My last posting was concerned with two adult professionals treatment of Barron Trump, the son of President Trump. The apparent glee exposed in dragging the presidents child into the septic, sham impeachment exposes the lack of maturity and ignorance of appropriate manners of some on the left. As the parent and grandparent of a legion of female offspring I have had more than my share of crisis and compromise. As a husband and father for nearly thirty years, I can swear to LOVE as the vital bond that welds the heart and soul of families tightly together.
It has been an eventful decade. First a diagnosis of idiopathic neurapathy.. Then three strokes, one right after another. Subsequently I developed Idiopathic periferalneuropathy, A struggle finding the effective medication to quell the neuropathic burn in my hands and legs.I am presently on Methadone. I have never used heroine, it is cheap and appeared to offer the best suppression of pain even though it carried with it the taint of it being used to treat junkies. I have done a lot of partying but never have had a taste for narcotics. It just a little embarrassing filling prescriptions with methadone on the list.
About 5 years ago My good wifes father cals in an IOU. She had promised to keep him out of nursing homes as much as possible. We are a of a sort that once a commitment is mades it is kept at all costs. Deb’s dad shows up with dementia and we, committed to take care of him as long as could, rented a big beautiful house in the mountains west of Colorado springs, and for two years we suffered under the rage of a man, ,. There was few good moments, for two years as my wife daughter, her husband and myself had as Ivan declined. . When death came and mercifully took him, the wreckage in human terms was four people suffering from PTSD to one degree or another. At about this time my health began to fail and I left the mountain retreat on oxygen.
And about that time one of my other daughters came up with stage three cancer in her breast and, more frightening, in her lymph nodes. We moved her up from Kansas and have spent the last year with the entire family living in a large house nearer the Springs. Amber my daughter, showed such strength and poise ,through out I still stand in awe of her calm strong demeanor. I am proud of her
. My daughters brought their children of course and the population of the house grew to fourteen. It was crowded. A moment of serenity was hard to find and the screeching was skull spitting But yesterday over half the children left for and overnighter with relatives in Greely. I thanked God for a little peace and quite.
At the moment my small world of living on the end of a cannula got smaller. Having had all my top teeth pulled to fit some false teeth I woke up dopey and set my face on fire, (oxygen + flame) I have been bedridden for about a month going crazy.
One of the children who didn’t go visiting stayed with me. Deb was working an overnight shift. So I woke up with a tabby cat curled in the bed sheets and a Macy next to me pushing my legs off the bed. Macy will do anything for me as so will the other children. I am treated with respect that I never expected at this point in my life.I spent a few quiet moments lokking at Marci and the little tabby car, curled together in slumber.
I now things will be getting better. As long try, very consciously, to go the extra mile in loving each other. Loving each other seems to be the only real answer.
Sure the place gets noisy and messy with the kids. But when I need something or wish to say something the kids are right there, saving my soul just a little bit more with their brand of love. I am blessed. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Above all, I would like to praise Deb. Her efforts to keep the house running, making everybody happy while taking care of a woman with cancer and a man with COPD. She is a remarkable woman. I would probably be dead if not for her. Debra Mixon taught me a lot about love in the past few years. For that I thank her.
.Romantic love does not exist. Sexual attraction exists at the beginning of many if not most relationships that end in long term partnerships. As a matter of fact I feel I have insulted the very concept of partnership by equating it with romance.
It’s been a while since divorce rates have passed the 50% mark. Now the bricks that bind our society, the nuclear family, (mom, dad, brother or sister) is at the skinny end of the slope downhill. Just turn on the T.V., All too often the father is portrayed a bumbling fool, the mother looks like a swimsuit model, the children are savvy stand-up comics and their relationship is a series of deceptions, and cute misdirections aimed at getting what they want at fathers expense.With the emasculation of the American patriarchy, with it’s defects, and butt of all humor, the very judgment and thought processes of the culture have been softened to the condition of a warm loaf of bread. The robust nature of males has been assaulted to the point that a safety course on the proper use and misuse of the male penis is not far down the road.
With the popularizion of the “anti-hero” in popular culture, and the “bad boy” values that guided the hand of our men have lost their luster. It is true that there is a pile of work needed to merely civilize the millennia-old concept that patriarchy meant somebody was going to be victimized.
Grant me the serenity to accept, The things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference.
This old adage, popularized through A.A. has been contemplated endlessly. With the phrase “wisdom to know the difference.” presenting us with the conundrum of the day. It is a matter of deciding what is right and good on a case by case basis. There will never be an “answer” we can finish the matter with just the best we can do from moment to moment. Only 15 year old Gurus have that bit of wisdom nailed down.
At the very base of our culture, or any society, is the smallest bonded group, the family. With family values, traditions and beliefs passed on and the roles , (patriarch, matriarch), clearly modeled from an older member, the strength of the family, neigberhood and local community. A man that can love his wife and children, stand with his heart covered and eyes on the flag can still do wrong. A man , on the other hand,, who commits many violent acts and lives selfishly is capable of acts of generosity upon occasion.
I spent the day yesterday sitting with my 32 year old daughter as she had her chemotherapy treatment. I was humbled by the quiet courage I saw in this young woman. It is amazing how much spiritual strength you absorb just by being near such a strong personality. My wife was also right there, giving as much love as she could. The prognosis on her stage 3 mass is positive. That is good. The mass is about the size of a handball. “Scary.”
Her four sisters, 3 young children, her mother and father as well as her partner will guarantee there is someone to be with her with her 24/7. Such is the strength the family, where no one is forced to comply but wants to please those who love them. The sinew, blood an bone of the patriarch was never meant to offend, to suppress those in their care, but such muscle was meant to stand in harms way and protect those who cannot protect themselves.
Love is strength, it is patient……love is commitment to the whole, even at the expense ones own wellbeing. After the Roman empire collapsed, a thousand years of violence blood, and cruelty defined western culture. The inquisition, the crusades and war after war to aggrandize petty nabobs and their dreams of empire marked an era of ignorance crowned by conquest and plague ignorance threatened to wipe out the whole of western Europe.
But the heart of Christendom survived. The immutable truth, in the words of a humble carpenter served as a light toward which mankind could find its way.
Evil will be with us always. We must not give in. Our vigilance must not be abandoned to fear or fatigue. We must not turn our back on love. The fact is that any system of spiritual belief that gives the male head of the family king-like power… is doomed to abuse that power selfishly. You know…”git me another beer bitch!”
The hypersensitivity of the millennial is merely a reflection of the impotent infantile rage of a digitard. Socialized in flickering cathode tubes, in dark basements and dorm cribs, dwebes wander through their hypersensitized, psyche, entitled and having never sacrificed or suffered for the well-being of another, they are bereft of common concern for their fellow humans.
Welcome to the new millennia folks.
Pull her up closer tonight, like you used to . Get lost together…Laugh together…and find each other.