This Land Was Made for You and Me

I recently read a very touching story about a Vietnam vet who went to a book-signing by Ann Margaret to show her a photo he had from the time when she had come over & entertained his company. She was glad to meet him, treated him like a VIP, & thanked him for his service. At home he broke down crying & told his wife it was the first time anyone had thanked him for his service. As I said, very touching. However, in the last sentence of the story, the author said, "share this with your friends. True patriots will understand - foreigners might not."

This is a way of thinking that has really gotten under my skin. Many immigrants come to this country b/c of what we are, b/c we protect the right to freedom. Its why most of our families came over generations ago - to escape persecution & live in freedom. I don't know why the author of this felt he had to address this issue (especially since it was Americans who were so against the Vietnam war, remember?) Very few of us are natives to this country. The USA, by the very declarations our country was founded on, was created for those seeking a free and equal life. Everyone thinks they are true Americans & were here first. There have always been populations throughout our relatively short history that were deemed "foreigners" b/c they were immigrants. Guess what - you're most likely a descendant of one of those people that was unwanted & unwelcome in this country at one time or another. They spoke very little English, had very little money, & no - they didnt have to pass a legality test to enter. Immigrants do not typically come to this country demanding money, jobs, big houses, or even respect. Immigrants typically come to this country to escape a horrible environment in their home country - again, thats what America was built on. Its what the Statue of Liberty conveys. Its not like we're packed in like rats & can't accept any more residents. This country is enormous.

One more thing I'd like to get straight - immigrants are not here to take our job. They often live 5+ people to a 2 bedroom apartment, & are honestly ecstatic to just vacuum an office building every night for pay. If you want to tell me "true Americans" would be doing these jobs, I've got something to tell you - true Americans can be total deadbeats. They have superiority complexes. They think they deserve a certain way of life. My company does pre-employment testing for several blue collar companies, & let me tell you that it is oddly rare to speak to a candidate that truly wants to get started & will do whatever he has to in order to begin working. So don't tell me immigrants are stealing our jobs of vacuuming an office building, b/c most Americans think they're above that. We've never known the fear, the desperation, the conditions that drive a person to leave their homeland & seek refuge in a free country - yet, again, those family members that came before us did. So why are we so quick to forget, judge, & lord over those in a similar situation? A "true patriot" would understand the values our country was built upon, envisioned by a varied population of refugees who wanted freedom & equality for all despite nationality or creed.

Pen-names and Paper

Before iPhones & Androids, there were words. There was emotion, & creativity. Here is a small collection of mine, including at least two I consider my pinnacle compositions.

http://www.adeliaclement.wordpress.com

What You're Looking For

"Maybe the sun keeps coming up 'cause its gotten use to you & your constant need for proof"

Mitchell Is Moving by Marjorie Weinman Sharmat

Mitchell ran through his house. “So long! So long, everything,” he shouted. Then he ran next door to Margo’s house.
“I’m moving,” he said.
“Where?” asked Margo.
“Two weeks away,” said Mitchell.
“Where is that?” asked Margo.
“It’s wherever I will be after I walk for two weeks,” said Mitchell. “I have lived in the same place for a long time. It is time for me to go someplace else.”
“No!” said Margo. “You have only lived next door for fifty years.”
“Sixty,” said Mitchell.
“Fifty, sixty. What’s the difference?” said Margo. “I want you to stay next door forever.”
“I can’t,” said Mitchell. “I do not want to wake up in the same old bedroom and eat breakfast in the same old kitchen and brush my scales and clean my nails in the same old bathroom. Every room in my house is the same old room because I have been there too long.”
“Well, maybe you are just tired of the same old friend,” said Margo.
“Who is that?” asked Mitchell.
“Me,” said Margo. “Maybe you look at me and think,
‘Same Old Face.
Same Old Tail.
Same Old Scales.
Same Old Walk.
Same Old Talk.
Same Old Margo.”
“No,” said Mitchell. “I like your face, tail, scales, walk, and talk. I like you.”
“I like, like, like you,” said Margo.
“I like, like, like you, too,” said Mitchell.
He walked to the door. “I must pack,” he said.
Margo sat down in front of the door. “You can’t get out,” she said. “I will sit here for another sixty years.”
“I still like you!” shouted Mitchell as he climbed out the window.
Margo called after him, “I will glue you to your roof. I will tie you to your front door with a thick green rope. I will scotch-tape you, paper-clip you to your house. Then I will get a gigantic rubber band and loop you to your house. I will not let you leave.”
“I will unglue, untie, untape, unclip, and unloop myself,” said Mitchell.
Mitchell ran around his house. “I’m moving, moving, moving,” he shouted.
Then he gathered up some of the slimy moss near his house and wrapped it in silver foil.
“Just in case there is no slimy moss two weeks away.”
Mitchell scooped up some mud from a ditch.
“Maybe there is no mud two weeks away. Or no swamp water,” he said as he filled a plastic bag with water from his swamp and mud from his ditch.
Mitchell went into his house and put the slimy moss and mud and swamp water into his suitcase. The telephone rang. Mitchell answered it.
“I will cement you to your ceiling,” said Margo, and she hung up.
“I am beginning to think that Margo does not want me to move,” said Mitchell as he went back to his packing. He packed the cap and mitten set what Margo had given him. “Maybe it will be cold two weeks away,” he thought.
Mitchell heard a shout. He went to his window. Margo was shouting.
“I will take you to the laundromat in my laundry bag and I will wash away your idea of moving.”
“Margo is a good shouter,” thought Mitchell. He remembered when Margo had sent him a Happy Birthday Shout through the window: “I’M GLAD YOU’RE THERE. I’M GLAD I’M HERE. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOUD AND CLEAR.”
“I wonder if there are any Happy Birthday Shouters two weeks away,” thought Mitchell.
Mitchell held up the T-shirt that Margo had given him. It said, “Mitchell, friend of Margo/Margo, friend of Mitchell.”
“This shirt makes me feel sad that I am moving,” said Mitchell. “But if I put it on, I won’t have to look at it.”
Mitchell put on the T-shirt. “If I don’t look down at my chest, I will feel all right.”
He closed his suitcase. “There. I am all packed. I am ready to go.”
Mitchell walked through his house. “So long, same old rooms,” he said. Mitchell took his suitcase and went to Margo’s house.
“I am all ready to move,” he said.
“I will stick you to your house with chewing gum,” said Margo.
Mitchell picked up his suitcase and ran.
“Good-bye!” he called. “I will write to you every day.”

Mitchell stopped running and started to walk very fast. “I am a moving Mitchell,” he said.
Mitchell walked and walked.
When night came, he sent Margo a post card that said, “Dear Margo, greetings from one day away.”
The second night he wrote, “Dear Margo, more greetings from two days away.”
The third night he wrote, “Dear Margo, more and more greetings from three days away.”
“I am not much of a post-card writer,” thought Mitchell. But he sent more and more greetings to Margo each night.

At last Mitchell reached two weeks away. “I made it!” he said. Mitchell built a house and moved in.
“I will go to bed right away so I can wake up in my new bedroom,” he said.
“Mmm. New sleeps better,” Mitchell said the next day. “Now I will eat my first meal in my new kitchen. Mmm. New tastes better.”
Mitchell went outside and sat down in front of his house. “This is a good house,” he said.
“But there is something missing. There is nobody next door. What good is a good house when there is nobody next door to it? I am lonely. I miss Margo.”

Mitchell wrote a post card to Margo: “Dear Margo, the most greetings ever from two weeks away. The slimy moss is nice and slimy. The mud is nice and thick. The swamp water is nice and mucky. But I miss you. Please come to see me.”
Mitchell waited and waited. And waited.

One morning he woke up and saw a bottle of glue, a thick green rope, a big roll of Scotch tape, a huge paper clip, a gigantic rubber band, a laundry bag, a sack of cement, and a package of chewing gum.
Then he saw Margo.
“Mitchell!” said Margo.
“Margo!” said Mitchell. “I am so happy to see you. Here is my new house and my new everything.”
Mitchell showed Margo his new house and everything around it.
“Two weeks away is terrific,” said Margo as she and Mitchell ate breakfast.
“No, it isn’t,” said Mitchell. “There is nobody next door.”
“Oh,” said Margo. “I have the same problem where I am. There is nobody next door.”
“I have an idea,” said Mitchell, and he got some twigs and mud.
“I have the same idea,” said Margo, and she filled her laundry bag with more twigs and mud.
Then she got her bottle of glue, thick green rope, big roll of Scotch tape, huge paper clip, gigantic rubber band, and sack of cement. “We can use these, too,” she said.
Mitchell and Margo built a house next door to Mitchell’s house.
“Do you like it?” asked Mitchell.
“It’s perfect,” said Margo.
Margo moved into her new house. She shouted, “I’VE COME TO STAY TWO WEEKS AWAY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.”
It wasn’t Mitchell’s birthday. But he was happy anyway.

Rules of the House

One of the titles in my Chapters of Life entry was Rules of the House, which I will now divulge to you. I have a Halloween party coming up that I am hosting in my apartment, and I've got to admit that I'm a little nervous of what will transpire. My friends have been a bit iffy in the past when it comes to parties, and I've had to set a few House Rules. These are totally legit, by the way. No sarcasm intended.

1. Pants are optional. (This was created in college, and still stands. Make yo'self at home.)

2. Do not throw my cat. (Seriously. Why should I even have to say this? What kind of person are you? I will most certainly hold a grudge, and think less of you as a human being.)

3. Do not get drunk and break my glassware. (Okay, this was just a humorous threat, but I will still keep it nice and safe in my hutch from now on.)

4. Do not have sex on my couch. (Again.. seriously. WTF. I have a spare bedroom. Couldn't you AT LEAST use my spare bed?)

5. Friends do not ask friends for threesomes. (This should just be an unspoken rule. Why on God's green earth would you think this was a viable or even realistic idea?)

6. No smoking in my apartment or on my balcony (Management rules.)

7. PLEASE keep the obnoxiousness to a minimum. (We're not teenagers, and we do have quiet hours.)

The Other Side

Infatuation

Atlas World

Lightly Child, Lightly

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling...”

Aldous Huxley, The Island

Desired Things

Desiderata


Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.



© Max Ehrmann 1927