Tuesday, July 21, 2020

             Driveway yoga day.  I got up shortly after 5:30.  It was so cold this morning I could have done with a pair of gloves.  I got some great videos of our neighborhood wildlife, primarily turkeys.  I make them daily and send them to my great-nephew Sidney in CA.  I understand they're a hit with him.  I experienced something new in yoga.  I got more flexion in my left hip.  I was able to sit at the edge of the chair and be straight.  Whatever, yoga is always calming.  I need it.

            I got a text during the class but ignored it. Yvette asked me to turn off the sound so it didn't disturb others. I'm good at ignoring my phone.  I suspect others don't do as well as I do. I lived in a commune. The phone could be for anyone of twelve people.  Letting phones just ring and ring was a survival skill. ( This was in the 70s. Well before the invention of cell phones.)

            When class was over, I read the text. It was my friend from Ohio. I hadn't spoken to her for a while and called the other day. I got a message back that she was very sick and couldn't talk at that time. I wished her well. Today she told me that she had been in the hospital for a month already. There were plans for her to go home Tuesday. Today I got an update; it had been changed for Thursday.  She gave me some details. It's not the virus, but she is incredibly ill. Her body was shutting down.

            Jean called to tell me the New Jersey and New York had shut their borders to visitors. Anyone coming to stay has to observe a two-week quarantine. Jean and I spoke the other day about how to deal with visitors. Jean's husband's daughter was planning to come up from Richmond, VA, to stay with a friend and visit her parents.  Jean and John both have health issues. Jean was adamant that his daughter and grandson should not visit.  They weren't going to come into the house. There is a lovely open porch at the front of their house.  John was going to meet them there.  It seemed reasonable to me if they were all masked and sitting at appropriate distances.  Jean was still nervous about it.  The decision was taken out of everyone's hands with this state order.  

            Marissa from Progressive called me back. The other day, she told me her parents were ill, and she had to take care of her one-and-a-half-year-old son. Today, she told me that her parents both had Covid.  Her mother is in her late sixties and her step-dad in his seventies. This is not good. I told her what I had learned from the State Insurance Department.  Auto insurance companies can raise rates if a driver has been in an accident, even if there is no claim against the said insurance company.

            I spent most of the day struggling with the article I'm writing. I can see that I have lost whole chunks of material that I had written already and liked.  This is very upsetting.  I called Dorothy to get some comfort.  It was late for her already. She had a doctor's appointment the next day.  She talked excitedly about this student she is tutoring for SAT prep. She is having a blast. Dorothy is a fantastic student and found the verbal part of the practice tests difficult. She wondered how she did so well when she was younger.  I am thinking maybe she hasn't maintained the skills she needs.  Tutoring this child serves as a refresher course.  She says the passages require very close reading. 

            She talked about a passage that was adapted from Watson and Crick about DNA. There are several unfamiliar terms. It's interesting. For the purpose of reading comprehension, the reader doesn't have to know what the words mean.  When reading for understanding, you only have to understand the relationship between the objects well enough to understand the passage.  Learning about the structure of DNA is different than learning to understand an article about the subject. In this case, understanding the role of the function words is more important than knowing the vocabulary.  The function words, of, and, to,, by, for, etc., tell us about the relationship between the words. 

            Sandor told me that he took a speed reading course.  He was told the trick was to only read the context words, nouns, verbs, adverbs, and adjectives.  That works when you are already familiar with the material, like a novel. We are all familiar with the relationships between characters; therefore, we can infer the information provided without the function words.

            I continued my indoor walking. I had completed 5,000 steps before my before dinner walk. After dinner, I wanted to watch "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood." Amazon found it for me. It was carried by some company I never heard of. It wasn't for rent, only for sale.  I didn't want to pay $16 for a movie I would watch only once. Thank you anyway.

___ ___ ____

Musings:

            I was faced with upsetting realizations yesterday about the political situation.  I learned that people will support a dictatorship under Trump; they will support whatever he says. They are afraid of a dictatorship under Islamic rule.  So far, I have heard many cries from the right about anarchists, Marxists, and Communists. So far, I have heard nothing about Muslims being behind the protests.

            Can I believe that there are Muslims out there who are plotting to take over the US and force everyone to convert? Sure. I can also believe there are Christians who want a dictatorship in the name of their religious values and want everyone to be Christian and follow their form of Christianity.  You name the group; I believe a faction dreams of absolute rule over the US. Let's add China and Russia to the list. I am not less afraid of one versus another. They all sound horrible to me. None of these extreme forms of politics represents a world I would want to live in. All of them are based on the exclusion of some other group, demonizing the others.  Do I believe there are demons among each group? Yes. 

            What I look at is which group is surging forward. It's like watching a race, watching one horse gain a lead, and then another pull up and overtake it.  I don't see Islamic forces in the front of the pack.  My horse looks for the narrow way between protecting the rights of others as well as mine. I see it nowhere in the current power structure.

            Some claim it is a violation of their civil liberties to have to wear a mask.  These people potentially put the lives of others at risk. They are prepared to cause others' death on the strength of their beliefs, political and religious. 

            I bet these same people judge a mother who does drugs while pregnant as a criminal because of the potential harm to her child.  How is it that a group can be so hypocritical?  If it is their right to put others' lives in danger, why isn't it all right for this woman to do what she wants and put her unborn child in danger?   Is my adult life worth less than the life of an unborn child?  To boot, there are people under 60 dying of this disease. If you want to blow off my life's value because I'm old, I can relate. But it isn't just the life of the elderly that is at stake.

Monday, July 20, 2020

            I went to bed around 11; that's late for me, but I knew I could sleep late in the morning.  I have a remarkable capacity to ignore the alarm clock when I know it doesn't ring for me. I was up by 6:30. I took Elsa for a short walk because her leg was still bothering her. I meditated for 40 minutes when I got home. When finished, I took another look at Elsa's leg.  I can't find the source of pain.  She doesn't pull away when poked and prodded.  However, her limp doesn't look any better today than it did yesterday.

            What does look better is her skin! Wow! I gave her a bath on Sunday.  I always use the medicated shampoo the doctor prescribed on her torso and legs. The treatment calls to leave the shampoo on for fifteen minutes. He said, take her for a walk. I couldn't imagine taking her for a walk while she was coated with shampoo.  Sounded horrible- for her. One of the Pet Co. groomers told me five minutes should be enough for a small dog like her. That's what I've done in the past: five minutes. This time when I bathed her, I did closer to ten. Voila!  It looks like the longer wait time makes a big difference.  I bought another package of Science Diet for her when she had her dental treatment, thinking Doctor Marty's food wasn't doing the trick with her skin.  Science Diet is really very scientific; it's all chemicals.   If I can control her allergic reactions with bathing, I prefer that.

            After I poked her leg for a while, I let her stay curled up in my arms, hanging on a  shoulder. The two of us sat that way for what must have been a good half hour.  It was very calming, delightful. As she lay there, I did some Micromoves on her left leg. After a while, her leg was stronger. She was able to push her foot into my hand.

            I called the police reports office to get Adam's accident report from February 2019. There was no answer, not even an automatic one where I could dial the extension. I gave up for a while and worked on the updates. I had to nap after finishing one because my eyes were tired.  Working on electronic equipment during the day is hard on my eyes because of the ambient light. I  find reading at night with a single light source easier. I wonder if people become night owls because of eye problems.

            I emailed the July 17 update to my in-crowd. (Those of you who are reading the actual blog are exactly one year behind. I do send current updates to about fifty people who have been following me from the beginning.) Then I went down for my two-hour midday nap.  Judy called while I was sleeping. My phone announced her as the caller, but I was too tired to move. We'll speak to each other in the foreseeable future.

            I tried calling the police record department again. This time I just let it ring as I prepared my morning smoothie. What do you know, after about three minutes of ringing, the phone went dead.  I was doing something else and didn't bother to turn the phone off. Ten to fifteen seconds later, an automated voice came on telling me to dial my extension if I knew it.  Next, I was speaking to a human in the records department. Adam has to order it himself. I, as his hanai mother, could not do it for him.  I thought I could order another emailed version. I thought giving Adam's email address would suffice. But no.  They only issue hard copies. They put the request into Hilo, and they will send the report to his home or to the Kona Police Department. 

            I called Judy back.  We had a long discussion of nature versus nurture.  She talks about traits being part of someone's nature.  For instance, her daughter-in-law feels blessed to have her disabled son.  They see him as a protecting angel.  Other parents would see him as a source of shame. Judy pointed out that in many cultures, disabled children are hidden to protect the family's reputation. Having a disabled child says something negative about them. Judy argues that it is Jazzy's nature to be loving, which she is.  

            I don't think about a person's nature that way.  I think we all want to be loving and loved people, excluding sociopaths.  I think more in terms of human nature than a person's individual nature. Judy says my drive to understand, unpack, something like the nature of love is in my nature. I say I was trained to do it.  

            My father loved it when I thought that way.  It thrilled him.  Having that positive effect on him was a reward for me. Therefore I sought to get the same effect. With trial and error and I learned to hit the mark.  Of course, I overdid it, and I was sometimes most annoying. But I was desperate for some positive feedback given my mother's constant negative feedback.  I think I internalized that positive sensation.  I love figuring out why something is the way it is and how it can be changed for the better.

            At the basic level,  I don't know if our positions are remarkably different. I think we both ask what drives this person, their strengths and weaknesses, what they want to accomplish within the realm of reality and morality, and how can I help them achieve it?  Do I help them by giving them direct aid, or do I help them by helping them learn to be different? I'm not going to claim that there is no such thing as a natural temperament and a natural way a particular person is. It just isn't relevant to me. I'm an educator. I work to figure out how to help someone be other than what they are, if it is a small thing, like how to form the letter A when writing, or a big thing, like how to become a better person. 

            I walked 6,000 steps before dinner after having completed only 3,000 on the morning walk. I spent the rest of the day walking up and down my hallway many times. I also did calf stretches using the one and only step in my house.  I braced the balls of my feet against the step and bent m my knee.   I have tried exercises to stretch my calves before, but it didn't feel right.  Now, it feels perfect.  I get a good stretch without cramping. While I experienced a sharp pain in my hip over the last week, it is now gone. Moreover, my hip is less stiff when standing up after sitting for a while. 

______ ________ __________

Musings:

 On the topic of Righteous Anger.

            Righteous anger feels good.  While it flows freely, but is it truly righteous?  I have a clear image of a white man beating a black man who didn't step off the curb fast enough when he was walking down the street. I am reasonably sure that the white man thought his response was righteous. 

            That white man in the above example had the support of his social group and the law. Did that make his behavior okay? Well, it was then.  He was beating back the destruction of his culture, the order of his world.  Is that a valid ground for brutally attacking another human being? Again, at the time it happened, that man had the complete support of everyone in power. 

            Now we have protestors.  They are expressing righteous anger. They are outraged by the policemen's treatment of minority groups. I say their cause is righteous. I believe in the equality of all human beings and, for that matter, better treatment of the animals in our care that are part of our food supply. However, are all actions motivated by righteous anger appropriate. Are these protestors right to destroy property to make their point?  

            I prefer the demonstration style of the Afro-Americans in the sixties, Gandhi's model.  It gives no quarter to the enforcers to claim that protesters are violent and dangerous.  When the protestors actually get violent, I think they undermine their cause. I think there is much more power in a peaceful protest. The Afro-American protestors' willingness to suffer without raising a hand shocked the sleeping white population into seeing what was really happening to Afro-Americans in this country. There could be no argument that the police violence was justified because of the protestors' violent behavior.  The only violence the protestors were guilty of is the destruction of the belief that Afro-Americans had no rights.

Sunday, July 19, 2020

            I got up around 6 am without the assistance of an alarm clock.  Elsa was still limping; I just took her out for a short walk before taking her home, fed her breakfast, and headed out again to continue my walk. I got a text from Yvette saying that I had to change my Sunday routine. Elsa was barking non-stop.  I headed home immediately.  It was just as well. My left thigh was bothering me. Yvette was sitting in my house to keep her quiet.  

            Interesting.  Elsa only barks when I leave to walk, not when I go by car.  I explained to Yvette why I had left her home. She checked her leg to see if she could find the cause of her limp. She found the same thing I did- nothing.  She doesn’t respond when poked and prodded.  

            Yvette said that Elsa’s barking woke her up. Elsa was as far away from her side of the house as she could be. I suspect that Yvette is supersensitive to the sound of barking dogs. Josh has told me that when their dogs bark in the night, Yvette will whistle in her sleep to signal them to shut up.  Her dogs respond to that signal.  Elsa didn’t and therefore woke her up.  

            I spoke to Dorothy several times today as thoughts came to mind.  I love how our relationship is growing. The plan was that she was going to edit my revised version of my article this coming week.  I put off working on it as long as I could. Finally, I went through it again. When I came to an end, there was no conclusion.  I had written one last week.   There were some good lines in it, and now they were gone. I checked all the old versions, nothing. I have no idea what I did with it.  I will have to start from scratch.  Damn!

            I did most of my walking up and down the hallway.  I used my walking stick to relieve some of the pressure while still shifting my weight to the left leg.  Then later in the day, my leg felt better than ever. It wasn’t even tight immediately after standing after sitting or quite a while. 

 

________ _________ ______

Musings:

 

            I finally found an example of a cop who killed a white man with little provocation.  It’s an old case.  My sister knew about it. I didn’t because I haven’t watched the news for years.

            This is not a typical case.  It was a retired cop. As far as I’m concerned, aside from that, the pattern is the same.  The cops feel entitled to kill someone when they are dissed.  

            In this case, the victim was a 48-year-old white man who was texting as a movie started after the turn-off the cell phone announcement was made. The report said he was texting the babysitter. The retired cop wouldn’t cut him some slack. I assume the 48-year-old man didn’t handle the situation well. He didn’t say, “Sorry, I’ll be done in a minute. I just want to text my babysitter.” Instead, he said something like, “F--   you!” As the retired cop persisted, the man threw popcorn at him. The former cop pulled out a gun and shot him right there in the movie theater. 

            I couldn’t find out what happened to the retired policeman. What I did learn was that he was claiming self-defense. It was either his life or the other guy’s. Really??? Florida has a stand your ground law, which makes this defense possible.   

Saturday, July 18, 2020

            When I woke up at 1 am this morning, I was wide awake. This was most unusual. I get up several times throughout the night to pee. When I get back in bed, I’m out like a light. I sleep very well.  Tonight, I was wide awake. I considered getting up when I noticed that my left glute was itching. Itching? That signals changes in the fascia. I did some manual work on it. I did some tennis ball work on the muscles on the left side of my back. Then I fell asleep again. 

            Yoga day. I got up latish at 6 am instead of 5:30.  It made no difference. I couldn’t walk the entire 6,000 this morning anyway.  As I get straighter, my inner thigh muscle, otherwise known as Michael’s muscle, because he was the one who injured it, was bothering me.   After yoga, I asked Yvette if she could see that I was straighter. She gave an appreciative yes. 

            There were only three of us again for yoga this morning.  I know some of the others are coming back. Two of the participants work at My Bar. They’re up late, and coming to an early morning class doesn’t work now that the bar is open again.  

            I heard Yvette yell at Elsa while we were doing yoga. I couldn’t see her. I thought she was heading for the fence to confront the dogs next door. No. She had pooped and then was licking it. She has never done that before.  Yesterday, I gave her a little liquid from a tuna can and then let her lick the can clean.  I think she smelled that tuna in her poop and couldn’t resist.  Yvette picked up what she could and then covered the spot with a branch. She said it was going to have to hose it down.  When she did, Elsa leaped in the spray as she always does. She was sopping wet. I got her inside and took advantage of the situation to bathe her. This is not her favorite activity ever.          

            I checked my email and then meditated. My leg bothered me enough that I couldn’t do the full forty minutes. I worked for the rest of the day on updating the blog and washing the floor. 

            John Zimmerman emailed me and then called to tell me he sent me a recipe for salmon patties.  I had written in the updates that I didn’t like the salmon patties I had bought. This was a pack of frozen patties.  He recommended I pan-fry instead of broiling them. Then add some lemon juice and mayonnaise.  I think a little onion might help too.  Meantime, I can use the recipe he sent me to make salmon patties from a can of pink salmon.  I love salmon, but I didn’t like the taste of the canned stuff I bought at Costco.  It’s fresh salmon I love; however, it’s served. 

            I asked John if he was following my drama with the insurance company.  He told me that he only reads the parts of the updates that have to do with my well-being.  It gives me comfort that people are watching out for me.  As far as reading the whole update, I’m always surprised to learn that people do that. 

            I write the update primarily for myself.  Before I met Mike, I kept a journal.  I started one my freshman year of college when I was just seventeen and stopped when I met Mike. I started up again as Mike was preparing to leave me and have continued since he is out of my life.  There are probably a variety of factors.  I yakked Mike’s ear off with my day’s events and insights, pretty much as I am yakking off everyone’s ears now through the update.  I like putting my thoughts into words. You may have noticed.

            The man who came to look at the car the other day came back today to pay for the car – in cash.  He was here promptly at 5:30 with an envelope full of money. Scott had come by to help complete the transaction.  I am so lucky that I have so many people who are watching out for me.  The title threw Scott. It’s from Ohio instead of Hawaii.  The Hawaiian title has a tag that the seller tears off the form and brings down to the DMV. When this is delivered, the owner is freed from all liability.  

            We had a second problem with the form.  The title is in my legal name, Elizabeth S. David-Ross, but the registration is in Betty D. Ross.  The latter was made up by the jerk who sold us the car in Ohio.  He just made up a name for me.  I went out of my way to get it changed. However, I looked at my registration form since we had moved to Hawaii; it was made out to Betty D. Ross.  I don’t know if this is going to create problems for the transfer of title.  To avoid complications, I asked the buyer when he was going to go to the DMV. He said sometime next week. I told him to tell me when and I would go there with him if a problem arose—another loss of something from my life with Mike.

            Yvette came in with the day’s mail. There was just one letter from Progressive.  She knows what I have been going through with them.  But it was a check repaying the money I had already laid out for the upcoming six months before I decided to change providers. However, I think it may be more than they said they would send. Again, no explanation. Is it too much to ask that someone at that company knows what the hell is going on? 

            When I went to walk Elsa, I noticed she was limping badly. This time it was one of her hind legs.  I have no idea what she might have done. She wanted to go out nonetheless. Her leg problem didn’t stop her from fiercely barking and charging a passing dog. Fortunately, the other dog was civilized, unlike our neighbors’ dog. Their dog comes charging at the fence with murder in his eyes. God forbid he ever gets loose.  He would kill Elsa in a shot. I don’t think I’m fast enough anymore to be able to protect her. 

            For my evening meal, I took out the remains of a large package of frozen chicken and spinach wontons.  I was planning to make a few, but I wound up with a mass of wontons all frozen together. My original thought was to pan-fry a few.  I poured some olive oil into the pan and dropped the whole weight in at once.  Mind you. I dropped the mass in the pan before heating the oil. I tried to work with this arrangement for a minute.  I could hear Mike groaning as he watched me at my culinary best. 

            Seeing that plan A would get me nowhere, I filled a pot with water, dumped the mass in it, and turned on the heat.  With the water boiling, the mass fell apart pretty quickly.  Then I did heat the oil left in the pan from my first attempt, scooped out some wontons with a slotted spoon, and pan-fried them.  The wontons didn’t look the best anymore.  They had broken apart, but they were still tasty.

             _____ ____ _____

Musings:

 

            I saw a Facebook post announcing to people of color that they should get their act together before she extended any sympathy for their plight.  

            There are people of color, POC, who do not have their lives together. There are also people of every race, religion, and nationality who have members who do not have their lives together.  A significant number of people of color do live honest, hardworking lives.  Many of those people are handed roughly (euphemism) by the police. There have been cases of lawyers, college professors with guns pointed to their heads just because they looked suspicious, i.e., they have colored skin. These people had their lives together.

            POCs have been picked up for minor infringements.  I have heard reports that the halls of Wall Street were awash in drugs. How many of those upper-middle-class whites got arrested no less manhandled in the process? 

            Just because there are members of the community who don’t behave well, even kill, even kill members of their community, doesn’t mean that the police should be allowed to treat people with the same disregard. Do we say that because there are criminals in a community, the police should behave as the criminals behave? Sounds like lopsided logic to me. 

            

Friday, July 17, 2020

I stayed in bed until 6 befor getting Elsa out to do our walk.  I am successfully getting more weight onto my left hip, but it causes some discomfort and strain on that leg. We only did 4,000 steps this morning.  I like to get 6,000 in the morning walk.

I had my final tutoring session with D. In preparation, I made the multiplication facts flashcards.  I was still working with the same facts but changing up presentations.  He had scored 100% on the facts when they were always presented in the same order on a single sheet of paper.  Now, each fact was presented in four different ways—two on the horizontal axis and two on the vertical axis, in addition to switching the positions of the factors. I had been thinking of using cardboard. I remembered that I have several packets of cardstock left that I have not used. This was great. That means the problems were not only in different formations, but the background colors would be different as well.

First, I went through the cards, keeping the four variations together. When he got the first of the four, he could reel off the answer for the other three. We went through that twice. Yes, he made mistakes when he first saw the problem. I warned him he would. Changing format presents a challenge to memory.  Actually, changing the location where you learned something can challenge your memory.

Research was conducted to test people's recall of information in the room where they learned it versus a different location.  Those who were tested in the same environment where they learned the information did better on the test.  Our memories are fragile. D.'s memory is exceptionally so.  Changing up the format and background was enough of a challenge.  When he has these down, it will be time to add a few new facts, only a few.  Again, I want to challenge his memory, not overwhelm it.

May I add that he actually asked to return to math after we had completed the reading for a while.  I asked him if he wanted me to keep the cards in the same order, all four formats in sequence, or to mix them up.  He chose to have them mixed up.  If nothing else, he is finding this challenging in a fun way enough to ask for the activity. You gotta love it.

He didn't have his book with him for the session and had to go and get it.  He came back with the more difficult book, Socks.  I heard his mother reprimand him for not being ready for the class and leaving me waiting.  I don't know if she also pushed him to work on the harder book.  

I let him choose where to start.  I hadn't read up to that point, so I didn't know how the story was unfolding.  I was committed to using one sentence for the decoding activity, having him say all the letters in the sentence one after another, and then going back and identifying the sounds in the words and which letters represented them.  I found a short sentence halfway down the page that I thought would serve that purpose. The exercise proved a challenge for him. I did what I always do when a student gives me the 'wrong' pronunciation for a phoneme in a word: I said to him, "If you say the word that way (pronouncing it using the phoneme he gave), that's right. If you don't say the word that way, it's wrong." Responding that way reminds students to rely on their own speech for determining the sounds in words, rather than relying on some rule they have learned. The latter shows phonemic awareness; the former doesn't.

D. wound up having problems with comprehension.  As I hadn't read the story up to that point myself, I asked him if the characters Mr. and Mrs. Bricker were George and Debbie's parents.  He said yes.  But they're not.  He missed the point that Socks was sold to these folks for fifty cents.  Socks no longer belonged to the children.  Socks, the kitten, was off on his own adventure without them.

I had had a short nap before the class, and now I was ready for another one.  Before I lay down, B. called to say he might be interested in buying the Prius, and Scott texted me to tell me he had a friend who might be interested in buying it.  When I awoke from the nap, Scott texted that the potential customer from yesterday had become an actively interested one. He would get the cash together today and bring it over tomorrow.  

My Prius is decorated with an auto lei.  I wondered if I would see my car around town or if he would remove those flower decals.  Some of them have already started to peel, and some got dented out of shape in the accident. A lei is a flower necklace fashionable here in Hawaii. It is usually made from flowers or other natural objects. People often receive them in ceremonial situations, such as upon arrival at the airport and being greeted by friends, relatives, and tourist companies, as well as at weddings and funerals.  

I dreaded someone making one for me on the occasion of Mike's funeral. They itch. I can stand pain, but not itching. I was concerned about having to refuse one.  That would have been a terrible insult, but I would rather have lost all Hawaiian friends than have had to sit through the funeral with that degree of discomfort. As it turned out, a considerate person made a haku, which is a flower crown, instead of the necklace form.  She made the longer one to wrap around the box with Mike's ashes. 

As I awoke from my second nap, the phone rang. My friend Melissa called to check on how I was doing.  She is a doctor who traveled to Seattle to help during the particularly severe COVID-19 outbreak. She said that four of the front-line workers she met had died from the virus, all under sixty years old, none with comorbidity. She also told me that her daughter, an ICU doctor who intubates patients, said she has had four children under 6 die from the virus. Being unable to help these children and just watching them die was the worst. 

Schools are being opened here in Hawaii. I think people are overly optimistic about how this will work.  I know one schoolteacher who has a four-year-old with severe asthma.  Will she risk her child's life by coming to school?  There are many teachers here who are older and in the high-risk category.  Melissa and I agree that there is no easy solution to protect children from the trauma in this situation. Being out of school is undoubtedly difficult. However, what kind of trauma will be inflicted on these children if their teachers become ill and even die?  While we all assume responsibility and blame for things that go wrong around us, children tend to do so more often than adults.

_____ ________ ________

Musings:

This is on children's inclination to assume blame for things that go wrong.

I don't think there is any argument that children assume responsibility and blame for things that go wrong, like their parents' divorce or someone's death. Some argue that the response is irrational and, therefore, of no consequence.  Unfortunately, our irrational thoughts do have an impact on us.  Verbal assurances, dismissing those thoughts as irrational, have no impact. Rather, they tell the child that there is something wrong with their thought process, adding to the burden. Now they are not only responsible for something that happened, but they are also crazy to think that.

I think taking responsibility for something that goes wrong in our lives is hard-wired into our brains. As adults, we develop the capacity to silence our thoughts, but not the feelings they create.  Is there anyone who still believes that our nonconscious thoughts have no impact on us?  Is there anyone who thinks that they are entirely rational and have no unrecognized thoughts lurking in the subconscious? I'm sure there are. However, I have difficulty believing that those currently making decisions about opening schools are among them.

In the past, I have heard people say that when an adult believes they are to blame for something bad that happened, it is because they believe they are special and had control over the situation, which they failed to exercise.  Since this is a mental behavior that appears in many people, we should reconsider its origin.  Are there people who don't experience this sense of fault? I'm sure many don't experience it consciously.  They just deny that they have a non- or subconscious mind. They only identify with their conscious thoughts. Besides that, sociopaths and psychopaths have no sense of responsibility for their fellow man.

Now, why would responsibility and blame be built into the human psyche?  Because we are all responsible for each other's welfare.  I can hear those say, No, I'm not." Our brain functions were developed over thousands of years, when we were hunter-gatherers and all were responsible for one another.  That was the deal.  I work to make sure you stay alive, and you work to keep me alive. 

Why are we only plagued by negative thoughts, those moments when we failed?  No reason to think of successful moments. All went well. When things go bad, we have to rethink the situation to see what we might have done differently; we learn from our mistakes. Also, success is like a period at the end of a sentence. The problem has been solved. Done. Our minds drop it.  When there is no positive outcome, there's no period; the release button doesn't get pressed.  We wind up thinking and rethinking the moment. Success was the acceptable outcome when we were roaming the savanna.  The alternative was death. 

In our 21st-century lives, we are not living with the threat of death hanging over our heads in the same way as we did when we were hunter-gatherers. Our nonconscious thoughts don't compute well. They are out of touch with reality.  But that doesn't make us crazy any more than bleeding does when our skin is penetrated.  This is how we are designed.  

I'm not saying we have to take our nonconscious voice literally, but often it gives us valuable information.  It needs to be translated into a modern voice, much as we struggle to understand a difficult poem filled with concrete images. The poetic images are understood as analogies.  Our unconscious thoughts also provide us with information suitable for our lives on the savanna. But we are not living there now. We are living the 'safe' lives of zoo animals, animals far from their natural environments.  We must utilize our human intelligence to negotiate between our conscious and unconscious minds if we are to survive. The threat to our survival now is the man in the mirror.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

            Elsa had a 7 am vet appointment to have her teeth cleaned and have one tooth extracted. Because she was going under anesthesia, she couldn't have any food that morning. I woke up at 4:30 and was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but stayed in bed so Elsa wouldn't spend all that time wondering what happened to her breakfast. Dorothy called at 6:30, perfect timing. She called because she had plans for the day and wanted to call when she had time. I love talking to her.

Today, being Thursday, it was driveway yoga day. I was going to have to miss it. Oh, well. Elsa blew my mind. Once Yvette's dogs were loose in the driveway, she wanted to go out. I expected her to stay in the kitchen, looking up at where I store her food. It is her way of telling me what to do: feed me, give me a treat, and open the shower door so I can go out.  She did her morning pee in the backyard. I left her in the driveway as I did a short walk alone.

           I ran into a young woman I hadn't met before. I told her about Yvette's yoga class. She walked back to the house and came inside the gate. It turned out she was allergic to dogs. Yvette wiped down her legs before she left. I guess she's not a good candidate for this class.

           I drove Elsa to the vet for her dental appointment; it was her first ride in my new car. The vet has it set up, so you sit in the parking lot after calling them to let them know you've arrived and wait for someone to pick up your pet. Only staff members are allowed in the office. I walked Elsa because while she had peed this morning, she hadn't pooped. I thought everyone would be happier if we got that out of the way, which we did.

           After dropping Elsa off, I went to town to Toyota to get the estimate for a hybrid battery replacement and air conditioner repair for my car. The service coordinator quickly found the one for the battery replacement, a mere $4,500. The battery was the bulk of the cost. The labor was also a pretty penny. These babies are huge and dangerous to handle. You need someone who knows what they're doing. I also asked how much a latch replacement for the tailgate would cost. Fortunately, the service guy asked the right questions. I didn't want a latch replacement. I wanted the little gadget that releases the latch. Mine fell out.

The latch release had worked perfectly in Ohio, but its fatal flaw showed up here in Hawaii due to the heat. The 2007 Prius model had some debris in the latch release, which melted in the heat, oozing a black tar-like substance. I covered it with duct tape. I had to apply additional layers of the tape periodically. When I had accumulated the tape, I decided to yank it off. The whole apparatus came off. The only way to open the tailgate was to crawl into the car through the back seat, lift the carpeting, and release the latch from there. A bit labor-intensive; not the best arrangement when you want to load your purchases for the week from Costco.

           As I approached home, I saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house. As I got closer, I saw that the gate was closed. We only close that gate during driveway yoga, so the dogs can't get out. Then I saw Scott in the driveway with the stationary bike Mike had bought. Scott had posted it on Craigslist and was handling the transaction. 

He moved the bike out of the way, opened the gate, and I drove in. He closed it after I was through. That was odd. Also, he disappeared in a shorter period than it took me to park my car. Another weird. I called his name. I wanted to show him the information I got from Toyota. Besides posting the bike on Craigslist, he posted the Prius.

           Eventually, Scott came into view. He had remained on the street side of the gate because he was loading the bike into the guy's car. He sold my stationary bike for $200. The guy who bought it came from Hilo, a good 100 miles away, to buy it. I gave Scott 10%, although he didn't ask for it. I appreciate what he is doing for me.

           Yvette came up for some reason. I spoke about how much stress I was feeling. There is a significant amount of conflict in the world, both internationally and domestically. I'm frustrated about getting my work out. I have a dear, dear friend who has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and now Elsa. Yvette and I shared a bear hug. That's back-to-back rubbing up and down, the way bears scratch their backs against a tree. It helped.

           Thankfully, Yvette and I are now on good terms. It took effort to get us to this point, but we are doing significantly better than when I first moved here. It was a mother/daughter issue. We didn't really know each other. Many things about us were a surprise to each other. Fortunately, we were both prepared to take responsibility for the difficulties in our relationship. Fortunately, neither of us assumed it was all the other's fault. That wouldn't have gone well. We also shared the belief that each of us would profit individually by working out the kinks, even if we were not successful in our relationship with each other. Delightfully, we were – and there is more to come as we get to know each other better. How lucky am I?

           I called the Hawaiian Insurance Department. I had written an email asking for confirmation of what the first man from the department told me the other day. Although I didn't speak to someone the other day, I got an agent today. This man gave me slightly different information. The first one told me they could raise the premium rates unless the company paid out a claim. This one told me that it was up to the company's discretion. They could raise the premium rates depending solely on a person's accident record. Progressive grabs all accidents and holds them against you. The question is, can they make that claim when your car is hit when you are stationary, or when a driver has been dropped from your policy? The last one is illegal. The truth is, I don't know if Progressive raised my premiums because of Adam's accident or if they reduced them when I dropped Mike from the policy. I never could get a straight answer out of them. I will file a complaint and post information about Progressive's policy on Facebook and other social media sites, in addition to filing a complaint with the relevant state authorities. There is little chance I can get my money back, but the company may be fined and hopefully persuaded to change its policy. Besides filing my complaint, I will also offer to fill out complaint forms for others.

           I had a 10:30 appointment with D. He remembered the six multiplication facts correctly for the second time. He gave me the correct answer. I thought it was wrong because I was looking at the wrong problem. He had enough confidence in his memory to correct me. Wow!

When we worked on reading, I began with the opening activity that I recommend for all teachers to use, as outlined in my article. Duh! We worked with one sentence, saying all the letters as they appeared in the sentence, and then going back through the sentence to identify all the phonemes and which letters represented them. He made a few mistakes. I'm glad I recommended this strategy to others; it is good advice to follow.

           As he continued reading the story, he did much better. He self-corrected several times. Additionally, he encountered two words that he didn't know, and he applied the decoding procedure I had been teaching him for a year on his own, without any reminders from me: "Happy Birthday" and "Merry Christmas," Auntie Betty. I thanked him profusely. He broke out into a big smile.

           Zoom closed the session for some reason. I called D's mom. She asked if I wanted to reconnect or call it a day. I chose the latter but used the occasion to speak to her. I told her I saw substantial improvement with the math, and it was time to add new multiplication facts for him to memorize. To start, I think he should present the same facts in different formats, so 7 x 9 will also be written as 9 x 7, and so on. Also, I have been showing the problems only in the horizontal presentation. We should check that he is also secure with them in the vertical presentation. Then it will be time to add new numbers.

           There was a terrible racket as D. and I were working. When I looked, I saw that Scott had jumped the fence into the neighbor's undeveloped yard and was sawing down the haole koas growing in the empty lot next door. He and Yvette were working together to clear that whole section of the yard of weeds. Yvette used the yanking method on our side of the fence, while Scott used the slash-and-saw method on the neighbor's side. I had to move from the lanai to the living room to escape the sound.

           After the session, I sat down for my 40-minute meditation. I already felt much better. Having a list of things to do was energizing.

           Scott contacted me to inform me that he was expecting two people later in the day to inspect the Prius I was selling. Thanks to him, this is happening. I was prepared to take it to the junkyard and pay to have it carted away. He told me that he thought the car was worth $5000. That didn't sound right; it was a little optimistic. The hybrid battery needed to be replaced, the air-conditioning was out, and there was a significant dent in the front bumper. He changed the post to ask for $ 1,500 and received some responses. He said someone was coming that afternoon. Did the car start? 

           I went out to check. Dead as a doornail. I hadn't driven the car for over a month. I've been worrying about it, but I'm concerned about the car dying on me while out on the road. So I just let it sit. I figured it had a new battery. While it would lose its charge, the battery wouldn't need to be replaced, unlike the old one. Scott came up, jumped the car, and I drove it up and down the street. I managed to reach 35 miles per hour without difficulty, which indicates that the hybrid battery had sufficient charge. I got the car up to a certain speed and then braked repeatedly, hoping it would charge the defunct battery. After a few passes up and down the street, I pulled into the driveway and parked it. Scott called and told me to see if it starts up again. Dead as a doornail.

He came up again to charge it and had me move it out on the street so the potential customer could take a look. He had two people interested. One was scheduled to arrive at 5:00, and the other at 5:30. Then he received a message that the 5:00 arrival had been rescheduled to 5:30. We were expecting two people. When the man arrived, he explained that Scott had been communicating with both him and his wife separately. There was only one potential customer. 

           Scott texted me when he was here. I went out to go for a drive. Scott had been charging the starter battery off his alternator. I got in and tried to start the car. Nothing. Scott hooked up the jumper cables, and I tried again. Nothing. I was at the wheel, and the customer was in the passenger seat. Fortunately, he knew something about Priuses. He pointed out that I didn't have the key in the ignition. I had forgotten that I had taken it out and put it in my pocket. Putting it in the ignition improved circumstances radically. The car started, and we drove down to the end of the block.

           When we got there, I asked him if he wanted to drive it back. I got out and said that I would walk back because I needed the exercise. He was speaking to Scott when I returned. He didn't tell me the car's status. Whatever it was, it was. The customer left, and I drove the car down at the bottom of the drive to B's area. B. had spoken to us as he left to go shopping with Elijah. He said if we had brought the car down, he would charge it overnight. 

           That was one busy day. And there were things I didn't get done. I did no work on the reading article, and I made no effort to download the audio file into my PowerPoint, following August's directions.

I watched a British show called Bench. Wow! It is very good. Complex situations, complex characters, excellent direction, excellent acting, and no violence. Perfect.

_____ _____ _____

Musings:

           I have been feeling overwhelmed by stress. Most of my heartbreak is caused by international and national situations, not the loss of Mike. We're dealing with the many current consequences of the Covid virus and the threat of its future impact. Also, this country, which provided my family shelter from persecution, is turning into a country where the policy of exclusion has a growing voice.

           I remembered how Viktor Frankl maintained his peace of mind and capacity for compassion while in much more dire circumstances than I am in now. While he was a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp, he focused on his love for his wife. He didn't know where she was; he didn't even know if she was dead or alive. Concentrating on loving her kept his heart open. Likewise, I call on Mike to be a source of comfort for me and give me the strength to be open to what life has to bring me and accept those who see the world so differently from me.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Today would be my father’s 117th birthday. He died 64 years ago when I was 15.)

I took videos of the wildlife for my three-year-old grand-nephew, Sidney, as I walked.  It’s primarily turkeys at this hour in the morning. I meditated when I got home after feeding Elsa and washing the dishes.

I have been writing more politically oriented musings. I can no longer take advantage of my white privilege and forget what is happening to non-whites. We live in an era where the forces of exclusion and inclusion are waging a classic battle. I am on the side of inclusion.  I can’t say I’m overly optimistic about my side winning, but I can hope.

My parents were refugees from Nazi Germany.  We were fortunate, more like wealthy and well-positioned.  Therefore, everyone got out alive except for one family unit. They stayed because the man of the house couldn’t imagine supporting his family in the US. He also thought his being married to a Christian would buy him some protection. Well, they both died in Auschwitz.  Their daughter survived in a different camp and was brought to the US by my father.

My uncle used to talk to me about that time. He said if the Jews hadn’t been chosen to be the scapegoats, they would have been the best Germans.  I was confronted by Jews who came from Eastern European backgrounds. They expressed contempt for the German Jews, who they felt aided and abetted the Nazis instead of doing what they could to stop them.  Not that they could have done much about it.  He also spoke about why the Jews were chosen. He said they were a convenient target. Most factions had some issues with the Jews. My bet is that if we continue going as we are, the Jews will get it again. All the other factions, including Afro-Americans and Muslims, no less than Right-Wing Christian groups, have issues with the Jews. (Anyone who thinks the Evangelicals value the Jews, think again.  They are anti-Semitic  Pro-Zionists. Trump already voiced a proposal that all Jews should be made citizens of Israel.  That died on the vine – for now. )

I have been trying to alternate writing with physical activity, such as spraying my yard with vinegar to kill the weeds and vacuuming.

As I have been writing my article, I have also been developing a lesson plan to incorporate the method into daily practice.  I found myself thinking students should alphabetically and phonetically analyze one sentence a day.  Just one. Even a short one.  Then they can proceed to read the rest of the text, focusing on automatic processing, checking for meaning as they read, identifying words they read incorrectly, and decoding those they can’t. But first, they should do that one sentence. Ha! Of course, I haven’t been doing that.  Like any human being,  I lapsed into doing the familiar, having students read and correct mistakes.  However, if this method can have the effect I claim it can, as I have experienced it having, then I should have students do one sentence a day. The goal is for them to do that independently. With some, that happens immediately. With others . . . . 

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

I heard a TED talk about grief that resonated with me, not about moving on, but about moving forward with it.  The talk helped me fill my heart with Mike. I know that he is always here for me.  His love for me and my love for him remain satisfying.

On my walk, I saw Josh getting into Mike’s car, which he owns now. For a moment, I thought he was Mike. The moment was ordinary, as joyful as it always was when I saw Mike. I thought it was strange. I didn’t have the reaction of overwhelming joy that he had come back. No, instead, it was just as if he had never left.

During morning driveway yoga, I asked everyone for the names of people who could help me post my audio file on YouTube.  What I need is someone who can do video editing.  Elise does it, but she is off-island and won’t be available for a month. I want to complete it sooner.  Alisha asked me if it was many files or just one. She said she could check how to do it. Maybe I could do it on my own.  I had to contact August, my grandson, who did the work for me.  He said it was one file. This will make it easier to get the visual effect I want. 

August sent me a text about something related to YouTube. I had assumed at the time that it was instructions for downloading my files onto YouTube.  I was waiting for the merged files to come through. August told me that’s what they were.  He sent them to me again.  They had a single static image, not the PowerPoint slide show I had put together.  I was surprised. Boy, we’re not on the same page. He told me that he didn’t know how to do video editing.  Okay. He’s sixteen. He has a life of his own. He has no obligation to me, not even to communicate clearly. I texted Crista, the owner of the Bikram studio, to find out who designed the Bikram Website. She gave me a name.

I worked on my article on my reading method.  I put it off and put it off and then wind up enjoying the work when I do it. The other day, I finally posted two ads on Craigslist, one for the Big Island and one for Oahu.  There was no response. I can’t seem to give it away.  Oh, well. I would love the work just for the stimulation.

After completing some work on the article, I addressed my insurance complaint.  I couldn’t believe that what Progressive is doing, raising my premiums when no claim has been made, is incredible. I need to see it in-writing. It’s mind-boggling if that is true.  It makes them utterly corrupt. They’re stealing thousands of dollars from people. When I respond affirming this, I will not only file a complaint but also advertise that I will file complaints on behalf of others.  It seems unlikely that I will be able to get my money back. Why would I bother putting out the effort if I can’t-  because the immorality of their behavior makes me sick.

I called the name of the IT person Crista gave me.  This woman charges $75 an hour and figures it will take half an hour for each file.  Really!  I have trouble with that on so many counts. The big one for me is that teachers don’t earn that kind of money.  I find the disparity outrageous.  Alisha made it sound like I could do the video editing on my own.  I am prepared to try.

Adam hadn’t gotten back to me about making an appointment.  Judy called to tell me that he was interested, and he was going to charge me a lot less than $75 an hour.  If he can do it, that would be great.  She said he hadn’t gotten back to me because Jazzy was sick in bed with a high fever.  She appears to have contracted something from a family member who visited them. I asked Judy if it could be Covid. She said no, she had no trouble breathing. I then asked Judy if she had difficulty breathing when she had Covid. She said no, just some pressure in her chest. 

It is going to be a while before Adam can work with me.  Once Jazzy is better, I wouldn’t want to contact him before he’s guaranteed for two weeks.  I have been putting off posting the Phonemic Awareness audio file on YouTube until I have it the way I want it to be.  I decided this morning to post what I have. That way, I can tell families that they can use it. 

In the meantime, Adam has his hands full, taking care of her, the baby, and Luke.  Leon knows he can go up to Grandma’s and Auntie P’s house.  Judy was talking about taking Luke off Adam’s hands.  Zion, the new baby, has been crying a lot.  He is also proving to be a bruiser.  He was large when he was born, and he is gaining 2 oz a day instead of the usual 1 oz that most babies gain.   These kids have their hands full. Thank God they live on the same property as their grandmother and aunt, so they have plenty of help.

___ ___ ___

Musings:

For some people, learning to read, or for that matter, doing anything, happens effortlessly.  For others, it requires effort.  Having to make an effort to learn what many can do with ease creates an unpleasant experience.  It suggests that there is something wrong with us.

This tendency to self-judge is ingrained in our brains.  It’s a survival skill.  Yes, self-evaluation, seeing how we compare to others, is a survival skill.  How so? Easy.  When we roamed the savanna in the bad old days, survival, basic physical survival, was everyone’s daily objective. Where was the next meal coming from?  Where was the next attack by animal or hostile tribe coming from?  When survival is at stake, diversity is an unaffordable option. Diversity is a luxury of abundance.

Think of the military culture.  Everyone has to fit into a mold.  People who deviate too much have to be eliminated. Fortunately, these days people who deviate too much are just not accepted into the military and are not abandon in an isolated place to die.  That’s what was done with children who couldn’t conform in our hunter-gatherer days. They weren’t being heartless. They were doing what was absolutely necessary.  If the tribe took on the burden of this child, it might have survived. But if this was a precedent on how all children who couldn’t conform would be absorbed. There would be no tribe shortly. Everyone would die. Everyone had to pull their weight and be a productive member of the group.  We are born with the ability to compare ourselves to those around us. The objective is to encourage us to work to learn the required skills, so we won’t be excluded from the tribe.

Monday, July 13, 2020

            I had a dream about experiencing calf cramps last night. In my dream, I doubled over, and no one came to me.  I never woke up completely, and I don't remember my legs actually hurting me, just in my dreams.  This has something to do with what is really happening to my legs, particularly my left calf. 

           I meditated again after I walked.  This is going well. Not only did I meditate, but I also worked on the reading article for the first time in a month since Dorothy sent me her edited version. I had done some work on it when it occurred to me that it was the wrong version. I went back to the email Dorothy sent me and started again.

           At 10:30, I had a tutoring session with  D. His memory for the multiplication facts is improving.  It is more consistently correct. Yeah.  Reading was better. He got more correct but had to be walked through the decoding process repeatedly.  He still doesn't use cross-body blending when he runs into trouble, holding on to sounds. Yikes! How many times does he have to be reminded?

           Marissa called from Progressive, and she connected me to someone higher up. I got the runaround.  The Resolution Consultant, Rob, told me to contact the state department. I did.

           The state representative told me everything they did was illegal.  He asked what company I was with. Progressive. He said nothing. I asked if there were many complaints. He scoffed.   He also told me that he used to work in California. He found that there are more problems with the Hawaiian companies in general. I have to file a complaint. The complaint may not win me my money back, but it will add to the list against them and set them up for a huge fine.

           I called Marissa, my contact at Progressive, to tell her what I had found. Marissa didn't deserve what this company is about. 

           Then I took a nap.  B. called. He was stopping at Costco. Did I want anything? Lemons, blueberries, and salad?

           I continued working on my reading article. This has been a great day.  If I do some work to advance my work in education, either writing an article to promote the work, or meeting with a student, it makes for a good day.  While I did some good editing on the article, I still need to write a conclusion for it.

           As I listened to Fresh Air, I sewed. That way, I can have my hands busy doing something other than Free Cell as I listen.

           It was raining for my before-dinner walk.  I feel less driven to get Elsa outside to do her business since I have put down the wee-wee pad.  She hasn't used it for a while; she hasn't done anything else in the house either.

           For dinner, I tried one of the frozen salmon patties I had bought at Costco, served with broccoli. I was disappointed: it was somewhere between fishy and tasteless.  Too bad.  I like salmon, but not this version of it.  However, broccoli with butter never gets tired.

           Watched the Bench, an English legal drama, again.

____ ____ ___

Musings:

           Yesterday, I wrote about the transformation of the Camden Police Department in New Jersey.  Today, I want to address the problems that I think others see within the African-American community that they feel justify harsh police tactics.  These same people, I believe, are opposed to 'mollycoddling' marginal groups. They look at those who make it from those minority groups in our current society and say, "See! There's something wrong with the rest of them."

           These same people say, "Get over it. Slavery was 400 years ago."  Let's start with that argument.  We know now that trauma is passed on epigenetically.  Many things are passed on epigenetically, but here I will focus on trauma because that's what the slaves experienced, and their children passed on in their genes to their 'freed' children. (A belated hats off to Lamarck)

           Does this mean that the genes are immutable? No, of course not. Good experiences can also be passed on epigenetically.  Unfortunately, the bad experiences resonate more loudly in our psyches.  Why? The good doesn't need fixing. The bad does need attention. The enhanced focus on the bad is a survival skill, not some psychological aberration.

           For people to recover from trauma, there has to be relief. The freed slaves barely adjusted to their newfound freedom while supremacists  moved 'to put them back into their place.' Perhaps they could no longer own these people outright, but they could put them in such a financially disadvantaged position that they were effectively trapped. 

           The freed slaves were offered a plot of land. However, that land reverted back to its original owner when the former slave died.  It was not passed on to their children. I also learned that African-American soldiers returning from WWII were NOT entitled to the GI Bill's benefits.  How many returning white soldiers took advantage of the GI Bill and changed their lives and their children's lives?

           I heard someone describe the situation in the following way: You sit down to play Monopoly with someone.  Only you don't get the $200 starting capital, you're not given any loans, and should you be successful in any way, the property you acquire is taken from you.  Sounds like cheating to me. 

           Some argue that there are minority people who become successful.  True. I learned from a dog trainer that those animals trained with harshness will develop into two extremes. Those who survive will be super dogs, but those who don't will be a mess. The rule of the exception says nothing about the conditions in which their lives were forged.

           I believe those opposed to welfare say that there is something inherently wrong with these people. They will make no effort on their own if we dole out support or equal opportunities. I'm sure that is true for some people.  But most of the Afro-Americans I have met in my life go about living their lives as best they can.

           Here's an example of someone damaged by trauma who never completely recovered. This man's mother was a drug addict; he was homeless in his teens. A lovely woman found him and married him. Lucky him! She has provided him with a home and a semblance of a comfortable life.  Is he psychologically normal?  Can he hold a job? Is he a pleasure to deal with?  Not for most people. But his wife is his biggest protector. Yeah, for her. 

           Where's the problem? Well, for me, this man presents the same problem that some Afro-Americans do.  Most of the problematic people come from abusive homes. Like the man I mentioned above, who is white as the driven snow, they don't seek ways to heal their wounded souls, and they pass on the damage to their offspring. 

           Someone once told me that a professor of his said, "Once you have decided on your belief about the nature of man, everything follows from that." I certainly haven't done a broad survey. From what I've seen, some people believe that an individual's nature is just that. I am not in that camp.  I believe in transformation.  If I hadn't, I would probably have killed myself sometime in my early 20s.  I thought I could transform and find a way out for myself and others.  I remember thinking, "If there is a way into this mess, there has to be a way out." I committed myself to finding that way.

           Some take a more fatalistic point of view, not only of minority groups that they criticize, but also within their own families.  Their point of view is, "That's the way they are; oh well, what you do about it?" 

           I don't disparage that point of view.  I had to learn to be more accepting of others as they currently were, and forgive myself for what I was at the time.  But there is a balance. 

           Mike and I achieved that balance with each other, or at least to some extent. We were able to ask each other to change things that were difficult for us.  In doing so, we both had to look at ourselves as well as each other.  Being able to do that was very enriching. 

           On the other hand, some things were too hard to change easily. We both worked on them. In the meantime, we had to accept each other's good intentions and enjoy each other. That worked.  There was more good than bad in the marriage.  For some, anyone in their in-group is considered basically good, with some problems. Those people get unconditional acceptance. Then there are the 'others that are not part of the in-group.  They are considered basically bad, with some exceptions. The best they get is conditional tolerance.