It’s a lovely day, and I’m not sure how we’re going to spend it… We really should get out and see something new, especially since my last two posts on this blog have been about the IBLP, Bill Gothard, and culty fundie Christian groups. I should probably clear my head of such stuff and enjoy beautiful Germany, during this rare sunny weather.
Or, maybe I could finish my project, migrating my huge music library so that’s done…
I could practice guitar, or make another video for an old song from the 70s, like this one. What I probably should do is go on a long hike, and burn off my beer gut.
I was going to do a different song, but it wasn’t quite working out in a timely manner, and I didn’t want to spend hours on it. I had other stuff to do on Friday. Yes, even people with my ridiculous lifestyle have chores to do.
I don’t like to record music on Sundays, though… call it a holdover from living in Swabia, where people are a lot more uptight about local conventions. So, I think maybe I’ll go find something quiet to do, or maybe we’ll venture out somewhere new. The possibilities are endless.
Bill and I watched Shiny Happy People yesterday. Bill wanted to see what I was going on about. He was just as disgusted as I was. The docuseries generated some discussion that will probably turn into a blog post sometime soon. It’s sad that so many people willingly give up their lives to cults, and money and power hungry people like Jim Bob Duggar. I did notice that I got a hit from Siloam Springs, Arkansas… Perhaps the Dillards paid my humble blog a visit?
Ah well… Sundays aren’t the best days for thinking about cults. I think I’ll go find something fun to do.
The featured photo was taken last night in Hofheim, where everything was especially nice and lovely… It’s at times like these when living in Germany is the most awesome.
It’s another beautiful May Sunday here in Germany. As I mentioned in my travel blog, I was hoping Bill and I could go do some really fun stuff this holiday weekend. But, thanks to a lack of planning and general laziness, together with raging allergic symptoms, we’ve kind of stuck close to home. It has been kind of a busy weekend in other ways, though. Bill and his daughter have been talking a lot, mainly because the youngest grandchild has just turned one year old.
We’ve been learning more about younger daughter’s college years and escape from Ex. Every time I hear more about what happened during that time period, I’m flabbergasted anew. I sense that younger daughter doesn’t want us to feel badly for her, nor does she consider herself a victim. I find that a very refreshing and admirable attitude to take. However, it still shocks me to hear about the challenges she faced during that time period. I do think a lot of her blessings came from being involved in her church, where people are encouraged to help each other. That’s one of a few things I do like about the LDS church. I especially find it funny that church people helped younger daughter so much, since Ex used the church as a parental alienation tool against Bill.
Anyway, as we were reacting to some of the revelations last night, I found myself trying to explain my reactions. I reiterated that I don’t think of younger daughter as a victim. I think she is incredibly resilient and resourceful. I just find it regrettable that it was more important for Ex to be hateful to Bill than do what was right for their daughters. Younger daughter didn’t have to go through what she did. Bill would have been so happy to help her. It would have been an honor for him to set her up for success at school. But Ex not only didn’t want to allow him to help their kids, she didn’t even want her kids to help themselves. I think she meant for her kids to all stay in her home, and those who try to flee the nest get punished.
It became clear as younger daughter was talking that Ex didn’t expect her kids to have ANY money of their own. At the time younger daughter was applying to school, Ex didn’t know that younger daughter had some money socked away, and she used it to pay the application fee for college and have her transcripts sent to her school of choice. She had just $80 of her own money— at age 18, no less. And she used it for higher education. Ex had not wanted her to go to school away from home and when she found out what younger daughter did, she got VERY angry with her. I think she was angry, not just because she’d applied to college (imagine being a mother upset about THAT), but because she’d secretly had the money in the first place!
I mentioned that I didn’t think Ex wanted her daughters to have money because money equals power. And, as I was talking, I explained… “Bill wanted very much to help you. He just didn’t want Ex to be part of it, because Ex always has to be part of the deal.” And then, before I knew it, I blurted out, “Your mom is a total psycho.”
And then I apologized… because “psycho” really isn’t the best word for what Ex is, at least not when I’m talking to Bill’s daughter. I didn’t want to offend younger daughter, either. But then it became pretty clear that she wasn’t offended by that comment.
I did explain at the end of our session that I am not the most politically correct person. I often speak my mind, sometimes out of turn. Often, I piss people off because I don’t tend to hold back on what I’m thinking, and sometimes I use language that would make a sailor blush. But… at least you know that what you get is what you see… as the great Tina Turner once sang.
Once again, I am absolutely floored by how forgiving and kind younger daughter is. She doesn’t seem to have a drop of anger or bitterness in her. I’m sure it’s there somewhere, but I have yet to see it. I find that amazing… and very admirable. Maybe she has much to teach me. But anyway, she says that there are always people who have it worse. That’s true, but it doesn’t negate what she dealt with back in the day. She shouldn’t have had to struggle like that.
I’ll try to be a little more circumspect… or thoughtful about what I say. I suspect younger daughter’s husband, if he heard that comment, probably thought it was funny, though. I think he and I can commiserate about a lot of things. I don’t envy his position, when he has to deal with his mother-in-law. She is a challenge… or maybe she’s more like a trial. Whatever she is, one thing’s for certain. She is a psycho, and that is the truth.
Today’s blog post may cause me to lose some Facebook “friends”. I’ve decided that I’m okay with that, mostly because not being okay with it isn’t useful. It would be hypocritical for me to be upset with people who unfriend or block me on Facebook for expressing myself in an honest way. If I want to be free to express myself and have authentic reactions, then I should be willing to grant other people the same courtesy. Moreover, most of the people on my Facebook friends list aren’t actually my friends, anyway.
People have the right to feel any way they want to feel, and react the way they want to react. I try to be authentic as much as possible, even though I realize that not everyone likes me as my authentic self. I’ve always kind of marched to a different beat that not everyone understands or enjoys. It’s caused me problems my whole life. When I was a lot younger and less wise, I even tried to be different. It didn’t work out very well for me, nor did it last. So… at almost 51 years of age, I’ve come to realize that I am who I am. Take me or leave me. 😉
Two days ago, I wrote a blog post that apparently greatly offended someone who was a Facebook friend. I woke up this morning to see that she’s blocked me. She’s no longer a Facebook friend, but she is still married to my dad’s cousin, and they do occasionally go to our family events. I guess if I ever come home to another family reunion while we’re both still living, things may be awkward. Luckily for her, there’s a good chance I won’t bother going “home” again, anyway.
The post that my former Facebook friend was apparently offended by is this one…
I’m not going to rehash too much of the contents of that post, because as you can see, it has very few hits. I didn’t realize this person was a regular reader of my blog, although I did know that she might read what I wrote and get offended by it. I have a habit of sharing my links on my personal Facebook page– usually just once. And, as you can see, almost none of the now 382 people on my friends list clicked the link.
I guess I don’t blame her for apparently being offended by my post… but I suspect she doesn’t realize that the reason I wrote it, in the first place, was because I was a bit triggered by her comments to me. I simply needed to “unpack”.
I have written more than once that I often write blog posts about things that upset or trigger me. I blog here because the blog gets a lot fewer views than my Facebook page does, and that means the responses to my thoughts are generally much less contentious. I know it’s hard to believe, but I see posting in my blog as opposed to Facebook as a kindness. Most of the really popular posts on my blog are not about personal subjects, but on my thoughts about books, movies, or videos.
I am going to be very clear. I am not sorry for writing that post, although I do regret that my former Facebook friend was evidently offended by it. It’s never my intention to hurt people’s feelings or upset them. Writing is simply how I process things. It’s just a form of communication. It’s what I do.
I do realize that not everyone likes what I do. Some people would rather I stay quiet. That’s not my nature, though. I’m naturally an outspoken person, although I often tend to be even more outspoken in print. A real friend would know this about me and understand it on some level, even if they don’t always appreciate it. A real friend wouldn’t expect me to be someone different. That’s probably why I don’t actually have a lot of real friends… or maybe I’m just a worthless bitch. That could be true, too… :shrug:
I grew up in southern Virginia, which is a very southern place. I was taught from an early age that I should always be “nice” to people, even when they weren’t nice to me. I don’t think I learned this from my mom, though. My mom is a pretty blunt person. She knows how to be “nice”, but I’ve rarely ever seen her fake it with people. When she’s upset, she lets people know. That’s even more true today. She recently told me about how she ordered her dentist and his hygienist to “shut up”, because they were blathering about something annoying while working on her mouth. She got fed up with listening to them and literally told them to be quiet. I’ve never done that to my dentist, but maybe if I make it to my 80s, I might feel bold enough to tell him or her to shut up, too.
My dad was the one who encouraged me to keep quiet about how I felt. I think he expected me to look and behave like a proper southern lady. That’s not me, though. It’s not even his wife, who kind of looks the part of a demure southern lady, but really doesn’t act like it. I can remember him frequently chastising me for being too “honest” about my opinions. He was always allowed to say whatever he wanted, no matter how hurtful. But I was expected to shut up and keep sweet. It was quite toxic, so I don’t do that for anyone anymore.
A few days ago, I shared a post a Facebook friend had on her feed. I liked the message of the post, which was to remind people to keep their toxic body shaming comments to themselves. The post had a picture of an overweight woman in a bikini. My former Facebook friend thought it was a picture of me and said I looked “great”. It seemed to me that she’d completely missed the point of the post, which was that most people (especially strangers) just want to be left alone and don’t necessarily want any feedback on how they look. Adding insult to injury was that when I pointed out that the photo wasn’t of me, she laughed and said “oops” instead of simply apologizing for the mistake.
At the time I saw her responses to me, my authentic feelings could be described as annoyed and a bit hurt. However, I resisted the urge to react with anger on Facebook, even though that was how I honestly felt at the time. Unfortunately, I was still perturbed about it the next day.
On Sunday morning, I felt compelled to write about the incident on this blog. There was a lot of angst and personal stuff in the post, because I was being honest and trying to explain where that reaction comes from. Could it have been less “angry”? Yes, maybe… but then, it wouldn’t have been authentic. And, as you can see, very few people have read the damned thing, anyway. One of those five hits came from the person who inspired my post in the first place. That’s precisely why I wrote it in my blog instead of directly confronting the person on Facebook. But maybe, in retrospect, I should have called her out on social media for all of the rest of my 382 Facebook friends to see. Perhaps that would have seemed less “shady” to my “victim”.
Now… this isn’t the first time someone has told me, in so many or few words, that I shouldn’t write about something. In fact, I recently wrote about how former tenant tried to silence me on multiple occasions when she didn’t like something I wrote in my blog. She brazenly implied that I was “mean”, “crazy”, or a liar, and clearly never even considered my perspective. It was pretty poisonous stuff, especially since she was monitoring me and tattling to the landlady. If she didn’t like my content, she could have simply minded her own business and unfollowed, right?
Several years ago, I was inspired by a former Facebook friend who kept sharing quotes that were falsely attributed to George Carlin. My post wasn’t really even about my former “friend”; it was about the common practice of sharing falsely attributed quotes. His repeated fake George Carlin posts just gave me the idea for the topic.
But boy, you would have thought I’d insulted his mother or something. He very dramatically blocked me, after telling me off, then got all his redneck friends to stalk my blog for days. All it resulted in was extra AdSense pennies. If he’d been a real friend, he might have stopped and thought for a moment about what I wrote. Maybe he might have considered my perspective and determined whether or not what I wrote objectively made any sense, rather than simply reacting with a wounded ego.
In my opinion, that’s what an actual friend would do… because they’d want to understand and relate. He wasn’t a friend, though… not that I ever had expectations of a real friendship with that guy. I was just there to up his friend count. I do think it’s funny, though, that we “met” on a Web site called “Epinions.com”, and sharing opinions was what the site was all about. I guess it’s okay to share opinions as long as they’re always about someone or something else.
Now, I’ve evidently offended my cousin’s wife, who actually offended me first, by disingenuously saying that I looked “great” in a photo that wasn’t even of me. Then, when I pointed out the error, she “laughed” and said “oops”. When I further tried to explain my point about not being so focused on appearances, she still didn’t get it, and complimented me again. Since she didn’t even know the photo wasn’t of me, and wasn’t getting that I didn’t find her mistake funny, how can I take anything she says about my appearance seriously? And why is it even necessary to make those comments?
I certainly don’t mind hearing that I’m pretty or look young, but I would hope the compliments are sincere and aren’t just said to be “nice”. Because, as you can see, “niceness” can backfire spectacularly, and most of the time, there’s simply no need. I think it’s better to be kind than to be nice. There is a big difference between the two.
When I decided to process this situation through writing, which is something I commonly and regularly do on this blog, her response was to– apparently– get pissed and block me. That’s not much of a friendship, is it? She had claimed to be my friend, but chose to block me rather than have a simple conversation. I don’t think that is the action of someone who values a relationship. If she had ever actually cared about me as a friend, she would communicate with me. I did try to communicate with her before I wrote my little read blog post that evidently so upset her.
Although I always regret losing friends– or even “friends”– it seems to me that in many cases like this, when a “friendship” is suddenly lost over a Facebook or blog post that goes south, we were never really friends in the first place. And the more I age, the less time or patience I have for indulging people who aren’t interested in forming an authentic connection. The older I get, the more I realize that most people aren’t friends… at best, they’re acquaintances, with just the barest surface knowledge about the people who aren’t in their immediate orbit. Social conventions, especially in the South, have trained us all to act the part of a friend, even if it’s not genuine. It’s that whole “bless your heart” attitude…
If you’re not from the South, allow me to explain “bless your heart”. It sounds nice, and sometimes it really is meant that way. Say, for instance, if you’re a little kid and you fall and skin your knee, you might hear your Granny say “bless your heart” as she offers you a cookie and a kiss (although my Granny never did that to me).
However, a lot of the time, when you hear someone from the South saying “bless your heart”, what they really mean is that you should either be ashamed of yourself, or you’re just clueless or stupid. Instead of being straightforward when we communicate, we’re taught to “soften the blow” with fake platitudes like “bless your heart”. Women, especially, aren’t taught to be assertive and straightforward. Instead, we offer up heaping loads of bullshit to each other, and pretend it’s better than simply being “real”… and, by the way, being “real” isn’t akin to being rude or mean. Being real is about simply not being disingenuous.
I really tried to be more “nice” when I was younger, but it’s simply not in my nature. Trying to be superficially nice is, to me, like wearing shoes on the wrong feet. I do always try to be kind, but there’s a difference between being kind and being “nice”. And I’m afraid I’m not always “nice”. I’m definitely not “sweet”, either… and it kind of makes me cringe when someone says I am. Hey– if you know, you know! And if you’re calling me “sweet”, you definitely don’t know me very well. But then, maybe you’d rather not know me, if you want to be around someone who is sweet.
Living in Germany and Armenia, both places where people can be painfully blunt, has made me even less likely to indulge people who say “bless your heart” and lie to my face. I’ve come to realize that it’s a waste of time to adopt that style of communication, anyway. So many times, I’ve wasted time trying to be “friends” with someone who turns out to be full of shit. And then I’m left with the hurt and trauma of having wasted the effort… when they couldn’t even attempt to accept me for who I am, or try to see things from my perspective. And they’re always allowed to be offended, but I’m not.
I know that many people would tell me to process this crap by keeping it private, or by talking to Bill, or a friend. I don’t have local friends. Bill hears this stuff all the time, but he manages to love me anyway. And I think other people can relate, or might even be interested in the topic, so I write these posts for them. I know that a lot of people, for instance, are tired of being body shamed by strangers. They just want to be left in peace. That was really what the initial offending post was about, anyway.
Reading my blog is always a choice. I suspect that my cousin’s wife isn’t even a regular reader of this blog, but chose to read that post because of the featured photo, which offered a clue as to what the post would be about. She correctly realized it would be about that viral post of the woman in the bikini, and how she thought I was her.
As you can see by the tiny hit count on the above post that got me blocked by a family member, not that many people DO read my blog… just like few people read the posts they react and respond to on Facebook. More people read my Facebook page than this blog. I know most people would just let this stuff go without comment… but I’m not “most people”, just as you aren’t “most people”. We’re all individuals. I am me, and this is simply how I respond to things. If that’s upsetting to you, maybe it’s better that we’re not “friends”.
But don’t worry. I probably won’t be at the next family reunion, anyway. A lot of them don’t like me, either. 😉
It’s Monday again. Ordinarily, that might be bad news, since Monday means the end of the weekend. Today, it’s not so bad, because it means we’re halfway through the latest eight nights of TDY for Bill.
I generally hate it when Bill is gone on a trip and I’m stuck here alone. However, it’s not one hundred percent awful. I tend to get things done when he’s gone, because I try to fill up my time. I watch movies and TV shows I’ve had queued for viewing, read books (although my latest one is taking longer than I’d like), and go to the grocery store on my own, which means I end up buying stuff I like on a whim.
This morning, I went to the local Rewe (our grocery store) and bought cookies that looked interesting. We almost never buy cookies. We usually make them ourselves, mainly because having store bought cookies around means we’ll be eating things we shouldn’t be eating. But I saw some in the Rewe that looked interesting, so I got some. There are only six to a package, so I figured I was safe.
I was craving sweets in a terrible way today. I bought ice cream and pudding, too. And I bought some bread and a few healthier staples. I don’t know why I want sweets so much today. I haven’t had a period since January, so I don’t think it’s PMS. It could be because I’ve been on the wagon for the past few days. I can’t even say I’ve even really missed drinking that much. As long as I don’t start, I don’t really feel the need to have a drink. Once I get started, then I have a tendency to get into trouble… as long as I’m at home and don’t have to drive anywhere. I’m more disciplined when I’m out and about.
While I was waiting in the line at the store, I noticed the woman in front of me needed something from behind the counter. The cashier went and got it for her. It turned out to be a pregnancy test. I didn’t realize that they were kept under lock and key here. Actually, I’m surprised they sell them in the grocery stores in Germany. Most health related stuff has to be purchased at the drugstore, where the apothecary will be obliged to offer advice, even if you don’t want or need it. I will admit, of course, that they can be very helpful when there’s a need. But sometimes, all you need is an antacid or something.
Anyway, I realized the lady in front of me must have been a lot younger than I am… it’s been a long time since I last needed a pregnancy test, which I actually didn’t need, because I’ve never been pregnant. It occurred to me that she might have bought it because she thinks she’s pregnant, which, of course, would be a momentous occasion for her. Imagine… here I am, an American, standing in line at a German grocery store, witnessing a woman buying something that could notify her that her life is about to change forever. If you think about it, it’s kind of exciting.
She looked like the type of person who would probably be happy to be a mom, so if she wants to be pregnant, I hope she gets that result. On the other hand, maybe she doesn’t want to be pregnant… Or maybe she was buying that test for someone else, like a friend or a sister… She didn’t look old enough to have a daughter who could be pregnant. Maybe this year on Mother’s Day, she’ll get some life changing news…
I wouldn’t have noticed any of this, under usual conditions. I try not to look at what people have in their grocery carts. I think it comes from my time in social work, and the sensitivity I’ve developed toward people who need assistance buying food. I know a lot of people think it’s their business what people buy, especially if they’re using government funds. Personally, I think we should let people maintain their dignity as much as possible. I wouldn’t want people judging me in that way, so I try not to do it to others. Moreover, government food assistance is such a small part of what taxpayers pay for… and I don’t think anyone in the United States should be going hungry.
I’m not sure if Germany has a program like SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program). They probably do… and they probably run it better than we do in America. In any case, I only noticed the woman’s pregnancy test because the cashier had to get it for her. I thought maybe she wanted cigarettes or another tobacco product. In Germany, the packs are covered in warnings and grotesque photos of what happens to people who smoke. Lots of people smoke here, anyway. So I was wondering if maybe she was going to get a pack of cigarettes showing a person with a stoma or mouth or lung cancer… or, if she’s lucky, a guy who is impotent. That one is almost humorous, if not gruesome. But, given that the lady bought a pregnancy test, I guess impotency is not a problem that she, or her presumed significant other, faces…
After I paid for my groceries and headed out to the parking lot, I noticed that there was a strawberry vendor there. It looked like they had lots of attractive strawberry goods– probably everything from jams to homemade wines. I thought about looking at what they had, but I realized we barely have enough space in the fridge as it is, and while I like strawberries, the seeds have a tendency to get stuck in my teeth. So I skipped the strawberry vendor today… but then when I got home, I realized that I forgot to buy some more half and half. That means I’ll probably be back before Bill gets home on Friday.
We live so close to the store. I really should have just walked there. Maybe next time, that’s what I’ll do… especially since driving means trying to get in and out of our tight parking spot with the Volvo, which has parking assist, but I don’t trust it.
People have been talking about the Rewe lately, because a few months ago, some bandits came in and blew up the ATM that was next to it. The bank has apparently declined to replace the ATM, because they’re expensive, and the bandits will probably just blow it up again. This means that just like pay phones, ATMs are about to be obsolete. That’s pretty crazy, considering that Germany is historically a cash based culture. Right now, thanks to the criminals, people who need cash have to get it at the Rewe after making a purchase. It’s not ideal, especially for poor people or the elderly.
Wow… I’m surprised by how much I gleaned, standing in the checkout line for a few minutes at the Rewe. I really need to get out more. But I won’t be doing that today, because I want to finish reading my book so I can review it. I’m almost done, so I hope to be ready tomorrow. Just a few more days to go before Bill is home. I look forward to his return… and am glad I didn’t need to buy a pregnancy test today.
The featured photo is what got me to thinking about the “dream season” on Dallas. I shared that photo in 2020 and it generated discussion. I went to look at the original post and was reminded of what it was like in 2020… in 2023, it seems like a nightmare we woke up from, even though people are still getting COVID. Naturally, this post isn’t JUST about that, though… it’s a hodgepodge of thoughts, as usual.
This morning, I found out that we lost yet another musical legend. Gordon Lightfoot, a Canadian singer-songwriter with a distinctive voice and beautiful, intricate, guitar laced melodies, passed the bar yesterday. He was 84 years old. While it’s always sad to lose a luminary, I’d say Gord had a good run. As a child of the 70s, his music touched me deeply and was a big part of my soundtrack. I’d say he was one of a few artists my dad and I could agree on when we took roadtrips. Unfortunately, my dad would try to sing along, which always annoyed me.
I wish I could say I enjoyed listening to my dad’s singing voice as much as other people did. I’m not sure why, but it was like nails on a chalkboard to me. I used to get in trouble a lot when I was very young, because I’d stick my fingers in my ears during his church choir solos. I never quite lived that down, either.
My mom got so she could laugh about it. I’m sure they just thought I was being a brat, but it really was uncomfortable for me to listen to my dad sing. That was just one of our many disagreements over the years. Maybe it would have helped him to know that I have similar physical reactions when I listen to Celine Dion and Barbra Streisand, although I can acknowledge that both are fantastically talented singers. I don’t think Dad was as good as they are, but he did have a voice that many people enjoyed. I simply wasn’t one of his fans. I wasn’t, even before our relationship became more difficult.
But we had other issues besides his singing… I don’t think my dad liked me very much. He took out a lot of his frustrations on me. I remember him being much nicer to me when I was very young, except when I misbehaved. Then he’d become scary. But when I was very little, he seemed to think I was much cuter. When I got older and formed opinions, and exhibited some of the very same argumentative qualities he had, he liked me noticeably less. But he was there every day… and he was a good provider. My dad wasn’t a bad man. We simply didn’t get along. Sometimes, your relatives turn out to be people you’d never befriend.
In any case, I’m sitting here listening to old Gordon Lightfoot songs, wondering if maybe I might like to try one today. I’m shuffling through my memories, remembering how it was not so long ago that people were panicking about face masks and social distancing. I remember how stressful it was, as people were discouraged from venturing out anywhere. Everything was closed, so people spent too much time on the Internet. I already spend too much time on it myself, but suddenly, people were becoming more and more polarized. I know it was a reaction to the extreme stress of the time… a mysterious virus that was legitimately threatening people’s lives, and people talking like the whole world was going to change forever.
In 2023, it all seems like that time was just a bad dream…
I write this, even though in 2022, there were still a lot of places requiring facemasks and people were expected to be fully vaccinated against COVID-19. But even in 2022, the concern about it was waning, in spite of the constant doom porn from the media. As a former student of public health, I had a feeling this would all be better within a couple of years. It turns out I was right. People developed immunity, as they do… and we got vaccines. Still, so many people were lost to that virus. It’s just so strange that it’s now kind of a bad memory, not unlike the “dream season” on Dallas.
Of course, COVID wasn’t just a bad dream. It was a literal living nightmare. But, as I like to say, every cloud has its silver lining. If you think hard enough about any given situation, there’s usually at least one positive to come out of it. Even really horrible things in history have their positives… if only because people learn from their mistakes and policies finally change.
Living in Germany for almost nine years (this time) has taught me that the horrific Hitler era taught profound things that has made most western Europeans more knowledgeable about, and vigilant against, fascism. The Holocaust was an absolutely horrible way to get that experience, of course… but at least they did get it. At least they were educated by it. It would be much more tragic if no one learned anything from that time. Today, all German children learn about the horrors of the past, so it will be less likely to be repeated. I just wish more Americans would open their eyes to that era and learn where we could be headed if things don’t change. Unfortunately, people often fail to look beyond what’s two feet in front of them.
Still, there are some glimmers of hope… and thanks to the Internet, we can all now connect in ways that were once unimaginable. And while sometimes, it seems like everyone is angry and wanting to fight, there are still moments when connection happens and we can stand in solidarity.
Yesterday’s post was about how I was reminded of what really matters. I wrote about how I had trouble writing for some time… and then kind of managed to shake off the fear. I heard from people who like what I do, which was much appreciated. I look back at 2020 and realize I’m glad I survived that year. I’m glad the worst of it seems to be over for now, especially given all of the other stuff going on now… And, although I’m always sorry when someone beloved passes, there’s also some good in that. For instance, right now, I’m listening to a song Gordon Lightfoot wrote in the 1960s, hearing other people’s interpretations of it, and thinking I’ll try it myself. Twenty-four hours ago, this music wasn’t on my radar at all…
I wish I’d appreciated Gordon Lightfoot more when he was still living. I do own a lot of his albums, but I never paid as much attention to them as I obviously should have. But the good thing is, I still have time to discover more.
I’m going to give this song a whirl… maybe I’ll post the link here, if it turns out okay.
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