Buckle up kids because Mr.Toad has taken the wheel and there is no telling if this will be a 500 or 5000 word piece.
After the day many of us had it might be appropriate to quote old Willie Shakespeare because it might be time to ‘Cry ‘Havoc!’ And Let Slip The Dogs Of War’
But first we’ll start with what I think of as being a sort of Viking dirge which fits my mood.
Moments like this I like the idea of being like some Viking berserker because it would be socially acceptable to use an axe to solve disagreements.
What Happens When You Get What You Asked For
I have raised this question many times in multiple situations for myself and others. Presented it to several people who told me they have been unhappy with the actions of the felon and Elonia.
“This isn’t what I voted for” is something I have heard multiple times. My response hasn’t been the kinder, gentler Josh they were hoping for.
It was a hard edged growl in which I told them they got exactly what they voted for. “If you are surprised it is because you weren’t paying attention.”
Not all of the friers who voted for the felon have expressed this. Many of the cultists have said they are pleased with watching the fools try to dismantle democracy.
Hell some of them have told me I don’t understand the benefits of letting someone else think for me. I have told them to bend over and grab their ankles so I can use a firehose to unclog whatever is preventing clear thinking.
It reminds me a bit of Hamas who after their latest stunt is going to learn they have created more Zionists and strengthened those of us who already were.
They have unified our resolve to make like Sherman rolling through Atlanta. They have motivated us to hunt, harass and harry their patrons.
That stunt today with the Bibas family and Oded has done a solid job of killing any hope for support for a two state solution any time soon.
Watching families dance and cheer while they carried our boys in coffins confirmed the need to harden our hearts and prepare for an extended period before peace talks with Palestinians begin.
You’ll probably see Saudi Arabia and other countries normalize relations before the two state comes up again.
A Palate Cleanse
This has become heavier than I want so I’ll cleanse the palate with a piece of fiction from long ago.
There is magic in a heart that has been torn apart and rebuilt.
Don’t know if she would agree or maybe I should say I don’t know if she would admit she does. She might. She has surprised me more than once, first by reminding me that love was so much greater and deeper than I had remembered or believed.
If I told you about how she squeezed my bicep and gently held on to it as we walked you might roll your eyes or not care. You might not care or understand if I told you how every time she slipped her hand into mine it felt like it could stay forever and that is ok.
You don’t have to understand, accept or believe because it is not your deal, it is ours.
And if I told you about how she made sure I got the scan that confirmed my heart was clear of obstruction you might nod your head and say so what again and that would still be ok.
Ok because it is the little moments that matter and when you lie awake in the dark and think about whose eyes you see during night or day it makes an impact on you.
The Rituals Of Life
I don’t know if she and I ever discussed the rituals of life but they exist. Some of them are big things and some are little but I liked those we had time to develop together and those yet to come.
If I told you she is an Eishes Chayil, a Woman of Valor you might ask for a deeper explanation. She’d probably yell at me for saying it, tell me it is not true or to think harder about what I am saying but in the quiet of the night she’d wonder why I said it.
And if she asked, I’d answer…
Because.
Sometimes there is joy in being non specific, especially when people know you are capable of communicating with precision and detail except sometimes you can’t.
Sometimes you can’t because you asking someone to explain why a sky painted in streaks of orange, blue and red is beautiful or why certain chords make your heart jump.
Sometimes you can’t because your fingers extend into the sky and touch the face of god, because sometimes when two people share a moment in time it changes them and lasts forever.
And that is why I look for rituals.
Because sometimes the simple ritual is the most meaningful and most beautiful. Sometimes sitting next to or across from someone who has eyes the light dances in and a smile that lights up their face is the most meaningful thing of all.
Could be pizza and beer or a fine steak and cocktails–neither matters because the two of you take that moment in time and transform it.
Sometimes We Call It Melodrama
Sometimes we ask hard questions and fear makes us call the answer or the question melodramatic. We ask the other what would happen if they were to hear we had died in a car crash or what they would do if they heard we were terminally ill.
It is not because we hope for or want such things but because sometimes that piece of us that doesn’t operate based upon sight or sound but upon gut feeling instructs us to pay attention to losing the opportunity to have more moments.
Sometimes you react and respond by asking, what would you do if you heard I died. What would you do if I called you and said that there was a more definite answer to how long I was going to be walking upon this earth.
Would you respond by saying our time has always been finite and this is all we were granted or would you say no. Would you do what you had to do to try to slow or stop those sands of time.
The answers are important but hopefully we will never learn for real what they are.
But if I said it would tear apart what had been rebuilt it would be honest and if I said I would want you to rebuild yours so would that.
Still, I don’t really worry or think often about such things. Don’t do it because the numbers say there is no real reason to do so. The numbers that the actuaries use and that statisticians rely upon says don’t and that speaks volumes.
Not as much as the feeling in my gut or the song in my heart because those are the truer measures I monitor. Don’t care if that makes me sound like a crack or a crank.
I do as I do and feel as I feel and none can tell me that is right or wrong, it simply is.
She Saved My Heart
Those four words should be enough. They should be enough for any person or so the Greek poets might say because some of them love their tragedies.
They love a hero with a tragic flaw. They love to tell a story about magic and magnificence destroyed by some simple and obvious flaw.
But there are other poets and other writers who dare to paint a different picture. Ones who understand that a heart can be broken and rebuilt many times and that there is more magic in the night sky than that exposed by small slivers of moonlight.
Some dare to walk upon the long and winding road because they know they are the kind of person who takes the long way home.
Those who dare to be more, to have more and to do more have to accept the burden of walking through the fallow fields as well as the green. The only way to get to the other side is to go through.
And once you accept that you survived the moments that you thought would stop you in your tracks and understand how to read the map upon the scars, well then you are on your way, aren’t you.
It’s Hard To Run With An IV In Your Arm
The doc looked at the results of my liver scan and decided I ought to get a biopsy.
Told my family not to worry because if I drop dead it will solve my concerns about whether I need to put in another 7 or 10 years before I retire.
The younger Mr. Wilner said that wasn’t a good idea and asked if I was interested in upsetting his grandmother.
I smiled and said I was sure my mother didn’t like the idea and told him if I did drop dead it would be a big surprise to me.
“Remember, your great grandfather taught me how to kick the Malach Ha-mavet’s ass.”
That’s the angel of death for those unfamiliar with the term and Grandpa Wilner absolutely taught me a few tricks, like holding a roll of quarters in your fist when you hit someone.
Anyhoo, we flipped gears and I told him if he showed up he could film me running in a hospital gown with one hand wrapped around the metal tower that the IV is hooked to.
“It could be interesting, it is hard to run with an IV in your arm, especially when it is pumping sedatives into you.”
He didn’t think it was a good idea and suggested I just lie down and enjoy a nap. I said that wasn’t a bad idea and that I might like that.
It is a silly and maybe even a ridiculous image, but I needed something to help me forget for a moment what I saw earlier today.
And that my friends is all I have for you, but by special request here are links to some of the recent past posts.
May we wake up in a better world than the one we know today.
- What If Tomorrow Never Comes
- A Story Of Two Souls Who Once Knew Each Other
- When You’re Governed By The Dumb & Dumberest
- Tell My Children I Didn’t Give Up
- About The Postcards I Didn’t Send
- A Reckoning For The Fools Of Elonia
- What If The Fools Of Elonia Live In Chelm
- The One Kiss That Changed Everything…Forever
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