Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... "Books, Cats: Life is Sweet..."
There is no spiritual perfection only spiritual progress. Mistakes are important too. We learn from them. We grow from them.
I have been out of the "loop" for awhile now. Some by choice. Others by circumstances. Does one go to church to listen to sermons and walk out as if they heard nothing and return back to the ways of the social hysterias and confusion, to the ways of the "world"? When one goes to ceremonies do they play the part and only that?
To walk on the red road, takes commitment. Not without shortcomings but with effort and spirit. Being examples for the ones following.
As for myself I try and try to give back the things I was taught. From an ex-drunk who hated the color of his own skin, I stopped living like that over 24 years ago. So my nieces and nephews, my family, would never see their uncle like that. It's been a long struggle to maintain my sobriety. But I kept my commitment. To give back. To honor my ancestors who didn't raise me to be anything less than the things they taught me. Jeewi.
I have just started reading this first in series novel by Amanda Flower and already I am enthralled. Of course, I've enjoyed the author and I love mysteries, but it was neither of these reasons that has drawn me in.
It is Flower's extraordinary ability to describe a woman we will never meet, although we may have seen a picture, with her every word... I don't think I have ever experienced such a thrilling awareness of another woman. Having a character come alive as if I were in the same room, walking with her, or, even, talking with her is an enchanting experience. One which made me want to actually read her words! And share them!
Of course as a mystery, we have a murder. At that time, at least for the lower class, grief was not permitted--at least during work hours. So, for the sake of the young girl who lost her brother and could not mourn, I have honored her brother--and perhaps, those who grieve for the young teacher, who this week, was killed by a 6-year-old first grader... or those in your own life...
I Measure Every Grief I Meet
I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes –
I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long –
Or did it just begin –
I could not tell the Date of Mine –
It feels so old a pain –
I wonder if it hurts to live –
And if They have to try –
And whether – could They choose between –
It would not be – to die –
I note that Some – gone patient long –
At length, renew their smile –
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil –
I wonder if when Years have piled –
Some Thousands – on the Harm –
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –
Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve –
Enlightened to a larger Pain –
In Contrast with the Love –
The Grieved – are many – I am told –
There is the various Cause –
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes –
There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call "Despair" –
There's Banishment from native Eyes –
In sight of Native Air –
And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –
To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they're mostly worn –
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like my own –
--Emily Dickinson
The Savior Must Have Been
A Docile Gentleman
The Savior must have been
A docile Gentleman—
To come so far so cold a Day
For little Fellowmen—
The Road to Bethlehem
Since He and I were Boys
Was leveled, but for that 'twould be
A rugged Billion Miles—
--Emily Dickinson
Poems are acts of attention—they can wake us up to the here and now.
—B. K. Fischer, Poet Laureate of Westchester County
Check out Poets.Org - Academy of America and sign up for a Poem-A-Day
Jodi Picoult, in one of her interviews, shares that she writes about things that keep her up at night. If you are concerned about the children in America, especially related to bullying and school shootings, this book is a must-read. It is a book that takes who, will one day become a school shooter, from his first day in kindergarten on through the actual Nineteen Minutes
within the school that day, through the actual day and on through to the investigation, trial, and through to how the event changed those intimately involved with the tragedy.
It is a review between the balance of being bullied and what becomes the breaking point for those being bullied. Of course, it is impossible to have predicted when that breaking point will occur... Indeed, the final ending was almost anti-climatic, even when it revealed a surprise not anticipated...
The story takes an interesting twist when the lawyer considers, and then uses, a correlation to the Battered Wife Syndrome, noting that the emotional trauma was very similar. Readers will find they become quite sympathetic with the shooter when they hear his story... I was impressed with the characterization of the lawyer and how he handled this very unique and important case.
It wasn’t something he’d put on his résumé, but Jordan was especially gifted at cutting the rug to Wiggles songs. His personal favorite was “Hot Potato,” but the one that really got Sam jazzed up was "Fruit Salad."
While Selena was upstairs taking a hot bath, Jordan put on the DVD—she was opposed to bombarding Sam with media, and didn’t want him to be able to spell D-O-R-O-T-H-Y, as in Dinosaur, before he could even write his own name.
Selena always wanted Jordan to be doing something else with the baby, like memorizing Shakespeare or solving differential equations—but Jordan was a big believer in letting the television do its job in turning one’s brain into porridge . . . at least long enough to get one good, silly tango session out of it. Babies were always just the right weight, so that when you finally put them down, you felt like something was missing. “Fruit salad . . . yummy yummy!” Jordan crooned, whirling around until Sam opened his mouth and let a peal of giggles ribbon out. The doorbell rang, and Jordan sashayed himself and his tiny partner through the entryway to answer it. Harmonizing—sort of—with Jeff, Murray, Greg, and Anthony in the background,
Jordan opened the door. “Let’s make some fruit salad today,” he sang, and then he saw who was standing on his porch. “Judge Cormier!”
“Sorry to interrupt.” He already knew that she’d recused herself from the case—that happy announcement had been passed down this afternoon.
“No, that’s fine. Come on . . . in.” Jordan glanced back at the trail of toys that he and Sam had left in their wake (he had to clean those up before Selena came back downstairs, too). Kicking as many as he could behind the couch, he led the judge into his living room and switched off the DVD. “This must be your son.” “Yeah.” Jordan looked down at the baby, who was in the process of deciding whether or not to throw a fit now that the music had been turned off. “Sam.”
She reached out, letting Sam curl his hand around her forefinger. Sam could charm the pants off Hitler, probably, but seeing him only seemed to make Judge Cormier more agitated. “Why did you put my daughter on your witness list?”
Ah. “Because,” Jordan said, “Josie and Peter used to be friends, and I may need her as a character witness.” “They were friends ten years ago. Be honest. You did this to get me off the case.” Jordan hefted Sam higher on his hip. “Your Honor, with all due respect, I’m not going to allow anyone to try this case for me. Especially not a judge who isn’t even involved in it anymore.” He watched something flare behind her eyes.
“Of course not,” she said tightly, and then she turned on her heel and walked out.
* * *
Ask a random kid today if she wants to be popular and she’ll tell you no, even if the truth is that if she was in a desert dying of thirst and had the choice between a glass of water and instant popularity, she’d probably choose the latter.
~~~
The dynamics of the involved parents plays an important part in this book. Perhaps that might be that this book has been recommended to be placed on the Banned Books List... You may already know that I'm a fan of Velshi and his Banned Book Club. This is one of the books shared recently on his weekend MSNBC programs. Of significant importance was that the mother of one of the students, Josie, involved in the shooting was, at one time, a close friend of the shooter (Peter). The mother was also a judge and would have been named for the trial until her involvement was questioned and she recused herself.
This single mother had realized that her relationship with her daughter had become difficult. Indeed, the relationship of the boy's parents had also been a problem, for the boy--but neither of the parents had realized the extent with their second son--nor had they made a point of forcing involvement with them. In this case, I used the word forcing on purpose. Of course, it is not necessarily my opinion, although I admit it was. But both of the parents became critical of their own actions, or lack thereof... But it was too late...
Get down,” Matt hissed, and he shoved Josie so that she fell behind the wooden bench. It wasn’t a good place to hide, but then, nowhere in the locker room was a good place to hide. Matt’s plan had been to climb out the window in the shower, and he’d even opened it up, but then they’d heard the shots in the gym and realized they didn’t have time to drag the bench over and climb through. They’d boxed themselves in, literally.
She curled herself into a ball and Matt crouched down in front of her. Her heart thundered against his back, and she kept forgetting to breathe. He reached behind him until he found her hand. “If anything happens, Jo,” he whispered, “I loved you.”
Josie started to cry. She was going to die; they were all going to die. She thought of a hundred things she hadn’t done yet that she so badly wanted to do: go to Australia, swim with dolphins. Learn all the words to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Graduate. Get married. She wiped her face against the back of Matt’s shirt, and then the locker room burst open.
Peter stumbled inside, his eyes wild, holding a handgun. His left sneaker was untied, Josie noticed, and then she couldn’t believe she noticed. He lifted his gun at Matt, and she couldn’t help it; she screamed. Maybe it was the noise; maybe it was her voice. It startled Peter, and he dropped his backpack. It slid off his shoulder, and as it did, another gun fell out of an open pocket. It skittered across the floor, landing just behind Josie’s left foot.
Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever? Josie watched her hand stretch back, watched her fingers curl around the cold black butt of the gun. Fumbling it, she staggered upright, pointing the gun at Peter. Matt backed away toward the showers, under Josie’s cover. Peter held his gun steady, still pointing it at Matt, even though Josie was closer.
“Josie,” he said. “Let me finish this.”
“Shoot him, Josie,” Matt said. “Fucking shoot him.”
Peter pulled back the slide of the gun so that a bullet from the clip would cycle into place. Watching him carefully, Josie mimicked his actions. She remembered being in nursery school with Peter—how other boys would pick up sticks or rocks and run around yelling "Hands up." What had she and Peter used the sticks for? She couldn’t recall.
“Josie, for Christ’s sake!” Matt was sweating, his eyes wide. “Are you fucking stupid?”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Peter cried.
“Shut up, asshole,” Matt said. “You think she’s going to save you?” He turned to Josie. “What are you waiting for? Shoot.”
So she did. As the gun fired, it ripped two stripes of her skin from the base of her thumb. Her hands jerked upward, numb, humming... He stood for a moment, shocked, his hand over the wound in his stomach...
Josie’s hand started shaking violently; she wasn’t surprised when the gun just fell out of it, as singularly repelled by her grasp as it had been glued to it moments before. “Matt,” she cried, running toward him. She pressed her hands against the blood, because that’s what you were supposed to do, wasn’t it, but he writhed and screamed in agony. Blood began to bubble out of his mouth, trailing down his neck. “Do something,” she sobbed, turning to Peter. “Help me.”
Peter walked closer, lifted the gun he was holding, and shot Matt in the head. Horrified, she scrambled backward, away from them both... She stared at Peter, and she realized that in that one moment, when she hadn’t been thinking, she knew exactly what he’d felt as he moved through the school with his backpack and his guns. Every kid in this school played a role: jock, brain, beauty, freak. All Peter had done was what they all secretly dreamed of: be someone, even for just nineteen minutes, who nobody else was allowed to judge.
~~~
This is my first book by this author. I try to read more books by independent writers to provide them support that is routinely provided by major publishers. I was impressed with this writer and her ability to capture the overall tale that is so often left untold. Whether this was fiction, or not, her merge of what happens in today's schools, where students are grouped by status of sports and popularity is a problem in my opinion. We are in a world where the students are either over-controlled, or allowed to do anything they want without any feedback.
I don't know whether it was an oversight--or whether they author decided that, since the first son was already dead, that what he had done would only compound the problems of the parents. I think this was a wrong choice. Peter's brother was a jock, into drugs, and he also was one of Peter's bullies! While Peter had undoubtedly been abused by his brother all of his life, it certainly got worse when he joined the "jock" crowd to intimidate and make fun of his brother, which, of course, allowed others to do so. Sibling are different. Each child should be applauded for those differences rather than allow a comparison of the two to be made. Even worse, when it is the parents that make that comparison. Which they routinely did, as Peter revealed in his thoughts...
Yes, it is important to strive to deal with gun control. But it is also important to acknowledge that each student may have a reason(s) for becoming so frustrated that they finally break. With the proliferation and accessibility of guns, within the family, this was especially a major problem that could only have allowed Peter to move into his chosen path forward. Just my personal opinion, of course...
I should have known better! When I finished the first book by this new author, for me, I immediately wanted to read the previous book. So, my promised review related to the parable of the talents is coming, now, next... I wanted to start at the beginning and learn about how the second book actually began. Because the second book was so real, related to the last 5 or 6 years, I thought it was a new book--it was so close to the reality we've just experienced, I had imagined that she had just changed the characters, their roles, site, but that it was presenting a magnified version of today's continued chaos!
I was, then, shocked when I read her bio! She had died and these books were written in the 1990s! I hope you'll take the time to listen to the videos above, especially the first one where she was asked to read from The Parable of the Talents! But first I want to set up the background as to how the main character and several of the characters from the next book came to be living in a little community called Acorn...
"Belief initiates and guides action--
or it does nothing!
All that you touch You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth Is Change.
God Is Change.
Note that audio vids are available on UTube; 1 sample below
There was a period of silence. After a while, he said, “How did you get your ideas about God?”
“I was looking for God,” I said. “I wasn’t looking for mythology or mysticism or magic. I didn’t know whether there was a god to find, but I wanted to know. God would have to be a power that could not be defied by anyone or anything.”
“Change.”
“Change, yes,”
“But it’s not a god. It’s not a person or an intelligence or even a thing. It’s just … I don’t know. An idea.”
I smiled. Was that such a terrible criticism?
“It’s a truth,” I said. “Change is ongoing. Everything changes in some way—size, position, composition, frequency, velocity, thinking, whatever. Every living thing, every bit of matter, all the energy in the universe changes in some way. I don’t claim that everything changes in every way, but everything changes in some way.”
Harry, coming in dripping from the sea, heard this last. “Sort of like saying God is the second law of thermodynamics,” he said, grinning. He and I had already had this conversation.
“That’s an aspect of God,” I said to Travis. “Do you know about the second law?”
He nodded. “Entropy, the idea that the natural flow of heat is from something hot to something cold—not the other way—so that the universe itself is cooling down, running down, dissipating its energy.”
I let my surprise show. “My mother wrote for newspapers and magazines at first,” he said. “She taught me at home. Then my father died and she couldn’t earn enough for us to keep the house. And she couldn’t find any other work that paid money. She had to take a job as a live-in cook, but she went on teaching me.”
“She taught you about entropy?” Harry asked.
“She taught me to read and write,” Travis said. “Then she taught me to teach myself. The man she worked for had a library—a whole big room full of books.” “He let you read them?” I asked. “He didn’t let me near them.” Travis gave me a humorless smile. “I read them anyway. My mother would sneak them to me.” Of course.
Slaves did that two hundred years ago. They sneaked around and educated themselves as best they could, sometimes suffering whipping, sale, or mutilation for their efforts.
“Did he ever catch you or her at it?” I asked.
“No.” Travis turned to look toward the sea. “We were careful. It was important. She never borrowed more than one book at a time. I think his wife knew, but she was a decent woman. She never said anything. She was the one who talked him into letting me marry Natividad.”
The son of the cook marrying one of the maids. That was like something out of another era, too. “Then my mother died and all Natividad and I had was each other, and then the baby. I was staying on as gardener-handyman, but then the old bastard we worked for decided he wanted Natividad. He would try to watch when she fed the baby. Couldn’t let her alone. That’s why we left. That’s why his wife helped us leave. She gave us money. She knew it wasn’t Natividad’s fault. And I knew I didn’t want to have to kill the guy. So we left.”
In slavery when that happened, there was nothing the slaves could do about it—or nothing that wouldn’t get them killed, sold, or beaten. I looked at Natividad who sat a short distance away, on spread out sleepsacks, playing with her baby and talking to Zahra. She had been lucky. Did she know? How many other people were less lucky—unable to escape the master’s attentions or gain the mistress’s sympathies. How far did masters and mistresses go these days toward putting less than submissive servants in their places? “I still can’t see change or entropy as God,” Travis said, bringing the conversation back to Earthseed. “Then show me a more pervasive power than change,” I said. “It isn’t just entropy. God is more complex than that. Human behavior alone should teach you that much. And there’s still more complexity when you’re dealing with several things at once—as you always are. There are all kinds of changes in the universe.”
He shook his head. “Maybe, but nobody’s going to worship them.”
“I hope not,” I said. “Earthseed deals with ongoing reality, not with supernatural authority figures. Worship is no good without action. With action, it’s only useful if it steadies you, focuses your efforts, eases your mind.”
He gave me an unhappy smile. “Praying makes people feel better even when there’s no action they can take,” he said. “I used to think that was all God was good for—to help people like my mother stand what they had to stand.”
“That isn’t what God is for, but there are times when that’s what prayer is for. And there are times when that’s what these verses are for. God is Change, and in the end, God prevails. But there’s hope in understanding the nature of God—not punishing or jealous, but infinitely malleable. There’s comfort in realizing that everyone and everything yields to God. There’s power in knowing that God can be focused, diverted, shaped by anyone at all. But there’s no power in having strength and brains, and yet waiting for God to fix things for you or take revenge for you. You know that. You knew it when you took your family and got the hell out of your boss’s house. God will shape us all every day of our lives. Best to understand that and return the effort: Shape God.” “Amen!” Harry said, smiling.
~~~
Lauren is the main character for both books. I found I felt a kindred spirit connection with this character, and, I would assume, also the writer. Lauren is the daughter of a Baptist minister and she loves him dearly... But she finds herself having to force being a good daughter who follows and believes as she is being taught. She keeps all of that within herself, using only her writing to express what she is feeling and where she thinks we as a people should be headed... In fact, both books (some duplicative) often have in poetic format her thoughts... I found that much of what she wrote is logical--and I formed a connection with her words...
Butler does not mention the title of the book reference until the closing but I wanted to share it earlier so that we can, together, see, where her thinking evolves from...
A sower went out to sow his seed: and as he sowed, some fell by the way side; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it. And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away because it lacked moisture. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it. And others fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bore fruit an hundredfold. The Bible Authorized King James Version St. Luke 8: 5-8
Lauren was a sower...of people...of action, of change... of God...
Butler, the author, was a watcher, a visionary, a woman of action, of change...of God...
In being a watcher Butler has watched how America has evolved, has changed...and from that watching, she has created a remarkable set of actions that would be happening...just...about...right...now...
Lauren in the years beginning 2020 and moving forward, begins to challenge what her father is teaching, especially, about waiting upon the Lord...Lauren had been watching... in the time period in which the book(s) are written.
The setting of the book as presented is more graphic, more substantive, more encompassing than my own view, which did not begin as early as Butler's. In choosing to write the book as science fiction, she has magnified the many issues that are "alive and well" here in the United States! The impact is more dramatic, but the reader realizes that in some parts of America, it could be exactly as written...
Climate change had been ignored too long and was impossible to recapture...
There are many homeless. Water is scarce and must be purchased. Water is more expensive than gasoline. Only the extremely rich can use their cars. Most sit in garages unable to be used due to lack of gas, water... There is a high utilization of drugs. There is violence; everybody MUST have a gun because of the increase in homelessness, drugs, and the anger of those facing a more and more meaningless life than ever before. Although not rich, by any means, Lauren's family and others nearby do live what some might consider middle-class. The major difference is that all of the homes are behind walls. Indeed, leaving the home can be and is... dangerous... For years, Lauren's father has held his church within his own home, for those who are willing to at least travel from home to home.
All members of families are taught how to use guns and groups will travel outside of the walls to practice and/or teach the younger children as they become old enough to learn. Being dirty is the norm. In fact, if you have a little water to wash yourself, but also need to go outside of the wall, then you ensure you are dirty so that you are not easy to spot...
There are no electronics--the last television in the community went out. They had paid to watch the news from outside through a window... The only thing available and in each family is a radio. Few people were paid in cash; most worked for food and sometimes somewhere to sleep.
It is not uncommon to have guns and signs of rioting outside of their walls... And, it is anticipated that they must be diligent. Food is scarce, but behind the walls, where Lauren's community works, they have gardens and fruit-bearing trees. The state is California. And those outside the walls can see the trees and know there is food...
And when they strike, it was verified that the community was, even though they had tried to be prepared,unable to respond to the anger, the hate, the hunger...
Pyro was the latest drug, one that resulted in the addicts wanting nothing more than to burn things... And the community was attacked...and lost...
Lauren had been told to run and she did, thinking others were behind her... She learned later that all of her family were caught and pulled back into the burning community. Harry was a neighbor who had also got out.
We do not worship God. We perceive and attend God. We learn from God. With forethought and work, We shape God. In the end, we yield to God. We adapt and endure, For we are Earthseed And God is Change.
As Lauren saw all that had been happening, she had felt that they all needed to be prepared. She herself had created a go-bag that contained what she needed if she had to act immediately. She had made a mistake and told her best friend of her thoughts, and, of course, it caused gossip, confusion, and a stern discussion with her father... He accepted what her concerns were and even agreed to some of her ideas. But she was told to keep her mouth shut--that there were elders who were also concerned and talking...
Now, when she had grabbed her bag and ran, she must have thought about how she had tried to get people involved...to prepare...to change... and they had not... Nearly all of her community were now dead... And she knew that whatever that group of elders had been doing, it had never been enough. She remembered that her father had even been prepared with a relevant scripture... but their fighting had not worked!
Nehemiah, chapter four, Verse 14: “And I looked and rose up and said unto the nobles, and to the rulers, and to the rest of the people, be not afraid of them: remember the Lord which is great and terrible, and fight for your brethren, your sons, and your daughters, your wives and your houses.”
To get along with God, Consider the consequences of your behavior.
There were three that found each other after their community had been burned. Lauren had already planned, if she had to leave, that she would dress as a man. She was a big woman and thought she could get away with it... So, there were two women and one man leaving to walk away, not knowing where they would be going... But as they traveled, there were two men and one woman that they both worked to protect.
And as they traveled, more came to join them, knowing it was safer to travel with others... and, at the end, they had reached what would be called Acorn!
Which is where the next book begins! Parts of this book are not easily read... There were dogs, scangers who would steal children... There were addicts who would paint themselves and rush to burn whatever got in their way...
But it's a book that must be read. Right Now...It is still not too late. In fact, it may seem it's getting better. But now, when the world has brought hundreds and hundreds of those who are poor, afraid for their lives, and seeking food and shelter... we had not prepared when we should have been dealing with the situation.
Let's face it, immigrants have been turned into a political tool that, instead of helping, are used to demonstrate failure on the part of the democratic party, never willing to admit that the problem began with the former republican president!
He sits in front of the gas fireplace He loves its insipid soothing hiss
He sips mellow red wine From a glass that reflects the flames
The wine seems alive somehow It warms his soul
Like a fond memory
He’s turned off the lights So he can see the shadows dance
Upon the wall So he is not alone
He greets his ghostly guests One by one
It’s pleasantly distracting To welcome each with rhyme
“Long time no see, Chelsea. Love that machine, Nadine. Is that leather, Heather? Nice Lexus, Alexis. How’s the divorce, Horace? You’re looking dandy, Andy. I need a lawyer, Sawyer. I’m looking for a loan, Malone. How’s Cassandra, Sandra?” And on and on until
He grows weary of doing all the talking Outside the darkness is complete
He bids his guests a good night And as he dozes off
Before the friendly flames He wonders why
The shadows yet dance upon the wall After he thought his ghostly friends
It's funny, you know, I didn't know how I would be sharing New Year's here at Book Readers Heaven, but before long, I found myself at Elevation Church! (This video is private so if interested, check it out at YouTube or Facebook) How Cool is That!?! Hearing a lot of new music and in awe as to how God Incidents seem to happen--just at the time that I needed to know--to know, for sure, that God is indeed with us!
Over the last week or so, I've been thinking about the Parable of the Talents and even began a draft post... Then somewhere along the way, I found a book... A truly remarkable book that, I assure you, could never have been placed in my hands... unless it was supposed to be...and read in sufficient time to share with you as part of the post already started... That will come next... But, it seems, that I've been waiting for this message... Just as the song says... I'm gonna wait on you...
You see, I've been so disgusted with the latest news about still another republican newly-elected congressman who has totally lied about his "resume" as he ran for office to the U.S. Congress...
He joins the newly elected members who will take office in January, all of whom were election denyers as they were elected... Let's not think about whether that is a problem...let's face it, Donald Trump was a liar when he was elected and continued to lie through to his loss--and refusal to accept that loss, but instead went on to incite the January 6th, 2022, Insurrection.
Is America becoming a country that has no basic moral imperative NOT to lie? If you look at the history of the republican party during the last few years, and continuing into 2023, it becomes clear to those who are willing to watch, listen, and then accept the reality of where we are...
In a country that, no matter how much the incumbent president has accomplished, as promised, still every single thing that is discussed is related to the lies that are concurrently distributed by those who are maga followers.
Sure, anybody will have to admit that they have lied from time to time and, mostly, for personal reasons that have little effect for others... This is NOT the same when politicians have taken an oath to follow the constitution, yet continue to lie and promulgate disinformation purely to cause confusion and chaos.
I'm disappointed because I see little if any change within the republican party to try to regain some bit of credibility and, also, to vote related to upcoming issues in Congress, to support America, rather than to continue to tear it apart with lies, including violence!
Still there is hope...Much has been put through since the Insurrection failed...and, if some republicans can begin to act in response to the needs of the United States, then we can continue to move forward... Don't forget, it's part of your responsibility to keep watch!
On a personal level, I'm now dealing with the aftermath of my hip replacement surgery. One leg is now shorter than the other, which had been predicted, but with a history of osteoporosis from my father's side of the family, I'm not sure what is the exact cause. I'm having a hard time walking with regular shoes (feeling like I'm falling forward), so will see how things go...
Next week I'll be heading to see my eye doctor to evaluate the size of cataracts on both eyes... Of course, my eyes are probably the most important part of my body for me, since I love to read and...spend time here sharing with all of you! Will let you all know what happens...
In the meantime, consider where you will be in the days ahead...Will you be working to help America through the continuing chaos? I hope so... We are seeing the results of an authoritarian leader, Putin, who, as one person, decided to start bombing another country, just because of his desire for more power! I, too, have concerns about how financial issues will be handled for Ukraine and the freedom that is being fought for daily. May reason, intelligence, research, and logic be used to move forward in saving a sister democracy, even as we fight here at home for our own! Freedom is not as easy as we once thought, is it?
