Posts Tagged ‘news’
Just Imagine
Imagine if we didn’t hear news the instant things happen. What would it be like if we could put the genie back in the bottle? Can we just download an app for that?
What if democracy worked without it being so easy for fascist threats to simmer in broad daylight for days that become months and now years? Maybe if we didn’t hear news every second, it wouldn’t seem so obvious.
I’m imagining what it would be like if our toes never got cold. How about if no addiction existed? While we are imagining, why not turn Thanksgiving into a gift-giving holiday? A brand new car could become the new tradition. I’ve seen the ads on TV. The car companies want us to accept that giving a new car is the universally accepted standard of holiday gift giving.
I’d sure be thankful if someone gifted me a new car. An electric one. Preferably, Subaru. Can I pick the color?
I’d be thankful if all criminals were instantly incarcerated and innocents set free. Like magic. No long drawn-out trials. The universe knows what is right and wrong and could figure out who did or didn’t do it.
I like to imagine that the stories are true that Billionaires paying a fair percentage in taxes would ease a lot of fiscal stress on government programs without great hardship to said Billionaires. Then, I imagine that all Billionaires suddenly paid that fair share they owe.
Same thing for the $900Millionaires and the $800M, $700M, et cetera.
What if tendons and ligaments never stretched or tore and bones wouldn’t break during athletic competition? That’d be great. Oh, and I’d like it if NFL receivers never dropped passes that should have been easily caught. Sure, it would benefit the competition as much as the home team, but I think it would make the game more fun to watch. It bothers me to see highly paid professional athletes not succeeding at the basic skill level they are supposed to perform.
At the same time, I am forever grateful to have chosen a career path that didn’t involve tens of thousands of screaming fans micro-analyzing my every action or decision. I dropped the ball plenty of times.
I saw a news flash about charges filed against a person running a brothel near Washington, D.C., with a mention that the customers were politicians, military, and business leaders. What if none of these guys lowered themselves to that level? I like to imagine being led by people who behave with the highest integrity at all times and also that no sex workers ever find themselves in circumstances that lead them to choose that line of work.
When I find myself returning to reality, I imagine myself reducing my news exposure long enough to forget all the things that send me into fantasies of people behaving better than their best selves.
But really, imagine that.
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Feeling Privileged
Waking to news that a new armed attack has occurred, unprecedented in its scale, between Israel and Palestine is an unsettling start to the day. I cherish every moment that there are no military battles occurring where I live. Logic would reveal that none of us are immune to unrest that can erupt anywhere at any time, but I feel privileged for the decades I’ve lived free of armed conflicts.
There is no comparison to threats to human life but yesterday we came upon a scene of destruction in the labyrinth that shocked us. It’s wild to discover evidence of an incident we hadn’t seen coming.
That tree broke in so many places when it struck the rocks it must have made quite a sound. It surely would have been shocking if we had been nearby when it fell.
Another thing that has me feeling especially privileged is how easily I was able to get flu and COVID-19 booster shots. Last weekend, Cyndie worked the web and found herself an appointment in Red Wing, MN after learning our local clinic did not have stock of the COVID vaccine yet.
Our clinic in River Falls thought they would have more by Thursday or Friday. As I was driving to town yesterday to pick up a battery I had ordered from an auto parts store, I realized I had forgotten to call the clinic. Since it was just down the street from where I was, I decided to just stop and ask in person about the status of their vaccines.
“Yes, we have the vaccines,” the receptionist told me. “Would you like to make an appointment?”
I responded in the affirmative.
“Are you available today?”
Affirmative.
After a minute or two of simple questions and her typing and clicking, she said, “You can take a seat and someone will come for you shortly.”
A few minutes later I had my shots and was back in the lobby for a 15-minute wait to ensure I suffered no allergic reaction.
How come that was so easy? What did I do to earn such royal service? No hoops to jump through, no days of waiting, and no out-of-pocket expenses.
One guess I have is that showing up in person helped to pave the way, but she could have told me any day in the coming week and I would have accepted that.
Whatever it was that contributed to my good luck, I recognize the privilege I enjoy to live where I do and have access to the services readily available to me.
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Unexpected Fireworks
As Cyndie was about to serve the horses their dinner last night around the time the sun was setting, the tranquility was disrupted by the sound of fireworks exploding.
I was listening to music at the time and spotted a text from Cyndie urging me to step outside to hear “crazy sounds.” I had been aware of something going on outside but discounted it as likely the sound of a neighboring farmer harvesting crops or some other activity.
Opening the door brought the instant clarity of the sound of fireworks. Not typical fireworks that pop in a planned sequence but non-stop, chaotic pops and bursts that told me this was an out-of-control event. It wasn’t dark enough yet for fireworks, anyway. Through the tree branches that obscured my view from the deck, I could tell a large smoke plume was rising into the sky.
I stepped back inside to grab binoculars that allowed me to spot bursts of color happening at the bottom of the billowing smoke. Those were fireworks all right. The peak of the bursts was just barely visible above the horizon.
I have no idea what distance away from us that would place the fire but I double-checked the overhead view on the map to verify I was looking toward the little hamlet of Beldenville. I just don’t know at this point if it was that close or some greater distance beyond. There has been no obvious evidence that I’ve noticed that would explain why a large number of fireworks are stored in the vicinity.
We checked the neighborhood app and looked at multiple news sources but couldn’t find any immediate explanation being posted. The popping sound of small shots lingered for over four hours lending credence to the belief the conflagration was newsworthy.
In this age of instant information available on the internet, I discovered my lack of participation in the multitude of social media applications leaves me out of the loop when something like this occurs. Maybe someone was streaming live video and I just didn’t know how to find it.
If anyone discovers what happened around here last night, point me to where you found the story.
Maybe I’ll finally get around to finding a scanner that monitors local emergency response calls. We don’t hear sirens in the area very often, so when we do it usually leaves us wondering what has happened.
Seeing the smoke plume and hearing the exploding fireworks made it pretty obvious what was happening, we just don’t know how close it was happening.
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Last Week
First off, I gotta say the Holman’s Table restaurant at St. Paul’s downtown airport is a winner in every category. Once you get past the understandable questions of whether you are in the right place as you navigate the final turns to reach the front door, everything else is sublime, from the decor to the menu. We had a great time at brunch yesterday morning.
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Last week, the news story about four elite gymnasts testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee struck a nerve. We’ve been aware of the story of their abuse by now-convicted abuser Larry Nassar for years. It’s almost too harsh to contemplate, so when the news dies down, we gladly disregard the horror.
The new investigation into the handling of the accusations by the FBI and USA Gymnastics has brought the awfulness back to the forefront. It was almost a year after learning of the accusations before the FBI opened an investigation. It is estimated an additional 70 gymnasts were abused by him during that time.
While listening to a report describing the four gymnasts needing to recount their abuse one more time last week, this thought occurred to me: Their experience was like being tortured repeatedly after they summoned the courage to report the initial abuse.
Logic tells us they are not the only abuse victims who have dealt with this.
Imagine if you suffered a terrible injury in a remote wilderness, waiting days or weeks to be found by someone, wondering if you would survive long enough for help to arrive. It’s the stuff of countless book or film dramas. Eventually, you are discovered and relief is beyond measure. It becomes the pinnacle of these dramas. You are rescued!
Now, imagine if the people who found you don’t do anything after finding you.
Picture yourself laying there for almost another year before they start planning how they will rescue you.
That is the story of the victims of Larry Nassar and every other person whose story of abuse has fallen on deaf ears.
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Scrambled Fiction
It wasn’t dark, or stormy, or even night, but that didn’t stop the hero from completing his appointed rounds. He was trying to figure out how to test his Halloween costume before the big night. It was the Emperor’s New Clothes, but would it work with a COVID mask? Probably wouldn’t matter. None of the classic costume houses were able to fulfill his request. Nobody would admit they couldn’t see the fabric.
There were no reasons left to seek an alternative. Half the people in the city would be sheltering in place. The rest would be out pretending there is nothing to worry about under the rare second full moon of the month. The only reason any of them would notice the mysterious greedy bastards had locked up the computers in all the hospitals was because it was all over the news. Filtering out the endless barrage of political ads allowed a few other strands of news to trickle through.
Nobody pays attention to that stuff anymore. After years of ridiculous daily distractions from the misdirection machine obfuscating reality, the masses have grown numb. Their stamina has been sapped. In is out and up is down. It’s easier to just make shit up than bothering to figure out what is actually going on.
Humans could take a lesson from chickens. They don’t get distracted by things that don’t matter and they won’t believe anything that isn’t visible to their glaring side-eye stare. There is a certain strength of character reflected in that.
All that character probably helps them to avoid the Halloween candy so readily available during the month of October. Now, mealworms, that would be a different thing. No chicken in its right mind could pass up that treat.
Things are a little twisted when you need to wait for snow to melt in order to finish raking leaves. But twisted is the new normal, so why not? The point isn’t to figure it all out, after all, it is to simply have a point. Otherwise, it’s all pointless.
Watch out for that guy in the Emperor’s costume. Make sure his nose isn’t hanging over the top of his mask.
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Red Leaves
On my drive home from work yesterday, I accidentally allowed myself to hear news on the radio as it blathered nothing but bad vibes, one after another. It knocked me for a loop that needs an antidote of something hopeful or some promise that better days for all might lie ahead. I can only assume that promise remains somewhere beyond the horizon because it’s not visible to me yet.
I am lucky, though. Home is a sanctuary with Cyndie and our animals happy to greet me when I arrive and the scenery around our house offering a soothing view.
Check out the maple tree leaves turning red over Cyndie’s gardens.
It’s an early adopter.
Surrounded by love in our paradise, I was able to leave the gloomy news behind for the time being.
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Different Boats
My afternoon commutes home from work usually include a bit of the day’s news on the radio and the repetition of politics, pandemic, and protests of the last few weeks feel like they’re on an endless loop. Rinse and repeat.
Wouldn’t it be great if we could have a full day, or maybe two, when a certain person didn’t publish a single peep on his Twitter account?
Yesterday’s news offered some haunting hints of increases in COVID-19 cases in the US and other countries. That trend was blamed for the significant drop in the financial markets.
It seems perplexing to me how little my daily activities have been impacted by the ongoing dilemma of the pandemic. I have been lucky to enjoy good health all the while and no one I know directly has reported being diagnosed as becoming sick with the virus.
Basically, nothing of my routine is altered beyond avoiding restaurants and refraining from hugging and shaking people’s hands.
I saw written somewhere that we are all experiencing the same storm, just from different boats. Some are sailing along unscathed in cruise ships and yachts while many more are clinging to whatever they can grab to barely stay afloat.
Cyndie and I are probably in a modest boat that is keeping us dry for now in that metaphoric depiction. That’s more than so many others have.
We are counting our blessings and looking forward to the eventual conquering of the virus, be it months or years.
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Rosier Color
There is a way that the slowly transitioning angle of light moving through the seasons silently changes our perspective of everything. Because we tend to be oblivious to the subtlety, curious circumstances that materialize in our daily affairs often appear as having some outward cause, when in fact, it originates from within.
It’s the way we see events from inside our own minds that colors the realities.
It would behoove more people to consider choosing a rosier color. The trick, however, is in having enough sense to recognize when the worst of history begins making its way back for an encore. How do we keep “never again” alive?
We don’t have the luxury of voting bums out, because our system is built on voting people in. The majority might agree on not wanting any more of a current administration, but they struggle when it comes to needing to agree on the replacements.
One difference from everything that came before, is the amount of industrial pollution fouling the planet. Our amazing progress is conjuring up weather events that wield uncharacteristic intensities. The calamities that grab our attention now are not the challenges that our parents faced.
If only a twitter or facebook message could fix all that ails us.
A simple slice from the surface of a thumb can wreak havoc on buttoning a shirt, or turning a page. Little things that were once inconsequential, become monumental challenges. Is that because the way our mind sees it? Or simply because, that’s the way it is?
Rhetorical questions. The kind that beg to be erased by the onset of heavy eyelids, demanding to give in to the pressure of sleep. Deep sleep. REM sleep. Never hear the alarm sleep that only ends when saturation has been accomplished.
Or when the light slanting through the window in the morning provides a color of hope that our hearts fail to resist.
Who doesn’t love a moment of feeling a little hope filling their hearts at the break of a brand new day?
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Today, Pausing
Today, we have all the ingredients for taking a pause from the multitude of news and projects facing us with relentless regularity: A Sunday; gray skies; soggy grounds; workshop aftermath; no plans.
I caught a moment of television news coverage reporting the latest synopsis of Hurricane Harvey this morning and was struck by the different perspective it presented from the minute-by-minute reality of what it must be like “on the ground,” so to speak.
They wrapped it up in such a neat little package of a few minutes, and then moved on with their regular scheduled broadcast.
It felt like, “Yeah, it is bad, but… whatever.”
Meanwhile, I’m wondering, if the municipalities are inundated with emergency response requests, the power is out, the water continues to rise, tornadoes repeatedly threaten, boil water orders are in place, toilets are becoming useless, and catastrophic amounts of rainfall will continue for days… how are people going to cope?
It doesn’t wrap up nicely in a breaking news update.
Reading a portion of 911 calls with one after another requests for rescue from families with infants and elders trapped by rising water gives just a tiny sense of the immediate emotions involved as the drama continues to play out.
This can’t be conveyed in the short news briefing that so quickly ends to be followed by the next inconsequential distraction.
I don’t mean to imply that I fault the updates. On the contrary, the updates are valuable for what they can provide. I am just boggling over the canyon of differing perspective I notice from them.
Just as I am boggling over the Sunday calm settling over us today, with no pressing demands forcing our decisions, in juxtaposition to what is simultaneously going on in the Houston area.
If I end up puttering with the silt fence by our swamped soil runoff spot today, I will be certainly be thinking about how our predicament here compares with what is going on in Texas.
It definitely gives pause.
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Keeping Calm
I’m trying to keep calm and carry on. In the past, my prescription for maintaining a positive outlook about the world included turning off the broadcast news. I would, instead, get news from sources which allowed a choice over the content. I could pick what I allowed to infiltrate my thoughts. That involved scanning headlines of online publications or perusing the local paper at the day-job.
It’s not working so well for me anymore.
There are less and less headlines that don’t have something to do with a certain kleptocracy in process.
Now I am struggling with the option of isolating myself completely from the news of the day and focusing on whatever positive happenings I can cultivate from my immediate surroundings.
I can choose to associate with healthy people. I can commune with people who aren’t phobic about things they misunderstand, or are uninformed about.
But something is eating at me about a potential risk in that choice.
Should I turn my back on what is really happening in the world?
Looking back at some horrific outcomes that have played out in history has me wondering how I could live with myself if I chose to turn a blind eye in the way many others did at times when hate and fear became the rule of law.
Today, I’m sending love to those who are poor, suffering, oppressed, at risk, and afraid, even though I’m choosing to not read the latest headlines about their present predicaments.
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Relative Something 