Diminishing responsibility

I started this blog so many years ago.  I wanted to write of my family history, so I put together the rudiments of the craft and started with a kitten I rescued at an art show in Pittsburgh.

There were no rules for me. I see I posted every two or three days, whenever I had material ready. I worked at what I published. I like proper grammar, good and useful punctuation. In the beginning I wrote mostly of my heritage. It didn’t interest my children at the time, so I wrote it down, to have it. It still doesn’t interest them.

With less and less responsibility to family, but some spark left, I find myself giving over my time to getting hurt and current events. The former seems to be in eighteen month cycles, so I have time to plan. My next trip to my endocrinologist will include adding bone strengthening meds. I guess I’m old enough to no longer care no one knows how they work or where they retreat to live in the body.

Another thing I do to compensate for the complete blank left in my brain by the bus in Washington DC is write stuff down. Not just anywhere, on loose scraps of paper, but on my desk pad. When the “stuff” is accomplished, I line it out. When the pad is a complete scribbled mess, I pull it off and start afresh.

I did that yesterday. But there were several un-lined-out lines. Ideas I’d jotted down to pursue.  Some are still worth the effort. Some are mired in our current effort to slog through to election day. Part of the malaise, so to speak, and worth few further words because we’re spending our effort on keeping our eye on the prize.

Here are some of my unlined jots. You may see them again. Someone else may like them and run with them. I will be months filling the pad with scribbles, and I doubt these jots will be copied to the next pad.

Time exists so everything doesn’t happen at once. Space exists so it doesn’t happen to you.

I think that is a remarkable bit of existentialism. I think Kierkegaard, or Sartre, if only I could still remember what they said and how to put together an argument.

There is justice if you fight for what is right.

When this came to me, all I could find to write it on was the sticker on a folder. Later I took off the sticker. It looked like this, after it jumbled around on my desk. But, I deciphered it anyway.

This seems to me a distillation of the daily lives of my parents and grandparents. Slow and steady wins the day. However, consider how many have been fighting too long. I could trail out an end to this post by listing, Native Peoples, African Americans, disabled, Palestinians, islanders succumbing to global warming, Syria ...

.....................................................................................................

One brave Republican.

After that I wrote: Susan Collins. I am so ashamed.

Bull Connor only put 2,000 children in jail.

I am sick at heart and to my stomach. We must sweep everyone ahead of us to the polls in November. This is not a throw away mid-term.