolted down the street-not looking back at the still raging driver, who was now on the phone to the Provincial Police.  It took a good ten minutes of bobbing and weaving around the alleys, before he figured he had a shot at getting to Montreal.

So he rested in the shadows of a dumpster, before noticing about three Canadian dollars worth of coins, lying near a phone booth.  “God rules all!”, the former florist told himself, deciding to call the number that his late cousin had given him.

“Allo?”, Astrid Conejos answered, whilst lounging outside on her patio.

“Hey, my name is Tony R., from Massachusetts. I need to speak with Toro.”

“Voulez parler avec Arturo?”

“Yeah, ……I mean oui”, Tony said, using one of the five French words he actually retained from his high school class.

“Un moment”, the teenager sniffed, before bounding up to find her brother.

Arturo Conejos had come to New Bedford from Vigo, a Spanish city with a fair amount of traffic with Portugal.  He therefore fit in with the Azoreans, quite nicely.  The family moved to Montreal, after Toro had been arrested for drug trafficking, a few too many times.  They had kept a low profile, until Arturo came of age.  His sister had been born two years after the move, and mainly spoke French.

Arturo was a baggage handler, at Pierre Trudeau International Airport.  He would be an integral part of Antonio Ribeiro’s next move.  Toro was, at the moment, a bit tired. He was awake enough, though, to switch to the King’s English, once he got on the phone.

“Ya sumbitch, why call me here?  You come alla da way to Montreal, for what, exactly?”

Tony was flustered, but held his composure.  “Listen, Toro, there was a shootout, near the border.  My cousin, you remember him-the blond, blue-eyed Guanche?  He got blown away.  The border patrol nailed the Palmieri goons, but I took off.  The Italians, they don’t know where I am.”

“So, this involves me, how, exactly?”, the still-irritated Galician snapped.

“I got a card, a Visa, from my uncle.  Cuz gave it to me.  I need to get a flight out.  Please just get me to the airport.”

“A shootout, chaos, and you still have a Visa card?  Whattabout da passport?”

“I have that, too.  I just don’t have much cash, maybe two bucks, American though.”

“I didn’t think you were carrying Cuban pesos, El Tonto!”

“So, can you do this?”

“Yeah, and you get to experience life in a duffel bag, for the next seven hours.  Don’t worry, it’s cotton, it breeeeathes!”

“Hey, you mean I’m gonna be luggage?  I told you I have a Visa card.”

“That’s right, and you pay ME, instead of the airline.  C$ 300.00, all the way to Barcelona.”

“Aaaargh!”

“Antonio, take it or leave it.”

” Okay, I’ll do it.  But if the Catalunes flush a stiff from underneath the plane, guess who gets a visit from New Bedford.”

“No worries, I got this worked out.  Here’s my address.  I’m calling you a cab, right now.”

Two hours later, Arturo Conejos was putting a heavy duffel bag on an Iberian Airlines flight to Barcelona.

Trouble Truths

10

May 13, 2018, Prescott-

Yesterday morning, whilst I was at the Farmer’s Market, some people were playing “Two Truths and A Lie”.  A little boy interjected, that he had a “trouble truth” to share.  When asked what he meant by that, he said “It’s when I tell the truth, and it gets me in trouble”. His mother promised an amnesty, so he shared what he had broken at home, that morning.

Being mildly autistic, I’ve said my share of trouble truths, both as a child and adult.  They have brought me my share of trouble- everything from admitting that I was rough with my little brother, when I was ten, to saying, when I was in my forties, that I was not physically attracted to women of size.  That last rankled some people, but Penny was dedicated to keeping herself fit and was glad I wasn’t drawn to anyone but her.  (Of course, when she was paraplegic and her condition changed, I remained steadfast and faithful.)

I am a bit more circumspect, in late middle age, and while I’ve noticed that many senior citizens are more outspoken than they were in their younger days, I am moving in the opposite direction.  Unless I sense that a person would benefit from hearing something that might be hard to take, I am not as likely to just blurt it out.

Sometimes, age brings wisdom.  Other times, I just pick up on subtle hints.   To all mothers, I wish you a joyful and safe day.  To all my Word Press family, I wish you a fruitful and productive middle of May.