Every One has hope.

“There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.”
George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

All of us suffer.  No one escapes the ‘rusty knife’ that captures one and all.

By the same token, we all experience joy and rectitude.  Displaying our trophies, to our friends and forgiving others and then ourselves.   We spin our tapestries with silk and cotton.  We suffer pestilences with those we are in love with.   We also love obediently.   We share and accept gifts.  We pay others with intangibles and hope, even as we are beset by storms.

We shine our cars til rust, ever-after.    Our shuttered habitats. A shrine. A home, a sanctuary.   Shuttered by real tears and rent fabric.  Man-made and otherwise.

Like children at Christmas, we unwrap our presents, expectant hearts and joyful interludes.  We all suffer and laugh concurrently..

We are planning a couple of things. One is a PR campaign for Morissette Amon.  Not Alanis BTW.  Secondly,  purchasing a motel to house homeless Veterans,  giving them a safe and non-judgmental place to live.

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Pensive Patience – Turn your head and deny.

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One night we ended up at a place called the Port Authority in New York City.    We being my girlfriend and I,  as we had a stopover before heading on to upstate NY.     The busstop was an eclectic mix of wandering souls,  some with bus tickets and others seemingly having a ticket to hell or a local jail.    The insidious nature of being poor relegates too many people to the streets and ironically far too many are servicemen out of the military,  many with serious mental issues.

So what do the police do?  They either arrest them or make them move a few feet to another Gate.  Where they put down their makeshift cardboard homes while swilling alcohol and threatening other homeless people or harassing bus riders.  I remember the narrow metal benches that were too thin to sit on,  let alone sleep on.   But that didn’t stop some from trying as I saw a young Puerto Rican man trying to sleep and an obviously high and drunk lady of about 50 pushing that young man off the bench.

The result was almost too bizarre and unsettling to observe.   As they yelled at each other the disagreement escalated and the disturbed woman with a bottle in a brown bag broke that bottle as she smashed it against the top of a metal 55 gallon drum producing a rather lethal weapon.  She waived her jagged bottle and threatened to kill the guy.   A black lady seating a few feet away called the old drunk lady a bitch and other assorted life-affirming comments.

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Finally the 50 year old mentally ill lady discarded her weapon and it got scary and otherworldly.   The lady proceeded to lift her soiled skirt,  dropped her unmentionables and menacingly told the young guy to  F#@K her.   Now the old black lady was in top form, telling the ersatz stripper that no one wanted to see her nasty coochie.   Again her vocabulary was as a colorful as before and it seemed that high tide was going out because she feel asleep until the whole entourage was shifted like an adult version of musical benches in an insane asylum.

Perhaps we can start by realistically addressing homelessness.   The VA Hospital,  truck stops and Motels have their parking lots where homeless people find a safe place to sleep for the night.   The decent people (not billionaires) who try to accommodate the needy are indeed angels of a kind.   And these professional fast-food workers and managers basically hold the world together,  while Wall Street and it’s minions drive rental properties out of sight.

The people in NYC who get gunned down are not necessarily suspects but innocent bystanders.  The stories feature the injuries of random shots into a crowd while they get paid leave and offer no apologies.   Sad when police officers do their own version of terror against the weak and enfeebled.

The other side of the homeless equation is where are the children of these homeless seniors?   Where are the cops that do good and why are not these cops emulated by other police officers?   An officer approaches a feeble adult and gets aggressive not knowing if the person is globally Aphasic but perceived as Jason Bourne with tactical firepower and a drawer full of steroids.

Society is ill, perhaps irreparably when handicapped people are not taken care of.   And to me,  even criminals should not be raped by fellow inmates and murderers are not somehow heroic when they hurt the various kind of  offenders in a faux game of morality awry.

Police officers should be respectful and accommodating rather than finding trumped up charges which other officers  accept at face value.    They have a life and a home and respect and it is a power trip because that is why they arrest a jogger for jaywalking.   Campus cops.   The ultimate worst kind of parasite who arrests young ADULTS for doing what they did or their fathers and mothers did during the 60s and 70s.

So this is the season of discontent and mercy and patience have given way to a political state of anarchy where politicians and polizei are given carte blanche powers to accuse and abuse suspects.   The Miranda Rights are fudged with and lied about while good cops are not judgemental but a mutual respect transcends gung ho wife-beaters with a badge.

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There are nearly 1,100 BILLIONAIRES in the world who sweep people off the street and characterize homeless as worthless druggies.   The problem is that many make money off of them at both ends and then moralize and wonder about what house they will stay in during the weekend and whose palms need to be greased for the various PACs and the democrats are just as rich and even richer than their counterparts.   Neither party is blameless BUT their immediate task should be to provide humanity to as many as they can.

In depressed places the womanhood of a woman is like Park Place or Madison Ave if they are attractive and date rape is laughed at and kidnapping is happening with souls making money off of the pain and dehumanizing effects of human trafficking while horny rich men dip their wicks in countries where police officers make our own look like caring social workers.    It makes me mad when I hear women using misogynistic language at women who lack what they consider classy behavior,

We all need to access how we treat each other and it starts in the home and in school,  mitigating sexual abuse and educating the poor from abusing their children and including the  hymens of young girls.   This kind of savagery needs to be talked about and a real plan to deal with it.   Collectively stemming the tide of the heart break of being deemed service type people.   Classism is an issue and if we want to lead the world in morality that starts with feeding the homeless and providing shelter to the homeless during spates of especially bad weather.   I have slept in my house or car where temperatures were in the teens,  along with kitty and a few pillows and blankets.   It can happen to anyone.  The gentle and graceful find a way to make helping cool again and for the first time for many.

What Matters Most!

If I were born with cataracts in both my eyes and all I could see were my dreams,  would life be worth living?  And I were deaf and I never heard Mozart or Beethoven would my life be in vain?  Who among us would trade painless breaths of fresh air for the illusion of power and contentment when that peace is laced with acrimony?

’Tis the perception of the beautiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filtered through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull.   Lord Byron

So what is life all about?  A collection of cars, rings or shoes?  What is beauty and who is allowed to possess it?   Can the simplest childhood memories be more profound than a hostile takeover of someone else’s business?   Can a breathtakingly beautiful woman be more beautiful than majestic snow-capped mountain?

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Well for me one of the most memorable moments was a huge letdown.   As a young boy coupons from box tops was a source of fond anticipation.  It was a toy model of a Studebaker.  But that disappointment was one of the more gorgeous moments in my life.   It gave me the knowledge that heartbreaks are going to happen as that toy never arrived.   I lived for the moment and did that a lot.

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Sometimes our joys are more transitory but none-the-less equally profound.   In sixth grade,  we used to get milk breaks in the afternoon.   The milk was cold and sweet and the chocolate milk was Vitamin-D (Whole Milk).   Seemingly a trivial moment or moments could be so valuable but to a young kid in love with sixth grade,  those moments give me hope.

Our teacher was simply remarkable. Mr Earl Ader made school so much fun.   He was tall youngish man with a love for his students and nothing that smacked of anything controversial.  Kids fought to do classroom chores.   The Socratic Principle was amazingly on display and when it failed we remedied our issues with decorum and class.    We learned about adult life in a way that simulated the adult world.

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We raised chicks from eggs and actually saw the chicks hatch.  It was a hands on approach and I loved the SRA reading programs and progressed through so fast that I was reading in the top percentile.    I loved the reading and grammar exercises, a task that most kids hated.  The spelling tests were fun and I had a string of 100s that went from west to east.

During an autumn play and dance,   I was a pumpkin that me and my parents constructed from paper machete and metal hangers as a frame.   I was often called ‘Carrot Top’  though Carrots tops are green,  right?   But that night was awesome and a bit unsettling as every parent was wanting me to pose with their daughters as they took pictures.   I remember having a unilateral love affair with what turned out to be my first girlfriend., Cheryl.

One of the best things was when Mr. Ader decided to skip a lesson and play dodge ball in the gym,  the place of that same play and dance.   I had so much fun at that sport and doing this was one of my favorite times in my life.   I also got to be a hall monitor.   I was ruthless and sick with power.  Okay that part is not true but I did love the safety belt which I wore proudly.

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In Junior High I was harassed in my first day of school and by the grace of God and Providence,  some big boy fired back at my tormentor and most young teens would not mess with him or me.    As a wrestler I stunned my coach,  teammates and other wrestlers by beating a state champion in my first match.    That night was magic for this shy boy when the coach made me the wrestler of the tournament.

I also made an unassisted triple play which was announced over the PA system and I had a mixture of pride and embarrassment and with the hope that the pretty girls would take note.  Sadly it was until my senior year when I got one of the beautiful girls and we went to the Senior Prom.  Long flowing black hair, a rather innocent beauty and my first hands-on girl and that was so cool.

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From losing my one baby David who weighed sixteen ounces and the kidnapping of my daughter by her mom,  I have had more good moments than those bad ones.  There was a time when I felt that I was unduly burdened but time rectified my apprehensions and salted them with a bit of that thing called reality.

Now I spend my time trying to help as many people as I can and the fruit of that labor is a loving regard for the intrinsic matter of self worth and the recognition that everyone is imbued with talents and love.

http://youtu.be/J9icvbdLEbEhow-prepare-humanitarian-mission-2