I'm Still Thinking

In my last post I wrote that I was deep into though about a subject that I would be writing about soon. The truth is that I've been thinking about this subject for months and months, trying to get to the point where I could put my thoughts into words. I've struggled and don't think that it is going to get any easier, so here it goes. I want to talk about the political polarizing of our country.

I don't like what is happening to us and I've decided there is no simple answer for the causes. But I think a main contributor is fear and the individuals and organizations that take that fear, magnify and exploit it. Political bickering and opposition is part of the fabric of our nation. We hear historians, under the heading of "You Think It's Bad Today," tell us stories of brutal in-fighting in our past. Yes, I agree, it has always been bad. But what we have today that they didn't have even fifty years ago is the host of 24 hour "news" pundits pounding us from every corner. These stations have given a platform to entertainers who say whatever it takes to have high ratings, sell copies of books and keep the sensation-hungry American public tuning-in. And I say, "Shame on us," for letting it happen.

We fall prey to these manipulators, these experts at identifying our fears and anxieties, and believe what they have to say. Not because we know they are right, but because we believe they are right. What they have to say seems like it should be true because it agrees with our gut feelings. Well, unless you really work at it, your gut is ignorant, uninformed and falls right into their hands. Maybe I should say falls right into their wallets, because, as always, that's the bottom line. It is up to us to educate ourselves to be able to recognize when we're being manipulated.

I know our country is in a time of change and uncertainty. We are seeing the results of cultural, demographic, global and economic upheavals. Change creates anxiety and fear, the feelings that we are floundering and headed for doom. Some of these fears are real, but many are artificially exaggerated. Let me say here that, if you are one of the unemployed in our country who have struggled to find and keep a steady job, I completely understand your fears. Those fears are real. How you are going to keep your life and family going without income is in your face, every day. You cannot escape. But there are plenty of other people, the majority in fact, who are not in that boat. We are the ones I'm writing about. If we are honest with ourselves, we know that our lives have not significantly changed over the past decade, but we are afraid of the changes that may come. This is the fear that is exploited.

So how do we know the difference between real fears and irrational ones? Educate yourself. Easily said, I know. But since I've been thinking about this problem for months, I have also worked on my personal solution and want to share a few recommendations with you.

Read news from more than one source. I try to read the Associated Press and Reuters news files every day. These are sources most newspapers and networks use. More than any other, they will tell you the who, what, where and when of a news story. You can find them both on the internet and also listed as tabs on Yahoo! News main newsfeed. Free, no charge.

Know the difference between news and opinion, even when you are reading news. Look at the source of the story and be aware that it may be someone's personal viewpoint or opinion. This is particularly true on sites that compile news, like Yahoo! News. Unless it is under the AP or Reuters tabs, it may be more entertainment than news.

Don't rely on television for your only news source. They might be acceptable for local news, but the major networks have gotten really bad about fighting for ratings and have sacrificed integrity of content for entertainment value. I still watch the national network news (ABC, CBS, NBC), but I've tried to read what's going on before I hear what they have to say.
 
All "News Networks" are focused on entertaining you rather than informing you. That goes for CNN, FoxNews, MSNBC, CNBC and any other. A recent Pew Media Study found that more than half of all news network content is opinion or entertainment based and not news. If you watch a show that flies under the banner of someone's name, i.e. Bill O'Reilly, Rachel Maddow, Rush Limbaugh, etc., be aware that they are there to entertain you and keep you coming back every day. You may like what they have to say, in fact, you are supposed to like what they have to say. Just be aware that it may not all be true. Their "news" is politically slanted and will always be. It's up to you to be able to recognize that slant.
 
Read The Constitution of the United States. Go ahead. I dare you. All of us need a refresher course on all ten of the Bill of Rights, not just number two. We need to know which duties belong to Congress and which to the President so that when each blames the other, we know who's lying.
 
Take a deep breath and calm down. When you hear something outrageous ask yourself, "Who benefits if I believe this?" If the answer is some politician, network news ratings, online subscription rates, product sponsor or TV preacher who will ask you to send in a donation, a light should go off in your head. Maybe you are being manipulated.

I could go on and on about this but I think you have the general idea. You can't complain about the "Stupid American Public" unless you are willing to make sure you are not one of them. I know that is harsh, but I agree with the "Be the change you want to see" group. It's up to you.

Above all, let's be kinder to one another. Show some compassion and empathy and resist the urge to judge others. Put yourself in their shoes. Understand your fears and where they come from; it will go a long way toward helping you calm them and keep them from ruling your mind. And just know that, in the long run, everything will be OK. If you are a Christian, you are supposed to believe that everything is in God's hands and all that happens is in His plan. So act that way. Oh, and quit posting political items on your Facebook page unless you have personally checked out whether or not it is true.

Thanks for stopping by today. I hope you'll be back.

I've Been Thinking

I've been pensive all week, traveling back in time in my mind, trying to formulate the words to tell you about "the big reunion" with my high school friend. I went to Houston last week and we spent two days and nights catching up on our lives over the past thirty-eight years. It was an emotionally exhausting experience for both of us, one I can't get off my mind. 

Let me say that seeing her was wonderful, but it did not play out as I had imagined it during the weeks leading up to the visit. During that time we had spent hours talking on the phone and texting one another; I became more anxious and excited as the visit approached. For reasons too tedious to go into here (they don't affect the story at all) I booked a room at a hotel near her house and we had our visit there. Here's a brief commercial for the Holiday Inn Priority Club: I booked a deluxe room so that we would have extra space. When I arrived, the clerk told me they were sold out for the night so, because I was a Priority Club member, they upgraded me to a suite. It was wonderful, with a living area, dining table and chairs and separate bedroom. I've lived in apartments smaller than this suite, so it worked out perfectly for us. Now back to the story. I called her when I checked in and, shortly thereafter, came the knock on the door. I thought I would be girly and giddy, squealing with delight, but when I opened the door, we both just stood there, looking at each other, buffering ourselves against the woosh of years flying by. "You look the same," she said.  "You don't," I replied. Then we laughed and hugged. 

We talked for hours, falling easily into a feeling of comfort and companionship. We talked of the people in our lives, weaving the past and present together to explain who we had become. It was gut-wrenching at times; life has dealt some hard blows to each of us, more to her than me I think. But here we were, survivors with a sense of humor. She went home at night to feed her dogs and sleep in her own bed, giving us some time to decompress and process what we'd heard. 

The next day we ventured out for lunch and later, to Starbucks to pick up a cappuccino for her in the drive through. "Stop!" she cried as I started to drive away. "I need a bunch of Splenda and a straw," forgetting that I didn't know that. I didn't know what she put in her cappuccino, but we both agreed that it felt like I should. We had reconnected so quickly and seamlessly that it was hard to believe almost forty years had passed, that I didn't know her favorite foods, drinks or personal obsessions. As we reflected, we remembered that we had not known each other all the way through high school. She had moved to Baytown during middle school and went to a different school from me. It wasn't until our Junior year, when we both were on the staff of the Gander Gazette newspaper, that we connected and remained best friends until we graduated. She and I were a little different than most of our peers. Both of us had an enormous degree of freedom and independence from our parents. Mine were divorced and I lived at home with my Dad and younger brother. My older sisters were already married and gone; she never met them. Her parents were on the verge of divorce and she had forged a level of independence necessary to survive. Even then I thought she was a warrior. She worked several jobs as well as giving private lessons to younger flute players, bought her own car and clothes and excelled at everything she put her mind to, except being organized. We laughed a lot about that, remembering everything she did was either at the last minute or late. The fact that neither of us had a "stable" home life, one where the mom and dad sat down with the family over dinner at night, where the kids had assigned chores and were guided in their endeavors by involved parents, somehow made us closer. We knew we were different from most of our friends and felt somehow that we were stronger and better prepared for life ahead of us. I think it was safe to say that, even in high school, neither of us believed in fairy tales.

So here I am, days after my return home, trying to assimilate it all. I found out that her brother has lived very near my brother all these years. Their sons have been in Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts together and go to the same school. She and I worked and lived near each other for years, liking the same restaurants and probably passing each other time after time, leading similar lives and never connecting. I keep thinking what it would have been like if we had kept our friendship after high school. Most likely our differences would have led us to drift apart -- I got married, she stayed single; I raised children, she didn't. Maybe the best solution is what has played out, two old women, both banged up and bruised by life but still kicking, reunite and recapture the love and friendship they always had and searched for during the intervening years. Sounds like a good novel, doesn't it? Maybe I'll add it to the list. 

So here's to you, A.K.L. You were my hero in high school and now you are again.  I know the years ahead of us will be filled with hours of talking, writing, laughing and drinking coffee. Hurry up and get well so you can come up here to visit me, meet Scottie, the dogs and the rest of my family and you and I can continue our journey.

Thanks for stopping by today. I'm deep in thought about another post and will be back here soon. 

 

I Need Some Texas Names

I told y'all last time that I'm getting serious about writing on my book again and I've been true to my word, at least this week. I'm trying to flesh out some of the minor characters in the book, naming them and creating back stories to set the stage in my weird little Texas town. I need some suggestions for good, solid Texas names for both men and women. I don't want any cliche Hollywood names, like "Billy Bob" or "Clementine." I want real names of real people like your grandparents and their ilk. Would you take a few minutes to send me some candidates?

Here are some of the characters I need names for:

• The brother of the local police chief. He owns/operates the town's only pharmacy, inherited from their father.
• Matriarch of the town. Everyone respects and defers to her. She is kind and compassionate, but has iron rules and lines that you just don't cross. Her name would probably have a "Ms." in front of it anytime she was addressed, like "Ms. Lillian."
• A group of "philosophers" who hold court in the town's cafe every morning, drinking coffee and dispensing wisdom to anyone who gets within ear shot. Texas-sounding nicknames would be good here, too. Any ideas?

My sweet husband, who is now playing the role of my business manager, has been doing some research on the changing world of publishing. He saved me this very interesting article last week from the Wall Street Journal, about the rise of self-publishing and electronic publishing and how it is redefining the relationships between authors and publishers. Those of you who are writers or hope to be may find this trend very inspiring. It means that just about anyone can write a book, publish and distribute it, rather than being one of the very few who can find an agent, get their book accepted and actually onto the shelves of bookstores. If you have a story to tell, one that you want your children or grandchildren to know, or one that has just been burning a hole in you for years, you can write that story and share it with others, and maybe make a little money to boot. It's an exciting time to be living in. 

Please note that I am changing with the times, too. Today's grammarians have decided that it is finally acceptable to end a sentence with a preposition, making the last sentence of the preceding paragraph totally OK. My seventh grade English teacher, Mrs. Enderli, is turning over in her grave. Because of her, I can still recite sixty-six prepositions in alphabetical order: aboard, about, above, across, after, against, along, amid, among, around, at, before, behind, below, beneath, beside, besides, between . . . . 

I've got to get back to the book now because the juices are flowing. Thanks for stopping by today; send me some names when you can. 

Challenge - Final Day, #28: "Nature"

A few days ago when I wrote about the great lunch we had in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I spent some time going through the photos I had taken on that vacation. As I mentioned in the "lunch" post, I got sick shortly after we returned and didn't write much of anything for several months, much less about our trip. Since today's topic is "Nature," I'm going to cheat a little on the writing challenge and let the photos speak for me. I've gone through and selected a few of my favorites which show some of the natural beauties of the Caribbean Islands. 

This first batch was taken at a butterfly farm on the island of St. Maarten. The first photo is an Atlas Moth, as large as the exhibit worker's hand. Notice how the markings on the top curve of the wings look like a snake head or something else menacing -- predator defense.

This blue morpho stayed on a visitor's shirt for about ten minutes, while all of us snapped away.

The next few shots were taken at the El Yonque Rainforest in Puerto Rico. The first one, showing a giant fern frond starting to unfold is my favorite. These ferns are everywhere in the rainforest and grow very tall, way over my head. Don't miss the large snail crawling on the ginger bloom in the second photo.

These are just some of beautiful blooms you see on every island. 

Virgin Gorda was my favorite spot. We swam a while in the crystal aqua water and then hiked through the "caves" on the beach, which are giant rocks that have fallen or shifted through the years, creating an exotic passageway. At the top of the caves is a restaurant with a spectacular view and the largest plumeria plant I have ever seen; it's like a tree.

The natural beauty of the Caribbean is the main reason we continue to make trips there. Scott, in particular, loves tropical flowers like orchids and plumeria and grows them here, even though we have to start over when they don't make it through a freeze. Every time we come home, we both go on a search for homes or real estate for sale on a particular island we loved and talk about moving there. Can you imagine being surrounded by all this beauty all the time?

Today is the official end of my self-imposed writing challenge and I've learned some things about my nature over the past few weeks as well. My brain is "writing" all the time, coming up with great sentences or story ideas when I least expect it. Sometimes I can keep them in my head until I get to the computer, other times I have to make notes before I forget. I think that doing a post every day has intensified this process, that the creative part of my brain is tuned-in and turned-on. It will be up to me to keep all those neurons firing. I'm resolved to blog more frequently and to get back to serious work on my novel. Isn't that why this blog started in the first place? It was supposed to chronicle what I went through while writing the book, but somehow the blog became a substitute for the book, with all my writing energy directed there. I've got to get that process in balance now, working on both and letting the two projects feed each other. That's my new challenge.

Thanks for stopping by today. I probably won't be here tomorrow, but I'll be back soon.  

Challenge - Day 27: "Inside Your Fridge"

Inside my fridge, what a jungle. I endeavor to keep it neat and organized but I don't often succeed. We have some staples - milk, eggs, butter, deli meats, cheese, Fage split-cup 0% Greek yogurt -- that rotate all the time. Then there are things that live there that only get used occasionally, like beef, chicken and mushroom demi-glase, finely chopped ginger in a tube, a jar of cilantro cooking base and Redi Whip in a can (I know, it expires.) I try to keep all these things on the top shelf so I can find them when I need them. The second shelf is supposed to hold things like, deli meats, tortillas, cheese and bread that needs refrigerating. I say "supposed to" because I have one of those husbands who opens the door and sticks whatever is in his hand in the first place he sees, which is usually on the second shelf. It doesn't matter where he picked it up from when he first opened the door, it goes back wherever his eyes spot a space. So I am constantly rearranging things. On top of it I have to endure his teasing me about being obsessive when he is standing with the refrigerator door open, calling across the house to ask me where something is and I can tell him, exactly, without getting anywhere near. 

Eggs and fresh meats go on the third shelf and the bottom one is reserved for containers of leftovers. Fresh fruits and vegetables obviously go in the drawers. That's as far as my organization goes because, when it comes to the shelves on the door, I'm hopeless. Condiments and jellies have lives of their own which they live, unharrassed, in my refrigerator. I'm convinced they reproduce, thriving in the cold, dark environment. No matter how many times I clear those shelves to make some room, throwing away old bottles of cocktail sauce or horseradish, the next time I need a space I can't find any. I have to turn a bottle of spicy mustard sideways and move the mint jelly down so the stoneground mustard I just used to make a vinaigrette will fit back where I swore I just took it from.

As I write this I can smell the marvelous aroma of beef short ribs, slowly braising in the oven in a sauce of red wine, onions, garlic, herbs and beef stock. I can tell you one more thing about my refrigerator, there won't be any leftovers of this dish in there tonight. 

Thanks for stopping by today; wish you could be here for dinner. 

Challenge - Day 26: "Light"

I grew up in Baytown, Texas in a house built by my grandfather. It sat on Danubina Street, about half a block east of James Street. About three blocks away, heading north, was Highway 146, a major four-lane highway. Across the highway on James Street sat a water tower owned by the City of Baytown. We had a clear view of the tower from our house. It was one of those whose tank was round and fat, not the tall and thin variety. Most of the year this tank was basically invisible to us, just part of the scenery. But at Christmas time, everything changed. The City workers covered the tank with colored lights, strung very close together, and it was a glorious sight. There must have been thousands of them, turning the steel gray tank into a jewel sitting high in the sky.

I don't know how old I was when I discovered these lights, but I know I was very young. After seeing them once, I was hooked. I waited each year for the lights to go on and then would sit on our front steps, if it was warm enough, and stare at them. If too cool to stay outside, I peered at them through the slats of our wooden venetian blinds. I have often wondered what it was about these particular lights that fascinated me and I don't have an answer. I remember fixing my stare on the lights and then slowing closing my eyes a little, so the individual lights blurred and became a glowing orb, like something descending from heaven. I imagined that the lights were really jewels whose sheer fabulous-ness made them light up, like a giant crown sitting in the sky.

We would see other lights at Christmas, driving around the "rich" neighborhoods of Roseland Oaks and Country Club Oaks, seeing how the other half lived. I loved doing that and loved seeing the displays, but somehow they didn't measure up to the gorgeous tower.

Years passed and they eventually quit putting the lights on the tower; it was probably a safety issue. I was in middle school then and the loss of the lights didn't seem to matter too much. Had it happened in elementary, I would have been crushed. I often wish that I had a photo of the tower to help me remember, but, on the other hand, I'm glad I don't. I doubt that, in reality, it was as wonderful as it is in my memory. I'm afraid the photo would show that it was a little tacky, lights burned out here and there, and not nearly as many of them as I thought. I'm content for the jeweled crown of light to live just as it is in my mind.

Thanks for stopping by today. Two days are left on the challenge, so I'll see you tomorrow. 

Challenge - Day 25: "Lunch"

Last March Scott and I left on a truly wonderful visit to Puerto Rico, followed by two weeks of cruising around most of the Caribbean islands. I haven't written much about that trip because, about two weeks after we returned, I developed an intestinal infection that felled me for about eight or nine months. Even today, almost one year later, I'm still having a few effects. Don't let me scare you off cruising; my illness had nothing to do with that. It was just one of those things. But, let's talk about something happier. 

While we were in Puerto Rico we had some great food and since today's topic is "lunch," let me tell you about a memorable one. Scott and I always talk to local people when we travel and ask them where they like to eat. We've had some really great meals as a result of this and our luck held out in San Juan. We were staying at a Marriott resort in the Carolina section of San Juan, on Isla Verde beach. Let me tell you, when you picture "tropical beach" in your head, you are seeing Isla Verde.

Beautiful aqua blue water and almost white sand. 

One day for lunch, we walked a few blocks from the hotel to the Metropole Restaurant, one that had been recommended for good local dishes. Scott and I love Caribbean/Cuban food and have eaten it many places. We were introduced to it in Houston, by Cuban friends of ours who took us to a place where they cooked "just like our mama." We were hooked and since then, have found a Cuban/Caribbean style restaurant near wherever we live. Our current local favorite is Cafe Havana on South Congress in Austin. Back to the Metropole. Scott ordered a sampler platter and I asked the waiter what he would recommend. Cudos to me because I got a great meal. 

  

This is a smoked chicken breast, served with white rice, maduros, black beans and a little fresh relish. The chicken was smoked first so that it was juicy and pink (the good pink) inside, then flash fried so that the skin was extra brown and crispy. Maduros are plantains that have been grilled or sauteed until the sugar carmelizes on the surface, leaving the fruit inside soft and yummy. 

Here's a view of Scott's plate with three different meats that I can't remember, congris (a mixture of rice and black beans) and yucca. His was good, but mine was better.

We liked the Metropole so much that we ended up going back for dinner the next evening. We both tried something different, but nothing was as good as the smoked chicken I had for lunch. Just thinking about it makes me want to hop a plane for San Juan. It only takes four hours from Houston....

Thanks for stopping by today. I'm off to rustle up something for lunch. Whatever it ends up being, I'm sure it will be lacking compared to the Metropole.