Category: Death

An American oxymoron…

theycallmebettyLeave a comment

 

My 13 year old asked me the other day while watching Top Gear, a television show that originated in the UK and has grown to a spin off in the United States.

Dad; what is the difference between a GMC truck and a Chevrolet truck?

Sitting back in my chair, realizing this was a moment where I could lay waste to any positive view he may hold towards these vehicles with a short idiotic tirade, I gathered my thoughts leaned down, put my arm around him and using my best Ward Cleaver laid this little number upon his unsuspecting bewildered eyes.

Ahhhh-hemmmm!

(Clearing my throat, using my best grandpa jones old man inflection)

The difference between them son is symbolic of the widening indifference in our countries mental acuity.  You see when our country was young, led by intelligent, strong willed, dedicated individuals we as a country knew the difference between right or wrong. A child could play in the street without fear, a woman was revered by men, a mom was considered the, be all end all of every child, and your house was your home, not a temporary storage area until you moved again hoping to make an extra buck.  Community meant that everyone cared about their town and participated in its growth.  You didn’t just live there to commute somewhere else without a care in the world about your neighbors or their well being.

The difference clearly rested in a country becoming accepting of all races and religions without prejudice.  Remembering we are all products of family members who immigrated here and just because we are third or fourth generation doesn’t mean we hold some inalienable right over others trying to achieve the same dreams. Yet that is exactly what we continue to do and every race and ethnicity is as guilty as the next when it comes to this process. Our country started with the ability to parent each other’s children without fear of retribution, living under the guise of “it takes a village”.  Education was a number one priority and teachers were revered for success afforded them through flexibility not unattainable federal guidance. Teachers are taught to “have the power” and “Show students the way” yet due to spineless administrators and frivolous lawsuits our children have all the power backed by parents wanting an education for their children but refusing to back any teachers play when it comes to their precious heathens.

Oh yes son the difference is clear as daylight! For you see in this country we have allowed so many to abuse the legal system for so long that a citizen of the United States is now considered guilty until proven innocent. Prisoners have all the rights and citizens have little to no protection from the criminals.  Our police forces have been told to uphold the law using the iron fist of justice, yet the iron fist has been reduced to cheap tin and is now tied behind every officers back leaving them unable to complete any given task or have the appropriate authority to do so.

In god we trust is upon every dollar yet church and state has been cited as a conflict of moral/ethical principal. The difference is right in front of your face son. Hold the door for a woman today and you are oppressing her right to equality, don’t hold the door and you are rude self centered man. Rape and abuse are the center of every television drama, glorified for all to see which seems to be an oxymoron in a civilized society.  The real housewives of any city USA are a ratings boom feeding these women millions of dollars. As American women we should be ashamed of these poor excuses for humans yet we glorify their shallow self centered struggles. Meet any woman who behaves as they do in real life (not reality TV) and she is instantly a trash talked bitch cut from the pack and left to obscurity.

What is the difference? ah yes, everyone gets a trophy when playing sports and no one loses; because if we have all winners that means someone will feel bad about losing, possibly stunting their ability to feel good about themselves in the future.  It also means that no one person will know what it feels like to truly succeed at something through failure, there bye over time eliminating the need to perform and win from our genetic make-up.

Our society is told to go outside and live life daily, these directions come from the confines of a television we paid way too much money for because its quality is so good you actually feel as though you are there, thusly preventing you from actually being outside. The difference is complaining about the rain while sniveling about the sun, whining about the heat while crying about how cold it has become!

The differences are right in front of you, you are bombarded with them every day.   WE (Americans) choose what we believe in as individuals, then we stick to it come hell or high water! Its what makes us great as a society, but its also what may in fact lead to our downfall.

In reality there are no real differences, a tweak here a few horsepower there, but essentially the very same truck. Over the last 100 years “we the people” have become so blinded by the Hollywood glow of some that lead, so ethically corrupted by misled faith, disenchanted with reality, bought off by envy and the American advertising machine that handles everything from a bar of soap to the Presidency, that “we the people” actually believe  there is a tangible difference between a GMC and a Chevy truck.

If you don’t think other countries aren’t laughing at our pig headed stupidity then drive down to your local Honda/Acura-Nissan/Infinity- Toyota/Lexus dealers and see who is having the last laugh at your expense..

Oh yeah, by the way son the GMC truck is waayyyy better than a piece of junk Chevy truck any day! Duh!  Stupid Chevy owners…

 

 

Waking up=Suck

theycallmebettyLeave a comment

 

Waking up this morning from a short night of slumber, I sat at the edge of my firehouse bunk slowly orienting myself to time, place and event.

Time: 0600=Sucks!

Place: Still at work not home next to my lovely wife=Sucks!

Event: Daily awakening from crappy slumber after night of running calls= Suck!

As I rolled my eyes around the room, shedding “suck” from the moment, dreams that occupied my brain during the night began flashing forward like bright, stop motion photography.  Some nights they easily dissipate like the mist, while other mornings they linger, playing over and over again like a bad date or a misspoken word during the most inopportune of moments.  Groundhog day…

This morning was different from the others, as I replayed each and every one of my night’s adventures I was reminded of an article that caught my attention sometime back.  The article dealt specifically with dreams and their process; the gist of it stated every morning after a solid night of dreams you should arise and immediately write down the events that occurred. “Hmmm a reporter for your dreams, now there is a job I could handle with ease! The interviews would be tough, for I can be a defensive prick, but I would never let up on myself eventually catching myself with a misspoken word or phrase leading to my cutting edge personality ending up on TMZ!”  In time you will either become enlightened or befuddled, contemplating a good stiff drink (even if you are not the drinking kind). 

A cup of coffee, the morning news and yet I am left wondering about last night’s slumber filled adventures. What do they mean?? What purpose did these dreams serve and why was my subconscious mired in mystery? Dreams were so much simpler when I was younger!

Then like a brick to the side of the head, a thunderbolt across the bow, Edison’s first look into an invention called the light bulb it comes to me.  No Dr. Freud inspired answer, no years of studying psychology in college; I haven’t read a few books at Borders in regards to the human brain, converting me into an armchair hack, nope just a good old-fashioned Ah Ha moment in the making!

We dream in decades…  I know crazy huh!  Think about it though, we dream in decades! My dreams revolve around an approximate ten-year cycle! A certified block of time short of or equal to the amount of storage space left in this super computer known as a brain!

Our brains works like this…

The Frontal lobe handles planning, reasoning, delving into the emotional aspects of my day; minute by minute, then the Parietal lobe moving, orienting, recognizing and stimulating my every thought! The Occipital spends every second of my being visually processing what is happening then leaving the Temporal Lobe to perceive and recognize sounds, memory and speech!   

The brain can only store so much information, so much emotion; the stresses alone should leave your brain requesting a donor! So it only makes sense that when the brain is resting, it’s dying to have a little fun at your expense! A little ME TIME as it where! Helping purge itself of all these crazy thoughts, dreams aspirations, emotions, desires and dreads that flow daily through your waking hours!  Using its abilities for evil, filling your dreams with unattainable goals (Wendy Peffercorn), aspirations (Steve Austin) and disappointments! I still don’t understand why I am not President of the United States!

While delving back into time at decades past it all makes perfect sense! While in my 1-10 phase of life my little brain lived for the simpler things.  When laying my weary little head down to sleep with blankie, I was filling my brain with thoughts of new bicycles, model cars, skateboards, G.I. Joes and Atari game systems!  Nightmares revolved around falling from unknown heights, being chased by dark scary men across deserts, jungles and inner cities!  The scary evil monkey who lived in my closet for the love of God!

10-20 my dreams were filled with cars, tractors, scary U.F.O’s, girls, (U.F.O.’s and girls were equally scary) climbing the highest mountains and awaking naked in a classroom filled with the most popular people in school! (Come on who hasn’t dreamt about being naked in class? You’re a liar if you deny it!).  There was lots of fighting in my dreams back then, nothing was more befuddling than arising to find my room thrashed, sheets soaked in sweat and feeling as though I went three rounds with Rocky Balboa! Yo Adrienne!!

20-30 Endless nights filled with dreams about wealth, expensive cars, drugs, and dying! (It was the eighties after all, could have been a little Magnum PI/Miami Vice thing going on or the constant watching of the period classic “The secret of my success”).  Of course my sleep during this decade was relegated to where and when as working multiple jobs at once early on then moving to a dairy where there are no days off led to round the clock efforts!  Once I started driving truck it only got worse and my dream cycle latched onto the whole dying theme! Usually a grotesque mangled death inside my truck! Yuck! What kind cruel trick is that for my mind to play upon myself!  Sick bastard!!

30-40’s my dreams changed as did life! My income was finally stable, everything revolved around the growth and safety of my children! Slowly evolving, changing me into Marlin the clown fish from Finding Nemo!

No little ones you can’t swim out past the reef it’s too dangerous! You just aren’t ready!!!!

Ahh dad, who cares if I have one little fin instead of two I can do it!

Yeah the kids pretty much hated me during this period! 

Now at 46 I fear being alone; my children are growing so fast and Marlin is slowly releasing his grip around the neck of adventure, allowing the children to explore, challenge themselves, unhampered even by their fathers’ best efforts!

So what does my 50-60’s have in store for my personal dream factory? Will I wake up rubbing my eyes and start pacing in circles screaming “MAKE IT GO AWAY, MAKE IT GO AWAY”!  Or will I be an oasis of relaxation where my brain quietly goes to recharge every night with me awakening next to my lovely bride, smile on my Charlie Brown Face and no fear of the unknown. The darkness that lurks deep inside gone forever!

Now that would not =Suck!

 

To infinity and beyond!!

theycallmebettyLeave a comment

This is a sad day in Betty’s world. 

Today’s obituary: Neil Alden Armstrong (August 5, 1930 – August 25, 2012) was an American NASA astronaut, test pilot, aerospace engineer, university professor, United States Naval Aviator, and the first person to set foot upon the Moon.

Let that sink in for a moment.  The first man to set foot on the moon, July 26 1969 has perished. 

Although he was just one N.A.S.A. (National Aeronautics and SpaceAdministration) team member in a pool of extremely intelligent and talented individuals, Mr. Armstrong was lucky enough to be chosen to command Apollo 11 and even luckier to be first down the LEM (Lunar Excursion Module) planting his feet firmly in lunar soil then muttering the all too familiar phrase “That’s one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind” thus forever cementing his name in American history. 

Little known fact: Mr. Armstrong actually stated “That’s one small step for (a) man: one giant leap for mankind” as man/mankind would have been improper use of the English language because man is synonymous with mankind.  But the (a) was blocked by static so the recording and phrase we all know to this day is forever cemented in history. 

So why is Betty so sad?  Mr. Neil Armstrong was one of my childhood hero’s! In elementary school I would read about space missions up to and including landing on the moon.  Then I would run out and play as if I were an astronaut.  Circling the jungle gym like it was the moon, coming in slowly, after burners at half thrust, slowly easing my spacecraft onto the top then leaping to the ground screaming; “that was one small leap for all kids, one giant landing for all kidkind!”

Yep we all wanted to be astronauts! Space suits, space ships, stars and planets, we dreamed and we dreamed big.  At night coming in from the barn the moon would call to me like a lost friend.  Staring at its kindly giant face, wondering what it was like to stand on its forehead looking back at our giant blue sphere. Knowing that Neil Armstrong stood there, gazing upon his home from a perch that few would ever see! What did he think, how did he feel? Was he scared? Did he worry that he and his crew may never come home? 

Yeah space the final frontier; these are the voyages of the star ship Enterprise! Her five year mission to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before! Crap! Wait wrong fantasy!  I also used to pretend I was Captain James T. Kirk, but that story is for another time.

Astronauts, sheriffs, firefighters, teachers, superheroes (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Capt. America etc..) Cowboys, sports heroes, they were all there for us to idolize and admire.  To dream about becoming as we grew into adults.  These images forever etched into our minds, approved of by our parents and lived in the fantasy play periods of our afternoons. 

Where are today’s heroes? Who do our children have to look up too? When my kids are in their forties who will they look back upon as being their childhood heroes? Computer generated actors? Rappers? Boy bands? Disney created childhood mental cases waiting to explode as adults? I am just not seeing it! Where are the brazen leaders, moral guided heroes, larger than life humans that stand by their convictions leading the way for all youngsters to dream?

Am I wrong? Is it just me?

Rest in Peace Neil Armstrong.  Thank you for the endless hours of dreaming your bravery brought to my young life.   

 

Another page…

theycallmebetty3 Comments

Reflection:

Betty is turning another year older tomorrow (or today depending on what timeline you reside) and with it brings a myriad of inner struggles rolling through my ever spinning brain on a daily basis.  There are so many things to accomplish yet time is running amuck.  These “things” spin wildly out of control consuming my thoughts every minute of every day; feeling as though there is some great stopwatch in the sky ticking away every second of my life!  A timekeeper resting upon the outer edge, screaming down to me like the gate-keeper from The Wizard of Oz: “you are running out of time”!  

In life I have always done things the hard way, it is just my nature! Repeatedly I feel a need to fail at something, helping me to understand the nuances, finer points, angles, and basic structure of whatever I am trying to achieve.  Never having been gifted with any great talent, most of my life has been left wondering why? My grandmother once told me “when you find what you were meant to do in life you will love it, cherish every moment of it, and crave the pursuit of “it” for the rest of your life”. She stood by that statement and achieved many great moments in her life including writing and publishing her memoirs. Those words, her words continue to haunt my thoughts, leaving me empty wanting to try everything without truly finding something to cling too.

Once told I would never amount to anything.

Throughout my existence there were several times the above statement was thrown into my face, and though it has been a driving force in whom I have become, it has also become an obstacle to success, an easy way out when things get difficult, as in; “well I was never expected to amount to anything, so what did you expect”? Turning another year older, one would think a bruising phrase would slowly fade away; disappear like a trapped antelope in funneling quicksand. Yet every now and again it rears its ugly, brooding head leaving me stunned and hurting inside.

Looking upon my life there have been quite a few major accomplishments, successes that are by no means trivial and yet I still feel empty/unfinished.  I feel as though there is something “greater” for me out there, something bigger than myself left to do.

How do I tame this feeling? What can I do to quench my thirst for greatness? Why can’t I just be satisfied with what has been achieved in my life so far?

Something tells me I may never know the answer.

Here is what I do know.  Writing is devilishly fun! Making people laugh, pulling out emotions you didn’t know you held the strings too, sharing stories/experiences everyone can relate with is exhilarating to say the least! I plan on continuing this effort, hopefully growing and sharing other people’s experiences along the way. Life is a journey that should be shared and hopefully someday we can all share it together.

So another year in the books, hundreds more stories to write and one man who goes by the name of Betty left smiling, frowning, laughing, crying and hoping someday he will slowly figure out this crazy little thing called life…or at the very least figure out how to slow down these voices in his head, using them for good not evil..

Closing abstract light, vision obscured, only anticipation, arousal, and intrigue are left to sensory overload. What will happen, where will we go? Eyes darting side to side while covered by fleshy matter, blinded, yet everything is seen clearly, concise and vibrant. A story, soliloquy, or diatribe, what lays in store for this personal moment? Holding no control over any outcome yet relishing the moment, for it is all mine;  no one can enter these locked chambers, pilfer my seconds, part with peaceful noise. 

Drawing winds from the south, entering through inspiration, swirling, turning unstable air removes all waste, clears all debris then retreats to the north as fast as it came. Sometimes forceful other times with gentle relief.   Regardless an engine is fueled, light shines in, darkness retreats, a story unfolds and a brain once void of feelings, numb, weighed down by the trappings of a daily routine is unleashed through paired hands.   The end product of a mind not left to waste, an imagination once thought sterile, creativity not classically trained but allowed to flourish through determination. 

This is how writing has changed my life…..

Thank you grandma, I think I found the “it” you were describing.

(Beulah Fabris; 1913-2006)

Feeling broken

theycallmebetty3 Comments

 

Where did you go?

Who have you become?

I feel as though I don’t know you anymore. As though a stranger has newly entered my life, yet nothing could be further from the truth. I find myself filled with remorse, anger, compassion and hatred all at the same time.  Realizing I shall no longer defend your outrage. I can no longer bear the brunt of destruction you leave behind. Cleaning up your emotional toil in both cumbersome and tiring. You are like a pebble tossed into a pond.  The original hit was you, then slowly you sink to the bottom for safety, while leaving others to ride the waves, praying they don’t drown, hoping to survive.

What made you this way? The person I remember has always been a little angry, somewhat gruff, yet once alone you were charming, and funny.  Somewhere, somehow you made a conscious decision to change for the worse.  You can continue to place blame, to point crooked fingers, but in the end it rides squarely upon your shoulders.

You claim all is not fair, life is not fair, you bellow that nothing is ever done correctly, and you regale how much better life would be without you.  Then flipping as a switch you are back to normal.  On/off, on/off, the effects fleeting at best, but back to normal none the less.  Your emotions can be felt as the constant ticking of a time bomb.  There is no one left to defuse you.

To this I say; There will be no more sleepless nights worrying about your state of mind. I shall portray that of mediator no more. You shall never yell at someone I love again with out serious repercussion.  I will no longer defend absurdity under the guise of being elder. You have chipped the very last fragment of love from my heart. If you wish to be gone from this world than so be it.  You are gone in my eyes, your soul has left my heart, I am empty when it comes to you.

Feeling broken…….

Maybe you were right after all,  Life is not fair.

Faces from our past….

theycallmebetty1 Comment

They leave behind families who know nothing of how, or why. Often misunderstood they rise to the challenge everyday and wish nothing more than the ability to return home to the country they love. Proud, brave and sometimes terrified, they perform under stress as no other. Some becoming what legends are made of, others lives are changed forever. 

It takes a special person to perform their particular duties and as Americans we should show nothing but respect not only for those who return, but for the fallen as well.  It has often been said that our WWII veterans were the greatest generation.  They sacrificed all for our country.  If those men and women set the standard then I believe all fallen soldiers should be held with the same regard.  None of them wished to perish, none of them woke up one particular morning thinking today is my last day. None of them asked to be subjected to the horrors of war, to losing fellow soldiers and thier friends.   They all knew the job that laid before them.  They all knew the risks associated, and yet each and every one of them stepped forward with honor and integrity, putting aside personal feelings of dread to complete a task for you, for us, for themselves and for our country.

Can you say you would do the same thing?

Wont you join me today as I hang my head and humbly say a prayer to all soldiers lost in many theatres across the world over multiple generations? 

It is after all Memorial day-not national BBQ day.

To all soldiers in every branch of service I say;  Thank you for your service to our country and may God bless you, and your family.

Remember the fallen, respect those who remain. 

Every 15 Minutes

theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Steam rises from the hood as a faint wail can be heard off in the distance.  Sound is muffled, vision distorted he doesn’t understand the images placed before his eyes.  A kaleidoscope of colors passing through a spiderweb prism is all he can associate.  Looking to his right he finds a pair of shoes.  Not just any shoes but the Sketchers he bought his girlfriend for her 16th birthday.  Why? He wonders.  Why are they there on the seat of my car and how are they standing on their toes.  The improbability of shoes standing on their toes is more than his mind can process.  He shakes his head trying to clear the cobwebs but the alcohol in his system wont let it happen.  So he stares at the pink Sketchers in disbelief.  

The pink Sketchers he bought his girlfriend on her 16th birthday are in fact not standing on their toes.  They are still connected to her feet, feet that lead to her legs, legs that stretch through the windshield of his 2004 Nissan where she lay motionless on the hood. Dying.  The girl he loves is dying on the very hood that steam now rises from while a faint wail can be heard in the distance.

She cant seem to make it stop.  She doesn’t remember taking a nap, but now that she has found peaceful slumber she only wishes for what ever is dripping on her face to quit!  She dreams of water or syrup sliding across her eyes.  Swatting at the sticky substance she is not sure whether its real or part of her warm comfortable dream.  Then she feels it, starting out as a low uncomfortable burning, her dream translates it into fire.  Surrounding her, leaving her trapped yet somehow she knows better, fighting resisting the dream. Her eyes finally opened by the rush of adrenaline surging through her system, brought forward by the searing pain across her face. The sticky substance now identified is blood! She screams then screams again, taking in all the air her lungs will allow.  Her seat is covered in blood, the dashboard is covered in blood, her clothes are covered in blood.  Wait a minute; she thinks to herself.  Calm down and relax; is all she can say.  Her dads voice ringing in her ears for all the times she felt panicked and he calmed her down with those four little words.  Honey just “calm down and relax”.  She remembers getting in the car with her friend, they were headed to a friend’s house for a study group..  Wait her friend! He was driving them! She slowly turns to the left and its then her world is changed forever!

She now knows where the blood is from, oh sure some is from the head wound that burns across her scalp.  But the majority is from him.  He lies motionless against the door pillar, color gone from his face, lips barren and dry, a sandy glaze across the whites of his eyes he breathes no more. Still, lifeless, anything but the laughing energetic young man he was a mere 5 minutes ago.  She screams for him to wake, he doesn’t budge.  She slaps his face praying for a reaction! Anything! Anger and fear rip through her as she comes to realize he will never wake up, never move again, the charming, smart, dorky boy she had known since 5th grade was gone forever. She lays against him crying. Not knowing what to do or where to go, she cries.

The faint wail off in the distance is not a wounded animal, it doesn’t come from a piece of machinery or a child who has just been punished it comes from a shadow, a silhouette, an anomaly spread out on the pavement 25 yards away.  It twitches and writhes this anomaly of disproportion.  The top half in a serious battle with the bottom half. A losing battle from what can be gathered at first sight.  This shadow seems to be swimming on pavement, for it surrounded by liquid.  A red lake that ripples with the breeze it appears to be flowing to the lowest level it can reach.  Moving closer we see the shadow, the anomaly is wearing softball gear.  A bat off to the right a cleat off to the left stuck in the center of what appears to be a childs water-color.  Smeared across hot black asphalt lay various shades of red.  She doesn’t know why she is face down and can’t move her lower half.  She doesn’t understand why she is vomiting non stop. She feels a “fight or flight” reaction that she can’t control.  Like a trapped animal she howls, claws and fights against the chains that bind her to this place.  An abdomen that wont flex, a pair of legs grotesquely deformed, rotated and broken, she fights.  She has fought her whole life against those who said she couldn’t.  She has fought her whole life to achieve her small successes in school , at home and on the field of play, now she fights purely for her life.  She cannot move anymore yet she still fights.. 

He has shaken the cobwebs and moved beyond the pink Sketchers.  Trembling with fear he opens the car door and stands up to survey the origin of steam rising off the front of his car.  He cannot believe what lays before his still blurry eyes.  Two vehicles are heavily damaged, the front end on his car is folded up like a piece of paper, his girlfriend lay on the hood. Bleeding. Unconscious. It appears he has struck another car in the driver’s door.  A portion of the drivers head lays split open on the center post of the car.  It appears another occupant, most likely a female is crying and shaking the driver looking for a response.  As he walks around the front of his car, pulling out his cell phone he see’s a bloody pile of clothing fighting against itself on the street off in the distance.  It also appears to be a female and she has a bat, glove and is missing her shoes??

What has he done?  How did this happen?  It was only minutes ago he was at a party, laughing, drinking and having a good time with his girlfriend.  What is he going to tell his parents?  What is he going to tell her parents?  This can’t be happening he is going to college in 6 weeks!  What does this mean for his future?  It was only a couple of drinks right? He tells himself he is fine and there is no way the cops will ever know..

He makes the call to 911…

Every 15 minutes a person is involved in an alcohol related accident.  This is the premise of the Every 15 Minutes program held at high schools across the country prior to Senior Prom and Graduation.  Every 15 Minutes is a two-day program focusing on high school juniors and seniors.  The program challenges them to think about drinking, driving, personal safety and the responsibility of making the right decisions.  The program also focuses on the impact these choices make on family, friends and the community. 

The story I wrote above was about our scenario today April 26th 2012.  It is an re-enactment or compilation of many accidents I have responded to over the years.  For as the Every 15 Minutes program has an impact on the children and their families. Drinking and driving has an impact on all first responders.  The firefighters, the police officers, the ambulance crews and the hospital personnel who fight for your child or family members life.  People who are advocates for their survival.  These are images I carry with me always.  Images I can’t erase or just forget! People whose lives were changed forever from one poorly made decision. I remember them all and share them with you so you will remember to never get behind the wheel of a car after you have been drinking. 

Dont drink and drive. 

 All pictures are of high school actors who volunteered to help raise awareness to teenage drinking and driving. I am very proud to be a part of the Every 15 Minutes program and the lasting effect it has on our participants, their family members and the audience that witnesses the event.

Bettys Words of Wisdom for the Day

theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Take a moment to make someones day. Hold a door, pick up a dropped object, say please and thank you.  Go that extra mile that leaves someone else smiling as you walk away. No recognition, not because you have too, but because it’s who you are and you know in your heart it will pay forward.

Carry on that is all…

A horrible Easter poem..

theycallmebettyLeave a comment

 

 

Oh easter candy that’s left behind, I hear your faint call, you are on my mind.

It really doesn’t matter what kind that you are, a toffee, a peep or a dark chocolate bar

I walk through the kitchen avoiding your stare, yet my brain calls my sweet tooth with an evil dare.

I have given up sweets for the betterment of health, so taking you now should be done with great stealth.

The kids are still watching, the wifes on high alert. I move into the kitchen and slide you up under my shirt.

The closet, the bedroom or just sneak outside, to get on my bike and go for a ride.

But in the end it’s just us, sitting on the edge of my bed, the bag is half gone, sugar races to my head.

I let out a sigh of orgasmic relief, for in a few moments I will be overcome with great grief.

The guilt oh the guilt, I shall certainly be hung. The youngest has found me, my bell has been rung.

No guiltier man was found by our family jury.  In the end it was worth it, I enjoyed the last Cadbury.

An awful poem written for all you candy junkies such as myself who hate this holiday for the endless amounts of candy that are left in the house afterwards! Bags upstairs, bags downstairs, candy in little bowls and hidden in the cupboards. I crave it I need it, it talks to me, telling me its ok to have just one more!  Who cares if its 250 calories a piece! So what if you can devour three or four pieces at a time! It’s just candy right?  Its only once a year, right? Live a little, have some more, heck if you eat it all then there will be no more and you can go right back to your low-calorie, bland, tasteless diet that you have enjoyed so much over the last year. Just remember, your life insurance doesn’t pay out if its suicide! Self induced candy coma suicide! Fatty!

So my advice to you is, stay strong! Look the other way, let the kids eat it all and when you go to bed tonight and you hear the candy talking to you. Get up, and go make yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Your future diabetes will be in check and Wilfred Brimley will be proud of you.

 

 

 

I love a Western…

theycallmebetty2 Comments

Saloon doors open as the wind drives a tumbleweed through the barren streets of a lonely little high plains town. Inside a half-witted piano player takes note of the mid-sized stranger strolling slowly through the doors, across the threshold.  Quiet falls upon the gallery of scraggly, dirty, motley looking inhabitants renting temporary refuge inside this dank place of excess.  A bartender moves slowly as to not give away his left hands position upon a firmly mounted sawed off double barrel beneath the bar. The stranger moves forward entering the center of the room, eyes steeled upon a table of well dressed men and low brow women.  Money on the table and enough whiskey to purchase a round for the bar three times over are strewn about.  With every step the stranger takes, the farther away life’s crustaceans scurry.  Before long the stranger is standing alone, jaw locked tight, hands laying limply by his side, a gentlemen dressed in what would be most mens Sunday best sits before him.  Without turning around the well dressed man continues to play poker to an unwilling table.  The entire population of the bar have worked their way into optimal viewing positions, some cowering, some standing tall, but all waiting to see who makes the first move.  The well dressed man stands to face the stranger, slowly he turns narrow eyes peer from under the brim of his hat, instantly showing equal disdain for the presence before him.  The stranger speaks…..

Oh man I love westerns! They have filled my head with fantasy for over 40 years! Most of my heroes were cowboys! John Wayne, Glenn Ford, Robert Mitchum, Jimmy Stewart, Clint Eastwood and James Garner. They were real men! Stood for what they believed in no matter the cost. If you weren’t with them you were against them and that meant one of two things; you ended up dead or you duked it out, then shared a whiskey after the brawl. 

As a child we had four channels to choose from, today we have over 800! I miss the old days, as a kid it forced you to watch what was on, you didn’t have any other choice!  If it weren’t for those four channels I am sure I would have missed out on some great televison series! These are a few of the wonderful shows I watched on many a rainy day; Bonanza, Big Valley, Gunsmoke, Bat Masterson, Davey Crockett, F-troop, The Lone Ranger, and Gene Autry. 

Dont even get me started on the fantastic western movies I have seen over the years!  I compiled a small list of westerns that meant something to me, that moved me and continue to garner my attention to this very day. These are not just average westerns, no, no, these are westerns that force me to stop what I am doing, drop everything cold just so I may sit down too watch! 

Old Movies

The Kentuckian, The man who shot Liberty Valence, The Fastest Gun Alive, The Big Country, Rio Bravo, The Alamo, Mclintock, A fistful of dollars, The Cheyenne Social Club, The Sheepherder, Cahill U.S. Marshall, High Plains Drifter, Support your local Gunfighter, Rooster Cogburn, The Shootist and Big Jake.

Newer Era

The Man From Snowy River, A River Runs Through it, Lonesome Dove, Blazing Saddles, Silverado, Quigly Down Under, Hildago, Unforgiven, Tombstone, Appaloosa, Wyatt Earp, and 3:10 to Yuma.

There are numerous westerns spread over many generations, I can honestly say I have sat through most genres; Epic Westerns, Spaghetti westerns, and B movie westerns. Although I may not have liked them all, I certainly enjoyed most of them. 

My all time favorite would have to be Silverado. I have seen it more times than I can honestly count.  The shootout at the end is one of my favorites.  Second runner-up is Tombstone. When Kurt Russell tells Ike Clanton; “tell all the other curs the law is coming, you tell em I’m coming, and Hells coming with me you hear! Hells coming with me! “ is one of the best lines ever in a western.  Big Jake and Mclintock would be tied for third with Appaloosa bringing up a solid fourth.  The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence would finish us off in fifth. 

High Plains drifter, Hidalgo and A river runs through it for honorable mention.

So now that I have completely lost your attention let me explain where I am headed with my school girl/boy crush upon the western genre. These were and still are my heroes!  As an adult when ever a great western comes along I feel as though I am a 9-year-old boy lying on the living room floor gazing upon the open plains dreaming of one day becoming a real bona-fide cowboy!  A man among men, a moral and righteous man with ethics beyond refute! They make me feel alive, reminding myself that no matter how hard life has become, no matter what problems we may encounter, I can disappear into a safe place for just a little while.  My brain can shut off and escape all the modern-day trappings that envelope us.  These characters are bigger than life! I want to be them if only for a little while. 

So what I am wondering is; if I can feel this way after 45 years, what genre will my kids still idolize as adults?  Movies today are centered around gruesome murders, Horrific villains, vampires, zombies, disgusting hate crimes, and social injustice.  Comedies are centered around drugs, ignorance, more social injustice, racism, and disrespect for parents and any unsuspecting figure of authority. Who are the movie stars you would consider safe to set an example for your kids?  Which ones will your children remember as adults for the parts they portrayed?  What actors will still have a viable meaning full career after thirty years, where our children will someday preach the gospel about his/her acting ability?  Or is it completely different now and I am just missing the point?  Are we as a society so plugged into electronic devices, revolving around our friends lives along with news from around the world; there is no longer a need? With so many fantasy world options (video games, Facebook, twitter) have our kids lost the ability to think for themselves? To fantasize about healthy alternatives to the lives they are living?  It all seems mystifying to me.  Am I alone in this? Am I blowing this way out of proportion?  Am I stuck with the Hunger Games and Harry Potter becoming the standard by which they disappear from reality? Or is it because I can’t let go of my dream, inadvertently putting a moratorium on theirs? I just don’t have an answer but I am definitely worried. 

Oh well, for now I am riding off into the sunset, Henry Rifle strapped to my saddle and six-shooter by my side, its time to be moving on……. 

Oh and if you are wondering how my little story from above ended, that’s the beauty of writing, use your imagination.  You tell me…..