NEVER FORGET

If I was him--and once upon a time I was-- I would never forget her name or that blue dress. Not ever.

ALWAYS IN DANGER

Post inspired by Live and Learn. Asking prayers for brother.

We had our big ISO audit yesterday. When they got to me they wanted to see my receive process. I grabbed a box that came from out LAX maintenance center. Probably a radio that needs repair.

“I can show you better than I can tell you” I said.

I opened the box. No packing slip, no repair tag, both ISO requirements. My ears go red.

“Well, lets take a look in the database. There will be a ship task done for shipping it here.”

Well, guess what? No ship task. It’s a mystery basket, that’s what I got.

My boss, he says “Its not your fault. All you did was open the box”
Still, its no way to start an ISO audit. Frigging LAX, I should have known better.

There is a song from the 80’s I think of it a lot, but I can only remember 3 words from the song. The singer is singing about people, and the words are “always in danger”.

“Always in danger”
I guess some more than others. But we all get our turn.

I found the song. Went right to it.  I was pretty sure who it was.  Good song.

A FIVE HOT RACIST

I have no doubt whatsoever that Donald Trump's hateful anti-immigrant rhetoric is inspiring crimes of mass carnage, such as the one that occurred in El Paso. I also have no doubt whatsoever that there's a small segment of Trump voters out there who believe this, and a huge segment that refuse to. They deny he's a racist, which makes me wonder about them. That's why I've started a sliding scale for racists. Like for Thai food, ya know, 1 Hot thru 5 Hot.
I give Trump a solid 4 Hot.
Me? I give myself a 2 Hot.
If you would like to know how I score you, send $20 and a stamped self addressed envelope to me. 
Allow 3 weeks for delivery.

A BUS RIDE TO THE STAR MARKET

That story in the bible about the lady touching the hem of Jesus' robe, its one of the ones that really gets me.

Dave has a story, it reminds me of something shameful in my life. Just a moment I relive often enough.

I was raised in suburbia all my life. I’d never taken a bus or public transportation anywhere.

About 20 years ago my kids, 5 and 7, and I had occasion to take the bus to the zoo. Our start was from their grandma’s house, in a rough part of town.

When we got on the bus and were looking for a spot to sit, I saw all the folks on the bus---mostly low income inner city sorts of people—and I was way out of my comfort zone.

I’ve never thought of myself as racist, class conscious,  snobby, or whatever.
I grew up in Detroit, during the riots, cried when MLK was shot, thought myself to be pretty liberated, enlightened, tolerant and respectful of all peoples no matter their station in life.
I spied a cop sitting about the middle of the bus.

“Here kids, we’ll be safe here “ I said, and herded the kids into the seat in front of the cop.

There probably isn’t a month go by that I don’t replay that little episode in my head.

Here, 20 years later and having been about a step away from being homeless myself, I have to think that I wouldn’t feel so detached from humanity.

At least I wouldn’t ANNOUNCE it!

THE STAR MARKET

The people Jesus loved were shopping at the Star Market yesterday.
An old lead-colored man standing next to me at the checkout
breathed so heavily I had to step back a few steps.

Even after his bags were packed he still stood, breathing hard and
hawking into his hand. The feeble, the lame, I could hardly look at them:
shuffling through the aisles, they smelled of decay, as if the Star Market
had declared a day off for the able-bodied, and I had wandered in
with the rest of them — sour milk, bad meat —
looking for cereal and spring water.

Jesus must have been a saint, I said to myself, looking for my lost car
in the parking lot later, stumbling among the people who would have
been lowered into rooms by ropes, who would have crept
out of caves or crawled from the corners of public baths on their hands
and knees begging for mercy.

If I touch only the hem of his garment, one woman thought,
could I bear the look on his face when he wheels around?

- Marie Howe -
(from "The Kingdom of Ordinary Time")

MEDITATION

About 20 years ago I started losing some teeth. All in the back, so I kept my good looks, mostly. They would hurt like hell a couple times in a six month span, then just fall out. I guess about 6 or 8 teeth were lost. I learned that if I laid there and moaned, loud and long, it provided some relief. I didn’t know how, but it seemed to help.
Nowadays I wake up sometimes with a sour stomach. The same thing works. I moan and groan, loud and long. The more pitiful I sound the better it works.
After about 5 or six big long moans, the discomfort is pretty well gone.
Anyway, we were talking about meditation at my NA group last week. A guy was talking about breathing while he meditates. And I realized that the way all my moaning and groaning works is because of the way it regulates my breathing!
I think there is probably more to meditation than just moaning and groaning, but it’s a start.

SUICIDE WATCH

To the tune of America. The meters a little off.


“God Bless poor Hillary
Criminal that we love
Stand beside her, and guide her 
On a perp walk next week or in a year or two
Through Benghazi
Through her Emails
Through Fake DNC FISA’s
And Uranium One!
Gobless poor Hillary
Nothing ever sticks!
Gobless poor Hillary
Nothing (nothing) ever (ever) sticks!”

A FEW INCHES OF LIGHT

"It's incredibly touching when someone who seems so hopeless finds a few inches of light to stand in and makes everything work as well as possible. All of us lurch and fall, sit in the dirt, are helped to our feet, keep moving, feel like idiots, lose our balance, gain it, help others get back on their feet, and keep going."
 - Anne Lamott