Saturday, July 13, 2024

  Saturday, July 13, 2024

   I had a long talk with John, my Hanai sister's husband.  I try to call daily. I got in the habit when she was recovering from her back surgery and just lying around. She was discharged from physical therapy for lack of compliance. We all thought she was going to die. There's only so much of doing nothing the body can tolerate. But she's up and functioning again. However, she doesn't always want to talk. She never did.

   When I call, if she answers, she's often too busy, tired, or in too much pain to talk. After listing whatever her current problem she has, she hangs up.  I persist. She needs to be reminded there are people out there who still remember her and would prefer she not die.   But sometimes John answers, and we have a delightful conversation despite his pronounced loss of cognitive capacity.  Last time, he mentioned a stamp collection he assembled in the 1950s in Britain. These are stamps from a previous political era. I can't remember what he said. The Commonwealth? The Empire? 

   Today, he spoke about a Hostess biscuit tin he's had forever. He used it to store pencils. The question was, were these biscuits American or British? I tried to look it up after we got off the phone. I could only find Hostess bake goods in America.  

    He used the tin to carry items securely when he went to do stints on oil rigs off Norway for Mobile Oil.  He was already living in America, married, and had at least one child when he made those trips.  He described the structure of an oil rig.  It's a several-story structure with a 10,000 square feet area on each level. John had a Ph.D. in chemical engineering from Columbia. He would be there for two weeks, working two 8-hour shifts in a day. Most of his time was spent in underwater spaces. Sounds horrible. I couldn't live that long without sunshine. His sleeping quarters weren't private. He was in a room with three other men.  He loved it.

  I've been reading more about Kant's Categorical imperative. Kant made the great leap from God-given to reason-determined ethical principles. He was intent on determining moral values that could not be context-dependent but applied to all situations regardless of time, place, or culture. That isn't the one that interests me.

   I am interested in his argument that true virtue can only be measured if we work against our natural inclinations. If our natural inclination is to care about others and be kind, we can't be considered moral. Only when we have to force ourselves to do something against our interests can we get brownie points. 

   Here's a counterargument. Some consider self-sacrifice to be the highest order, as Kant did. They will choose situations that call for self-sacrifice, whether suitable for the other person or not. The measure of their goodness is the degree of their suffering, not the benefit to the other person. That makes no sense. If that's the motivation, they are' using' the other person for their benefit to collect brownie points. The very thing Kant says is immoral, to use another human being for your own good.

   I joined a commune in 1969. I had to attend a group meeting to see if I could be accepted. It was also a meeting where they determined if one of the founding members should be excluded. Art Clymer, also one of the founding members, said, "I don't want to be asleep or at work and have to worry about what Otto is doing for my good."  I roared when I heard that. Boy, did I understand! I'm still trying to recover from the things my mother did 'for my good.' 

   I heard bad news about both Biden and Trump.  Today was Trump's assassination attempt. While I think he's perfectly capable of arranging this himself, even Trump is not so stupid to hire a twenty-year-old who is actually going to graze him.  That's a little close for comfort.  However, I'm beginning to believe it is God's will that Trump be our next president.  I think God has had it with the human race and is looking forward to terminating our species. Enough experimentation with an 'intelligent' animal.  We're the only species capable of ideals and religion and the only animal prepared to kill and die for it.  We're all proving we're not the crazy one. 

   I haven't been overly keen on Biden, even though I would prefer him over Trump. He's also too old.  Not worse than Trump, just another man that's too old for the job.  Today, I heard an analysis of what's motivating Biden to hang on. She said a disproportionate number of political positions are held by very old people. Biden talks about 'finishing the job.' I'm all for '60s idealism.  I think many of the objectives of that period are worthwhile. I want people in office who advocate for them. I want an equitable society. However, someone who's into 'finishing' the job worries me too. As I said, I think God is done with this experiment called intelligent life. Every living thing needs a natural enemy to contain it. Ours is us. God is winding us up to execute a significant population reduction.

I went down to check on the ground in front of the schefflera tree Dan cut back. I need to get to it to drill holes in its trunk and fill them with Round-Up to kill this tree. It takes time, but it works. I must remember to ask him if he did it just once or repeatedly and exactly how long it took before the tree stopped fighting for life. Saying that makes me feel sad. I don't feel good about killing a beautiful tree, even if it is an aggressive so-an-so that has plans of taking over the world.

     I loaded the last logs from the fallen Schefflera with the two 5-gallon buckets I had already put in the barrel yesterday down to Darby's.  The barrel was heavy- even to pull.  I struggled to get it there. It put a strain on my arms. I tried switching off my left and right arms as the pulling arm. It hurt less on my left side than on my right. Since that's the arm that had the elbow reconstruction and the shoulder replacement a year ago, was I not feeling anything because of the cut nerves? Was I injuring myself?  Adam drove by and saw me struggling. He asked if I needed help. I told him I only had a short distance until I reached Darby's driveway, meaning I could make it. He pulled his truck over, parked it, and came over to pull the barrel. I didn't object. I ran ahead to open the gate. I yelled, "Delivery!!" as I always do. Usually, Darby hears me and comes out to talk. Nothing today. They may have been out in the yard or catching a morning nap.