Satire, Black Comedy, and Terrorism

January 12, 2015 By
Yellowstone National Park, February, 2007.

Yellowstone National Park, February, 2007.

The past week’s abhorrent shootings in Paris are said to be the beginning of a new age of terrorism that some say cannot be stopped. Cities like London, New York, and Los Angeles are prime targets for insane fundamentalist activity, and there are new terror alerts posted everywhere. We’re told to be vigilant and be aware of everything that is going on around us.  On my last trip on Amtrak, there were signs all over place saying, “If You See Something, Say Something,” encouraging travelers like myself to speak up about any unsettling activity they notice as we move from place to place.

I do not support or defend those who killed the French cartoonists and the hostages and I strongly believe in freedom of speech. But I’m forced to wonder that if we stopped lambasting other people’s religions, spirituality, and those who are different from us, things might change just a little bit.

I believe that much of today’s humor, like the “jokes” I heard at the Golden Globe’s on Sunday night, is shamefully distasteful. Was it really necessary to roast Bill Cosby, for his detestable behavior toward women on a program that is supposed to be celebrating creativity and brilliance? Cosby is already being punished for his acts of uninvited sexual advances, even though it hasn’t yet been proven in a court of law.

I personally do not find humor based on anger to be funny. It is hurtful.

In satire or black humor, people aren’t maimed or gunned down in hate crimes like those in Paris, but they can be hurt none-the-less. Consider the number of gay men and women, young and old, who have committed suicide because others have had “fun” calling them monsters of one sort or another.

Our country, “The Land of The Free and home of the brave,” has always had terrorists among us. There are hate crimes committed every day here, and those who commit them are not usually Muslims.

Remember the Civil Rights Movement, and the number of innocent African Americans who suffered at the hands of “upstanding, Christian” white people?

I recently spent a few days with a person who is not an American citizen. His satirical rants about “you Americans,” set my generally positive attitude towards everyone on edge. By the end of his visit I was more than a bit offended.

There are “Ugly Americans” among us, as William J. Lederer and Eugene Burdick, coined them in their book by that same title in 1958. We are just as hateful as anybody else and often behave miserably when we visit other countries. But we’re also responsible for doing great things around the world for people who are different from us.

Other countries also do great things for the world. Sometimes their people make the headlines like, Pakistani, Malala Yousafzai, the youngest Nobel Prize laureate ever, who works on behalf of girls and women and their right to be educated. Others humbly struggle to make things right, without recognition. But those who get the most recognition, are the haters and fundamentalists who shoot and blow innocent people up.

The gathering of people and officials from all over the world, who rallied in Paris on Sunday, heartened me. What a wonderful way of bringing people of all ethnicities together in support of free speech and peace. I am ashamed, however, that our administration chose not to send a higher official to participate with the other world leaders who felt it was their duty to be there. It has been reported that Attorney General, Eric Holder, was in Paris at the time, but did not to attend.

Some of us complain about needing to be politically correct all of the time. But I believe that doing so is an act of kindness, and that we’d go a long way in diminishing some the hatred we’re witnessing in our world today, if we just a bit more careful.

If we can be kind and helpful to those around us, rather than put them down because they believe in a different God than we do, maybe we can make a difference in what happens in our world. It probably won’t stop terrorists from blowing up innocent people, but it’s a step in the right direction. By doing so, we can mend the hearts of many and take the first step in bringing peace and unity to all of the people we share our beautiful planet with.

Filed Under: Black Humor, Paris, Satire, Terrorism, War, wonderings

To Sell Or Not To Sell

September 23, 2014 By
My Last Bike

My Last Bike

Wanting to up our exercise choices, Bill and I bought us a pair of bikes eight or so years age. We were both members of gyms and worked out on a regular basis. I also did some flat water kayaking on the peaceful river we lived on at the time. Never really a fan of gyms and exercising indoors, I was interested in being outside where there were no membership fees or waiting in line to use a particular machine.

We took our bikes with us when we went to the Outer Banks on vacation every fall, where there are bike lanes along a straight expanse of road. Traffic at that time of year is always light and I felt quite safe when riding there. Along with beach walks everyday, I was getting plenty of exercise, and I loved being out in the chilly air with the wind in my hair and the sound of waves crashing ashore in the distance.

The biggest problem with riding my bike here at home was that there were no great places to ride. Living out in the country, the roads were narrow and curvy, and we knew someone who’d been badly injured when she was struck by a car, as she was biking along one of them.

Sometimes I loaded my bike in my car and took it to a county park, where I rode. But after a while that seemed like a pain in the butt. We lived on a lovely cul de sac that was long enough to get some speed up and also had a few little hills. I happily rode back and forth, burning calories for a while until I got bored with that.

As many things do, the bikes started gathering dust when we weren’t at the beach. When we moved here into town, where we thought we’d ride them more, they took up too much space in our much smaller garage. Though there are some bike lanes here in the city, I’ve seen too many near misses to get up the courage to launch myself into the community on my bike. So, our nice shiny bikes gathered even more dust.Once ion a while we’d  haul them out, wipe off the cobwebs, and pump up the tires. They were ready for a spin around the block, which never seemed to happen.

Last year we decided that it would be best to sell them. We were too busy, or was it lazy, to make the effort to get them ready for rides we’d never take. This past week, Bill finally hauled them out, cleaned them up, and listed them on Craig’s List. I took one last wobbly ride down the driveway and back, just to be sure I wanted to part with my loyal stead. I decided my long morning walks were much safer.

But when the first call came in just after Bill had listed them, I felt very sad. It seemed like the end of an era and my youth. I felt older than my soon to be 72 years, and like I was giving up too easily on my need to stay young and fit.

My bike sold immediately. Bill’s is still in the garage, but I expect it to go soon. Feeling the same way I do, he and I mourned our losses together at Sunday brunch, over a scrumptious frittata, crab cakes, salad, and a Bloody Mary.

I have a friend, a few years younger than I am, who recently bought a new car. She was excited telling me about it. But the conversation ended when she added, “This is my last car.” I was taken aback. Her comment probably has something to do with the way I’m feeling about my bike, that isn’t mine anymore. I’m not that old, but the fact is I have to, “That was my last bike.” I do not intend to get another.

A few days later, I’m now thinking that it’s best that I did sell it. I wouldn’t want it to go unused and be something I’d trip over when trying to find something in the garage. I’m not giving up on my need to stay fit and young. I’m being realistic. I will not say that the car I have now, or that the next one I buy will be my last. But I am allowing myself to feel comfortable with the cross trainer in my studio that keeps me dry when it rains or snows, and the magical walks I go on when the weather is gorgeous.

DSCF0620Like right now. The sun is shining, the sky is cloudless, turning leaves are drifting down in a light breeze, and a flock of starlings are gathering in the trees for their long flight south. I’m putting on a sweater, and am heading out down the street. Selling my bike was not the end of an era. It was an end of a season and the beginning of another. There are many more still left to be lived … a little bit differently perhaps, but always as wonderful as ever.

 

Filed Under: Change, Exercising, Health and Wellnes, Navigating Through Life, The Seasons, Walking, wonderings Tagged With: , ,

Before, After, And A New Challenge

March 4, 2014 By
Before

Before

Now that I’ve gotten myself through the renovation, it’s time for another challenge.  Yes, it’s done except for one drawer that should be delivered today if the road conditions are okay after yesterday’s five inches of snow.  As you can see I’ve attached before and after pics of the master bath. The new tub  is fabulous for a nice soak on cold winter days. While I like to read or listen to books on tape as I soak, Bill plays his harmonica filling the house with wonderful, bluesy music.

While all of the hammering, sawing, and chaos was happening, I found myself diving for comfort food to sooth my nerves.  Since I’m gluten free and avoiding most grains, there were no cakes, cookies, and and I had no kitchen to make my usual treats made with almond flour. So I packed in the dark chocolate bars, ate things like ice cream when we went out to eat, which I usually refrain from, and generally experienced almost constant sugar cravings and crashes.

After

After

Yes, I’m a sugarholic. Like a good portion of the rest of us in this country, I love sweets.  Once I’m on a sugar kick there is no stopping me.  If I bring home a pint of ice-cream it probably wouldn’t make it until day two.  If there is a chocolate bar sitting somewhere in the vicinity it won’t last long either. Anything that is sweet is my comfort. Especially when I’m stressed.

The rest of my diet is great.  I long ago gave up soda, chips, most processed foods. I haven’t bought a bag of refined sugar sugar in years, using honey, agave nectar, and maple syrup for cooking. But sugar is sugar. I eat small portions of meat and lots of fresh vegetables and fruit.  Berries are the best, along with clementines, and in the summer peaches, cherries and grapes.  All organic if possible.   I’ve tried being vegetarian, but found I need animal protein to keep my energy up and my immune system in good shape.

Last week I had a hard day when there was nothing sweet in the house to munch on.   I was craving sugar all day long. I was jittery, anxious, and couldn’t concentrate.  I’ve been through it before and the only thing that can fix it is to omit sugar from my diet and be very patient, because it takes time to get over the hump. I made a promise to myself to stop buying the ice-cream, dark chocolate bars, and anything else that would continue to keep me needing a fix. I piled on the fruit instead. Apples, grapefruit, bananas, berries, fresh or dried. I felt better but was still craving anything that would deliver a dose of sugar quickly.

Over two weeks ago my daughter, Lisa, who suffers from the same addiction to sugar, decided to go on a 21 day sugar detox program. I’ve been following her progress and been impressed with how she is doing.  She has just under a week left to go and I’m looking forward to seeing what she will do once she is done.  Will her need for sugar come back if she adds a piece of chocolate back in once in a while?  Or will she continue to keep tabs on herself and continue to live without the cravings?

I don’t know the answer to that, but she is has so inspired me that I’ve decided to give it a try myself.  This coming Sunday will be day number one for me.  I have a dinner party and a lunch to get through this week with friends, but once day one rolls around, that’s it for sugar for the next 21 days. In the meantime I’m testing recipes for snacks that I can have and cutting back on the amount of sweet stuff now to prepare myself.  I haven’t bought a bar of chocolate in week and haven’t had ice-cream in a while.  I just made a batch of Banola, from the recipes that go along with the program. It’s good and very satisfying.  It’s granola made with a variety of nuts, seeds, cinnamon, vanilla, and just barely ripe bananas as a sweetener. There are no grains or sugar in it. I’ll eat it out of the jar for a snack or add it to plain yogurt at breakfast with some cut up green apple.  Last night we tried the Shrimp Pad Thai with zucchini noodles. So delicious. Those added to my own stash of grain and sugar free recipes should keep me happy for the next three weeks.

I think the hardest part for me will be giving up all of the fruit I’ve been eating. Green apples, green-tipped bananas and grapefruit are the only fruits I’m allowed to have during the detox period. But I’ve found that most anything worth doing isn’t terribly easy at first.  It’s just another thing to try to keep myself healthy and feeling good.

Wish me luck!  I’ll be posting posting on my Facebook page about my progress from time to time. I’m looking forward to seeing how I do after the 21 days are up.

Oh, my writing is coming along well.  I’ll be going to a writing conference in May and hope to have a manuscript to bring along for critique.

Filed Under: Addiction, Healthy Living, Navigating Through Life, wonderings Tagged With: , ,

The Velocity of Autumn

September 24, 2013 By

IMG_0776This past weekend we took another one day trip up to the Arena Stage in Washington, DC to see The Velocity of Autumn, a ninety-minute, one act play, by award winning playwright, Eric Coble.  And oh, what a fantastic show.  This two person play, starring Academy Award winner Estelle Parsons, (Bonnie and Clyde) and two-time Tony winner Stephen Spinella, (Angels in America) had me rolling in the aisles with laughter and teary eyed with sadness all at the same time.

Artistic Director at the Arena, Molly Smith, says in her program notes, “We find ourselves in the middle of some of the most powerful questions we face as human beings.  When does one step in to help a parent and when does one stay out?  What happens when family members are unequally engaged? Whose responsibility is it anyway? What happens when authorities step in? Police, social services, doctors: What is this thing we call control and how long do we get to hold onto it?  How much are we like our parents – what is nature and what is nurture?”

The play is about seventy-nine year old artist, Alexandra, and her war with her children who want to put her in a nursing home. She’s surrounded herself with explosives in bottles and jars wicked with rags, while in her hand she holds an old Zippo lighter that once belonged to her husband. Her front door is barricaded with furniture. She’s determined to be left alone, and is ready to blow herself, the building, and the whole block up if her daughter and one of her sons, send in the police to drag her away.

As the play opens Alexandra is asleep in her easy chair with classical music playing in the background. Her youngest son Chris, also an artist, climbs up the magnificently autumn colored tree just outside her large bay window. He opens the sash from the outside, climbs into the room, scaring his mother who is ready to light the fuse on one of the bottles.

Chris and his mother have not seen or talked to each other for years since he ran off to explore the world and discover who he was becoming.  Chris, commandeered by his sister and brother to help bring their mother to her senses, is greeted with Alexandra’s rage. Mother and son connect as Chris listens to her wishes to be left alone, to watch her tree grow outside her window, living in her own home of some forty years. Through shared  memories of past visits to New York’s finest art museums when Chris was small and a budding artist himself, they of begin to find balance, coming to terms with what lies ahead.

As we walked out of the theatre after the show, I told Bill, “I understand much better what my mother was going through during the last years of her life.”  About to turn seventy-one in November, this poignant discussion about aging, independence, and family, helped me to understand how quickly the autumn of our lives comes upon us and the difficulties we face when we insist upon being by ourselves as our coping skills become less than what they were.

I found myself suffering along with Alexandra, needing to be in control and left to her own devices. But as the child and caretaker of a now deceased mother, I also understood Chris and his siblings’ need to protect their parent and the community around her. Chris unlike his absent siblings, brings sensitivity to the conversation and the war comes to a close.

I remember how terrible I felt when I told my mother that it was time for her to turn over her car keys to me. She’d been visiting the body shop almost monthly to repair the dents and dings her car accumulated while she was out and about being independent. Afraid the problem might one day grow into harming another person, I asked her to give up her car. I watched her spirit shrink as she lost her independence. I’ve spent hours wondering how I will feel if and when I find myself in the same position.

Despite future possibilities, I’m enjoying my elder-hood. It is a joyous time. I have more freedom than I’ve ever had in my life. I am not an old lady who sits on her porch in her rocking as the world goes by. I’ve been around and learned some amazing things about life and survival. And I keep moving on. Should I ever face what Alexandra faced, I hope I’ll not surround myself with explosives. I’d prefer to take joy in what I have and can do to live each day as a reward for sticking it out through the bad times.

This show is on its way to Broadway.  With all the Baby Boomers coming of age, I think it will be a hit.  Don’t miss it!

Filed Under: Caring for an aging parent, Compassion, family, Navigating Through Life, Quotes, Theatre, wonderings Tagged With: , , ,

Silence?

February 13, 2013 By

DSCF0627“Is reading silent in any sensible understanding of that word? Does it deepen the silence around us or break it up? When we read are we listening to the author, conversing with the author, or are we looking more directly into the author’s mind, seeing the author’s thoughts, rather than hearing her voice? How might one define silence in relation to the written, as opposed to the spoken, word?”

Sara Maitland

Filed Under: Books, Quotes, wonderings, Writing Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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