Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Community II

More thoughts of community.
I love my cane.  Neither because I need it (yet) nor because it is a self-defense tool.  Because it allows me to look less harmful.  Let’s face it, 6’4” roughly 400lbs, I’m never going to look harmless.  I’m an ogre, and comfortable with that. When it’s warm, Rocky helps that image of looking less harmful.  “Wow big scary guy- awww, he has a cute dog!”
Yesterday I noticed a U-hall down the court.  Given that tis not the season to be moving, I slipped on my jacket and grabbed my cane to go down and check.  I figured if it was something wrong, I’d come home and call the police.  “Crazy, not stupid.”  When I knocked on the door, the cane did its job.  Home owner sized me up, saw me leaning on my cane, and accepted that I’d come down to make sure he wasn’t being robbed.  He also had a few little kids.  Unless it’s a highly trained crew of midgets, it’s all good.  So I meet a new neighbor and make sure everything is safe.
For those of us who remember the original Knight Rider, the motto of the show always resonated with me.  “One man can make a difference.”
In a world where we’re told it takes a villiage to raise a child, I think that gets forgotten a lot.  I’m home early because of snow.  Heading out into the parking lot I spent time not only clearing Orishi off, but while she was warming up, I helped brush the snow off of some of my coworkers cars and got them out of where they’d been plowed in.
One car got stuck and I couldn’t muscle it out alone.  I went over and rapped on the door of another worker who was warming his truck up and asked for help.  He asked me who I was helping and if he knew her.  I said, “Does it matter?  She works here.”
Really that’s what it came down to.  She’s a coworker, she needs help and it will take two minutes of time you’re spending on your ass warming the truck up. To his credit he did help. How anyone can not help someone you’re going to see daily, even without knowing who it is?
And that’s what being a man means.  You help the people who need help.  Not for payment, not for recognition.  Because you can. 

Friday, December 21, 2012

What is a local community?

The word is bandied about frequently.  Often abused.  What is community?  What should it be?
Look out your window.  Do you know your neighbor?  Or their neighbor?  Some of us do.  One of the perks of where and when I grew up, we knew our neighbors.  Is that still true for small towns?  It’s not true for even small cities anymore.
What does this mean? It means that we’ve lost something.  Yesterday I went across the street to help a neighbor replace her shower. We talked about community.  Part of the reason her family moved here, while her husband works in Virginia, is our transplanted Somali population.  At the same time, she’s not quite the same as the several of the Somali immigrants I’ve met. (That we talk, and I am allowed in her house come to mind). I’ve made it a point to know most of my immediate neighbors.  If not by name, enough to know something’s wrong.  I’ve Chris on the far end, Mrs Kravits next door, the young couple the girls have become friends with, the people in the building across the way.  When the weather allows, I walk Rocky around the complex.  Both because I need the exercise, and because tall scary man looks a lot less scary when he has a small dog.  But in knowing the community, I know when something’s wrong. If I see a strange man at the condo opposite ours, I know that unless it’s her dad, something’s up, she lives alone.  I’m the only person here that Layla trusts, so if I see (non-Somali) men around I keep my eyes up.  If no one is home. I know.
It also makes me something of a hub.  People who know me will talk to me, they’ll know they can tell me if they see something wrong.  There’s a revolt coming here.  The Association fees went up from $150 to $200, and the home owners are going to take on the leadership directly.  I’m not sure anyone knows what the end result will be. 
I’m betting that one thing that will come from this is we’ll have to step up.  All of us.  Keeping the place clean, helping each other, learning or relearning how to do exterior repairs, clean up debris, cut trees etc.  This is important.  We’ll need to stand as a community, not a bunch of disparate home owners. Can we do it? I don’t know.  I don’t hold humans in high standing, and not sure how my fellow home owners will react to the realities facing us.
Me? I’ll continue to work on building relationships, picking up those skills my dad tried to drill into me, and hopefully teach some good old fashioned Hillbilly values to these city folk.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Islanded in a sea of stars.

It’s been two years, and the holidays are still hard.  While cleaning today, I came across the card from the flowers my coworkers sent when Donna died.  I busted out crying.  It doesn’t make sense, we still live with memories of Donna all around me every day,  but this set me off.
A friend of the girls seems to be in a bad relationship.  It frustrates me.  You can have an abusive SOB who gets the girl, but I’m alone.
And it’s lonely at times.  Rocky just doesn’t cut it, and even though I’m surrounded by friends and family, I still feel alone.  It is hard to be with family even, Amber and Lisa have each other, Jama has Mike, Tim has Jen, etc.  So I feel the odd ogre out.
How do you cope?  We take things day by day, but some days are harder than others.  This is one of those days.
Lonliness sucks.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

“My country, right or wrong.”  While most people are ignorant to the phrases’ true origin, It does have a specific meaning to me.  And with the disappointment of last night, I felt it time to revisit that meaning.

“My country” This is my country.  Period.  I was born here, and likely will die here.  Likewise Ohio is my state.  Again, born here and, barring needs beyond my control, I’ve no plans to leave.  Texas may be more my beliefs, but it’s too hot.  As Phil Sheridan once said, “If I owned Texas and Hell, I’d live in Hell and rent out Texas.”

“Right” We are not perfect, but we’re a hell of a lot better than countries out there.  Even in a recession we sent thousands of people and millions (if not billions) of dollars to help the people of Haiti.  While our cousins across the pond ended slavery before we did, both the UK and the US actively worked to end the institution around the world.  If not for us, the Marsh Arabs would have been completely wiped out, and the land would not be recovering.  These are just minor examples.  It doesn’t include the advances in technology, medicine, science and every other field advanced in America.  Am I proud of my country, my countrymen? Hells yes.

“or Wrong.” We are not perfect.  From the betrayal of the Cherokee to the infamous Tuskegee experiment, from Executive Order 9066 to our failure to support the 2011 Iranian protests, we’ve made mistakes, sometimes with horrible consequences.

The point is, America is my country.  I will cheer when we do something right, (depose Saddam Hussein, Kill OBL, help Haiti rebuild) and condemn them when we do something wrong, (Support the Muslim Brotherhood, abandon our pledges to our allies, turn a blind eye to our enemies, reelect Obama, etc.) I will be vocal, I will be blunt, and I will not be silent.  Not now, not ever.  We do have the greatest government system in the world (when it is followed) and when it maximizes freedom.

“Doesn't matter what the press says. Doesn't matter what the politicians or the mobs say. Doesn't matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right. This nation was founded on one principle above all else: the requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world — "No, you move."

So, those of you who disagree.  "You move."