Are we selfish?

 Selfish is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as follows:

(of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for others; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure. 

With everything going on in this country today; with everyone concerned for themselves; with politicians and voters alike speaking out on "their" rights; we have come to a crossroads in the history of our country. 

Thoughts and prayers are great but they don't stop the brutal truth of mass shootings. I want doesn't mean you always get your way regardless of what you think your rights are. 

I watch people form opinions using opinions instead of facts because they don't know who to believe. I see people question what is going on and then turn their backs and state to whoever is listening, "This doesn't concern me." But truthfully, it does concern them along with every other person in this country.

Twenty two years ago, I watch footage of two teenagers brutally shoot and kill 13 and wound 21 people at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado and was horrified. At the time, politicians and parents alike wanted something done. Nineteen years later, the shooting at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Florida hit even closer to home. Two days ago a gunman walked in to a store in Boulder, Colorado and killed 10 people after another shooting in Atlanta where six more were killed. Nothing seems to have gotten better because it is still happening. 

I own one gun. It is a double barrel shotgun owned by my great, great grandfather. You cannot buy shells for it. They must be handmade. It hangs on a wall in my home. I believe the last time it was used was on the 4th of July when I was 9 and my grandfather let us fire it. I ended up on my butt. 

My Daddy also owned a gun. He served 20 years in the military and was an expert marksman. I never saw my dad use that gun but I did see him clean it and take care of it. It was not locked up because we grew up with a healthy respect for what my father would do to one of us if he ever caught one of us messing we it. We were not even curious about it. We knew it would kill people. We had much better things to do.

If you own a gun and hunt, I do not have a problem with that. If you own a handgun and like to go to the range; no problem there either. I do have a problem when you will not allow some time of regulation to try and control these military weapons which were designed for one purpose and one only: to kill people. 

To me, trying to use the second amendment to the Constitution as a right to have a weapon designed for military use as a right is pure selfishness. If you study history, you know the history of our military and when the Revolution was fought, we had no standing army. We, as a country, had to use militia, normal farmers and tradespeople who agreed to help our the Revolutionary cause. This was a guarantee they would be able to keep their guns to use if the militia was needed. 

I wonder and asked myself all the time how to change this? Can this thought process be changed? My son, who believes he has a right to any kind of gun he wants, thinks we need better regulation. He said we could begin with better, more thorough background and mental health checks. I agree. 

But we need to do something. I wonder when the selfishness of humans goes away. Does it happen as more people die or when someone they love becomes the victim? 21 years and it is still happening. I guess we haven't learned much. 

An honest politician

 I am lucky in so many ways but one of the most important facts about me is my Florida heritage. I can claim ancestors back to 1800 or so, before Florida became a state. Most of those came from the mountains of North Carolina, people who moved south to get away from the crowds that were flocking to the Carolinas from the British Isles. 

Due to the current politicians who believe they can lie, cheat, or steal and get away with it, I thought I would relay a story which was passed down from my grandmother about her father and father-in-law.

My great grandfather, Jesse Fairey Council was originally from South Carolina. The Councils moved there from North Carolina and there are books written about their influence and lineage going all the way back to England. Jesse became the district superintendent of the Atlantic Coastline Railroad having a territory from Wilmington, North Carolina to Ft. Myers, Florida, He was a newcomer to the state and first came here in the 1880s with the railroad. 

My great grandfather, Daniel Henry Sloan, was born in 1864 in the area of Hillsborough County which became Polk County. He had very little public schooling, it didn't exist then, but was taught basic reading, writing and arithmetic and was given a good Christian upbringing. 

In 1899 he served as a representative in Tallahassee from Polk County and then went back as a state Senator in 1909, 1911 and 1912. It was while he was serving as a state Senator this story happened. 

The railroad had decided they wanted to re-route the tracks in the state and the only way to do that was to have backing in the Florida Legislature. Knowing that my great grandfather Council's daughter was married to the son of one of the Senator's who sat on that committee, they went to Jesse Council and requested he meet with Daniel Sloan.

When Mr. Council tried to explain that Daniel Sloan was an honest politician and would only change the tracks if it was for the best of the people of Florida, the railroad executives admonished him as his bosses, to try whatever tactic was necessary to get the tracks moved. The executives continues to harp at him, using his job as a levying tool. He finally relented and said he would take the train to Tallahassee to speak to Senator Sloan.

When Mr. Council arrived at the Capital building, Mr. Sloan met him on the steps. After greeting one another, Senator Sloan said to Mr. Council, "Jesse, I know why you're here." In response Mr. Council said to Senator Sloan, "Well D.H., if you know why I am here, I know what your answer is." He then turned and went back down the steps and took the train back to Lakeland.

The tracks were never changed and Daniel Sloan left Tallahassee and said it was too crooked for him. He came back to Lakeland, ran his many businesses and never returned. 

Tallahassee being a place of crooked politicians is nothing new. I am glad my great grandfather was not one of them. 

How low has medicine fallen?

 

I am a relatively healthy person. I follow my doctor's orders and except for a love of nicotine which lasted years, I have lived a relatively healthy life. I have found it easier to not go to the doctor's, than it is to go.

From the time my son was born and I took my first job at a small newspaper in Winter Haven, Florida, I have had insurance. In 1979, I had insurance on my son and me plus a cancer rider and still could afford to have insurance while making $2.90 an hour. That really began changing in the late 1980's due to the HMO law Nixon signed in 1973. If you would like to read a history of this, you can here.

I went through cancer treatment and my son had several bouts with pneumonia and never saw a bill. It didn't change when I switched jobs and over the past 40 years I have been treated for kidney stones, calcium deposits in my feet, tendonitis and a physical each year. I won't go in to how many visits were made to the ER when Jeremy was growing up. 

When I fell last Thursday and thought my ankle was broken, I had no qualms about visiting the ER at Sarasota Memorial. After the visit and the experiences I have had this week with doctors, I have decided the whole system is now seriously flawed. First I had a person dun me for the $100 co-pay my insurance requires before I even spoke to a person about my diagnosis. 

After waiting nearly an hour for someone to read my x-rays, I was taken in to a small examination room, told my ankle was not broken and my Achille's tendon was not torn. An EMT, who had no idea how to fit my boot, pretty much left me on my own; I was given one pain pill and crutches, directions for after care and a referral and sent on my way. 

On Monday, I called to schedule a follow up with the orthopedic doctor the ER referred me to. His nurse informed me he was a trauma surgeon and was only on call the night I was at the ER. She read what the ER doctor had written and said she HAD to give me a follow up, but it was my decision whether to go because, "you know, the doctor is a TRAUMA specialist" and "you have a sprained ankle." 

Ok, so that irritated me and I called the foot and ankle specialist that I have been seeing for my Achille's tendon issues. His nurse told me they would not normally see me in this situation but because I had been in for my tendon, they could fit me in in a week or so? Huh? That made me angry enough to change my mind about having any surgery on my Achille's. 

My GP, Dr. Krista Toomre, moved back to Colorado last summer so I only have a PA in her office until I have my physical in the summer. I have never met her before but she fills my prescriptions for me. Perhaps I will be allowed to meet her when I go for that appointment or maybe I will actually see a doctor who took Dr. Toomre's spot. 

Upset at medicine? Right now I am. 

The Fragility of Being Older

 Sometimes, you have to put in to perspective that you are older and cannot do the same things in the same amount of time it has always taken you. This came true for me at the end of the week and I am now consigned to languish at home, bored until I can manipulate this walking boot and not be in pain from a severely sprained ankle. 

Twenty years ago, I would have fallen like I did last Thursday and thought, "What a klutz.' I would have gotten up, dusted myself off and continued with what I was doing. That is not what happened to me last week. 

As I was walking across my pool deck, the basket pole which was propped up against one of my lounge chairs blew across and down toward me, right as I was taking a step. My legs got tangled up in the pole and I went down, hard and my ankle felt like it snapped. It didn't, thank God, but as I was trying to crawl back in to the house, dogs surrounding me and crying, I just knew it was broken. 

I reached a friend who took me to the emergency room and from then until this morning, I realized just how getting older can create a fragility you never realized you had.

I think it began in the ER when a lady came up to ask me questions I had already been asked and answered. I was in pain, had been waiting an hour since X-rays, no one was talking to me and this lady was asking me was I allergic to any medications and if I had insurance. (the answer was yes to both) but I had already been asked these questions, answered them, had my ID and insurance card scanned in to the system. I hate ineptitude which I let her know when I informed her I had already answered all these questions and then she found them. Ugh. 15 minutes later she was back with "One more thing." She informed me there was a $100 deductible for my insurance and how did I plan to pay? After informing her in no uncertain terms that I would prefer she dun me for money after I had at least received a diagnoses or some pain meds or something, she left again. 

PA came out and gave me my diagnoses, a boot, some crutches, one pain pill and sent me on my way with instructions to call an orthopedic guy on Monday if I felt anything different, more pain or swelling, etc. 

I live by myself so my friends and my son have really been instrumental in keeping me sane. They have called and texted me, fixed my morning coffee and fed my dogs, gone shopping and picked up my mail. This is where you really realize how fragile you are when you are older and by yourself. I can still speak up for myself, like I did in the hospital. I hate to but will still ask for help when I need it. I cannot imagine being here, laid up with a sprained ankle and not having someone who you could call if you needed help.

I know there are people in my area and I am sure, your area, who may could use a little help. It could be as simple as taking their garbage can to the road for pickup or feeding their dogs because they cannot bend over. Perhaps it is a neighbor or someone you know from church. We must all be there for each other to help. It is the way we have survived. I am sure grateful for those around me this week.

When did we stop caring?

 

Volunteers carry food to a car during a food distribution event in Cumru, Pa., PHOTO: ABCNews/Getty Images

I had this on my mind yesterday and due to the fact that although I am on Spring Break, I have very little contact with my friends except for a phone call or text. I am still trying to follow the guidelines set by the CDC for Covid-19 although the Governor of Florida thinks we should open widely, I don't follow his idiotic approach.

Back to the blog. I have lived in the United States my whole life. Except for the times we traveled because of my father's military assignments, we lived in several states from the Deep South to the West. I have traveled extensively through this country since I became an adult and I have never experienced the lack of caring toward our fellow citizens that I have seen in the past several years. 

Being a teacher exposes me to many of society's ills, including hunger, abuse, and other issues that we as a country need to address but don't.

Now, there are many, many who still care and I see that, but I see so many more that don't. Children don't have enough to eat? Oh well, that is their parent's fault. Adults get the crap beaten out of them in a relationship? Their fault, they should leave. Lose your job and can't afford rent? That is what shelters are for. The list goes on and on and many of these issues are not new. 

I have so much to be thankful for and I believe that we should always give back when we can. I have a job. I have enough food to eat. I can pay my bills. I drive a newer model truck that I am not worried about breaking down but if it did, I have the money to fix it. I live in a beautiful state, the state of my ancestors. I can still do my own yard work, drive myself places, am in relatively good health and have good friends. 

I also contribute to several charities for kids. I teach kids. I give to causes that concern animals and children. I donate books to those who have none. I do what I can and I care. 

I worry about the children at the border, trying to come here for a better life. I worry about my students and if they have enough to eat during Spring Break. I would have them all over here if I could to make sure they did. Teenagers eat a lot. Food is expensive. 

Do we care that teachers were not allowed to speak to the Florida Senate yesterday or that same Senate is trying to pass restrictive voting laws? Does it bother anyone else that people are not getting the vaccine because of political leanings and disinformation or conspiracy theories? I have read people's opinion who believe it is a good think because it will weed out the undesirables? What? How soon we forget that we could become undesirable as well.

Christian principles are thrown around like oak pollen in a Spring breeze but it seems the people throwing have forgotten many of them. 

What brought this change? Why do we look the other way? Can it be linked to any one thing? When did we stop caring?

Keeping America Beautiful

 One of the first real ad campaigns I remember as child growing up was the "Keep America Beautiful" campaign.

Lady Bird Johnson, wife of President Johnson became involved in 1965 even though the organization had been around since 1953 when a group of leaders joined up to bring private and public sectors together to develop a national cleanliness ethic. 

This is from a campaign in Mississippi. Wildflower signs now dot most interstate highways. 

I think they need to bring it back again. Somewhere during the course of my life, people seem to have forgotten about keeping us beautiful. It seems with every new cookie cutter development, people have become isolated in their own little bubble and what the outside of their bubble has become does not concern them. I noticed it driving the interstates last weekend. Garbage thrown on the side of the road, cups and paper floating up each time a car sped past. I guess many are so concentrating on their phones they don't see what I do. 

The advertising which most affected me as a teenage was the infamous Crying Indian who wasn't really a Native American at all. It has been trashed by several people and organizations because it was sponsored by some of the largest corporate producers of the trash they were speaking of. Many also felt that the advertising was putting all the pressure on individuals to not litter and letting the corporations, many who disagreed with environmental policies, remain unaccountable. 

This morning as I was running errands, I stopped at the drug store to pick up a couple of things. Sitting alone, all by itself in a space was a Perrier bottle, half full.. Had a car been coming from the other way and tried to pull in to the space, they could half hit the bottle and received a flat tire or two. How long had it sat there? Who left it? Why wouldn't they walk the 50 feet to the trash can in front of the store and dispose of it properly? I picked it up and did that, thinking what kind of person does this?

Have we all become so immune to simple things like picking up after ourselves? That bottle made me sad. 

Perhaps we should begin another Ad Council campaign instead of just thinking everyone will do the right thing. Obviously, we have a couple of generations who need a refresher course in the environment. 

Thank God for my age

 There is a meme on social media which goes something like, "Thank Go I grew up before social media. I have memories but no evidence" or something like that. 

I think of that now that I am at the sweet spot age of 63. I am in relatively good health, am still working, and am thinking of all that retirement may bring. It is fast approaching and I am looking forward to the day when I can go or do without having to worry about work. 

I had my retirement mapped out and my life planned for after 55 but the recession and demise of print newspapers had other ideas. It required me to create a new life, new job, new goals and a new retirement age. I have been lucky in my planning and never had to file for bankruptcy, lost my house, or worry  about feeding myself or my dogs. I do live on a budget now and there is not as much expendable cash as when I worked for the paper, but I have no complaints except the lack of money for travel. 

Thanks to my upbringing as an Army brat, I traveled extensively with my parents growing up. I loved it. I loved moving every two  or three years, experiencing a new place and new things. Friends did not figure in the picture very much because I was not a social child. I love my books, my trolls, my dog and a few friends over the years. Not many. I did have experiences. Some were great and some were not.

I made the final move of my childhood in the early 1970s and suddenly found myself with a group of friends,  a couple who are still with me today. I had a curfew of midnight on the weekends, and was normally home by 10 on weeknights unless something was going on at the school.

My parents let me be a teenager. I am sure I did some things they would not have approved of. In fact, I know I did. Guess what? I survived. I learned to make decisions. I learned people. We would walk for miles before I got my grandmother's old 1962 Impala when I was 16. My mom didn't drive us anywhere. The bus was always available. Were there scummy, stinky people of the city bus line? Yep, but we just ignored them. Could we have been picked up by some creepy abuser? Yep, but we all learned common sense. 

We drank Cokes, not bottled water. We could have any drug we wanted but most chose to be careful. We kissed boys in cars and flirted with anyone we wanted. We had breakfast at the lunch counter at McCrory's downtown, which was for me, a cherry Coke and an order of fries. We took pictures with a camera, sometimes a Polaroid, and smiled. 

As I teach my kids every day, I am so thankful for my parents. The rule was you went to school., You had to be near death to stay home. Appointments were made for after school, if at all. The worst punishment I ever received was skipping school in 9th grade. I never did that again. They did not hover. They allowed us to be teens, make mistakes, and grow up. I am so thankful that my many memories were not captured on social media or by a cell phone camera. I am so thankful for friends that still keep in touch. I am thankful.