Category Archives: Inner Struggles

Mirror Images

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

March 31, 2022, Americus, GA- The young server’s energy seemed to fill the room, as she took my order one minute, helped her boss set up for a birthday group the next and returned with my drink and two sets of checks for departing patrons, three minutes later. It was clear from her focus and poise that P enjoys her job, and equally clear that she is destined for higher ground. For now, she is everywhere at once, in Cowboys Firepit Grill.

Earlier in the day, I had a couple of lengthy conversations with T, who seemed to be almost a permanent desk clerk at the motel where I stayed, in Weeki Wachee, Florida-more a sign of the times, than an overwhelming desire on her part to hang out at her workplace. Shining through our talks were her love for, and worry over, her daughter (what single parent doesn’t wish for more time with their child?), and her focus on the quality of service provided by the motel.

When I went to a branch of my bank, in Lutz-about forty minutes southeast of Weeki Wachee, in order to take care of my April apartment rent, long distance, D, the teller, took the time to walk me through navigation of the bank’s application on my phone, and processed the transaction as quickly as my account’s minders back in Arizona would allow-which was ten minutes. During this time, D also helped three other customers get either started or finished with their transactions. He also showed me that the bank has an electronic money transfer system that is shared by my landlord’s bank-for future reference. This will certainly make things easier, the next time I’m on the road at the end of a month.

There have been several slackers I’ve encountered on this observational journey, but the three people I mention above, a teenaged woman, a thirty-something single mother and a man in his mid-twenties, embody the kind of work ethic that so many people my age see as having gone by the wayside. Diligence and pride in work are far from dead. None of these people gave an inch in their attention to detail or maintenance of professional standards. Thus did they also mirror my younger sister-in-law, who works two jobs, and with whom I had dinner on Wednesday evening. They mirror my middle brother, who worked diligently in the management of four companies, over a forty-year period, and who hosted me at his home, at the beginning of this trip. I see some of myself in each of the three, though I wish I’d had their focus, at a comparable stage in my own working life.

In short, pride in work is far from passe’. P told me to be sure to stop by again, if I am in the area. I’ll do her one better and pass the word on Cowboys Firepit Grill and Bar, Lake Park, GA, to my brother and his crew back in Atlanta. It’s worth the time, especially as he likes exploring small towns around Georgia.

Red Sky at Morning…..

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Posted by on in Community, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Striving, Travel

March 18, 2022, Newnan, GA- The scene this morning, over Lake Redwine was beautiful, if a bit ominous.

Sunrise at Lake Redwine, Newnan, GA

My brother, Dave, and I headed out early towards Andersonville, the site of the largest Confederate prisoner-of-war camp (1864-65) and of the modern National Prisoner-of-War Museum. We drove down, past the central Georgia cities of Columbus and Macon, through the smaller communities of Buena Vista and Ellaville, getting gas at the former. Once we got to the village of Andersonville, a kind lady gave us directions to the park itself.

We found ourselves blessed with cloudy, but not rainy, skies for most of the time we were in the outdoor Prison Site. Andersonville was established when smaller prisoner-of-war camps in Virginia and Alabama became overcrowded. Union soldiers, suspected spies and captured free Blacks were housed here, under increasingly fraught conditions. The facility was originally intended to house a maximum of 10,000 prisoners; at war’s end, 32,000 were incarcerated there. It was minimally-funded, and at various times during the Civil War’s late phase, prisoners were either housed in tents or were told to fashion their own accommodations, from whatever materials they could find.

Prisoners’ tents, Andersonville Prison for Captured Union soldiers

Monuments exist, in honour of captured soldiers from several states. Here is the memorial to Wisconsin’s captives.

Monument to Wisconsin soldiers, who were incarcerated at Andersonville.

The North Gate of the tightly-built stockade, in which newly-arrived prisoners were oriented to the prison camp, has been restored.

Entrance to North Gate of Stockade, Andersonville POW Camp
View of North Gate of stockade, Andersonville POW Camp

The facility’s main water source was Stockade Branch, a low-flowing, fetid creek. Dysentery and vermin were rife, and 13,000 people died at the camp, in only 14 months. Food supplies were meager. One miraculous event relieved the misery, somewhat. In August, 1864, a sudden downpour, accompanied by a lightning strike, resulted in a spring being opened. Grateful prisoners dubbed this water source Providence Spring.

Spring House at Providence Spring, Andersonville POW Camp

The camp’s commandant, Captain Henry Wirz, was a Swiss immigrant who had settled in Virginia and was sympathetic to the Confederate cause. He was alternately regarded as a fair-minded man, in over his head and an uncompromising brute. Wirz was singled out, after the war, tried for war crimes and executed by a tribunal.

Andersonville has a sizable National Military Cemetery, still in use for contemporary veterans’ burials. A freed prisoner, Dorence Atwater, worked with Clara Barton after the war, to identify those buried at the cemetery, from prison records, which Atwater himself copied and smuggled out of the facility, upon his release at war’s end.

Andersonville National Cemetery

The Prisoner-of-War Museum honours all American Prisoners-of-War, from the Revoutionary War through the Afghanistan Conflict. Exhibitions also contain information about Confederate soldiers held at Elmira, New York-a facility which was no better than Andersonville; Axis soldiers held at camps in the United States, during World War II and British prisoners of war held both during the War for Independence and the War of 1812. A display on Native Americans from the various “Indian Wars”, is included in the museum, as well.

There are spoken presentations by the late John McCain and Admiral James Stockdale, mirroring the overall message: “War is hell!”.

May the departed prisoners rest in peace, and may we soon learn the meaning of universal brotherhood.

Entrance to National Prisoners-of-War Museum and Visitors’ Center, Andersonville, GA

A Picasso Immersion

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Posted by on in children, Entertainment, Family, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 17, 2022, Newnan, GA- The conflict in Ukraine brings up images of Pablo Picasso’s Guernica, at least for me. Thus today’s visit to the Picasso Immersion, at the Pullman Warehouse Exhibition Hall, in Atlanta’s Five Points area, was particularly poignant. Guernica, for the unitiated, is the large painting in the center of this montage of Picasso’s cubist works.

Picasso’s works, from 1890-1960,were largely his reaction to the horrific World Wars, Spanish Civil War and what he saw as the rise of materialism. Pablo Picasso had his own mind about the political reality of the day and would depict those he regarded as corrupt and decadent, in a monstrous manner-representing Francisco Franco, for example, as a pile of inedible food, in Guernica, itself named for a village in northern Spain that had been bombed by Franco’s forces during the Spanish Civil War.

Picasso was a varied artist, though, and was able to represent people beloved to him, in a more conventional manner. He wrote poetry as well, such as the autobiographical “A Lonely Road Is That I Walked”:

“I walk a lonely road, the one and only one I’ve ever known.
I don’t know where it goes, but I keep walking on and on.
I walked the lonely and un trodden road for I was walking on the bridge
of the broken dreams.
I don’t know what the world is fighting for or why I am being instigated.
It’s for this that I walk this lonely road for I wish to be
ALONE!
So I am breaking up, breaking up.
It is the lack of self control that I feared as there is something
Inside me that pulls the need to surface, consuming, confusing.
Being called Weird, I walk this lonely road for on the verge of broken dreams.
And so I walk this lonely road and so just keep walking still” – pablo picasso

Like e.e. cummings after him, Picasso created in a self-deprecating fashion. He was somewhat devoted to his children, who were the only people allowed in his studio, while he worked. From the 1920s until the end of World War II, he hobnobbed with the avant-garde, in the south of France, only occasionally returning to Spain, for short periods of time. He reacted to what he saw as crass materialism, by becoming a Communist after World War II and continuing to depict members of the economic and social elite, in unflattering ways.

Picasso has always been a source of fascination to me, although admittedly an acquired taste, and requiring of considerable pondering and rumination, as to the meaning of his surrealist work. This immersion event has whetted my appetite for exploration of other great artists of our time and of earlier eras.

There was no corned beef and cabbage for us, today. The crew gathered for St. Patrick’s Day dinner, at a Taco Max in Dunwoody, north of Atlanta, and enjoyed fairly copious amounts of guacamole-along with rather good Mexican dishes. The children have their own take on everything, much like Senor Picasso. I hope to see them reach for the stars and not suffer undue hardship. It was a rare, but most enjoyable visit with our Dunwoody family.

May art, and creativity, ever be honoured and encouraged.

The Trumpeters

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, Hiking and Nature, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 16, 2022, Newnan, GA- Three trumpeter swans, mother, father and son, make the rounds of Lake Redwine, an artificial lake around which many new homes on the west side of this relatively serene town in west Georgia have sprung up in recent years. I am here, for three days, visiting my middle brother and his wife.

The swans, for years, kept other water fowl, particularly ducks, from settling in around the lake. An attack on the mother swan, by a snapping turtle, three years ago, resulted in her losing her lower beak. This seems to have mellowed out the trio. They have turned inward, reverting to the cygnine behaviour of parents bullying their cygnet into leaving the nest, once it comes of age. So far, it has not worked. Dutiful son still looks after his mother, even if it seems she may want him to move on.

How close to human are these opposing behaviours? The difference is that the birds are acting on instinct. Humans, with the powers of reason and utterance, still manage to hold grudges and thrive on half-truths. I will not give any specific examples, out of respect to those involved, but I keep learning of families in which parents and children push each other away, and not always out of a desire to see the other become self-sufficient.

With the swans, there are winners: The offspring get to start their own family and the parents can hatch a new set of cygnets. With humans, the hits often just keep on coming.

Humility and forgiveness-are these so impossible?

No Stigma

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Posted by on in Education, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 13, 2022-

The workers in a Russian restaurant, in a large American city, found their place vandalized. There should be no stigma attached to their ethnicity or culture.

A Sikh family still mourns the slaying of their father and brother, twenty-one years after he was “mistaken for an Arab”. There should have been no stigma, even if he were an Arab, or just Muslim.

A well-groomed, well-mannered man, sporting a cowboy hat, enters a funky restaurant-bar, in a trendy West Coast town. The minute he speaks, “open-minded” people at a nearby table begin to snicker and offer ridicule. There should be no stigma, for a person’s life path and the persona that results from where one grows up.

Acceptance of others is a mirror of how each of us views self. Stigma is a mind trap.

Contaminated Minds

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 9, 2022-

Bombing hospitals intimidates no one. It only confirms the notion that the bombers are of a toxic mentality.

Firing at children, who are running to safety, only endears the killer to those already contaminated in their minds.

Censoring information that is deemed contrary to one’s own preconceived notions fools no one-not those supporters who also believe in fairness, and certainly not those who are already opposed to the official narrative. It only shows that there is toxicity, even when the censor presents self to the people, as righteous.

The proof of contaminated minds consists of the lies, the duplicity and the corruption that permeates so much of what we see in many of the halls of power.

Are you not better off, cleansing yourselves?

Restitutions and Return Visits

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 6, 2022- I was quite gratified this morning, to be given a complementary breakfast, in view of the two such meals which I had to speak out in order to receive, after paying in advance. Good will means a lot at the Legion, so when the servers mess up, the host steps up. After I was finished eating, one of our regular table mates who usually helps serve the other diners had just been given his own breakfast. So, I took a turn at service for a bit-and saw where some of the confusion may have arisen over the past few weeks. There is a tendency to write first names and family initials. There are four “Garys”, myself included and two of us have the last initial “B”. There are six “Steves”, five “Bobs” and three “Terris”. I called out the people’s names and got it done. The problem, thus, seems to be shy servers.

After my weekly Zoom devotional, the day looked open-ended, and the Agua Fria River was calling, so I made a return hike along the Badger Springs Trail, this time focusing on the section that passes by two frames of petroglyphs. The glyphs are visible to the naked eye, but don’t photograph well in a casual manner. Could it be that the spirits are protecting them from casual photographers? We’ll have to see, on future visits.

The river itself is not so coy. It does seem to be down a bit, but since it is largely dependent on snow melt, the level may yet rise, over the next month or so.

Agua Fria River, at Badger Springs
Agua Fria River, at Badger Springs

Return visits to local natural scenes are increasingly important, if for no other reason than rootedness. They also figure in acts of completion. A few days ago, I finished hiking the Lime Kiln Trail, which runs between Cottonwood and Sedona. The final segment is but 1 1/2 miles, from one segment of the Red Rock State Park access road, over Scheuerman (SHOY-er man) Mountain Ridge, across a forested valley and on to the entrance to the state park. It was a fitting end to a segmented hike that had been in abeyance for over a year.

Beginning of Scheuerman Ridge segment, Lime Kiln Trail
Junction with Scheuerman Mountain Trail
View towards Cathedral Rock, from Scheuerman Ridge

So the cementing of returns dovetails with the strengthening that comes from new discoveries.

Finally, because we need it in the face of both real and imagined tyranny: A return to the most stirring song from Les Miserables (2012). Let us neither be deluded or complacent, in the weeks, months and possibly years ahead. Every nation, every people, deserve to be free of rule from without.

Angels and Extraterrestrials

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 4, 2022- A review of my Birth Chart, this afternoon, showed what I have long suspected: I am a mess of contradictions, with the stabilizing aspects of my personality holding forth. Those who have stayed with me, these past eleven years of Word Press and at Xanga, beforehand, know it has not been easy. It has gotten easier, since mid-2015, largely because I owned all the stuff and nonsense that went down in the 2000s and in the months and years immediately after Penny’s passing, and learned valuable lessons from a lot of it.

There has been a lot of influence, and what I’d call support, from unseen forces. A small amount of dark energy, both visible and invisible, has made itself known as well. People of faith know these forces as angels (light) and demons (dark), and we can debate those concepts all day long. Suffice it to say, I have felt the protection and assistance of light energy. I have also met beings who seemed to appear out of nowhere and who have disappeared in the blink of an eye. These have been helpful beings in all but one instance. Who knows whether they are angels or are extraterrestrials? In any case, my life goes on and I feel safeguarded, even in situations that could have been far more precarious.

This is about the time when I look at Spring, Summer and Fall. Part of my Birth Chart review looked at transitions that will affect my life. Of course, there is also the 1-ton pachyderm of eastern Europe that affects everyone’s life. I am squarely on the side of what elevates human dignity and the well-being of citizens. My original plan for this year was for extensive travel. Thus far, the early Spring visits with family and friends in the Southeast U.S. are on track. June-July, in the Northwest U.S., Canada and back through the Northeast and Midwest, may be altered a bit by some Faith-based gatherings here, but is generally on track. It is October, involving Europe, that may end up Putinized and pulverized into either being severely altered to an Iceland and British Isles itinerary, or canceled altogether. No matter, the plans pale in comparison to the horrors now going on across the Atlantic and elsewhere. Each of us must do what is right, by the suffering.

My angels are ever-present, and respond best when I exercise common sense. We’ll see how the rest of the year goes, both at Home Base and on the road. Pray-and work- for peace, in any case, just because the poor souls in Ukraine, Yemen, Myanmar, DR Congo and in every drug-lord ruled community on the planet, deserve it.










Sweet

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 2, 2022- A state legislator, censured for advocating executions of her political opponents, on a public gallows, fired back at those who voted for censure-saying they were picking on a “sweet grandma”.

To be sure, the First Amendment to the United States Constitution guarantees freedom of speech, even for those who say people of different ethnicities have horns and a tail, or words to that effect. Yet, there are laws that forbid making specific threats against the safety and well-being of other human beings-or hurting most animals, for that matter.

I am sure the legislator is sweet to her grandchildren, if not her children. Loving people who are one’s bloodline is well nigh universal, save for those who are deranged. That tells me the woman has some semblance of heart. Her comments, at a recent gathering of white supremacists, tell me that she has spent precious little time listening to those who offer views different from her own. They also give readers and listeners who disagree with those comments a sense that she herself may be a bit unhinged.

We have had a long, hard road together, vis-à-vis race relations, especially between Blacks and Whites, but also between Whites and First Nations people as well as between First Nations people and Blacks. Much of the discord involves failure to listen, to observe, to accept others for who they are. It’s true that there are people in each group who have taken advantage of their own, and who have ingratiated themselves with the dominant group. It is also true that there are people within the dominant group who have suffered at the hands of “their own kind”. This, however, does not take away from the aggregate of the dominant group, in a good many countries, having the responsibility for erecting a system that perpetuates their dominance, at the expense of those outside their circle.

Real sweetness does not hate.

What She Knew

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Posted by on in collaborating, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

February 26, 2022- The forthright man told of his reaction when one of his children broke the news of gender reassignment. He also had the courage to walk alongside that child and grew in his understanding of what was behind the process. When that child’s life ended, father and child parted as friends. Most importantly, the adult child was friend to self.

When I was a child, I was far from athletic and presented a gentle disposition. That didn’t set all that well with some of the other boys in the neighbourhood, or with those in my paternal grandmother’s neighbourhood, when we visited over there, every other Sunday. In retrospect, the bullying wasn’t all that bad and I was rarely attacked physically. One thing I always knew, though, was that I was solely interested in girls, and never felt the secret urge to BE one.

Not everyone is clear, as to their gender, as their childhood and adolescence progress. The reasons for this range widely-possibly the effects of additives in foods, possibly chemical imbalances, possibly lack of either same sex or opposite sex role model. The causes are all speculative, but the result, for those who choose gender reassignment, is a physically and emotionally excruciating process-lasting several years and possibly the rest of the person’s life.

I have friends who are transgender. It is because of them that I have made my own transition, from glib detractor of those who chose gender reassignment to one who sees the background of the process more clearly. The person who makes such an irreversible choice does not lose humanity nor becomes less worthy of the love of friends and family. The person grows in need to be enveloped in love, much as does a woman who undergoes an abortion or someone who is suffering an addiction. No one has the right to discount another person’s pain.

The young adult mentioned above died while asleep, and was thankfully in a supportive living space. Suffering appeared to have come to an end. What she knew about herself was confirmed-and accepted by those around her, at long last.

I will forever be glad to be male and cisgender; (he/him). I extend the peace of identity to everyone.