It Is Over, Finally!


It is over. Finally, We have a new President, a new Congress, and a new agenda. Time to get to work, so just stop having tantrums and act like adults. You have four years to work the kinks out of your complaints and to fix your democratic party. By then, even the most infantile amongst you should be mature enough to understand politics is not personal and have to do with the country, not your feelings.

President Trump is neither a Republican, nor a Democrat, he is an Constitutionally aligned Independent, and as such, has no loyalty to either party in power. Bravo! America First, not the pundits of the Washington D.C. Beltway. As such, he will have an uphill fight against all the entrenched politicians who are stunned that he actually won. I was laughing like a loon once he was sworn in as our new President.

Yes, Our new president. I loathed everything Obama stood for, the very sound of his voice made me ill. Nothing he had to say interested me, I was worried about living day to day under his regime. But, he was still the president, and even if I couldn’t respect him as a man, I could respect to office he held. It was a struggle, but I managed. So suck it up cupcakes, and learn to deal with the present, not what you didn’t get.

Today is the first day of the new presidency. What do we see, what does the rest of the world see? People who should know better out tearing up businesses, burning things, screaming foul language, and exhibiting rude behavior all in the name of an almighty temper tantrum. You did this when your candidate lost, it didn’t change a thing; one would think you would learn from that. Have your tantrum, all it does is make people with an ounce of common sense laugh at you, find you immature, or a paid ally of the true enemies of the United States. Just stop. It will not change a thing, nothing, Nada, and the administration of President Donald J. Trump will go forward.

I am hoping when the histrionics, snowflake crying sessions, thumb sucking, and kicking of feet stops (probably when they get bored, hungry, stoned, or sober), that people will just learn to make a difference in their lives for good and for the good of their communities. Stop playing patty cake with childish behavior, and take another step toward being a grown up. Roll your sleeves up, and get to it.

People of my generation used to protest, but my heavens, we didn’t tear up our own neighborhoods to make a point. We didn’t tear up anyone’s neighborhood. We had to live and work there the next day. This mess will take days to clear up, and people will be out of work because of YOU. Feel good now?

Look, life doesn’t stop for anyone, and all of us have a finite amount of time here on earth, why not use it to build something, make something, grow something rather than destroy what others have worked hard to obtain?

Many people will never like President Trump, eh, so, don’t like him. His job isn’t to make everyone like him, his job is to keep American safe, financially stable, and strong. Your opinion isn’t going to change those things that need to be done. No one is taking any rights away, for heaven’s sake, and heaven knows women have the same if not more rights than any man. I don’t care if you are one of the rainbow alphabet people, or an 80 year old white man, we all need to be safe, financially stable, and have the strength of the military to protect us against terrorism.

We are all people, different, thank goodness, some good, some bad, some peaceful, some angry, but we are all people. Stop pretending to be offended at every little thing, stop pretending to be scared of progress, stop being a damned victim and simply work to be a descent human being. I don’t like some things I see, and I certainly didn’t like Obama at all, but I didn’t cry about it. We tried it the uber liberal way, it wasn’t working. Time to try something new. Crybabies and cupcakes can go to your safe place and sulk all you want, but Mr. Trump will still be president tomorrow. Keep acting out and your safe place might be the county jail, because like with all childish displays of temper tantrums, the adults in the room get tired of it, and discipline happens.

Now, lets see what is going to happen before making the decision to be a brat.

Dinner Conversation


So the husband and I were having dinner the other evening. We had a rather routine conversation for the two of us. I was wondering if any of your conversations go something like this.

We were discussing change of meaning for a particular word over the generations. When it was first used in conversation, it wasn’t considered a rude word at all. Everyone used it, but over the years it became an obscenity, especially for women to utter, or for men to use in mixed company. Then it became pretty much forbidden language for years. Slowly it came back into use, and is now used for just about every part of a sentence, except as an article. Any way, that segued into the discussion of language and its many variations, from early man up to present day. This conversation took about thirty minutes.

Then, along with dessert, we got into a discussion about how writing started. Math is an easy idea, anyone who has more than ten of something needed to know how much they had. So, a line represented so many of such a thing. But then, how did they know what lines related to which item. So, we got into a rather heated discussion about pictograph languages and symbols, or rather, which probably came first. Then we got into how that skill was passed to other generations and other groups. Was it an idea that someone showed a different culture and they adapted to fit their language, or did other cultures come about writing all on their own? That got a bit heated too, mainly because I see it as language based and the husband sees it as an offshoot of mathematics. I can see his point, but I also see a need to communicate information as tribes became cultures and cultures spread out over a geographic area.

As we finished out dessert, and were waiting for our check, we continued discussion language versus math, and how intertwined they were with the development of our modern idea of country, origin, and cultural development. Leading to the difficulty people have today of never being able to be alone. They constantly have to be in contact with someone via their phone and other devices. Which led to the idea that it would be interesting to put a modern gadget junkie in a distant accommodation without any of their go to gizmos to see how they would cope. Take them back to, oh, the early 1940’s and leave them on their own for an agreed amount of time.

About the time the check turned up, I left to use the facilities, and the husband paid the bill and said he would meet me at the car. When I came out the couple sitting behind us stopped me and asked it we were professors. I said no, not now. They said they learned more about prehistory overhearing our conversation than they ever had in class. “How do you guys know all this stuff?” They asked. I just smiled and said, “We read. A lot. About a lot.” “The lady said, “That is so weird. We just talk about the kids.” I smiled again, and made my way to the car.

To us, this was a normal dinner conversation. How is that weird, or is it?

Ride From Amarillo


Ride From Amarillo

Today I caught a ride from Amarillo, Texas to Gallup, New Mexico. The old geezer that picked me up was a hard case from some place up north. He didn’t talk much at first, but he was friendly enough. Most old guys won’t pick up a hitchhiker these days. I look kinda rough too since I ain’t had a shave or bath in three days. I don’t know what made him stop, but I sure was glad to have lift. It was getting’ hot standin’ on the road with my thumb out.

About 60 miles down the road, the old guy asked if I was hungry. I wasn’t gonna tell him I didn’t have no money to eat, but he said he would be happy to get me a burger or something. So we got off the highway and pulled into a burger joint. It was one of them old kind where someone comes out to your car with a load of food and hangs a tray on the window.

When we headed back on the highway into the setting sun, he finally started to talk to me some. He asked all the same questions everyone asks me. I told him I was just wanderin’ cause I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life yet. Usually I get some sort of lecture about being sensible and finding some sort of career, but this old guy really surprised me because he did just the opposite.

He told me about when he was a young guy, younger than me, he ran off from home during the depression. He said there wasn’t food enough to feed him and he knew if he left his mother would have enough to eat. So he just up and ran off one day. Back then the times were real hard, and no one had much of anything so he took to riding the rails and learned how to survive from one day to the next. He knew what it was like to be hungry and alone, and he sure knew how much he appreciated it when folks would help him out by giving him a meal for doing any sort of work they could find for him. So he figured he owed it to someone to help out anyone who needed a helping hand. That’s why he picked me up, he saw a lot of himself in me and knew it was what he needed to do.

I asked him if he ever went back home after the depression and he said no. He said he got all the way up north to Washington State and found a job at a sawmill. He just stayed on and after a while World War II broke out. He enlisted in the Army and went off to war. While he was gone, his mom died, and all his brothers and sisters scattered during the war. He said he never really knew his dad, he left when he was still a kid. After the war, he went back to Washington State and got a job logging. Then after a while he met a girl and got married. They settled down and had kids, and life went on.

 He got real quiet then asked if I could drive for a while. So I got behind the wheel and he dozed off. As I drove west, through a sunset that turned the sky red and purple and the land blue and orange, I thought a lot about how it felt to be alone in a place where I didn’t know anyone. I thought a lot about the old man sleeping next to me and all that he had told me. He had lived a long life, and he had done a lot of things, but he had always remembered those first days when he was alone and scared and hungry. Those days painted his life in more ways than he had ever imagined they would. Because at 75 years old, he was still trying to pay back all the help he had been given from strangers.

 I wondered if I would be trying to pay back strangers my whole life too. I wondered how my mom would feel if I didn’t ever come back home, and she died wondering where I was. And I wondered how I would feel when I was 75. Would I feel a deep need to pay back the ride and meal from an old man who picked me up on I-40 outside Amarillo, Texas on a hot summer day? Deep inside I knew I would find a way to help someone else some day. And I knew I would go home again when I figured out what I wanted.

 After a time the old man woke up and we talked through the deep night until we got to New Mexico. He offered to put me up for the night but I said no thanks and he dropped me off at a truck stop. When I got out of the car, he gave me 20 bucks and told me to eat decent meal and get a shower. I went inside and made a call home to mom. She was glad to hear from me, but didn’t nag me to come home. I was glad about that. One thing has been bugging me for a while now. I didn’t think about it until he drove off, but that old geezer never did tell me his name.

I am going to catch some sleep back behind the truck stop. The cook said there was an old building back there I could sleep in. Tomorrow I want to try to make it into Arizona, but if I can’t catch a ride I may try to find some work around here so I can get some money up for the time being.