Response

In response to a question that was asked regarding a recent post, the woman I referenced is the landlord's grandaughter and lives in the apartment below where I live. I have lived with three women in my life, each so different and each so dear to my memory.
I livd with my Mother for eighteen years and feel that I was a disappointment to her. We never became friends in the way that she and my Brother did. Our values were different.She enjoyed laughter and singing and music and I have been morose almost all of my life. I was more concerned about what my friends and peers were up to than what was going on with my family. I left when I was eighteen and bummed all around the country for three years, forever banishing my thoughts of travel. Now I would rather stay home and make a good meal and read than wander about. New vistas and horizens are an anathema to me. I spent too many days and nights in strange places, feeling like a pariah, trying to eke out a living and secure a warm place to sleep.
I was married to a wonderful woman for twenty-one years. She gave me three wonderful daughters, love that knew no bounds, companionship that was the bulwark of finally seeing that live was full of joy and tenderness, an appreciation of opera, and a taste for literature as opposed to pulp fiction. That good woman eventually got sick of my bullshit and showed me the door. She was much more intelligent than I was and eventually showed it.
I lived with a French lady for several years. I never understood how she put up with me but there were hints. Once , when I was in the kitchen making three gallons of beef broth, she asked what I was doing and I told her. She immediately went to the grocery store and purchased ten pounds of assorted onions, some gruyere, and some cognac. The next day we spent the day in the kitchen making onion soup and drinking good wine. She discovered a unique way of judging wine. We would go to the wine store where they allowed tasting of possible purchases. If I liked the wine, it was put on the NO list. If I didn't like the wine, she would purchase a case. Every March she would park on the couch to watch the basketball tournament and whenever there was a tennis tournament on she would do the same. We both enjoyed cooking and cleaning and gardening. I remember once that she was sitting watching the tennis with one of her daughters and the daughter said "Ma, you have always been tiny but now you have begun to put on weight. Why?". At that moment I came out of the kitchen with a chocolate souffle I had just made. She said to her daughter "That's the reason there, and I know why he does it. I finally have a bust worth showing. That devious pervert doesn't think that I know what he is up to!".
The French lady eventually showed me the door and later called me to return. I did and one day I asked her what she saw in me. She replied "It is your quietness and strength that draws me. Your adventurous palate is also a big plus.". She passed away and I have lived alone since, interrupted by an interval where I lived with my Brother and his wife. That lady showed marvelous restraint in not smothering me while I slept. She and my Brother moved out and left me with the apartment.
It must be apparent from this tale that I don't understand women at all. They are a mystery to me. A marvelous fascinating mystery of which I have many fond memories. There is no woman on this planet that has fond memories of me but in my mind are the wisps of the gentler, tenderer, more reasonable, other side of humanity.
The comment also gave new meaning to the phrase "Company is coming. Add another leaf to the table.".

Stiff Necked Person

I woke up this morning with a very stiff neck. I can't imagine why. Yesterday I only went for a walk and shoveled some snow. In thinking about it, I realized that I did not wash my hands when I came in from outside. I usually do that the moment I return. I did stop at a store and who knows what may have been on the door handle. I have always been stiff necked but it is usually not physical. So today I will clean and cook and go for a walk and stay away from foreign door handles.
I hope that Senator Kennedy recovers. He is a resource that the average American cannot afford to lose.

Quiet Questions

It was a peaceful night last night. The snow was falling and the town lay sleeping. The young girl downstairs, with her several children and unending stream of significant others, had evidently forgot to replace the batteries in her scream box. I don't mean to be hard on her as I have a great deal of empathy for her, trapped in a horrific situation. Like a tea kettle, when the pressure becomes too much for her, she has to find an outlet.
When I woke up, a strange thought came to me. Why isn't there a Mrs. God? With the exceptions of Judaism and Christianity, all religions have had a Mrs. God. If God made man in his image, there is one appendage in God that would seem to have no function.
Almost all religions today derive their support from women. Women are the border collies of the church, herding the flock to the pen once each week. The have only one representative that I can see. MARY! The Catholic church made many concessions and modifications to Judaism to accomodate the myriad pagans they gathered into one flock. Christmas, Easter, Hallow'een, and the endless stream of saints dedicated to travelers, thieves, cobblers, sailors and brewers that replaced the ancient pantheons are some examples. MARY replaced Hera and the Mother goddess and Friga and Ishtar and Ianna and Isis and Artemis and Ceres. The Catholic church realized that their mainstay needed someone to identify with instead of the all wise, all powerful, male diety that the church espoused. Women have a problem with the concept of all wise, all powerful, male supremacy. They know the truth. Picture the look on Alice Kramden's face and you will see what I am talking about. There is a multitude of churches and schools and organizations all of which start with the word MARY. The only concession that men have made to this idea is to change the letters around and make the word ARMY.
There is no Mrs. God. There was no Mrs. Jesus. There is no Mrs. Pope. There was no Mrs. Augustine. There was no Mrs. Francis. There was no Mrs. Benedict. Even Buddha had a wife at one time. The Langobards understood the necessity of a modifying diety that they could appeal to. When we end our lives and get called before the principal, we need a guidance counselor to stand up for us. If we resolve to worship a Mrs. God, perhaps we could call her MYRA.
These are the thoughts that rattle around in my mind, like a marble in a box car, before I have had the morning coffee. Just be thankful that you only had to read them instead of listening to them.

Peace

I awoke at 5 A.M. this morning. Evidently, before waking up, my brain had been busy. As I lay in bed before getting up, I realized that something had been resolved. For many years I had felt that I was the aggreived party in a situation. Suddenly I realized that the situation and its outcome were all my fault. The other party involved had tried very hard to rectify the situation and when I refused to compromise, took action.
It was as if a cooling, cleansing breeze had blown through my life. Why is it so hard for me to accept things that go wrong unless they are my fault? Once I place an event in the MY FAULT category, everything is easier. I guess that it is because I find it easier to understand or find excuses for my actions than the actions of others. It may be that I am much more used to dealing with things that are my fault than I am with things that are the fault of others. MY FAULT is an old friend and THE FAULT OF OTHERS is a stranger to me. "It's going to be a good day Tater!".

How cold is it ?

It is cold enough. The forecast is for the temperature to get very low. I am hunkered down. I went out yesterday and equipped myself so that I will not have to go out until Tuesday. I normally enjoy the cold but -18 is too cold. I learned a long time ago that if the snow squeaks when you step on it, go back in the house immediately. This is a time to make stew and bake bread and cookies and get out a really good book and a warm blanket.

The Comment

I have just read the latest comment. It brought to mind many thoughts. The term "non-violent Fathers" made me chuckle. Why doesn't the book use the term "Normal Fathers" instead? I thought back on how I became that way.
I was raised by a Swedish Father. He was a giant of a man and well known to be the toughest and most gentle man in town. Swedes have to deal with their propensity for violence all of their lives. It is something that must always be held in check as, if it is ever unleashed, well the term beserker is Swedish.
My Father sat me down one day and explained the rules of life to me. He never explained women to me as I think that they were a life-long mystery to him.
The Rules of life
1. You can't hit children or threaten a child. It just isn't done. (In Sweden you can go to jail for striking a child.)
2. You can't hit women. ( My Mother was Irish and used to regularly pound on my Father and he would just sit there like Rodin's Thinker and absorb whatever was being handed out.). I remember asking him once why we put up with such irrational behavior and he said "Because some day you are leaving and I have to stay.).
3. You can't hit little guys because it is not fair.
4. You can hit big guys but you will learn to not do that. It took me two front teeth to learn that.
5. If you get angry, go for a walk. If you are still angry when you get home, you didn't walk far enough
Someday Sweetheart, when you and I are alone, I will explain to you why I was, and still am, so proud of you. Your name was not an accident.
Swedes are only afraid of two things, other Swedes and the possible extinction of herring,
all of my love to you and your family, always, daddy

The dark side of the force

It was a big mistake to try and understand centripedal force. The closest that I can get is that it is not a force but a measurement of the force needed to produce a certain action. For example: the Moon orbits the Earth. The Moon wants to go straight but gravity keeps it traveling in a circle ( We will leave ellipses out of this). Gravity is not centripedal force, it is a central force. Centripedal force is a measurement of the amount of gravity needed to accomplish the task. So centripedal force is not a force, it is the measurement of a force. Evidently centripedal force did not exist until Newton published the Principa. What a genius, he not only measured forces but he created one! Strong he was and remember him we will! The latest quandry is trying to figure out the Teacup Paradox. I find the whole concept very stirring. Alfred was right. A life spent without learning, just sitting around and waiting for paradise, is a wasted life. The constant persuit of arcana is not much better.

Glory in the sky

I awoke this morning before sunrise. While I was making coffee in the kitchen the Sun began to rise. The sky was breathtaking. The Sun was just a glimmer on the horizon but the sky glowed. The center was a rose pink, much rosier than normally, surrounded by the most turquoise band that I have ever seen. The turquoise was intense with tinges of light green. It reminded me of watermelon tourmaline.
I spent most of yesterday worrying about a single matter that had come to pass. I was convinced that Becker's Elastic had hit me firmly between the eyes. It was one of those situations where I just say "This can't be, it just can't be!". The awe of the sunrise erased those thoughts from my mind. When I checked on the situation later this morning, it had been resolved. Now there is just one small matter to be investigated.
Random thoughts and questions sometimes assume too much importance to me. This morning's Question from Porlock is "What is centripidal force?". I have looked into the explanation but once again "This can't be, it just can't be!".
2009 is looking good so far. This may be the year about which we say "When it was good it was very, very good." but as I say this I can feel the elastic growing tauter and tauter.

Once more into the breach

A new year is here and once again we face the time of resolutions. There is a new coating of snow on the ground and we start this year with a cleaned slate. It is a time not of resolutions but a time for resolution. To paraphrase a gentle poet:
"There's going to be a resolution, w ell you know
You say you've got a real solution, w ell you know
But if you want money for purchasing planes and guns
I'm telling you buddy that you can kiss my buns".
I wish you and your family a time of joy and healing and laughter and good food and peace and hope and resolution. It is time for Americans to take off the black hats and dig the white ones out of the closet and wear them proudly once again.