Pity the Poor Pacifist

Despite the fact that no fighting is taking place on our shores, to be alive today in America is to live with the knowledge of the continuing horror, terror, destruction, misery, sickness and starvation faced by those unfortunate innocents in other parts of the world who are caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Dumb as it sounds to some people, the ongoing and escalating chaos in the Middle East makes me unable to enjoy almost anything these days. My husband says to look away, don't watch it, don't read about it. Instead, I should focus on my own here and now. 

It's true, there is peace here in Freeport, Maine. Still, I am sad to be a human. Watching the chipmunks and squirrels and birds scampering and flitting around my yard, oblivious to problems beyond finding their next meal, I'm jealous. While I have no such worries about food scarcity, my fear and loathing of my fellow man are overwhelming.

If I could just take war seriously, I might feel better. As it is, I see it as a really stupid game played by a bunch of brain-damaged lunatics, not unlike Paintball or Laser tag. No wonder I feel like an alien on my home planet.

The Worst Season

Bug bites, bee stings, 

ants in the cupboard, noisy air conditioners, 

itching, ticks, Lyme disease, sunburn, 

sleepless nights, soaring temperatures, 

glare, Brown tail moths, thunderstorms. 

Welcome to summer. 

Let's Hear It For the Jews

I was born to Jewish parents who were smart and funny. We celebrated many Jewish holidays. They took me to the theater and the opera and our home was overflowing with books. They put a high price on learning and made me do my homework every night before I could do anything else. All of our many relatives were a hoot; comedy was a huge part of my childhood. The food was beyond great. All in all, I loved growing up as a Jew!

I still love being a Jew and would not wish otherwise under any circumstances. I cannot understand why any group or individual person dislikes the Jewish people. I do understand that they fear them, for their intelligence and great powers of intuition and leadership.

To those people I say, get over it.

Breakfast With Grok

This morning my husband and I were casually chatting over breakfast, discussing where to take our friends from Florida who are arriving for a visit this week, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a woman joined the conversation. She was not in the room and I don't know her name, but her voice was coming in loud and clear from the vicinity of my husband's cell phone. 

What preceded this revolting development was this: Mitch, addicted as he is to technology, had asked Grok a question. I, an avowed Luddite, asked him, "Who's Grok?" Turned out it's one of those AI assistants that supposedly know everything. Okay, fine, if you say so. The question was, "What is there to do in Boothbay?" (I had already vetoed going there and Mitch was pushing for it.)

Mitch spoke his query into his iPhone, and the answer came back in written form. We continued talking, when suddenly a voice chimes in, very chummy, her sentences interjected with slang terms and "ya know" and "like" and laughing, like she was in the room with us, smoking a joint with her feet propped up on the coffee table.

I wanted to smash the phone. I kept shouting at her to shut up but she went on and on. Oh great, I thought, over-talkers are bad enough at parties but now, circa 2025, we have to put up with this not-real Chatty Cathy crashing our breakfast? I suppose I should be glad she didn't materialize in human form and demand a cup of coffee and a cheese omelet. (Mitch says that's still a few years away.)

The New Normal

This ad for a bathing suit illustrates 

just how far we have come as a nation 

in the war against obesity.

Fat Is Not Normal

Painting by Fernando Botero

Fat Americans are getting fatter every year. At the same time, being fat is seen as less of a problem and instead as just another body type. Mentioning someone's excess weight is considered rude and outrageous "fat-shaming." And just using the word "fat" is akin to saying all those other "bad words" you can't say. (You know the ones.)

I grew up in the ever-enlarging shadow of an obese sibling. Starting at about age 12, my older sister's weight was the topic of every household conversation. Those conversations became knock-down, drag-out fights by the time she hit her teen years. Plainly stated, her fatness ruined our family and totally wrecked my childhood.

So excuse me if I can't "embrace" fatness and call it "body-positivity." I saw my sister live a horrible, sad existence, unable to walk the last five years, locked inside her fat until the day she died at age 83 six months ago.

As a great cook with a big appetite, I have had my own weight struggles. But the memory of how miserable my sister was keeps me within a normal weight range. And yes, I do mean normal -- humans are not meant to be fat. How else to explain how much happier people become when they finally lose their excess weight and start feeling good about themselves and life in general?

 

Goodbye to A Golden Beach Boy

Brian Wilson died today at age 82, and I am strangely sad. I say strangely because hey, who doesn't know we're all gonna die, so no surprise there. But he was quite special to my particular generation, and right now it feels like his passing took all my youthful exuberance and memories along with him. 

Brian suffered from depression during much of his lifetime, and one can only hope he has found peace in the afterlife with all those dead rockers who went before him. Imagine the jam sessions!

One of his most personally revealing songs was also one of my favorites, from the fabulous album Pet Sounds, considered by almost every music critic to be among the greatest albums ever produced. Following are Brian's lyrics to I Guess I Just Wasn't Made for These Times.

"I keep looking for a place to fit where I can speak my mind.

I've been trying hard to find the people that I won't leave behind.

They say I got brains but they ain't doing me no good -- I wish they could.

Each time things start to happen again,
I think I got something good goin' for myself, but what goes wrong?

Sometimes I feel very sad, can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into.....

I guess I just wasn't made for these times.

Every time I get the inspiration to go change things around, no one wants to help me look for places where new things might be found.

Where can I turn when my fair weather friends cop out?

What's it all about?

I guess I just wasn't made for these times."