Hope, hate, and disruption

OnTyrrany
Lest we forget in the haze of all the disinformation we hear.

When we lost hope, we also abandoned principles of decency and justice.

The banners of hate, complicity and racism are cynically being held up to wave over the new US of A.

We are so used to strong-arming and speech that incites to anger that we have become compliant. The abundance of disinformation from the top keeps us off kilter.

The truth, that we have lost our way, is glaringly evident. Can we find it, after the disruptions pile up?

The leadership we have allowed to lead us down this rabbit hole is leaving permanent scars on the democracy. We need greater vigilance to steer us through this maze and the mayhem. You might say, “but look at the stock market,” and ignore the things you have given up.

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Arthur Szyk (1894-1951). Thomas_Jefferson’s Oath (1951), New Canaan, CT

A rich country with some 10% of our population likely to not be covered in a health crisis. Health insurance is important and not just for those who are insured. We all pay a toll. There are too many of us too many of us likely to not be able to pay for our children’s illnesses , and living in poverty

The tariff war that has been started will hit you personally in the pocket book, but it will not bring steel manufacturing back to Pittsburgh. It may even make it impossible for cars to be made in our Southern states because the automobile industry depends on imported steel. And cars are not the only item in your budget that will become more expensive.

There are plenty of circuses meant to keep us off guard. The Korean Summit with promises of peace and assurances of success is just one of these trompe l’oeil. A scheduled meeting with Putin is another. Assurances that anyone disagreeing with the administration is pandering so called fake news is a third ring in this circus. Tweets are the messengers, billboards for the disrupt.

The rule of law is being eroded. We, each of us, is being made over into an American less than the person conceived by our Constitution. Democracy is in threat.

Beware, and be wary!

 

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Words cannot express

a0002
with my mother and her favorite cousin. both now gone.

When I lost my mother tongue

I gave up my otherness

It was important to me, once,

I thought, to be different, to

Avoid  the chameleon cloak of

Conformity, the pull of belonging.

When I lost my native language,

I gave up the tribe to which I

Was born, where I belong is

Here, reflected in the speech

I now speak, the other forgotten,

Left behind in dim memory and

Recollections of a foreignness I

Once valued. Now I am native here.

This is where I belong, now

So close…Can’t wait…Here it goes…

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Here. at midnight on the 31st of December, the ball will drop and you–even from your couch at home– will join the throngs in yelling out Happy New Year! Photo © Tamara Beck

via Daily Prompt: Finally

You waited 364 days for this one. Or is it 363 this year? Whichever it is, finally the anticipated New Year is upon us.

Well, in truth, in some locales around the globe it has already peaked, but here in NYC we await the balldrop some 13 plus hours from now, and counting.

One two three … midnight and happy new year.

Revival

Opaque
Opaque or transparent? …Lest I Forget

Some six months ago, I shut down one of my many blogs, Observations: Lest I Forget  and transferred much of its content to this one. I fully intended to put new content here and leave the …Lest I Forget site to history.

Truth is, I have a lot about which I wish to opine, and enjoy doing so in different fora and diverse platforms. So  Observations: Lest I Forget is being revived today, with fresh content all its own.

Enjoy.

Doing well, thank you

via Daily Prompt: Successful

4e18b-balloonModesty becomes the truly successful. Braggarts belie their success with foolish bluster.

Those who truly flourish, need not swagger. They need not gloat. Success is a mantle worn with compassion in victory. A champion need not browbeat those he has disappointed in succeeding.

Prosper in all you do. Those who do not succeed need not feel defeated. Certianly, you will do nothing to make them feel small. Everyone is successful in their own way.

Grab a pencil!

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QWERTY by Tamara Beck

via Discover Challenge: Transcript

No, wait, no one uses those anymore. People make notes in their Notepad, which is on a device in a virtual application of some sort or other for use on Android, Windows or Mac. This means that that chances that there is a transcript of proceedings or thoughts are minimal.

Of course, a transcript can be a printed version of a text so you can print out the Notepad and voilà, you have a transcript. After all, a transcript is a record of something originally presented in another medium.

I confess that, although I am a wild user of social media and a heavy duty blogger, I do use a pen or pencil as a prelim to my process. I don’t keep my handwritten transcripts– often even I have trouble figuring out what I meant to say– but I use them for guidance when I go to the laptop to type up my reflections.

Once upon a time, in the good old days, when you transcribed something, you were putting thought to paper. Or, I suppose, truly old school, you wrote it down on papyrus, and before that on the cave wall.

 

Language, language!

Lingua franca

There are times I am gripped by what feels like a lingual fantasy. I can hear the words of a proverb in what was once my native, or at least first, language in my head, but I cannot form them. I am unable to repeat them even though they are on the tip of my tongue.

Instead, I stammer and realize the inadequacy of the attempt.

Afflictions of the tongue

What was my mother tongue is lost to me in almost every way. It remains a shadow, a memory that I cannot express. These afflictions of the tongue sometimes feel like afflictions of the heart, too.

It saddens me that the words I should be able to say are stuck in my throat. i feel like I am dreaming words that are familiar, and the dream becomes a waking nightmare of regret.

Drowning

The words I hear in my head sound as if they were under water. There is no ease in repetition. The harder I try to express them, the stucker I feel. Stuck in an adopted language, one in which I am quite adept; speaking the words of a country of choice, not birth, more fluently than I ever remember speaking the language of the country I left behind.

Nativists would argue against bi-lingualism. I, despite my ineptitude, am all for it. I would love to be able to speak well in both the languages to which I belong.

I miss the fluidity I once had in moving between two languages, the gift of easy expression.