Talking It Over

My daughter is severely and multiply disabled.  However, I've raised her at home for 31 years, as a "well," "normal" child.  I refer to her as a "child," because she's 5'1", weighs 100 pounds, is quite boyish in appearance, and lives in the world of Mario, and Sonic the Hedgehog.  She really is a child.

I also have Sydney, the pooch.  It's taken about a year and a half for the two to bond; for Hillary to realize that sibling rivalry is not necessary between the two of them, and that I can care about both the dog and my daughter differently but equally, at the same time.  No one loses; I don't play favorites.  Except sometimes...

Yesterday, it came time in the dog's routine to go outside and pee; alas, it was raining.  I told Hillary to let Sydney go, but to watch him and not make him stay out there, drenched, any longer than necessary.  He is only 10 pounds, after all; just a little fellow.

She lets him out.  Then, she follows him.  In the rain.   Because Hillary is deaf, we speak in Sign language. Hillary also has a tracheotomy tube, so she cannot vocalize or utter a sound.  "Away! Away!" she flaps, her arms outstretched, and pumping up and down at the wrists.  Syd, who by now has gotten the gist of things with Hillary, understands what this means without a single spoken word; he obediently pads down the stairs of the back stoop.

With a backward glower, it is clear that he is not happy to go out in the rain; nevertheless, he unwillingly lopes toward the middle of the grassy yard.  Hillary's next move is to sign to him, "Toilet! Hurry!"  Being a fellow of few words, himself, Sydney looks at her with a, "Who, me?  What was that you said, again?"

Hil thinks about this, and figures it out.  It all happens in a second.  She will have to be more explicit; more direct.  In her mind, it is Sydney who is at the disadvantage.  After all, he has paws and not fingers; Sign language comes more slowly for him.

Thus, in an effort to help him understand, Hillary gracefully lifts her left leg into a full hoist, while she stands there at the top of the stoop.  As if to pee.  Sydney, wet and circling there on the grass, looks up at her in the rain, considering this.

Hillary has no time to lose.  The rain is coming down faster, and she is getting wet, too.  She moves closer to the dog, edging toward the lawn.  She lifts her leg again higher, at least two feet off the ground, and shakes it so that Sydney will be sure to observe the posture he is supposed to take.

Still, however, no results.

This time, Hillary considers a change of plans.  Perhaps a metaphor, she thinks:  She puts her "hind" leg down, and from both knees, squats, girl-style.  Figuring that perhaps Sydney isn't used to seeing her pee like a male dog, he might relate better to her peeing like a female dog.   Interestingly, this move inspires him, and he begins to circle and sniff more seriously; the rain is ever-present.

Observing that she has made progress, but not quite enough--and particularly given the wetness of things-- Hillary stands upright again, lifts her left leg, then her right, and back to her left, holding each for a moment or two--high up and extended--bent at the knee.  What do you know?!  Sydney stops, stares, and processes what the message is all about.  Looking at Hillary, as if looking at his instructor in a ballet studio, Sydney, too, lifts his leg, and makes the effort to pee.  ...  Success!

Hold it!  Maintain that position!  Ahhhhh.  Both child and hound lower their legs in tandem, together: Smoothly, rapidly, finally. She smiles, in charge; he relaxes, obedient.  Now, they may go inside; both pleased with themselves and each other.

The rain continued to fall and, quickly both hurried for dry comfort.  Hillary gave a backward glance toward the grey sky and pouring down heavy drops of water.  Her arms flew up, and once again her hands bent at the wrists, flapping up and down at the out of doors; the original motion she had made, instead of signing Away, marked, "Finished!"

Reflecting Upon the Assassination of JFK, 50 Years Later: Intermountain Jewish News

Neftali/Shutterstock.com

Then, it was time for the World War II generation to take its place as leader--not only of the free world, but of the entire globe.  He was paradigmatic of the American Dream.  He tried his best, grew as he learned, was gracious and witty, intelligent and cosmopolitan.  His breeding and eloquence never lessened his sense of the people.

No matter his failings, he personified the new and greatest generation.  When the War was over, the old men stood aside; he stepped up to bat.  America was the top of the heap; he was proof that we had arrived.  In the years that proceeded him, his generation remained the best of the best; what this nation was all about.  "Ask not what your country can do for you;" he counseled.  "Ask what you can do for your country."

She, on the other hand, was beyond compare:  Strikingly handsome, bright, at once unafraid to lead and be feminine, she was all that he was and more.  I saw her at the theatre: Radiant--an aura.  Dressed in white in the darkened audience, she was a lovely golden glow.  She savored being a woman, a bon vivant, a certain kind of unspoken ethereal power.

Yet, uppermost were her efforts and joys as a mother, safeguarding her children's wellbeing and independence.  Never mind her reigning duties, her peccadilloes; her children were her focus.  She understood that as her personal legacy, they were her responsibility.  "If you bungle raising your children," she said, "I don't think whatever else you do, matters very much."

In the shadows, an underside of the flourishing Dream was the insistence of entitlement that came with a realization of success.  Signaled by his demise, that darker visage continually expanded itself, extinguishing those ideals of integrity, determination, achievement, gratitude.

It took almost 200 years for him to epitomize whom we were inspired to become.  It took less than a generation for us to implode upon ourselves.  He is dead, his generation almost gone, the United States as it was intended to be, is done.

Of this, I am always aware: He was but a symbol; what might have been.

The Unhemmed Skirt: Fashionable Young Women of the 21st Century

Yesterday, we had a showing re: the sale of the building: The Wesleyans (Methodists, as you no doubt know). A group called Mosaic, which I think is their outreach program for downtrodden urban centers... seem like nice folks.

Toward the end of the showing, one gal is talking with Tom, my broker, in my office, and they're reviewing codes, etc. I'm sitting there, working. The girl is a slender tall, black woman with perfectly matched everything and fun black braided, woven hair. Jewelry, etc. all pinks and wines and puces... Little bowed Pappagallo ballerina flats with bugle beads and sequins. Again, exactingly attired.

Except for one thing: She was wearing a tea-length, tiered, cotton/gauze/muslin dyed skirt (remember those?) in the softest shade of burgundy--how nice. It went beautifully. However, each tier had tons of loose threads hanging from it. Tons. The hem was missing altogether: It simply wasn't. Just raw cloth that looked as though a heel had gotten caught in the stitching, pulled out the entire thing. It was hanging jaggedly, with more threads, all the way around.

Ghastly.

Here was this absolutely lovely girl, dressed to the nine's, with threads hanging everywhere... I couldn't take it. I simply couldn't.

Thus: While she was talking with Tom about the codes, laws, remodeling the bathrooms for the handicapped, etc., regarding moving an outreach church into my building, I quietly took out my shears and clipped the threads on her skirt. Not the tiers because there were too many threads on every layer around the skirt; I worried i might be sued for sexual harassment if I felt my way up from mid-calf to hips. But I did take the wad of muslin that was the large, gathered long skirt hem,, and I continued clipping away. Tons of burgundy shavings fell to the floor.

Interestingly, neither Tom nor the young woman missed a beat in their conversation. I just went on trimming. I can't tell you how happy it made me to see that Mess disappear.

When I was finished, the girl said to me, "You know my mother can't stand this skirt. She doesn't think it should have these threads, either. But this is the way I bought it."

I said to her, "Your mother is right. It's terrible. You're a pretty girl, delightfully dressed, and the skirt looks like it got caught around the center post in the washing machine." I went on, "I bet you paid extra for the manufacturer not to hem the skirt, or finish off the edges."

She confessed it was indeed costly.

I told her that now, she looked 100% better, she still had all the hanging mess on the tiers of the skirt, but that at least the hem wasn't in shreds any more; it was still raw unfinished cloth, so that she could feel as Bohemian as she wished without the stragglers, dripping down. She looked at me.

I said, "You'll thank me later."

Tom, who has been on oxygen since he met me, and has to keep slapping himself to reassure that I'm for real, rather fainted after this. Being raised with the sisters in Ohio Catholic schools, he is not used to my wanton flagrancy...

When he left, he said they would never buy the building...
***

Today, we got an offer from said church, for the highest amount, yet. Higher than any of the previously interested folks. Tom was in a swoon. He said he'd never in 30 years had three simultaneous offers on a single building. He couldn't believe it. Thing is, they want me out in three weeks and I have orders to finish.

Oy.

Tom says I can pay them rent. I said, "Listen, Tom. I'll pay the taxes, the utilities, the bills, for as long as I'm there; I will be out by the 4th of August or sooner. But I have to have time for my customers."

He said, "You'll have to pay rent."

I said, "Tell the gal that instead of rent, I'll finish clipping the threads on the skirt. No charge. That that alone should take care of it."

He said, "No, really. What can you pay in rent?"

I said, "Yes, really. I'll pay all the bills for as long as I'm there, and I'll fix her skirt. Start there. Then, we'll see if we need to negotiate." And that.was.that.

I'll let you know what ensues.
***

That's also why I guess I can't work at Macy's, should I want to go back to retailing. My time has come and gone... If a customer were to come in hideously attired in my opinion, or if new merchandise were to arrive that wasn't right, I would just take a scissor and cut away, or throw away. The store and the customer would be much better off for my assistance. I have no doubt. The thing is, I'm not sure management or the customer would agree. Even though I know they would "thank me later..."

Irish Dessert: A Reflection of the Irish People

I'm standing here, or rather sitting at this moment, in a bib apron and my house shoes. Nothing else. It's too hot.

I just rouued my first lade.  I hope it works.

I think for desserts, it's called a roll.  Meat is for the other.

In an Irish cookbook, whipped cream, raspberries, and chocolate in a powder sugared towel is a roulade.

It's cooling as we speak.

We'll hope for the best.

I hope I don't have a bent broken brownie.

I have no idea how this works.

I went to Joy of Cooking which has pictures and instructions, thank Heaven.

The Irish cookbook assumes that if one is Irish, one already knows how to cook.

It reminds me of the time it said to put noodles in a casserole dish with tuna and mushroom soup, and bake. Never said a thing about boiling the noodles in water, first.

Or the time it said to put two tomatoes in a pan of water and heat, for sauce.  Never said a thing about cutting them up, first.

Or the time it said to put a chicken in the oven at 425 for 2 hours until brown.   Never said to turn on the oven, first.  I even put it in the oven at 4:15.

Soon, I'll go and whip the whipping cream.  Boing.  Peaks.  What I'm supposed to look like in this apron. but don't, and never did.

Probably, I could have used Cool Whip and gotten the same effect.

I mean, Ready Whip.  In the can.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

I figure it will either be charming, or a small heap of stuff.

It should taste the same either way.

I wonder if they're hiring in the kitchen at the School For The Blind...

The United States: First Protestant Nation

What many people today don't realize is that the United States was founded on Protestant values--Christian values--that originally evolved from Judaic values.  To ignore the religious origins of America, or not  to accept  the underlying premise of religion in America, is not to comprehend what it means to be an American.

While the founding fathers were firm about freedom of religion, and separation between church and state, it must be acknowledged that the United States was created by people for whom God and the Old and New Testaments givens.  Belief in God and morality as set down in the Bible, were the guiding principles that supported the entire concept of the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, and much of the focus of the Constitution.   Yes, really.

A wholly secular America cannot sustain itself, nor can an America where morality is considered to be originated by man, thereby becoming relative to time, place, and individual need; thus becoming expendable willy-nilly upon necessity.  The foundation of this nation is based upon enlightened Judeo-Christian morality.  "In God We Trust;" "Epluribus Unum (out of many, one)" are two ubiquitous mottoes which represent this land.  Both reveal an absolute recognition of and necessary belief in God--with a clear reference to the Holy Trinity.  Check your coins and paper money if you doubt this.  Each time we make a cash payment, we validate an understood if not a given, belief in God.

One of the primary reasons that individuals immigrated to the New World  was to escape religious persecution.  By coming to a new land, people felt that for the first time, they would be out from under the autocratic demands of various monarchs with their reliance on this church or that, and they would be free to worship as they chose.  Economics and exploration were also motivating factors that influenced the development of America; however, the notion of freedom of religion--by and large Christianity--was paramount.  To lift a country out of its origins and the reasons for its creation, is not to understand how or why that particular country managed to exist in the first place.  Without purpose or thorough knowledge of origin, nothing can continue to exist.  Change is one thing; abandonment of original intent, definition, or essence of an entity, is about its demise.

Rhode Island with Roger Williams; Pennsylvania with William Penn:  Two of the earliest Colonies/States that insisted upon religious tolerance for everyone.  This was unheard of in Europe, where religious leaders of one kind or another, dictated what its inhabitants could follow.  The Pilgrims and Puritans, the Jews, the Catholics, in light of the Protestant and Counter Reformations, all came to the United States seeking the right to worship as they chose.  The notions of  "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" as being "inalienable rights," were synonymous with "God given."

The American Constitution essentially was created by men who were Deists or believers in God without a particular church affiliation; Humanists, who were of a similar bent; and Protestants.  All of these men, however, were infused from birth with the Bible, and with the religious values of Judeo-Christian morality.  Atheism, agnosticism, denominations from the East, were not a measurable part of European society during the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries.  In one way or another, virtually everyone who emigrated from other countries to the United States, believed in God.  Not to believe was the same as heresy and treason, all at once.

The Protestant Ethic, which is the idea that one should work for a living and gain by the sweat of his own brow, is not far from the basic tenets of Capitalism.  The Bill of Rights--the first ten amendments to the Constitution--are about basic moral freedoms that allow individuals to become and to be: The Ten Commandments, in a similar vein, were taken from Christianity's Old Testament.

(You will find the original organization of the court system in the Old Testament/Holy Scriptures, Book of Exodus, Chapter: 18/Jethro.  There are many such examples in both the Old and New Testaments.)

Manifest Destiny was another concept that dictated the intentions of a forward looking, and successful  United States.  Not without connection to a Higher Power and a heavenly afterlife, the realization of the American Dream was indeed allied with the religious focus of Kingdom Come here on earth--in America.

Particularly in the North, the value system was very Christian and quite definite about following Scripture to  the letter of its laws.  Interestingly, there was no slavery in the North, while at the same time, there were multitudes of cities, towns, and industry--men coming together in intensely populating regions, working for their families and themselves: Observing what the "Good Book" said.  The South, which was less focused on Protestantism, and more on Humanism or Deism, allowed for less stringent rigor when it came to Biblical rules and regulations: It is not a coincidence that slavery flourished there--an essential difference in the commitment to Judeo-Christian morality.

These same values spread throughout the expanding country as people went West, building churches and schools along the way.  While not everyone necessarily worshipped formally in a particular building, or with a definite sect or denomination, to assume that America was ever secular in its primary focus is to not understand the underlying strengths of American society and how/why it was created.  While worship itself may or may not have been a weekly thing for all, the undertones of belief and faith in God, with God's word dictating an Absolute Morality, were understood as a given part of life, and the way things were.  People followed God's laws; God didn't morph to follow man's convenience and comfort.

A secular United States cannot last; the essential base upon which the country was built, will erode and topple.  To say that times have changed, we don't need God any more now that we have science, morality is relative and not absolute, is to misconstrue the essence of Americana, and the presence of God as an underlying cornerstone of this country.  Such is counter to the original American values that made this nation possible.  As Protestantism broke away from the Catholic Church, so did America break away from European monarchies and oligarchies--the belief in God and the dictates of  Biblical Morality, however, were never questioned.

America was never conceived as a land of the inoperative, the helpless, or the incapable.  Rather it was the notion that every man was created in the image of God, was given those certain inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; and by golly, if he wanted such, within the moral and ethical boundaries  that were handed down to our forefathers--both Biblical and national--then he needed to go after them.  Nothing would be served to him for free.  It is no different in the Bible: The original guide book and rules manual for the United States.

The bottom line is not whether one must support the fundamentals of the Scriptures, but rather that there is a necessary understanding that must take place:  Without certain values and ethics such as community, education, family, economic well being, respect for nature and its creatures; without discipline, responsibility, integrity, and a unified commonality of moral outlook and beliefs; without a firm conviction that we as Americans, and our country America, are committed to a unified focus toward a unified Higher Morality, this nation will not be able to survive:  Its very reason for existence, its essence as a viable nation, will have ceased to exist.