'For every season...'

03/31/11

Well well well, how quickly have we reached the end of March, which--indeed--'came in like a lamb, and went out as a lion.'
The early days of March were balmy, pleasant; a little humid even.  And, as in all days that too quickly mark the passage of years, time seemed, somehow to have become compressed. 'Tempus Fugit' the watchword of the month.
Here in sunny Florida, Land of the Sponges, the past three days ( including today ) have been remarked by tempestuous storms, heavy all-day rains which the dry earth could not absorb, causing minor flooding, and a general 'dankness' which only encouraged even the 'early risers' to stay safely abed, covers pulled up to their noses.
Earlier today, my driveway to the house was underwater; despite the lousy housing market, maybe I should have sold my home as it featured 'waterfront property'.

The rainy days provide much time to think, and to gather one's thoughts. Some of this thought concerned the nature of, and future of this/my Blog; I had wanted it to be a success.
But, frankly, there are thousands of blogs out there that are better presented, better formatted, better hosted and better posted than mine.
And if I cannot find my voice, how then shall I find an audience ?

I find that audiences are fickle, and fly to this site or that for the sake of self-amusement; the blog or face book that catches fire, drawing--in one week--hundreds of thousands of 'hits', may, a month later, become almost totally forgotten.
In order for this, or any other blog to be successful, it must change and grow, even as its audience changes.

After a few more days on hiatus, look for this blog to be both lean and mean ( though not hurtful...there's a difference ).  Look for shorter posts, sharper posts, with a less strident, more humorous tone, while still keeping to the original premise of the blog.

And whether you happen to stumble across this blog, while looking for something else, or whether you may find--in my posts--some small thing if interest, please detain a moment to write a comment to me; for I want you the reader to feel comfortable, and at home here.
To this end, I hope that both of us are successful.

And so, I wish for you all a peaceful and quiet night, a sound sleep, pleasant dreams, and a renewed spirit for the day ahead.  Charles

'The Fate Of A Nation Is Determined By The Fate Of Its Peoples'

03/30/11
In recent weeks, all responsible eyes have been turned to the Nation of Japan, and to the unstoppable power of Nature which--in all its mindless fury-- has left this Nation in shambles; we witnessed in shock, as the tsunami rolled inexorably onward, sweeping away lives, families, homes, businesses, and, in the process, loosing fatal amounts of radiation in the air from damaged plants, and...in sub-zero weather.
The tsunami almost placidly tossed automobiles about like toys, and leveled houses; entire prefectures were erased from the earth, and countless lives were lost. We may never know how many.
In less than twenty-four hours, an hearty Nation with its growing economy, was reduced to mud and rubble; its automobile industry stalled, while the general, past quality of life of its peoples were thrown backwards into the dark ages. And full recovery will doubtlessly take years.
All of this was changed in a moment, hardly an eye-blink of geologic time.
There is--and will continue to be--grief, loss, and bewilderment at a way of life so drastically altered.
We knew, even as we watched in disbelief that such a titanic event that befell Japan could happen--at any time--to us.
The mighty forces of Nature know no boundaries, no political division, no regard for any religion, nor ideology; it is, in truth, equal in its sudden wrath, equal in the damage it leaves behind, and--in the case of Japan, equal in its disregard for nation states, whether they be democracies, oligarchies, or under tyrannical rule.
It knows not Kings, nor Emperors. It cannot distinguish the well-off from the oppressed.
It mindlessly kills because it has no mind.
Catastrophic natural events neither love, nor hate; it knows no favorites among the world's populace.
There have been posts that imply that this disaster was in some way, due retribution for past events; these 'posters' have small minds, small hearts, and small souls.

But despite the earthquake, the tsunami, the radiation, and the freezing weather that has nearly destroyed the 'body' of the nation of Japan, it has been its peoples--the very heart--of that nation that has thus sustained it, and, over time, will help it to recover.

Even those who cast jaded eyes upon a ruined Japan, could not deny the kindness, the sacrifice, the tenacity of the Japanese people; there were no riots.  No looters. No mayhem in the devastated streets as there might well be in, say, America.  No armed uprisings over lack of water, food, clothing, or warmth. Instead, there was--and is--volubly expressed the nobility of the Japanese, with its purposed, reasoned calm despite the shock, to unite, to self-sacrifice, and to help each other--stranger to stranger--as if part of a larger family, that of Man.
Would workers voluntarily return to make repairs to nuclear power plants, even when they fully knew, that, to do so incontestably meant their deaths from radiation exposure ?  These mostly nameless individuals are nothing less than true heroes.
As were the brave firefighters, and policemen during '9/11/'.
True heroism is not a quality that we are generally disposed to; ; this--in the light of survival of self--is, in itself, not an apportionment of blame.
True heroes are the ones that step away from the fleeing crowds to say, "Don't be afraid...I can help".
One need only to look at history to be moved by Roosevelt's admonition the, "The only thing we have to fear is...fear itself".  Or of Winston Churchill's advise to the English nation to, "..stay calm, and carry on".
And we have seen that demonstrated over and over and over again in Japan.
I am sure that many--while being stunned by the gravity of the disaster--found a few, extra tears to shed over that video that showed one dog protecting another.
While watching the slow, but sure swath of devastation, watching as homes were reduced to matchsticks, and then swept away; watching ( as helplessly as did the Japanese ), as lives were lost, and families hopelessly separated.
What was not lost, although it may have flickered in the face of tradegy, was a culture spanning centuries; one of self-reliance, patience, and a recognition of service to others.
Earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, typhoons will always exist, to let loose the hounds of Hell upon Man, who cannot but reel helplessly before their might.
The scope of the tradegy in Japan should cause us to examine ourselves, even in all our variety.  And despite our differences in race, religion, or politics, we should be joined in concert to rush to supply relief, aid, and comfort to Japan, and its brave citizens, and to help restore infrastructure that has been effectively wiped away.
Express your concern(s) to your elected officials. Forget for a moment our own ruined economy, ruined not by some fearsome natural disaster, but by unmitigated greed.
Find a legitimate charity ( one that actually uses most of its donations to help those intended ). Give what you can, even if its just a modest sum. Complain about the failed economy to those who drove it there; are we not just a small bit responsible ourselves ?
It is not a time to chest-beat, or to sabre-rattle, or to declare ourselves American, French, Russian, or, Japanese.
But, rather, to stand tall, declaring ourselves to be Human, and as Human, part of the greater Humanity of Man.
I thank you, and wish for you ( and the Japanese ), a night of quiet, warm, secure, and restorative rest.
May the Great Spirit bless and protect you.

'Home Sweet Home'...Part Two

03/28/11

The dream, the need to own one's home, and plot of ground goes back, really, to our ancestors who ventured away from crowded cities into the wilderness, where they claimed their ground, cleared it of trees, rocks, and debris, to build their ramshackle dwellings, and plow the fields.
A review of Wills of some two hundred years, in dividing up property among the beneficiaries, show the importance of having land to pass on, and--in many instances--listed quite elaborately the disposition of furniture, as, many of the items had to be sent from abroad at great cost; these were considered treasured items.  Even prosaic items such as beds were thought important enough to be written down.
These Wills which seem silly today, insured that various family members would have property upon which to build there own lives, with a primary beneficiary given both the house and the land, as well as the disposition of whatever sums of money as may have existed.
There was a continuity there: the hopes that the family would remain intact, and--in time--prosper, a desire uppermost in the minds of the writers.
Of course, properties were sold, and homesteads turned over to strangers.  But, by in large, subsequent generations were planed for, and accounted for well into the first quarter of the last century.
Over the years, this concept has been impacted by smaller families, and by less goods and chattels to be 'passed on'.
Disposition of treasured items is often made before death, children are often allowed to 'number' certain items they want, after their parents have passed away, and things that used to be of importance have faded; even the nature of so-called treasured items has changed somewhat. While furniture is relegated to be disposed of in the Will, no one that I have ever heard of specially wills to anyone a bed, simply because they can be purchased everywhere, as can all household items.
And so, we come to today, where so many younger couples do not think of making a Will, and never make one, though dying intestate, makes of strange beneficiaries, with the State levying huge taxes to Probate nothing of consequence; and you might find your home, as well as other monies, passing to some cousin you personally detest, and wouldn't give the first nickle to in life.

Of course, no one in their forties even think of Revocable Power Of Attorney, and few have life insurance, or other monies in cash, stocks, or bonds. Really, all there is is the unpaid for house, and unpaid for car.  And with singularly unmatched, and hideous furniture, that it can scarcely be justified as being both 'kid-proof', and, comfortable.
Again, it is hardly the fault of the homeowner that actually 'decorating' the house takes little precedent as the daily cost of living ( translate that to, surviving ), and the ever-growing lag between income and expenses, inevitably rules out Luis XIV, in favor of food, and utilities.
And so, dear readers, I shall close for now; it has been raining steadily all day; the house feels damp, and the dog will not go out to pee.
Please take care, all, and try to enjoy a pleasant day.
Regards, Charles

'Home Sweet Home'...where the dream went terribly, terribly wrong'

03/28/11

...."What is it about a Man who chases after that which he can never hope to catch, whilst fleeing from that from which he can never hope to escape"...C.B.

Although I have become rather isolative of late, I still manage to get glimpses of the world, even though it may be as looking through a telescope from the wrong end.
What little I do know alarms, and frightens me, stacking hopeless chaos upon chaos.  How long can this charade continue ?

               After Blake:
                  Every night and every morn, some to misery
                   are born.
                  Every morn and every night, some are born to
                   sweet delight.
                  Some are born to sweet delight; some are born
                    to endless night.

It truly hurts my heart that every day, families--no longer able to pay outlandish mortgage payments--are putting the house keys under the front mat, and are simply walking away from their homes, leaving all hopes of a comfortable life behind them, to have the now empty homes vandalized, and the remains left to be foreclosed on by the their banks ( which are already more than top-heavy with unsellable foreclosures ), adding incalculable monies to the national debt.
These families are the 'new nomads', with no where to go, renting when they can, or, living with relatives when they can't.

There is no use in apportioning blame; in truth, everyone is to blame: couples that--two or so years ago--saw the real estate market soaring to unbelievable and unsustainable heights; and sought to buy homes, and 'flip' them, hoping to make sums of money; frankly, they should have known--at least by historic example--that reckless spirals cannot long continue; eventually, the 'bubble' breaks, and those spirals plummet to become troughs, until, the market eventually rights itself.
The banks and mortgage lenders made it easy for those couples to buy properties quite beyond their means, with easy interest rates, and little, or nothing required as a down payment.
Even couples who intended to keep their homes, bought homes that were priced beyond their means; they wanted the 'American Dream',  but they wanted more than they could possibly hope to pay for.
Suddenly, a fifty-thousand dollar house was not enough ( even if $50,000.00 homes were advertised for sale).
They wanted it now, thereby skipping the example of their mothers and fathers, their grandparents, even, whose willingness to wait, and to 'settle' for more modest accommodations, required savings, first, and a commitment to stay the course for standard thirty-year mortgages, until, at last, the home of their dreams was eventually had, debt free.
Frankly, everybody was greedy.

Two years ago--or so--an acquaintance of mine, decided he had to have a home for himself, his girlfriend, and their two-year-old daughter.
And though the real estate market was in a frenzy, and natural caution should have urged him to wait, he purchased a modest two bedroom, one bath, home with garage, that was built some twenty-five years before--probably at a cost of no more than $32,000.00--for the incredible sum of $102,000.00.
His thirty year mortgage payments cost him about $1,000.00 a month.
He cannot possibly hope to sell it anywhere near that price, and so, he is trapped.
When he says the $1,000.00 payments each month are literally,"...breaking his back", I can readily understand why; he's hoping to refinance the loan with his bank, who--frankly--are not interested in doing so.  Why ?  Because he intends to live there, his bank is making an obscene amount of profit, which they use to help offset their other losses through foreclosure.
The house is rather plain, in fair condition ( rare for its age ), and quite adequate to provide shelter for he and his family.
But for $102,000.00 ?
As the real estate market further declines, he helplessly watches every penny of 'sweat equity', and costs of maintenance and improvements vaporise before his very eyes.
And, what if--in three to five years--the house needs a new roof ?
He is now piling debt upon debt to just remain in place.
And this is not an isolated phenomenon.
He was both incautious and ill-timed. A more politic course of action would, perhaps, have been to rent for two or three years, whilst saving money for a more substantial down payment.
With $20,000.00 to $30,000.00 saved up, he probablyy could have taken advantage of the rogue 'buyer's market' that exists today, and maybe then, have secured an $100,000.00 home at less interest, and less monthly payments.
Part Two to follow.

'Introduction to, 'Postern Of Fate', part two.'

03/26/11 continued....

Dear Readers ( should there actually be any ! ),

Having failed at a number of prescribed goals, such as succinctness and brevity, we must stagger on, pretending to dance as if the orchestra were still playing.

In trying to conclude 'Part One', I will mention only in passing, that, perhaps the very nadir of TeeVee had been reached on a program on MTV, in which a clothed, jock-strapped man sat against a wall while grapefruits, softballs, and other objects were as missiles thrown to hit his testicles; upon being hit, the man would yell in pain, and then laugh like a maniac. Later, during the closing credits, he chased the 'throwers' as if to attack them; That I watched this farrago for--perhaps--five minutes, can only be attributed to my complete disbelief that, a) it was actually happening, and, b) that anyone could possibly find it entertaining.
Mere TeeVee is not the culprit, for as Edward Murrow once said during a filmed documentary of the poor in America, " The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves ".
Endless chatter by 'talking heads' abounds; and bad news is everywhere.  Shocking news. Horrible news.
Is it any wonder--then--that any reasonably sane person would want to run from this onslaught?  And to try to create for themselves some sort of hiding place, outfitted for comfort and designed to be reassuringly the 'same'.?
Those who drag home at days' end from jobs they too often find repellent, are too tired, too used up, too consumed to do more than pop a beer, and flop down on the sofa, kicking their shoes off at the door.  They want a little comfort, a little quiet, a little pampering, and a LOT of peace and detachment from the world.
I once recall a time when there were only three channels, and all went off the air at 11:00PM.  Nobody complained.  Or, really cared.
Now there is--besides the computer, and the 'wild west web'--cable with 900 channels. And there's still nothing to watch.
And so, after supper has plopped out of the microwave, and the children dispensed with and the dogs let out to pee, the evening is wasted in the constant channel surfing up and down the dial.
Though they relax in it, unknowingly, they do not consider for one moment, and, as such, do not revel in it, that, in entering and shutting the front door, they are drawing a palpable line in the sand, intentionally separating themselves from the world outside; it is a retreat to the warmth of the fire in the cave at night, however dearly this 'cave' is costing them.
And so, at this post's end, I wish you all a quiet night, an untroubled sleep, and strength to face tomorrow.  Goodnight all,   Charles

'The Postern Of Fate...':' The introduction that should have come first'

03/26/11
This--alas--is the long-awaited introduction to my blog ( what an odd name ! ), which should have been written first. I have, at once, in candor, rather than coyness revealed a true lack of understanding of computers in general, and this forum, in particular.
I was strongly advised to keep my entries short, and to the point; I was to eshew fancy language ( such as 'eshew' ), and--above all--to try to be interesting, so that once you found me, you would come back, dragging friends, relatives, and co-workers with you, to hark upon my every, ruby-throated word.  And, to--upon occasion--offer up your own impressions/suggestions/and criticisms that might, in all kindness, change incontestably both the tone and direction of this enterprise.
I purposely went overboard on the biography so that I wouldn't have to trot it out here, boring you twice.
There are countless blogs out there already, each with its own voice, its own interests, and its own agenda(s).  What have I to say?
"What shall we give the infant King?"
I have changed the font size so that I could read it better; for you out there in blog-land, it should--at worst--limit the length of my entries, but not the tone of them.
Though I am, at present safely tucked away in my own little world, as I had mentioned in the bio, 'The Postern Of Fate...' refers to all that lies on the other side of your own front door; all the marvels, the mysteries, and the unspeakable terrors, the former of which simply makes us want to stay in bed, covers over the head.
We all try to insulate ourselves, our families, and our friends from the utter madness that waits for us there; for there be monsters run amok that we cannot control, nor hide from, nor escape from, really.
Our homes have become our fortresses, our redoubts, our caves which we leave grudgingly, and return to most gratefully.
Try as we might, the outside world still touches us, as well-evidenced by the schlock and shock offered up nightly on TeeVee, and in the newspapers ( does anyone subscribe to them anymore? ).
After a year or so of dwindling interest, when much of broadcast 'entertainment' devolved into torture of the most hideous kind, I simply stopped watching TeeVee, and, in time, gave away the two sets I had in the house.  And, while I freely admit that it is now with greater slowness that I am informed of events both here and abroad, I could find nothing but distaste at any of the, 'What would you do for $50,000.00 USD ? shows.  Eat worms ? Share a glass coffin teeming with roaches?
First, it beggared the self-answering fact that, 'hell yeah, I could use $50,000.00 !'  We all could.  In point of fact, there have been too many occasions when $500.00 would look good, and would help carry us to the end of the month.
But these shows, for amusement's sake took these hapless contestants and humiliated them; they not only went home penniless, but did so after sharing the glass coffin teeming with roaches.
When the stately, and posing rectitude of 'Jeopardy', was overrun by 'Weakest Link', the boxer's gloves came off to fully reveal the greed and conniving of the contestants, and the unutterable snottiness of the Host.  That its tag line, 'You are the weakest link', was later used as a catch phrase across the nation, culminating in an homicide, shows only too well how cruel, selfish, and mindless such shows can be.
Thankfully, such productions soon--though, often, not quickly enough--burn themselves out, others race to fill the void.
Part One Of Two.

'Home is hardly where the heart is'

03/23/11
What does the term 'home' mean to you ?  Is it a house, a condo, an R.V., a log cabin ( midst the pines ), an apartment, or a piece of tarp hastily lashed with rope to nearby trees ?  Or, does the abstraction of 'home' extend to a couple of shopping carts full of collected dreck, doggedly dragged along the roadside, with newspapers and plastic bags to ward off inclement weather ?
Far distant memories of the fundamental nature of 'home' revealed that the modern home as we know it gathered impetus shortly after WWII, with scores of G.I.'s returning--at last--to their parent's home, though, such compact living arrangements seemed poor payment for four, long years of combat.
Suddenly, nearly every service person wanted a scrap of land to call his own, and an home to put on it; a quiet refuge for newlyweds, and a place to have children, one car, and a dog.
This was their interpretation of the Constitution's mandate of, 'Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness; nothing less, really, than a completely justifiable flight from the horrors of war.
Various government programs made housing and education well within the reach of these returning Veterans.  All to fuel and provide a deep yearning which demanded answers.
For the next ten years or so, 'slipper' communities such as the famous Levittown(s), sprang from the soil as if from sown dragon's teeth.
Whenever there is a need, and available housing was but one, and a great need it was, too, the Military and Industrial machines were more than happy to retool from a war economy to a peacetime one.
These--mostly young--returning Veterans wanted everything at once, and it was given to them at once, which--for industry--made for enormous profits.
In photographs taken of the period, the homes were like little doll houses: two bedrooms, one bath, and a carport or a garage. I once read that in these little houses, the flushing of the toilet could be heard 'all over the house'.
But, many featured hardwood floors, over a grid of piped in hot water, which kept the homes cozy and warm.
'Had to have necessities' included new cars ( whose style had remained unchanged during the war years, from 1939-1945), modern furniture, appliances to an extent unimaginable.
These young men and women had had four+ years of war, during which to think and mold a new, 'American Dream', also--by default--launching the new installment payment plan.
Photographs of the time not only show proud mommy with proud baby, but often included the entire front of the house, making the home a more than integral part of the new family; further, should you care to notice, while many of these tract homes had garages, you find the family car parked in the driveway, so that the viewer could not miss it; it was never meant to be missed; even when the photographs taken reduced the human subjects so they were often unrecognizable, the point--however--was clear: these men, weary of war, were--like their ancestors before them--valiantly striking out to make a new and better life for themselves, and for their families.
Part II to follow in due time.  All regards,  Charles

Hello all...guess what now ?

Why, my dear readers...what in the world; now, I cannot access any of the personal, or bio information that I labored long and hard at.  Where has it gone?  Klingon Space?  Next door ? The 'Pilars Of Hercules' ?  And...can it be retrieved so I won't have to write it all down again ?
Being temperamental ( ninety percent temper, and ten percent mental ), I chafe at the thought of having to again begin at the beginning, as I was s-o-o-o-o clever, butter wouldn't melt in my exposition.
Granted, many blogs are edifying and educational; some--like mine--are strictly ego and desperation both in thought, and in content, but then...aren't they both the same ?
Everyone has--or should have--a life, filled chock-a-block with children, spouses, mortgages, debts, pets, and 'forgets', dinner times and bedtimes, utility bills, and jobs which slowly strangle the soul and paralyze the mind, for ****wages, lousy health care, and no benefits.  It is--in fine--the 'American Way'.
Add to that stultifyingly mindless programs on TeeVee, reprehensible relatives, lunatic neighbors, a Legislature that has always lined their own pockets and interests, quite contrary, Mary, with no regard for the common weal.
For those who have to work ( think indentured servitude rather than career ), and purchase food and gasoline, whatever are they to do for 'fun', or has that word gone out of the English language ?  Dining out means sitting at a picnic table in your backyard.  And movies have of late seemed to become just 'odd'.
What is left, when both parents and children sit in grumpy silence at the dinner table; secretly, I think they loath each other, covered with a fine veneer of love, because--dammit--you're supposed to love each other.  That's what Hallmark cards say, and, who can argue with them ?
That leaves the computer, with all its Hydra heads of locked-out sites so the kiddies can't look at porn ( though the parents can ).  Hours of after school homework with 'spell check', so the teachers can read it.
I did forget most egregiously to mention the cell phone, which, while it can serve a useful purpose, just makes one too available..no mystery here.  Perhaps I shall speak upon that subject another time.
Meanwhile, I have problems of my own.
Are my entries overlong? You betcha.  If you cannot bear to scroll down to the next page ( or two ), lighten up on the caffeine ( do you hear that, Starbucks ?), and/or seek sedation.  Besides...wait until you see my poetry, or other expositions, or, play-lets, only the brave deserve the fair.  Call it a caveat, if you will; I do not whistle as I walk by a graveyard.  I scare myself aplenty whenever I make a mistake, and look at myself in any mirror.  If that sight doesn't scare children and make dogs bark, nothing will.
If anyone out there can find this dratted blog--and--read it, please let me know.
Only, please be gentle as I bruise as does the peach.  Though it is--in the most possible, far outist, abstract concept--still a 'free' country.  Or, should I start learning to speak Chinese ?
Regards to all. Please rest easy and well; today is another day already.  Thanks, Charles