CHANGE

CHANGE

It’s bright orange

Out of place

Needs to be scratched,

And popped.

Unease, unsure

Don’t like it,

Kinda frightening,

Palpitations,

Grumpy, crawling

Foreboding…

 

 

Nan

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Let’s Face It

What’s the difference between not being politically correct and being unconscionable? I mean, don’t we all have our little points of vulnerability here?  I mean it’s okay for me to laugh at being old, but…you?

 It’s obviously the pits if one should get a laugh  at someone developmentally delayed–like when  my Downs daughter, decked out to the wazoo in a great variety of Ohio State University paraphernalia chatted happily with the Ohio University’s new president at the International Street Fair…and then later helped carry the groceries from Krogers and put them in the wrong but identical car and even took out their trash.  I’ve laughed at myself all my life but I guess thagt’s to be expected, given who I am. But honestly, I know that much of the time it’s outrageous that I’m laughing instead of being appalled.

Seriously, I suspect that I was born with a tad of Tourette’s Syndrome. My father had it when he drank cheap wine and they say his father had it, but I was too young to notice.

I can’t show you the quirks I’ve overcome because I may start them  up again–it’s sufficiently dangerous to even recall them–but I do remember sitting in the congregation of the okld Methodist church of my childhood struggling with myself and the Devil not to shout out obscenities (though at that age they would have had minimal effect).

Although it’s not funny, for years I quietly and invisibly traced around the edge of things that fell within my puriew–both with my eyes and correspondingly, without noticeable movement, with a finger. Maybe all the foregoing is an apology for having laughed so hard and long at an article in the New Yorker–I think it was–about a gathering or convention or something–of folks with Tourette’s. I don’t believe the article was meant to be funny (how could it be?)  and though I’ve tried to find it again on Google to no avail, I’ve decided that’s the pits for me. There now, you know, you dingaling!   (Stronger word deleted  by blog editor).

 

 

 

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Reblog from Lucky Otter

An open letter to the free World…

SOSbottle

Dear (free) World,

Trump and his immoral, corrupt regime do not speak for the vast majority of us here in America.  They have subverted democracy and made it difficult or impossible for us to have a voice, especially in the voting booths, since they have rigged the system so it seems only they can win.  Using machiavellian, underhanded tricks and machinations, with little to no transparency, they have succeeded in taking the reigns of power and now they have a huge advantage over the People.

I am so ashamed of our nation right now.  I am so sorry that our heartless and amoral leader has chosen the suffering and torture of innocents, the wanton destruction of the earth for personal and financial gain, and the constant lies he tells to paint over the truth.  I am sorry he does not value empathy, kindness, being a good neighbor to our allies, and being a good steward of the earth.  I am sorry he has aligned us with the cruelest and most inhumane dictatorships in the world, as he continues to cut off former ties with our true allies: other western democracies.  I am sorry he targets our most vulnerable citizens for abuse (the sick, poor, young people, People of Color, the disabled, LGBTQ, Muslims, Latin Americans, migrants who just want a chance at a good life, etc.) and hardworking Latin American citizens who are already here, who work hard and help our economy, while he continues to reward parasitic greedy billionaires and environment destroying corporations that do nothing but take, and take, and take from We the People.  We’re being extracted by these predators, and yet we are the ones who are gaslighted and blamed for being the takers, even when we’re working three jobs to survive.

We are sorry he has empowered the worst among us, people who are blinded by their hatred of others who don’t look or pray or act just like them, and others of very low character.  Please know most of us see what he is doing,  and we hate it as much as you do.   Our hearts are breaking that we can do so little, but we are still trying everything we can to fight back against the forces of evil.  It’s so hard and exhausting though, and we seem to have so few tools at our disposal.

To the rest of the free world, we are so very sorry.  This isn’t what America is really about.  We have been hijacked.

Please don’t give up on us.  We may need your help. Most of us are good people who wish this wasn’t happening.

Regards,

A Concerned Citizen

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TO LIFE

I’m happy.

I want to stay a while longer.                     

No lightning bolt from the sky, please.

Let me linger

in the sweetness of the days and nights

and the coolness of the old shade tree.

Praise be to

whatever there is out there, in here

just over the horizon of my ken.

I play with you

in this sandbox, and together we make

do with what it seems we have.

 

Image:  Ken Karr.com                                                                                                                      Nan- Time Wrinkles,  2015

 

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Unsheltered – poem

I don’t know God, but I know His tree

No pillar of salt, but might as well be

Planted in place, it cannot flee

but curls its toes in the loam that is home.

                                               2015 Time Wrinkles

Image:  clipartpanda.com
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Tongue in Cheek – For D’verse (next week)

My dearest new Computer Mate

oh yes I’d like to have a date.

Since they paired us up, you must be

an educated man, and free.

I got your pix–which one is you?

And by the way, what do you do?

Describe myself, you say? Mein gott!

You really put me on the spot.

I’m a genuine human being,

a little nicer than I seem.

I brake for dogs and wreck for cats.

I like long dresses, gloves and hats,

though sometimes lounge around in jeans.

I joined church while in my teens

and let me tell you very straight

I drink no booze and smoke no pot.

Computer mate, I am no sot!

But if you’re Christian and you’re good

and make up to me like you should

I think that in a while we might

just make a pair that’s outta sight.

                                                                     nm 1984

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Back on Board with Mr. Crabby

Sorry I forgot to say I was going on vacation for a month, but I’m back now.  A newer model computer was made available to me, but it intimidated me, and tho I wrote  (and lost) mucho, blogging seemed beyond my ken.  I returned, having left my phone and address book at Tybee Island (they were under the bed covers), and due to the use of different computers managed to lose my e-mail password, and so I am at loggerheads, if that’s the correct expression.

Earlier  in the day prior to arriving at the beach, a horseshoe crab had washed up on shore, and surfers wrote in the sand,   Rest in Peace, Mr. Crabby.  They deposited his remains  next to a garbage can on the outskirts of the beach,  and when my granddaughter and I arrived  and spied Mr. Crabby–well, I had to claim, de-gut, baptise him in clorox and then in rubbing alcohol, followed by drying him in the sunshine during the rest of the month.  Fortuitously, I am much better at breathing through my mouth than all the rest of the family, so while they gagged I forged ahead, and by the time we returned to Ohio he was able to ride in my daughter’s car without her being crabby also.  His current destination: my living room wall.  He measures 12 x 27 inches (including his tail).  Figuring out how to hang his heavy, fragile self will be a challenge.  Suggestions welcome.

I also managed to carry home shells, Spanish moss, a couple of feathers, wheat grass, beach sand, plus  a nice shark’s tooth which was found during the final five minutes of our beach vacation.  One or more collages are anticipated.

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