Tantrums

6

December 18, 2022- There seems to be an increase in loud, public expressions of anger and fevered verbal attacks on people of various political and social stripes, by prominent figures who feel that their way of life is being targeted across the board. These attacks, much like the tantrums staged by toddlers who are denied a cookie before dinner or a toy during a shopping trip, do nothing to push their case forward, usually portending the opposite.

The errant plaintiff either got everything he/she demanded, as a child or was so tellingly ignored, for so long, that not getting what is expected is like a torrent of nails on a coffin. The losses will just continue piling up-even if an ever-shrinking coterie of admirers or sycophants tells the out of touch wailer that a return to power and glory is imminent.

There is, simply put, no turning back the wheel of time to a bygone era. We may find ourselves in a rut that is similar to that of the past, but it is a temporary state of affairs. The power to keep an outmoded system of power and control operating, especially one that presumes primacy of a favoured few, has been lost. All the machinations in the world will do little more than inconvenience a certain number of people, for a relatively short time.

The whole of the human race is moving forward-towards a more inclusive, equitable future. This is borne out by no less than the bizarre spectacle of an African-American, a Hispanic and an East European, who himself may well have Jewish ancestry, leading the cause of “white supremacy”. This is all the very illusion that these men’s supporters are claiming is being foisted upon an unsuspecting multitude. The perpetrators have claimed victimhood- and readily point to real and contrived slights, ,as proof, deftly distracting from what their own hands have wrought.

The time is growing short, and the hearts of the awakened (not “woke”) are no longer fooled. The strings of the puppetmasters are being snipped, one by one. Tantrums no longer discomfit the onlookers.

A Simple Message

2

March 3, 2022- The little toddler looked over at me, from her booster seat, and began to twirl her still-wrapped straw, as other family members were eating. I was waiting for my own meal to be served, so I picked up my still-wrapped straw and began to play with it, thus engaging the child for a bit. Across the room, the bartender/server was watching me, with some consternation, until her busser remarked that there was a baby involved. Thus, I avoided being carted off by the White Coat Squad.

The day had started with a check of my Saturn’s computer system, and a reset of one of the warning lights. That done, I headed to Phoenix, and commemorated Penny’s passing, which was eleven years ago, this Saturday. Flowers, prayers and reflection at the gravesite do not minimize her remaining spiritual presence, all these years later. At the end of my day in the city, an hour or so was spent with a resilient soul, who has cultivated paternal and avuncular relationships with a good many young people, the world over. I cannot hold a candle to “Uncle Lal”, in that regard.

Getting back to the initial story: I had stopped at a steak house, just southeast of Prescott Valley, which I hadn’t visited in over a year. I like taking one of the high top tables, which are just suited for either single diners or couples. Across from my table was the family of five, including the engaging little girl. In between her acceptance of bites of food offered by her mother, she would hold up two fingers and point to herself, which I took to mean that she was two. Then she would point at me, and again at herself, and hold up two fingers.

It was a simple message, recognizing that none of us are ever really alone.

Playfulness

2

September 2, 2021- The rambunctious teen ran, full tilt, into a locker. He winced, just a little, and momentarily looked puzzled: “Wow, that hurt!” My response: “Ya think?” He walked towards the classroom door, as I sized up both him and the locker for any indicators of damage. As there was none, I had him take his seat and thirty-two of us slowly, but earnestly, started class.

High School freshmen can be a lot like toddlers in pre-school, trying out several advanced roles, whilst not entirely wanting to give up their immature selves. College freshmen often mimic the same behaviours. For many, this doesn’t last very long, especially as the reality that being able to participate in sports or other interests depends on keeping grades up or that love interests may well have the expectation of a higher level of maturity.

There are always the goofs, though, and walking them through the transitional phase is often dependent on near magic. I have met some of these same types, a few years down the road. Those whose next encounter with me didn’t involve them being a corpse at a funeral, or an inmate at the State Prison, had found their footing-and even if they still had their rowdy side-jumping out of airplanes or bungee jumping, they also had a sense of responsibility.

Playfulness hasn’t entirely left me. Snarky bantering happens all the time. So does lively dancing or just being silly around younger children. Somehow, though, I don’t quite see myself testing a metal locker’s tensile strength as part of my journey of exploration.

Quotidia Beget Adventure

4

March 7, 2019, Los Angeles-

Among the phenomena which might be overlooked, when one is en route to a special destination, is the landscape below an airplane circling for a safe landing.  Such was the case this evening, as our Sky West flight from Phoenix got cleared for landing at LAX.

This was the first time in memory that I had a window seat, and thus could look at the vast expanse of  territory that is the Los Angeles Basin.  With all that has been written, bantered and felt about LA and its smog, congestion and excess, the place as a whole is a marvel, when seen from 8,000 feet-especially at night.  Some SoCal-phobes will reply that a mess can’t be a marvel, but we know better.  One does not have to approve of  what is the current situation, to be amazed at how much humanity is packed into even such a vast area.

Prior to this, I put in a full day at work and was glad to leave my charges with a sense of accomplishment, leading up to the ten-week homestretch that follows Spring Break,  The shuttle van down to Phoenix was an equally smooth and quotidian process, with us arriving at Sky Harbor with time to spare.  Barrio Avion provided tender and spicy beef for my farewell burrito.

Two three-year-old boys, meeting by chance and becoming fast friends, provided the after-dinner entertainment.  G., a new older brother, very much appreciated the presence of J., his new friend.  Watching them play with miniature cars and trucks, hide and seek and get lectured by their respective fathers, for shaking the line stantions, that are used to separate groups of boarding passengers.  There was no lack of spirit with these two.  Indeed, my first encounter with G was his running up the aisle, momentarily unbeknownst to his parents.  I kept my distance, but also kept an eye on him, in case he made it clear to the TSA  area.  Mom was on scene, 30 seconds later, and brought him safely back to the gate lobby.  Then J and father showed up and more localized activity took over.

We landed at LAX, about fifteen minutes late.  I then embarked on a 1 1/4-mile walk, from the United terminal to the Asiana booths, at Tom Bradley International (AKA Terminal B).  I am in the shape to undertake such a luggage lug, but I wonder how disabled people are accommodated, with the City of Cars expecting everyone to walk, with no electric sidewalks and only the occasional elevator, along the labyrinth.

I made it, with the loudspeaker calling my name, four times, as the Koreans wanted to verify my new passport.  I heard them and felt their pain, eventually getting to show the document to the chief of security at Asiana and receiving his swift assistance, in getting through the line, to the check-in booth and onto the shuttle bus that brought us to the plane.  It was an East Asian style shuttle, meaning that a packer was on hand, to shout at and cajole us into cramming as tightly as possible.  I actually kind of miss those days, in Seoul and Jeju, though I must say young men are less prone to grab all the seats and make women and older men stand for the ride.  That is the one thing about the old days that never failed to get me rankled, especially when Penny was pregnant with Aram.

I’m on the plane now, seated with an elegant woman from Colombia and a Korean student, on Spring Break from her school in Arizona.  It’ll be a long, and I sense, restful, journey to Seoul.