The Six-Eyed Sleuth & Society

Yeah, I decided this morning to go and have breakfast “outside”!
I ordered a Greek Omelet with an order of bacon at Famous Toastery
nearby. While I sipped my tea I had time to read a couple of chapters
in a very funny 1904 published booklet “Stealthy Steve, the Six-Eyed
Sleuth" by Newton Newkirk.
Occasionally I looked up and noticed plenty of new customers joining
the breakfast crowd and suddenly it struck me how varied in shape
and form the human race appears. In these times with minimal clothing
very little is left to our imagination. Heavens, the well proportioned, the
good looking ones are few and far between. Very few and very far!
And I wonder, when dogs, hawks and porpoises observe others of their 
kind, do they come to a similar conclusion?

Is that one of the reasons we decided, long ago to start covering our 
bodies? Probably we should re-introduce that rule again!

4th of July 2020!

This country is in turmoil and we shoot off fireworks all

night long.

People are fearful of the virus without knowing how to

protect themselves against this invisible “thing” and we

shoot off fireworks all night long in celebration of being

part of this country with all its lofty principles.

There was a time when I looked for the place from where 

all the colorful and varied fire crackers were launched.

This evening a neighbor asked me to join them and 

celebrate the crackling sparkles in the street. There

was no coordinated center with thousands of people

admiring the range of colors illuminating the dark sky 

for just moments. This evening bangs and explosions

were spread all over town and they weren’t impressive.

I didn’t have that spark in my heart to celebrate, this

year, though I laughed and chatted with my neighbors,

students (young couples) having small-time fun without 

masks and proper distance - no fear!

What’s going on in this tumultuous world? Distant Bangs

and explosions slowly fade with the night preparing for

another day!.

Happy fifth!

The Secret Life of Elephants vs The Elephant Whisperer!

On a warm June day in 2020, I met with a new person in

my life. We met in the shade provided by Wally the Walnut,

the tree in my care from its beginning and now 34 years old.

We had decided a few days earlier, when we really first met,

that we would gather and would watch birds at Latta Park in 

the Dilworth neighborhood - my home turf.

Paul Anderson, a South African native arrived at the appointed 

time and I led him to “my” tree and I told him the Wally-story.

We took a seat nearby and we continued our conversation.

Yes, we saw a Robin-Redbreast and we heard the Catbird, but

Paul’s binoculars remained otherwise in-active.

We talked about raising kids and ourselves and what events had

made strong impressions on us in our past. We spoke of how we were 

brought-up and that we were admirers of trees and Nature in general.

And when I found out that he is from South Africa I brought up a 

remarkable story from the book “The Secret Life of Elephants” 

(I was convinced that was the title) and I began:

“Well Paul, recently I read a story about a Brit who acquired about

7.000 acres just north of the Republic. Several years into this ownership

he was called by a representative of another reserve: “ We have a herd 

of destructive, mean elephants. We want to get rid of them and we’’ll 

deliver them to you free of charge. And if you don’t  want them, we will 

otherwise get rid of them! 

To the Brit (I couldn’t come up with his name) there was no choice - he 

accepted, because destruction, he felt, was not an option.

The transfer was a tumultuous success and the matriarch and Lawrence

connected with each other with admiration and affection.

Three years or so into this love relationship, the reserve’s owner was 

called to attend a meeting 500 miles away in Durban. When the meeting 

was over and he was ready to return by plane North, he found out the 

flight had been cancelled. He called the chief warden with the bad news:

“Charles, the flight has been cancelled!”

Charles: “Yes, I know!”

“What do you mean -you know-?”

C: "The matriarch and the other elephants left the entrance and went 

back into the bush!”

“WOW! Really?

C: ”Really!”

So, the next day he arrived on the revised schedule and guess where the

elephants were?

Paul guessed … no, he KNEW the answer! 

Why?

Well, he not only read the book (“The Elephant Whisperer” by Lawrence Oliver)

he lived NEXT  DOOR to this reserve and he went on talking about his time

nearby! I was taken-aback and asked him to repeat all of that!

What makes it so almost unbelievable? Here is a man sitting next to me at 

Latta Park in Dilworth, Charlotte, NC and he could confirm from personal experience

happenings from his youth, 6,000 miles away in South Africa and I read about

some of that by chance in that wonderful book! 

Two souls coming together on a bench in a nearby Charlotte, NC-park.

Paul from The Republic of South Africa and I from Amsterdam, The Netherlands

What are the chances!

Flat Out Stunning - talking about a small world!

Conclusion? Keep on meeting new people! I may find out more extra-

    ordinary folks and stories!

Cheers!

On an Island far, far away!

On an Island far, far away!

The island is called Squirrel Island and it is located off the coast

of the state of Maine (ME). I was invited to visit it by Walter and 

Rosemary. Rosemary’s family has had for many years a family

stead there and these two go north maybe once a year to feast

on the peace and quiet … when the weather cooperates.

My trip has become an adventure with distinct happenings/experiences.

So, let me tell you about some of them:

I made reservations months ago and on THE day my neighbor

Diane picked me up early and drove me to the Charlotte Airport.

After the drop-off, I walked up to the boarding-pass booth, searched

my pockets for my wallet and … NO wallet! (Yes, this happened

months before too, but then I didn’t have ANY idea where it could be 

found!)

Dumb-founded, I searched all possible places where the darn thing 

might be. Nothing there, but …

I had my passport with me (a last minute addition) and therefore

I could continue the boarding pass process. Lucky coincidence!

Then I called car-driving Diane and she promised that she would search

my house and indeed she found the thing on the dining room table.

Why I left it there is a total mystery … still!

With all documents on me, I decided to forego the wheel chair reservation

and walked as speedily as my legs permitted to the gate.

As it turned out, I would have been fine without the darn dark green

thing, because when Walter suggested getting a cup of coffee first

before proceeding to the Squirrel Island ferry and I offered to pay

for it, Walter told me sternly: “Uh-Uh, your money is no good here!”

Boothbay Harbor is about an hour-and-a-half North of the airport

at Portland, ME. There, Walter parked the rented car, purchased oysters

on the shell and some other groceries, bought two return tickets and

shortly after, the small dual engined ferry “Novelty” took us and some 

other folks via a kind-of “Harbor Tour” across the bay to our destination: 

Pier 8 at Squirrell Island, ME, the Atlantic Ocean island.

      (Established around 1871)

It was about 72*F with plenty of sun shine and little wind on calm waters.

Rosemary welcomed us and Walter singlehandedly carried all 

luggage up the ramp and dropped it in one of the many two-wheeled push 

carts commonly used by everyone on the island.

See, there is no form of public transportation allowed here. Not even

bicycles. All travel is done by foot - not my best talent any longer. So, all

the walking was a challenge for “back-and-feet":

My activity count on my cell phone “clocked” a proud 9,000 steps

and about 3 miles two days in a row. Yes: proud!

The three of us walked up the incline to the three story wood, Wyman

family residence. 

Well, you can imagine the routine: 

“Welcome to our summer family home!”

“Oh, what a nice place (and it truly is!)!”.

“Here is your bedroom!”

“How was the trip!”

“Put up your feet for a while!” etc.

To make the experience more complete, I left my computer at home and 

only made occasional notes on a tiny pad.

The island is occupied mostly from May until October by mainland vacationers. The roughly two-by-three mile island has about one hundred NE-styled homes, a library (in season open: 10 am till 11:30 am), a post office, two small sand beaches, and plenty of well designed wood walk-ways, criss-crossing the island. No grocery store - so that’s where the regular daily ferry service comes in.

Strategically located, there are a few “phone”-booths equipped with a cell

phone with a set 911 number.

Water, sewer and electricity are fed/dealt with from the mainland.

Aside from evening time in and around the kitchen where the host and hostess concocted various meals, including twice a delicious appetizer of oysters on the shell, we took walks in all directions under almost ideal weather circumstances.

One evening I was invited to participate in a Scrabble contest. From experience, I have come to realize that every household has its own rules.

Here too, there were two ways to compliment one’s own vocabulary. The possibilities were thereby greatly expanded - quite frankly not to my liking

(and here you can replace “liking” by all kinds of expressions of dislike) and

yes, I lost both games - I still hate to loose!

At night it could get quite chilly!

One walk around the southern peninsula, accompanied by Walter, I wanted to repeat the next day and afterwards I realized that the two, though mostly identical (day-time and weather) were experienced radically differently because of … COFFEE!

The first time around with the coffee everything looked brilliant and great,

and walking was comfortable.

The next time around, without this “drug”, it all seemed just good looking and the walking went OK!

All because of the coffee? Yes, all true!

I have been aware of some of this kind of extreme, but not with this clear comparison. I am now going to use this “Phenomenon” to my daily advantage. Especially when I need more clarity: Coffee!

At one of the tiny beaches nearby, Walter and I sat on borrowed fold-out chairs and watched a “local” take a cold Atlantic Ocean swim, while we discussed and observed.

The sea remained calm and Walter almost jumped out of his low positioned chair, when he claimed seeing a Bold Eagle with catch fly by. I can’t swear he did.

The island is mostly rock based and high tide is pretty clearly marked by the dark brown remnants of sea weed. Plenty of dense and varied, colorful flora and fauna. I recognized a few birds, like the Osprey, the Catbird, the Song Sparrow, plenty of Gulls and Cormorants.

Nature’s silence is only interrupted by hammers on nails by workers at neighboring homes, lobster boats pacing up and down the bay and an occasional sail boat.

While sitting on the veranda a few crickets tried to distract me while the sun is setting with plenty of color.

I am clearly a thousand miles away from Charlotte, NC.

On the day of departure, we visited the Post Office with “Office Dog”, strolled slowly to Pier 8 and waited for “Novelty” with skipper Heather. The weather held and the ferry sped smoothly to Boothbay Harbor. Walter drove the rented car after a coffee stop to the airport for the last leg, ending this wonderful Maine adventure.

The trip back? 

I didn’t need the wheel chair service (coffee!), AA provided me this time with absolutely NO leg room (Yes, I filed a suggestion), but the smiling face of Joyce in the Charlotte airport arrival hall made me forget all this and I gave her an ear full of an unforgettable long NE-sea-side resort week-end with superb hosts.

—————————————

A trillion of a trillion of a trillion of a second!

At the Olympics humans are running faster, brake a week old world record skiing down hill, the 400 meter freestyle is now covered in 4/10 of a second faster, the newest Trans-Atlantic Ocean Liner has accomplished the fastest crossing ever and the universe was created in a trillion of a trillion of a trillion of a second.

So, I ask you: "What is left?"
Oh yeah, Wall Street traders can now make split second speculative decisions mostly favoring themselves. So, is capitalism on the verge of burning out. Are we as a species?- simply since there is so little to do faster, quicker, better, grander?

While pondering that thought let me point to our inability to truly recycle. The oceans are being used as a dumping space for the maritime world - ships dumping excess oil and plastic material. How do I know? Remember mystery flight 370? While searching the Indian Ocean, the only things being picked out by satellite and radar was trash from fishing trawlers and debris from freighters. Just imagine what lies on the bottom of these oceans.
We already know that world's big cities are struggling with traffic pollution and industrial smog, and that Duke cannot control its coal-ash reservoirs - now spilling over into streams and ponds we (and all the other life around us) need for drinking water.

So again: "What's next?"
Have I mentioned world's overpopulation? No, not of rats and roaches, but of humans. Currently, the
overall total stands at 7.5 billion and in a couple of extra decades there will be 9+ billion of us.

See, all we seem to focus on is $$$$$. Lotteries, fraudulent manipulation of funds, theft and the huge bonuses for CEOs, while the lower end of out society is getting poorer.

What does the reader think? What comes after capitalism? Where do we go from here?

So, what's my future going to look like?

Dear reader,
J.D. Salinger told his editors: "Don't!"
He is totally right. Why change the story? This is the way I have experienced it all. Now, you may not like my writing, however, by editing it, i.e. changing it, it will inevitably become someone else's interpretation and that's NOT what I intended. So DON'T!

I checked my e-mail at my favorite coffee house "Mugs"- I do that regularly, and found a "Thank you!"-note from my Dutch friends living somewhere in the center of France. I replied expressing my state of being. They were apparently quite moved that they decided to call via "FaceTime" and pointed out that maybe, just maybe I should do more of the writing they had just experienced - Good stuff, really worth while reading. "Stop searching! Do more Writing! Not for anyone or a particular publication. Just do it! We think you have a distinct talent!"

I am still at Mugs with lots of laps with laptops, paper coffee cups, people conferring around rectangular tables. I see and hear things differently than others do. I see red running shoes, knees,
absent minded stares, two hands embracing the cappuccino. The TV high up near the ceiling shows people running their mouths inaudibly. It is a cozy place with lots of chatter and islands of silence around an oval table with comfortable arm chairs where study and reading are the main occupation.
I observe a string of women who have truly studied their outfits at home, trying to look relaxed and sexy. High heels with knee reaching boots and I can't see their tops through the waist long blond colored hair. They want to belong ... well, that's what I think.

It's Sunday and everyone wanders or is focused or anything in between. It's time for me to leave and start cooking for my evening gathering. So, Cha-Cha for now!

Friends come and go!

Friends: They seem to come and most notably they seem to disappear. Some are there for an occasion and then fade away. I have had some that I had for decades - at least, I thought I had them for that period, and then come to find out, they are no longer in the picture. Then there are the newcomers. I met a person at a coffee shop. We had a fine time together and then ... Phoof! Gone! Yes, I can insist meeting that person again, but that doesn't seem quite right. The reverse is true also: I drop people from my circle of "friends". Surely, with age, some die or move to far away places and I lose contact that way. And then there this: At different ages/times needs change, asking for different connections and they grow intense or stop when the needs are met or fade away.
I have lots of photo albums with documentation identifying the important folks in my life. So I can glance back and reminisce or cherish, but in the end, yes, toward the end of my life, I come to realize that I can only continue to be my own best friend. I have to get up in the morning with myself and at night time, close my eyes certain that I am still best friends with myself. That HAS to be the ever present balance.
Now, I am on my way to the next unexpected encounter. Life is full of surprises.

Change

CONTROL and CHOICE do we have such?

When did “control”, as in “I have control over my life!” start?

I don’t have an answer to that question and I don’t think that ANY-one can do any better than I.

Then comes the question: “I have a “free will” capability and therefore “I can choose which path I can take in life!”

So, here we have two interconnected terms: Control and Choice!

From that I have to conclude that one is dependent on the other. And what I hear from my fellow human beings is that with that capability they are in charge of life ... or in a milder sense: “I am in charge of MY life!”

Again: When did "I have Control" and "I have a Choice" become a “reality”?

A thousand years ago? When?

No one - so far - has been able to pin down a time period when this phenomenon became a “reality”!

I hear it with regularity! My son believes it, my friends and family members do and it seems to serve them well. It gives them confidence and that is good, and maybe I should therefore stop right here and let the next phase rest, but I cannot!

What do I believe (until someone can convincingly contradict me):

LIFE is in charge - Period!

We do NOT control LIFE!

Many say:

We pollute the air;

We make war:

We control our bodies, our movements;

We choose to take a job, a turn, a partner, etc.

REALLY!?

OK, here I go:

Do we breathe, because we want to? NO!

Do I choose to get sick or die? NO! 

Do I drink bad water, wine? I hope not!

Do I choose to have an accident? NO!

I trip and fall. Did I choose that? NO!

My kidneys fail and they didn’t ask for my permission!

It is raining and the outdoor event has to be postponed!

My car won’t start, I miss my appointment and my flight to Alaska!

My boss has a bad mood and makes my life difficult! My choice, my control?

I am about to make a presentation for 200+ experts in my profession! Am I nervous?

I change my diet/religion, because somebody/something convinces me to do so!

See, we are acting as if we are separate from nature, but People! we are part of it. NOT separate. Yes, with all the automobiles, airplanes, giant cruise ships we may seem to have lifted ourselves above it ALL.

So, why do we do this to ourselves? We don’t - Nature does! We have absolutely no control, no choice! That may seem fatalistic and discouraging, but it isn’t. Since we have no choice  and no control we will do what we are supposed to do. We are wired in a certain way and we interact with the rest of Nature in relative harmony - whatever that means. Just as much as  the dinosaurs became extinct, so will we. Nature has its ways.

So, relax, just simply relax. 

You will or you will not AND you will/will-not do so without choice. Fun stuff and so liberating.

Cheers!

Do try to convince me of it all being otherwise!

INTER GENERATIONAL STUFF!

Hello,

It may seem such a simple thing to do:

"Oh, why don't you take your grandson on a whale watching trip!" DOING that sort of thing is quite another effort all together ... for me.

First off, the idea received a luke warm welcome in September of last year. Then I wanted more assurances before I began making the reservations for the entire affair in March. Still no assurances by the 15 year-old teenager.

So, with this uncertainty I took the plunge anyway:

Airplane tickets on line; car reservations - the least expensive one; a hotel seen on the internet - at best a stab in the dark, no matter what the customer comments tell me; getting Zeppelin (15) here and arranging for his return trip ... well, you get the idea and I grew pretty nervous toward the actual travel date.

How do I start a sensible conversation? What questions do I avoid asking(sex and acts of puberty)? Do I give him the freedom to do ... whatever, after all he is Jaap and Jennifer's only son?

We planned to be together from Sunday pm through the Thursday following. Upon his arrival he didn't waste time dropping a "small" bomb in my lap:

"Opa, don't argue with me - just tell me your opinion: What would you say to me if I wanted to change my last name to Pennink!"

Go for it! was my short and sweet comment. Upon reflection he might best do this in a few years when parental advice is no longer required.

On Monday it took Z. forever to get out of bed and he, therefore, missed breakfast at Bruegger's. With a solid threat of leaving him behind, he consumed his sandwich and coffee on the way to the airport. At "check-in" I suddenly got this angst that he would not be allowed through without proper ID. He didn't need any! With all the exhausting security measures in place that seems pretty weird.

Zeppelin and I had made a deal, that he would be in charge of the entire expense account. I told him that I had reserved a total amount of $ xxxx for the entire trip.

If he could stay below that, the difference would be deposited in a new savings account, while being allowed to withdraw monthly 10% of the balance. He wasn't wild about it, but he said OK. He isn't even enthused about figuring the tip on any of the meals we consumed, but that became "old hat"!

On the uneventful plane ride to Boston, MA, Zeppelin was pretty quiet and he dozed off in the middle seat - he would have preferred a window position. We rented a Ford Focus for $43/day and after turning down the $65 extra insurance coverage, we drove off the lot north direction route 1A and Gloucester, MA.

That's when Zeppelin started to open up ... in a big way.

He told stories about himself, his impossible step sisters, the ignorant mostly class mates and the great history teacher he had this year. The stories were sweet and direct. He didn't wound around any subject - he went straight to the point and I laughed hard and with enthusiasm. This guy is funny - he has a good, healthy sense of humor. None of the stories were mean spirited. His insight and the language he used made the tales wonderful - in some way a stand-up comedian couldn't have done much better.

So, the ice was broken and suddenly this was promising to become a great time together.

Yes, it did help that the weather was nice, that Gloucester looked friendly and quaint and that the hotel (Cape Ann Motor Inn) was located in a super location - off a tiny bay where surfers were congregating in large numbers. The sound of the pounding waves through the sliding bed room doors gave a soothing feeling. After checking in, we took the car (with a very irritating screaming alarm system) on an inspection tour through the town and we located the 7 Seas Whale Watch dock, so we didn't have to waste time on Tuesday where we were asked to report at 8 am - Zeppelin wasn't looking forward to an early rise.

We ate dinner across the street from the wharf (OK food), took a walk at the hotel beach and settled in for the night. By the way, any time you want to cross the street in Gloucester all drivers slow down and allow all pedestrians to make their move. Try that here!

See, now you want to hear about the whale watching experience, but that was definitely  not the high light of the trip. That honor was strictly reserved for our ability to communicate. My nervousness evaporated and he kept talking about his life, his parents, being a teenager and the troubles that period seems to present to him (well yes, to me also, be it in the distant past). He felt a heavy burden for all of the world's problems. Did I relief him of that weight? You have to ask him, but I think it helped when I tried to put it all in a little easier perspective.

I told him about my past and indicated that these teenage years in particular are packed with heavy "stuff", stuff all kids his age probably experience, though others may be troubled about totally different aspects in and of life.

So, yes, we saw whales: two Fin whales, 7 Humpback whales and a small, harmless nursing shark over a two day period, and we had to travel on a fast 100 ft diesel powered boat an average of 27 miles out onto the ocean to see these giants. The first day was surprisingly cool - low sixties and the next one the temperatures reached the nineties, though on the ocean it was considerably cooler.

The whales: none of them made jumps and hoops, but they showed puffs of air from their nostrils, showed their tell-tale tails with markings through which they can be named and more easily identified. One mother was named Kangeroo and siblings less than a year old do not have names yet.

The "bio"-guide was informative and he had a good story on the history of Gloucester and the lives of fishermen in the area. After the sight seeing was done and over with, most of the younger spectators went soundly to sleep on the steel deck, including Zeppelin, though he chose a softer bench cushion inside the cabin.

That was it for the whale watching.

What other things did we do?

Every time I came up with a plan Z. responded with muted enthusiasm and then when the museum (The Beauport Museum - Sleeper McCann House) visit was over, the walk on the peer was complete or the  very best EVER shake was consumed he expressed without exception great enthusiasm for the event. So, I asked him to consider saying "Yes!" more frequently, because it makes me coming up with a plan sooo much more inviting. 

The last evening, he took a very long walk and my nervousness reared "its head" again, so also when he asked if swimming in the dark was a good idea. My response?

Zeppelin, go for it! You are a guy with a good set of brains with a good sense of responsibility, so, yes! go for it. Take a towel for when you really decide to get wet!

That very evening after a lengthy conversation with his Mom - a great conversation (he really loves to have these with his parents) we laid on our individual beds and we had a deep and intense talk among ourselves. I learned a great deal from him and I hope he did from my experiences. So, that's about all!

Oh yeah, the name of the shop where one can purchase THE best shake - a frozen hot chocolate shake(???):"The Last Stop", to be found on the way to the Beauport Museum.

We returned the car to the rental place at Logan Airport and the return flight was smooth with Jaap waiting in the cell phone lot at Douglas Airport.

In conclusion: This is what Zeppelin texted to me on his way to Black Mountain:

"Well I might as well get this done on the way 

back, but I really do want to thank you. Especially, 

        for listening to me even if some of the conversations

        didn't make sense. If the whales are not here in 50 years, 

        then I'm glad that I saw them with my grandfather when 

        I was a teenager. That's something that most people 

        cannot say. I appreciate that you took me on the trip, 

        even though you were nervous to take me. 

        The budget may not have been the most fun, but it did 

        raise some awareness and I will use it in the future. 

        Thanks again, I really did have a lot of fun."

  

So, now you know most of what happened, and if you plan something similar with your grand children or youngsters in your life, I'll cheer you on.

MJP

Talking about Unsustainable!

When was the last time you have been in a nursing or elderly care “home”? Or maybe I should ask: “When was the first time?”

OK, a couple of suspected facts:

Many of the nursing homes, rehabilitation centers for the elderly and elder care facilities 

are listed of the NY Stock Exchange! These places are first: Profit Centers!

These homes send “patients” to the hospital for bladder and other infections and then upon return can bill Medicare for substantially higher fees for those elderly people;

The number of these people in “need” of end-of-life care will hugely increase by 2030 and thereby the cost of such care and the burden on the tax payer will increase with leaps and bounds.

These facts alone are kept away from the classroom and kitchen table. No one - well, pretty much so, has family discussions on what to do at end of life! Why not?

IT is a subject (End of Life) just not talked about. We Ooh and Aah about babies, but

don’t come with what we do when life is - for all practical purposes - OVER!

We, the people keep people alive, if that is what it is, because we don’t want to say

“Good Bye!”

I repeat: We love to say “Hello!” and hate/avoid saying “Good-Bye!”

We, yes we tax payers, allow the very elderly people to be “stuffed” in “homes” and then leave the caring to minimum wage earners and we, ourselves are going to the beach or the movies!

Doesn’t this picture appall the reader?

If so, why don’t we talk about this?

If you are willing, contact: Maarten at maartenjp@mac.com

or join Compassion and Choices (compassionandchoices.org)

The way Life is!

A man in his fifties reads in the morning newspaper on the obituary
page that a far away friend has just died:
    “Hey Honey, Philip Doe has just died! Too bad. Remember him?”

    “Yeah! One of your nicer friends! ....
                Hey, have you seen the car keys?”

 And so it is! Life goes on! So one needs to say “ Life is fleeting ... Enjoy it to-day!”

The Freedom To Act ... Conditionally!

Once an adult, we are allowed to act independently in many ways. We can buy
cars, property, clothes and we can make commitments, but then, later on in life that freedom will be taken away. That time comes when sickness comes to us and when old age sets in.
Then doctors, the medical world, religious doctrine, corporations and government give us the rules we should abide by. Suddenly we are no longer deemed capable to act independently.
It wasn’t always that way. When did this process start? Probably many centuries ago, but that process has progressed more rapidly with the onset of the Industrial Revolution, it seems.
In more primitive times, people were allowed to walk up the mountain and “go it alone!”
Or communities with a deep respect for the elderly guided them through the end-of-Life process with grace and honor.
The aspect of Grace is hard to find, these days. Old folks with little more than their hearts pumping are left out of the inner circle of society. Many live in isolation with their relatives basically gone and care facility shareholders waiting for their next dividend check.

I have been pondering this situation. Why does this appear to be so?
And then it struck me: “Later on in life, are we afraid of making the life-and-death decisions ourselves or within the family circle? Are we suddenly fearful of the “End-of-Life” process and delegate the decision-making responsibility to others? Do others really know us better than we do ourselves? REALLY? It seems that way.
Doctors prescribe medicines, many times not knowing the effects they will have - a sophisticated guessing game, surgeons “cut-and-paste”, religious doctrine dictates, pharmaceutical companies convince us, insurance companies make medical decisions with their own profit picture in mind and government polices our lives in lots of ways. We can argue to what extent this scenario is completely or partially true, but most of it is happening. So we have in a significant way relinquished our independence and responsibility for our own health and well-being.

Is it time to wake up to that realization on a large scale and take back the territory lost?

Who is deciding for me?

Who’s playing God?

How is it in God’s name allowable that another person can decide for me when my life is complete?
Is that based on common sense, on religious doctrine, rules devised by a segment of “leaders” in their thirties or so, who feel compelled to put their very own stamp on society: “I have decided” or maybe even “we have decided” in a board room occupied by Heavy-Weights.

Who is playing God here?

Think about it: somebody coming to your house and telling you: “What you are doing in your very own home is not permitted! Why? because we have decided!”
Now think of your home as being your very own body. Then how preposterous would that comment sound? That’s what hospitals, public and religious ones alike do, to-day!

So, again, who is playing God?

See, the rich and famous have their ways and a tendency to dictate what is and is not allowable, but many of those individuals will find ways that suit them when beneficial to them, and then ignore the very rules set-up by them.

Who is playing God?

I am looking for leaders willing to take on the so-called established institutions and take on absurd rules and regulations in to-day’s world. Many talk about us living in a more enlightened society. Really?

Are some of these leaders playing God?

You decide and let’s start a discussion, a debate. Check-out www.compassionandchoices.org

Elegance, Style & Aging.

On a regular basis I drive people to clinics, hospitals and other health care related places. All of these folks have lost most of their capacity to drive. Their mobility is definitely on the wane. Walking is difficult, bicycling is out of the question. They don’t have partners who can do the driving for them.

With the loss of mobility, they are also losing the urge to dress carefully. They have lost the need to appeal to others regardless of sex. Many of them don’t even dress for the day. “Night gown and slippers will do fine. No one will be visiting me. No one I can think of, anyway. So what is the purpose of putting on clothes?”

And when these people do put on clothes for a trip to the doctor, their concern for appearance is very low on the totem pole. Male or female: they put on the first thing that comes to mind plus some non matching sneakers and they kind of do their hair. A man’s attention to facial hair has passed months ago and lipstick for the women is of no importance anymore.

I see this picture almost every week, and it was not too long ago that I realized that I too can fall in that “mode”. Nowadays I only wear jeans when I do chores and garden work. Not that I need to look attractive and kept for others. No, it is strictly for myself. I want to appear presentable.

I am no longer 25 or 50, when one can take liberties with one’s dress and garment. With age I have a feeling that I become less and less presentable and with that notion people around me may shun my presence. I am single and I do need my group of friends. Yes, I become more vulnerable. The youthfulness advertised all over is gone. Very few older folks can maintain that natural elegance and style, even if they were born with it. Many older folks now carry around that disheveled look no one seems to advertise as desirable.

So, for as long as I can, I’ll make an effort to be sensitive to my appearance and maybe I can carry it off. If not, well, then you know that I tried.

Technology and life as we know it!

7 Years ago, I refused to believe that I would ever own a cell phone. Shortly after that pronouncement I gave in (under pressure, kind of) and got this portable device and discontinued my land-line service. Now I just got introduced to an iPhone, and I wonder what will be next!

In the broader sense, in the middle of the nineteenth century we “discovered” electricity and began building our lives around that phenomenon. That change has, in my opinion, caused the most drastic impact on society. It started slowly and now one electronic advance is ”old” and outdated within months.

To-day, I had a discussion with a group of men in my local coffee shop on the consequences of this kind of high speed progress. Computers get smaller, phones can do what computers can do and much more, books can be read on line - no paper-back purchase needed, we have replaced bulky maps with built-in GPS-es, and we are speaking about cars being electronically guided along the highways while its passengers enjoy the sights, continue the family feud and being whisked to a far away destination.

What do we do with our “need” to be connected to this fabulous earth? Remember our ancestors using a shovel and a rake working the land? I do recall a brief moment in my life - 8 consecutive school vacation summers on THE farm in the 1940s, where I got my hands dirty and my muscles tired.

To-day, I hear stories of parents requesting for their children 32” TV at the place of vacation. How about the kids, who virtually lock themselves into their rooms with music plugs in their ears and their fingers manipulating electronic game devices. We now have cars and airlines providing us with entertainment and we move from place to place without “hitting” the out-doors.

Are we removing ourselves and our off-spring from that life my parents used to know? They knew where the potatoes and the cauliflower came from. They have seen frogs and spiders in the wild. They had conversations or debates and took long walks in the rain - well, by now, you know what I am concerned about.

I am looking forward to a change in our awareness, a slow down in our life styles and a return to the appreciation for the simple things in life: A cup of hot chocolate on the front porch with the family enjoying the sunset and the humming birds taking a late night sip on the sugar water feeder. And then ... then everyone goes to sleep with the chickens. Will we ever see this type of life again?

To-day's hospital?

I am volunteering for a number of organizations and occasionally have to wait for a patient in the lobby of a hospital. What is it like as an outsider to be there and to experience that world?

Automatic sliding doors give entry to a marble floored lobby with soft light and a relaxed operator behind a luxurious counter. The lady is more than willing to direct me to anywhere. The chairs in the waiting room area remind me more of an expensive hotel or a lawyer’s office than a place where the sick get a chance to get better - that’s at least the intent. Nurses stroll around in colorful uniforms with charts under their arms. There is nowhere a real sense of urgency.

On one TV-screen I notice the show “General Hospital” with soft intrigue, making up part of the muted noise. From time to time an ad comes on - an ad for medicine described by the sexy voice from a lady. In the distance, I hear live piano playing, yes, live piano playing.

In front of me on the wall another TV with announcements for the OR-Manager. Then a loud “Beep-Beep” suddenly demands all the attention and breaks the almost silence: “Code Blue ... “ and then follows something unintelligible. Minutes later, equally loud: “Cancel code Blue - E.D.-minor, E.D.-minor!”, whatever that means.

Oh yes, a third TV-screen tells me that I may qualify for a special scooter for increased mobility. And the piano player keeps on bringing sweet tunes to the halls for background comfort. I almost wonder where the bar and the swimming pools are.

Occasionally a recently released patient is being picked up by family member or maybe a volunteer like me. I am suddenly made aware of the first sign of infirmary: a wheel chair with a nurse, but no patient.

I look around and see only one other person in the lobby. This hospital is a quiet place. Not the frantic image from my past. Is this now typical for a place for urgent care? This seems unreal, even ridiculous. Really amazing how this institution has changed over the past 50 years, and small wonder the cost for health care has risen so dramatically.