SpicyRant

The Struggle

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While sitting in my very comfortable and safe  backyard I was thinking about human struggles. Doesn’t everybody struggle? Isn’t this the human condition? Aren’t we always fighting some internal issue?

I look across the street and I see three adults and two children, basically two families, living in a two-bedroom main floor apartment. They are probably paying an inflated and unreasonable price for the place (greedy landlords are sweeping my city). I also see them working like dogs. The blue car man leaves his house at six a.m. and doesn’t come back until six p.m. The silver car person drops her kid off at day care at seven and isn’t home until the evening. Ditto with the other red car adult. They are working too many hours while living in expensive and cramped conditions. Financial struggle for everyone except the landlord.

Then there’s another young couple living next door to the financial struggle. They are out walking every day for hours. One day I saw a very expensive treadmill delivered to their house. I’ve also seen food delivery perhaps one too many times (again due to working too many hours). He works in IT, so he sits  in front of a screen all day. She also has a sedentary job in the health sector (I’ve met them a few times). Jobs with eight hours of little or no movement. One can guess their struggle. A difficult problem for everyone in our desk trapped culture.

Then I think about my minor struggle with a little too much wine on a Friday night. I am very, very lucky and I am thankful  everyday – I don’t have financial struggles – so lucky to get a mortgage when the price of housing was low. I don’t have weight issues because I can afford to eat good quality food. I also have lots of time to go for walks in the woods or around my neighbourhood or take my bike for a spin or run whenever the conditions are ripe. Yes, I am so lucky. I have one struggle, but it could be so much worse.

However, it’s all about how you deal with the struggle, right? Buddhists tell you life is a struggle, and the reason why we struggle is impermanence – shit happens outside your control. Hence the reason to live in the now – accept the now. Fredrick Douglass, the American slavery abolitionist: “If there is no struggle, there is no progress.” Or my favourite by Lucretius, the Roman poet, “Life is one long struggle in the dark.” Now, ain’t that the truth.

It’s all about how you deal with the struggle. Is it negative? Enough to draw you down into the pits of despair and leave you groping in the dark for anything solid and familiar. Or do you rise above the struggle and stand a top a mountain and shout – everything is fine and become so much wiser rising above the challenges life brings.  Or how about just accepting the fact we all struggle, it’s not a big deal. Accept it and move on. Don’t we just finish one struggle only to have another bounce up? I have no idea. But right now, I have to take my empties back to the bottle depot and go weigh myself.

What? You can’t help a guy out.

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A troubling incident happened a few days ago.  I was brain dead from lingering wine excess (no excuse, pal), waiting for my best mate outside the smoothie store – a health jab after the debauchery. To kill time and shake the cobwebs, I took a stroll around the little strip mall near the purée fruit boutique when this fellow walked up and said,  “Hey pal I’m struggling. Can you help me buy a pair of work boots?”

Now the dude wasn’t down and out looking. Not in the stereo-typical sense (no needle hanging from his arm). He was in good shape, tanned and covered in impressive and expensive ink. He’d obviously spent a considerable amount of time outside. He looked like a construction dude.  Of course, with my numb and stupid brain, I said, “Sorry pal I don’t have any cash.” Truth. I didn’t and haven’t carried actual cash since the early two thousands.

After rejecting the dude, I just walked away.  Right after me he asked another guy, and crickets. I got home and slammed my head on the table. Bang, bang. What was I thinking?  I should’ve walked up to the guy and said, “Hey,  let’s go inside and I’ll buy you some boots.” How expensive can they be? A couple of hundred bucks? I’m not a rich guy but I can surely afford to help some dude out. Isn’t this my social responsibility?

My best mate, wouldn’t bat an eye;  she would’ve walked into the store and either bought his boots outright or at least bought a gift card to help the man out (the voucher idea came right after my bruised forehead). She is the same person who would make sandwiches in the evening and then ride her bike to work and hand them out to those who needed them. I’d take half of her humanity.

A few days after the incident (ironically), I came across an article about Simone Weil, the French philosopher, mystic and all-round super-humanitarian. A woman who as a child refused to eat sugar in support of soldiers soaking in the stinking trenches of World War One. She even fought in the Spanish Civil war even though she was short-sighted and couldn’t shoot.  And what I can’t give up a hundred bucks to help some guy. Geeze, I spend that on Costco steaks. I’m sure I could’ve given up some luxury (and many I have) to help a man who’s just trying to get ahead. I’m so sorry Simone, I let you down.

The universe tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Dude, you live a great life, and you have so much. You couldn’t help some guy who needed shoes? How grateful are you? How much do you care about humanity (you sure profess it’s greatness)?” The universe just tossed me a ball, an easy shot and I let the ball bounce behind me – game over. Thankfully, the universe is forgiving. I’ve taken this as a lesson.  I can still win the match. I won’t ever miss an easy opportunity when a ball lands in my court.

Robert Alexander Montgomery

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I woke up this morning and I couldn’t get Robert Alexander Montgomery out of my head. I don’t know how he got there, but he did. Rob as we called him was a great friend I worked with at large hotel, many, many years ago. My first real job after high school. Rob took me under his wing. The dude always wore a three-piece to work and he was only eighteen. He taught me how to dress and act in a business environment.

We only spent a couple of years hanging out, driving around in his metallic green Olds 442 and man the beast flew like snot. On our days off we’d travel down to his parent’s cabin, at a lake an hour or two out of town. We’d hang or go water skiing. One time we hung out with a very famous folk group who were playing at the hotel. I introduced them to my parents who were fans. Got me in high esteem. My son hanging with a nearly defunct folk group.

Rob and I lost contact. However, one day I got a call from a mutual friend who told me he died in a freakish accident. He was racing from one end of a restaurant to the other with a tray held high; he slipped, fell through a glass window and hit the ground fifteen metres below. He didn’t stand a chance. I thought the phone call was a joke and never believed it until woke up with Robert Alexander Montgomery in my head forty-four years later. I did the research.

The first information I found was on Ancestry: Robert Alexander Montgomery born 23 Jul 1959,  passed away on 14 Apr 1979 in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.  I had to dig more. I went to a newspaper database and found the very sad article in the Edmonton Journal.  Dead at nineteen. Racing without shoes. Wow, it’s true.

It was nineteen-seventy-nine. How would I know the truth? There wasn’t an internet or social media I could check back then. No way to confirm anything. You either believed someone or you didn’t. Information came from newspapers, TV or radio and if you didn’t catch the story on the day it happened, there’d be no way of finding out the truth unless you went to a library (in those days I had no idea what was in a library besides shhhhhh). I let it slide, thinking it can’t be true (maybe I just didn’t want to believe).

Then I was thinking.  A simple Google search  of my friend’s horrific death brought up nothing.  Has Robert Alexander Montgomery faded into nothing? Is his memory gone except in the eyes of his family?  If you can’t Google someone, does that mean they don’t exist. Do we discard pre-Google death unless it’s something so horrific it’s burned into a thousand minds?

Hopefully,  if I put this article out there Robert Alexander Montgomery moves into this century and Rob is not forgotten. Happy Birthday Pal.

Burning Down the House

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The greatest  gift to give a teenager (so they say) is teaching them how to cook. The obvious benefit is an option from throwing bad food in a microwave.  Another is precious time away from a screen and spending gleeful hours with a potential filled young person. You can make a difference. Ok, so I got that off a parenting website, “Teenage Monsters.”

Anyway, my niece came over a while back and together we made carbonara and Caesar salad  with homemade bread. The only problem with the carbonara is while cooking the pancetta, it got very smoky in the house. Our fire alarm started screaming like a banshee. Now we have a security system, meaning when the alarm goes off, we usually get a call from the company and if they can’t reach us, hotline to emergency services.

Weirdly,  I didn’t get a call or notice on my phone.  We kept looking out the window while waving towels over the alarm – not sure if the fire department was called or not. All our doors and windows were open, even though it was below freezing.  Every fan blasting on max. Then we heard sirens blaring with lights a- flashing.  The big red trucks stopped in front of our house. Curtains open, nosy eyes, chins a-wagging with,  Hey look they have an alarm system, the idiots.

My niece ever the brave one,  ran for cover shouting: “Don’t tell them I’m here.”  “What?” I said. “They’re firemen, not cops. And you watch too much TV.”  Ok this has potential for learning lesson number two, but before I could take her outside she ran, tail between her legs,  flying  down the  basement stairs.

Left alone, I went outside in my slippers and wool socks and explained to the very understanding firemen:

“Sorry, we were making carbonara and cooking the bacon (not sure they’d know pancetta), but then boom too much smoke. I musta missed the call from our security company. I am really sorry.”

“You used bacon? Not they way I make it.  I use pancetta,” said the fireman, smirking.

“Yea, next time I’ll use pancetta. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Dinner was saved?” asked the fireman.

“Yep.”

“Then all is good. You’re safe and so is dinner. That’s all that matters.”

“Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Not a problem,” said the very understanding high-res man, “better a nice chat on the sidewalk then pulling bodies out.” (Ok he didn’t really say that, but)

I turned and walked  back into our pancetta lingering freezing cold house.  I checked my phone. The alarm company called but I didn’t hear the ring (curse you fruit company). I want to go over to the firehall and cook them dinner with my niece out of appreciation.

A few weeks later, however,  I got a letter from the fire department. Your first alarm is free. After that five hundred bucks for the second call and then a thousand for the third. My first thought, Do I really need an alarm? Second thought, maybe we’ll order carbonara and I’ll teach my niece how to pay with my credit card. Oh wait, that’s a lesson she knows very well.

Apple Sucks

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“De phone, de phone has arrived.”  The fruit company announces. We leave early, thinking maybe grab some lunch and then a movie after I pick up my new phone. I bought it online the night before, so all I have to do is walk in and pick it up. I get to the fruit store and say, “I know I’m early, but can I grab my phone?” As I open the email and actually read the stupid thing, I notice at the bottom: “Please bring photo ID.” Well, shiver me timbers. I didn’t read the whole email, surprise, surprise. Now, in my defence it was about the twentieth email they sent me. “Shit,” I say to the nice fruit representative, “I have a photo of my ID on my old fruit phone.  Nope. Government ID only, sorry,” she says with a half-jerked smile. Yep gotta watch tiny retail people with a little bit of power and a rule. They will shit all over you and who wouldn’t when your wage doesn’t cover rent.

I phone my car passenger and explain the situation. I walk with the pace of an Olympian to the car.  Then Mr. Impatient gets a golden idea, “Well. I can probably drive home, grab my wallet and be back before my passenger even gets down the stairs to the underground parking.” You sad sorry moron. When will you learn? I get in the car, fly out of the garage and zoom down the causeway.  I get a call, “Hey where are you?” “Yea, sorry I’m halfway home. Meet me at the fruit store in twenty.”  The line dies. I can feel the  sardonic smirk down the highway between us. I get half-way home when I remember, I don’t have my keys, so I can’t get into the house without throwing the barbeque through the window.

I call back, but before I even speak, “You don’t have your keys, numbskull. You gave them to me this morning. Remember? I don’t want the pocket bulge you said. ” “That’s right, I say.” Passenger says,  “Ok, meet me in front of the drugstore. No better yet, meet me in in front of the bank.” “Ok,” I say, but am I really listening? I get to the drug store. I call. “Where are you?” “In front of the bank like I told you.” “Oh shit.” I scoot around the drug store and drive over to the bank. I see the passenger’s  head, shaking with disgust and then while sliding into the car, “Do you want me to drive? You seem a little tense.”

We drive home, get my wallet, and go back into the phone store. I gingerly put my Government ID on the counter. We wait. Dude tries to sell me shit I don’t need. Thanks. I walk out of the store new phone in pocket, bulging like square fruit in a round tree.

I go home. So many passwords to renew and new fruit wants to use my face for ID. Nah, Apple doesn’t suck – you do.

Lest We Forget

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I woke up this morning, looked out the window to silence and cold. Where are the school buses and the people going to work? And then I slapped myself in the head. How could I?

 I pulled a cup of warm java to my lips and read about a dude getting gunned down in the street, “bullets riddled his back and he fell into the street.”  A little too harsh first thing in the morning, so let’s read something else.  I open my other book and was faced with a dude jumping off a cliff in alcohol induced frivolity. Divers found his body stuck in three feet of mud.  The idea of death brought me to  soldiers sitting in stinking,  wet and cold mud trenches. Then to other heroes blowing on their fingers to keep the cold off as they sat in a frozen fox hole surrounded by newly fallen snow. Warm fingers equal  warm triggers.  And the fear. Not knowing if today was your last day on earth.

The reading passages weren’t  a coincidence. Someone was knocking on my dull brain reminding me of the  many men  who died for our democracy, for our freedom. Deaths that allow me to sit in a comfortable chair, sip a warm beverage and read whatever I like.  I was walking with my niece  in the mall a few days ago. I bought a poppy from a vet and put money into his bucket. An action I should’ve done weeks ago.  As we walked away,  she asked, “Why did you give him money? It’s not like anyone cares.” Ok, so after the shock,  I picked my jaw up off the floor and said, “How’s your German? Because no victory in the war and you’re speaking German. And the colour of your eyes? Ah, the work camp for you.”

I’m also a bit worried because this year I kept forgetting. In the past, this memorable day was an occasion  – go to a service, walk around the row of crosses. (I just looked at my watch and missed the 11/11/11.  I’ll get the last 11 – 11 minutes. I stop.   A moment of silence, just in time.)  This year the occasion nearly slipped by. It took me a few minutes in this morning to remember it was Remembrance Day. It took me so long to get my poppy on, just a few days ago. In fact, yesterday, when I walked to my car I saw my poppy had fallen off. It lay in the snow almost buried. Again, not a coincidence.

Yes, I almost forgot it was Remembrance Day, leading me to another thought. My mother-in-law is ninety-three years old. She was a teenager during the Nazi occupation of Belgium. Using her age as a guide, how many World War Two vets are left?  With my blank out memory and my young niece’s who cares attitude, how long will it be before the Wars and the men who died for freedom are forgotten. It’ll be a very sad day when  “Lest we Forget” becomes a reality.

Sober thoughts

/ dereid99 / Leave a comment

Alcohol free zone - Stock Image - C008/3255 - Science Photo LibraryI don’t go to AA (alcoholics anonymous) although I have considered the option more than once. Who doesn’t during that morning after when your head feels like soccer ball batted around by Liverpool? I also think it’s a great organization that’s saved millions of lives. However, I do like to go “dry” several times a year. A plight that’s been particularly hard recently.

On a monthly dry surge, I ran into a few problems in places that sell alcohol. I get it. Restaurants and bars make a lot of money from booze and in these pandemic times, they need all the extra cash they can get. A reason why I always tip twenty-five percent. At least. (Even if I know my salad was just dragged across the floor.)

Recently, I went out for dinner at a popular pizza chain. A pleasant server came to the table and asked if anyone wanted something to drink. One person ordered a very over-priced glass of wine (I get it. Money. Pandemic.). Another asked for a something and coke. The daily special. Reasonable price if you don’t mind drinking alcohol, you could start your truck with. When it was my turn, I asked, “Do you have any alcohol-free beer?”  The poor server looked at me as thought I just got off the Martian shuttle. I ordered a diet soda.

The next night we went to a bar in the hotel where we were staying. This time I ordered a virgin Caesar – Clamato juice (Ok who came up with this? Some dude is sitting on a sunny patio, drinking tomato juice when an epiphany sounds, “You know what this drink needs? Clam juice.”), tabasco, spices and rimmed with salt.  The drink is also garnished with salad on a stick. This one, had a pickle, spicy green bean and celery. Now, the virgin, of course, means no vodka. With one of these sexless babies on the table you fly right under the sloppy, slurring radar, no one has a clue you’re sober.

However, my second drink was a bit of a scare. I ordered a soda with ice and lime. The thought here was a mock vodka and soda – the calorie conscious drink of the year. But the server brought the drink in a massive cup, super big gulp size. Not very inconspicuous. One look at this drink and, “Hey buddy maybe you need a meeting.”

Now, yea you’re right. I shouldn’t give a shit what other people think. And really, I don’t. But perhaps owners, bartenders and servers should have a bit of sensitivity. If a person orders a non-alcoholic drink. There’s a reason. Not only for health reasons, but the a sober person doesn’t want to be excluded from the excitement of vomiting, slurred words and a million “I love you, man.” Owners, managers, it’s not a big deal to have an alcohol free beer. Even Mexico has an NA beer. And that’s saying something.

NB: This Naked Mind is also a wonderful resource for quitting or slowing down alcohol use.

 

The pot is boiling and overflowing

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Pot Boiling Over On Home Stove - Time Lapse Stock Footage ...

Here we go more flippin’ insanity. David Amess out for a nice afternoon with his constituents in a church of all places is stabbed and killed. Murdered because he was a politician. The nefarious act also brought back the horrible death of Jo Cox another MP murdered for her views on Brexit in 2016 (not to mention the fifty journalists killed in 2020) . What the hell?

Our politicians and journalists are icons for the preservation and enhancement democracy no matter what political colours they fly, but how safe are they? Out for a walk and boom.  Where did  our sense of decency, compromise and respect go? We live in a society where the discussion of ideas is good for everyone, right? Maybe we’ve always hated diverse values. Blue caveman hits orange caveman over the head because he used too much flint (or the sacred flint).  What? Can’t we have opposing political or religious beliefs anymore? Are we still living in caves, without Starbucks for millennia?

Perhaps the biggest loss in these assaults is the attack on our future. Who in their right mind is going to hold political office with a literal gun to the back of their head?  So much for bright youthful ideas and people running across the political stage with hope and enthusiasm. “Hey young fella, you wanna be in government?” “Are you nuts? ” Say hello to the same old white guys running government with a pack of secret service guys running behind them in cheap black suits. What happens when the old white guys move or pass on? We certainly won’t get the best and brightest young minds.

What is the cause of this horror? Hello unregulated social media. The only interest these guys have is money. Hey you want to get your anger out? Excellent, I have a place just for you. Join a group on a platform where you can vent your anger. Get a few more to join.  The platform doesn’t care about any misinformation ravaging  these groups like cancer nor do we give a shit about the fallout. We love it because more anger means more people joining these radical groups and that spells PROFIT. We need money. Our corporation can’t possibly exist on eighty-five billion dollars a year. My goodness, anything under sixty billion is like poverty. How can I possibly orbit the earth in my billion dollar space vehicle if I don’t have an astronomical cash flow?

On the positive side,  this may result in good. If the senseless loss of life gets people screaming and if enough people get pissed off at these money gouging enterprises, something will get done. It’s time to shout until our lungs burst.

The pot is boiling

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Rotational Axis of Planet Earth May Shift If More People ...I don’t know what is going on with the world. Craziness is running rampant.  This dangerous insanity has crossed my path a few times. It’s not only local lunacy, but, every time I turn on the television some person is yelling, punching  and/or scaring the shit out of people. The world is spinning off its axis and I’m close to jumping off.

Over the past eighteen months I’ve had a couple of scary run ins with very very angry males. In one case a guy driving a Prius with California plates literally chased me across a park threatening to “take me out,” all because I said, “In this country we stop for pedestrians” (I’m really tired of people speeding through our child infested neighbourhood). Hindsight, walk away no matter how many kids get hurt.

In another case as I was carefully driving through a construction zone when some dude started frantically honking and pounding on his steering wheel behind me, smoke billowing from every orifice on his body (late for work?).   I flipped him the bird (yes, big mistake in hindsight), after which he tried to run me off the road. This dude was so angry he followed me to a highway some twenty minutes from the initial incident where he tried to run me off the road on a very busy highway.

I was pretty shaken up after the altercations and I have to say I’m not totally innocent in either situation, but these two guys really took anger to another level. The reasons why these two totally lost it are numerous – mental health issues, not taking medication (my first thought) or they could’ve just lost their jobs or relationships, not uncommon in our economically unstable times.  

However now that I have time to reflect, I’m thinking, “What is going on with the world?” It’s just not the two anger ridden dudes I’ve run across, it’s people throwing rocks at our Prime Minister on the campaign trail. People screaming and yelling at people working in retail stores. It’s this whole vein of anger and hostility that’s running through  society. It was never like this (or maybe we never heard about it).

What are the causes? Is social media setting people on fire? These horrible media groups divide society into groups that refuse to find any common ground.  Is the loss of our manners and respect for others because we hunt people down on social media (troll), scream and yell at them because they can hide behind a computer screen? Keyboard anger spilling out into the streets of driving and shopping.

Or is it about COVID where people are tired, frustrated and angry because they have to stay inside ?  Are groups tired because the government keeps telling people what to do – don’t go here, wear a mask, get vaccinated?  It doesn’t matter what the government says, I won’t do it, some protest. To make the problem worse we have government restrictions that have  flip flopped more times than a pancake during a rodeo breakfast.

We are on a very dangerous course and I don’t see how it will change. The right and the left are dug in so deep, you can only see the tops of their heads in the sand. The pot is starting to boil and soon it’ll start overflowing with very scalding results.  As for my part, I must get my “Zen” on and as hard as it is to  temper myself, I will follow Michelle and, “Take the high road.” Or maybe it’s time to get out of the city and escape to the country.