Let’s face the facts, it maybe 2015, but it sure feels like the early 1960’s! Unrest and ambivalence are never a handy combination.
Are we a nation divided under color? Are we a nation poised for battle in the bedroom?
I have a nasty little quirk. A formidable habit of becoming stoically silent and ferociously quiet…when I feel forced into a corner.
Anger, to me, has been such an over explored emotion, at least, in my family. Violence with the threats or without? It did not matter. It, anger, felt like a choice. A sort of sink or swim. Do or die!
I ran so fast from the scenes of my childhood. I ran as fast and as far…as my empty wallet and dying from alcohol to kill the pain, body…would take me.
The world to me feels like a grander scale of Alcoholics refusing to get help. People shooting people for no real reason. No real reason other than a wanting to be center stage, top dog and/or the actor, director, producer…of our own play.
Dear Old Grandfather had been in law enforcement. He saw anger. Therefore, he brought anger home. It had nowhere to go. He died a dry drunk…angry and without remorse for the aches he had left behind.
He also had disowned my homosexual ass! Declining any contact with me. He opted out of my young adulthood years. And, to that, I felt anger.
And so, the cycle went on and on and on.
Anger has nowhere to go…if it is left to it’s own.
WE are all faced with choices. Whether we are the dirtiest of poor or the richest of the self appointed jesters in our court of It’s All About Me!
The question is:
Has America hit rock bottom yet? Or, is there still room and time to play around with the idea that…the white man is better than… and the heterosexual couple will go to heaven?
I don’t think there is much time left. Even so, I’ve gone back into hiding.
Hiding in my Alcoholic’s Anonymous books. Finding salvage amongst Native American philosophies. Packing up my soul and psyche and heading into the written word!
On our own will alone, the world just isn’t holding water.
Goddess, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
The courage to change the things I can.
And, the wisdom to know the difference.
Three simple sentences that stopped my ass from being on fire…many moons ago.
Later along I learned that anger is unnecessary when going to a fight. The concept should be…I didn’t have to go to the fight in the first place.
Can I change someone else? Make black blue? Make queer straight?
Should I even worry about those persons do anyway?
I suppose the best we can do is join or don’t join. Be party to the hysteria, the back turning, the name calling and the discrimination?
Or, we can write, vote, standup to, one voice at a time, the misplaced anger.
My grandfather passed away leaving me with a vivid memory…
He had been insistent that my grandmother had been having an affair with a Puerto Rican cemetery man. (His words, not mine.)
Day in and day out, right up until the end. He made my grandmother’s life a living hell topped with resentful spite!
He was becoming senile and the violence in his soul was getting the best of him.
Shortly after the wake and the funeral. Shortly after my grandmother relieved herself of fifty years doing the dirty with a bitter man.
Shortly after the smoke cleared and the feverish fog lifted…She, my namesake, my grandmother…told me this:
I loved your grandfather but it was anger that did him in!
I often think of her, him and those words…as I watch the world unravel!
All Out…and, Stand UP!