hafacenturyncounting

Motivated by a lack of material.

12 Jul 2018

Do Over

Ah yet another racist comment ends the career of another high profile being. This time it’s good-ole John Schnatter of “Papa John’s Pizza”. Wow this guy as with most of the others who got caught with their”pants down” , demonstrates what an apologetic burglar or murderer exhibits after their conviction..SORRY, SO SORRY; THEY GOT CAUGHT! When is this country going to learn that just because you can does NOT mean you should?

45, the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, fosters hate, deceit, and anger. The saddest part about that is, others who do not buy into his philosophies or practices are still subjected to them.  You lie, you are proven to be a liar and you deny or ignore. You say or do insensitive things, then you ask to be forgiven or overlook that bad thing I got caught saying or doing because it does not reflect how I really feel, who I really am…

How about this;

DON’T SAY OR DO THESE UGLY THINGS and then you don’t have to have vicious TRUTHS thrown in your face!

In adult world, there are no “do-overs” if there were I think many of us would be in that line for one reason or another. I love the 1970’s because we as a society had a “happy face” shown to us daily and it did not take long for us to embrace that sunny yellow smile. We were pleasant to one another(or we tried to be) , it was not looked down on because you cared how someone else felt. Today we have an orange frown shoved in our faces and we are seeing the damage it can do/is doing. We, who do NOT abide by the new standard 45 and his administration demonstrate, MUST fight and fight hard so it is a known fact we will NOT tolerate, INTOLERANCE. These types MUST be made to know, their ugliness is more of the exception than the rule.

Posted in Quickbits | Leave a comment
12 Jul 2018
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LOSS-Everybody Needs Attention

One morning as I woke and slowly prepared for my duties of the day, my dog looked at me in the needy fashion that tells me she is ready to go out and I better put some urgency to it. I handled her and came back inside hoping to sit and just be… alas she is feeling good and relieved, it is time to play. Then I became aware that other daily duties needed to commence as well. I tossed her the ball for a few minutes hoping she would tire soon. She is such a sweet, cute, fun, lively dog, I wanted to tell her as I looked deep into her eyes,” Tiana, I am trying to be sad here.”

My family needs me. I have an ailing spouse to look after, meals to prepare, a house that needed attention(cleaning and such), a business to maintain, and another job I had to prepare for in the evening. I realized I am doing/trying to do waaay to much. However, that has been the case for sometime now. I was able to manage before though. Life forces us to keep moving forward, even when we do not want to. Sometimes you cry your way through a task, but you get through it just the same. The formula for the next task; you get up, throw yourself into overdrive, and you keep moving.  Exhaustion tries to take over and flex it’s muscle, you do not relinquish anything. People look at you and wonder how you do it. Funny thing is you wonder too.

As I struggle through, living through this horrible, horrible thing called LOSS one thing  I can tell you is this; sometimes you just don’t want to be “bothered”. You are NOT yourself; you have a hard time understanding who you are and why you are. You would love to have help, comfort, understanding but the one thing you truly want and need… NO ONE is able to provide you with. That is not to say the efforts are not admirable, appreciated, or welcomed..it is merely explaining a person in the midst of the storms of loss and grief are just not in the same consciousness as others are, at many times.

As I write this I warn the loved ones who remain around us not to give up, the person you know IS forever changed, but there are remnants that are right below the surface of that being you once knew, struggling/trying to come back to you. If you give up and walk away, they may be lost to you forever.  Keep calling, texting, stopping by…we want you with us; we just don’t want to bore you with OUR TROUBLES.

 

Posted in How We Relate
12 Jul 2018
1 Comment

Until There Was No Salt Left In My Tears

I cannot begin to tell you, I cannot begin to measure, all I know is in the midst of one of my many crying spells I noticed my tears were not salty. I asked myself were my tear ducts tired or was my body deficient in some other way.  What ever the answer, I did not care I just noticed the salty taste was no longer there.

Maybe there had been so many I got used to the taste. Maybe I was actually producing them at such a rapid rate my body did not have a chance to include the salt, for after all our bodies do function in many ways like and assembly line. However, I did have to abandon those thoughts, because in reality the salt/salty taste has more to do with the amount of salt in your body than with production of the tears. It sounded good, it was a little poetic, it was once again a demonstration of the fact that there is a deep hurt within me that comes out with or without warning, and sometimes/many times it is in the form of tears.

Crying is something I do not have to think about, it takes up so much of my time analyzing it was effortless and inevitable. Crying is an individual sport with me, meaning I do it alone. I approach it in a systematic, logical fashion; I say as I collapse into a puddle on the ground. Problem is this experience defies all I know, all I have been taught. There are no rules, no guidelines. Therefore, there is seemingly no help and everything is a testing ground.

I do see a change though, as the tearful spells continue to arise from seemingly nowhere for no apparent reason. Perhaps that is normal, and perhaps that is a part of my new “normal”. I am told by other parents who have lost children, year two is worse than year one. I appreciate that “they” do  not try to make folks who are a part of this group feel “better” instilling false hope. “They” tell you the real truth, your expectations are already nil. The hope you have is, to somehow survive this, and you are made aware that the only way to get through it is to go through it…”The fire that burns but does not consume”.  Hurt, pain, agony, and the common response to all of them…crying. With or without salt.

Posted in Quickbits
25 Feb 2018

It’s Not Contagious

As I try to understand all that I feel and all I think regarding this existence that is now mine, crazy thoughts cross my mind. I guess, I am allowed a bit of crazy. No worries there, I have plenty.

The Grief; I wish someone could answer my questions or show me the direction I should be traveling in. I have heard the endless statement saying, ” There is no correct way..” I wonder if this is actually true or is it that the grief, in and of itself, is simply NOT correct. I KNOW I believe my source of grief just seems so very wrong, so very incorrect. I need a “do-over” I tell myself, for this was clearly an error.

We, the afflicted..we need to be sad, many times we want to be sad. As strange as that sounds it is a mechanism by which we will, perhaps be able to use to come through this thing.  YES our route is plotted, although in many respects it is NOT defined by nothing more than we must head straight through the pain.

We do hope that we do not run you away. We mask our pain and sadness, we avoid contact when we know it is all encompassing. However, as terrible as this is for us, you need to know it is not something we can pass on to you, there is no contagion involved. It may be superstition imposing itself upon you, it could be karma. or the teachings of your faith. Know this for certain, we would not do something to trigger what we are going through to you, even if was possible. Unlike the yawns of others or a wonderful laugh session..this belongs to us, the members of the club no one wants to be a part of, exclusively. We need you, we need you to witness us so that we can come back from this terrible journey and be there for another who will need to have the benefit of  someone who has been where they must go. Through the pain, toss out a lifeline, please.

 

Posted in How We Relate, Quickbits | Leave a comment
25 Feb 2018
1 Comment

Focus

I look around and see so many things that NEED to be done. I walk past items that need to be addressed. My phone has the alerts blowing up. I sit or stand in a stationary position unable to move, unable to think, unable to function. I wait for the items to take care of themselves, knowing full well that is NOT going to happen.

The laundry is getting done but the folding and hanging is not happening. The dishes are in the sink, but they still need to be washed or put in the dishwasher. The house is vacuumed, the pets are fed, these things need attention daily without a thought. Now, they require a plan which includes reminders. I realize this is perhaps how the hoarders and people we deem as strange may have begun. Just a simple state of being confused, or hurt, or stuck. Maybe it was tragedy that invaded their existence, maybe it was illness, maybe they just became overwhelmed and had no one or nothing to motivate them, to bring them back.

Searching for the place where concentration used to be, the place where things used to be accomplished, I now question whether I was ever able to make anything happen. I have this question because seemingly, getting things done is virtually impossible.

Riding along side concentration, or lack there of, is joy. They both appear to be getting lost, and a collision course with despair is clearly ahead. No one wants to be in these places; and for certain you don’t want to have people YOU care about in these places with or because of YOU.  Know your friends and/or loved ones are  enthralled in a battle, a battle of which they have never encountered before, and of which the outcome is still quite unclear.

Posted in Quickbits
25 Feb 2018

Sundays Are Hard

I ask myself how many more will I count. Today as I start this piece I remind myself only 5 weeks have passed. I sigh in disbelief and exhaustion, knowing that if things remain as they are now, there are many more to come..

I was born at 5 A.M. on an October Sunday in 1959. Some 57 years later in 2016 Mom passed away at approximately  5 A.M. in October on a Sunday. The latest blow; my dear youngest son, Jay passed away on a Sunday morning in January of 2018, a mere 30 years old. Sundays are hard and lately they seem to be coming at me in an alarmingly rapid rate, or so it seems.

There is a poem called Monday’s Child… it came to mind because I  am seemingly having some difficult experiences on Sundays. However, according to the poem and to paraphrase I, as a child born on the Sabbath, am blessed. Well I will leave that idea open for review.

I tell myself, I am okay, I tell myself, I must go on.  I wonder from day to day, is any of this true. How can it be? Every tear that falls, and they are bountiful, reminds me of the pain I want to go away but it will not.  Sometimes I tell myself do what you used to do on Sundays. Do what you grew up doing, do what feels right. Let me share something with you..NOTHING FEELS RIGHT. Sunday is a marker, no matter how I try when 3 A.M. rolls around some how my eyes are fixed on the clock. My semi-awake state tells me 19 minutes and __ weeks ago my child floated away from life as I know it. Sundays are hard.

Posted in Non-Fiction | Leave a comment
25 Feb 2018
1 Comment

Marriage Anonymous- Part 1

” Hi, my name’s Felicia and I am unhappily-married..”

GROUP: “Hi Felicia

You look up and 20 years will have passed. You find yourself searching, wondering how and why you are both in these respective places. It didn’t start out like this, it certainly is not what you planned. This venture had high priority and success rate probability, written all over it.

There was the five-year-plan, but we were younger and “in love”; we thought it would be like this forever, based on the current feeling.

I’d feel smothered and longed for alone time, but sampling alone time versus existing in that state are two very different things.

Would you be mad if you woke up one morning and found your mate sitting at the breakfast table writing out in an”as-a-matter-of-fact” manner, a letter telling you she was tired of the marriage. I think you know when you haven’t been a good spouse. I think that we all know what companionship is about. Yet I also know there are people from past generations who foster archaic ideas about what the marriage relationship is about. These are the same people who would adamantly tell you their marriage was good  and this would be based on the fact that they themselves are happy. They would speak for their spouse without considering that individual’s feelings. The logic would  fly out the door so-to-speak.

I clearly saw myself in a two bedroom condo or apartment. No pets and no husband. There is a sigh in my soul. There is a memory of hopeful, a shadow of happiness, the remnants of failure, and residue of indifference. It is soiled with the reality of now.

Felicia looked around the room as she spoke. The faces were worn and gray, this was an aura not a physical state. She continued. I asked him to go to therapy many times, his answer was always basically the same. I guess I always knew he was being kind( of sorts) marrying me, he could have whomever he wanted but he took me instead. Time of being unappreciated, rejected took it’s toll. It was subtle mental abuse. I am not a screamer. One day I woke up and I didn’t care how he felt about me, because I realized he never cared about me, like I did about him and our relationship. I wasn’t happy, but I was now aware. We periodically would argue, more now than ever before. He’d ask, ” Why did you stay?” He was being cruel; he knew my self-esteem and love for him would not allow me to go and therefore he walked all over me. He had a knack for cruel and he only showed it to me. Felicia fumbled around with her hands and was now silent. Then she broke the silence with, ” I think… I am ready for the next chapter.”

Now to get this chain attached to the cement block off! Felicia was now back in the real world, the place where her imaginary support group was just that..imaginary. However, it was a good idea. Some real ideas and thoughts surfaced from that brief retreat to “LaLa-Land”. Trouble is ideas were never her problem, the execution of them was her stumbling block. Aidan walked into the dining room and sat down in front of her. He sat down and had an annoyed look on his face. There was bitter silence between them for about seven minutes. He looked at his watch then at Felicia. Felicia began, ” It is time…

Posted in Fictional Accounts and tagged
19 Feb 2018
2 Comments

Bad Things….

Every single day, I now think about the statement which begins with “Bad things”. Yes Bad things happen to good people, but that does NOT mean we accept this truth. It destroys all we have been taught, all we have been led to believe and it makes us question all we THINK we know.

Growing up we learned of consequences and rewards. We learned very early, very quickly we wanted to be on the receiving end of the good stuff. We learned if you do the “right” thing, if you follow the rules and instructions, this was the recipe for success. Who among us did NOT want to be on the receiving end of the positives in life.

However, for no apparent reason, against the odds, contrary to what you have learned observed, thought, a curve ball is thrown and there is an upset. You turn to all you know for a reasonable explanation.. and depending on how far away from what you KNOW this is, you may just look for ANY explanation. Just when you thought you had this thing called life figured out, you thought you had the formula, this happens. Your very soul is challenged and put to test. Then the questions begin to arise. What is it really about? Is it worth it at all? What motivates us to go on in spite of these things we deem as mishaps, errors, unfortunate events?

I can offer you the obvious; Life happens. Yet that is not even acceptable to me. I want something more. I want to know how and why we are expected to go on . We do not understand and we want to. We need to make sense of this thing called LIFE.

Shall I lie to you and say, when someone wrongs me I am satisfied to allow fate or God or both to deal with this individual or at the very least feel comfort in knowing no matter what, I did the right thing and they will have to face what ever justice there is. HELL NO! I want and need to see justice served, even though that does NOT always happen. Therefore, I go out of my way to do the right thing, I avoid stepping of others toes, I keep my opinionated negative views under wraps, as much as possible. Now that last part is key; “as much as possible”, by whose standard, by whose gauge do I base my statement on? Certainly not mine, for I am flawed and sway in an unfair direction.

Then the unthinkable happens; the bad things find me and I get handed a punishment so very unfair and there is no appeal available. I am angry, I am hurt and I have NO ONE to direct my protest to. Then I step back and ask, was this a punishment or was it just LIFE, life happening.

Posted in Uncategorized
12 Feb 2018
2 Comments

Jay Steven Russell -A Few Things You Need To Know

Born Friday February 13,1987 at 13:31 a leap year in Inglewood California’s Centinela Hospital.  He graduated from Northview High School in Duluth, Georgia May 2005 where he played Varsity football and was sought after by 37 colleges and universities including Princeton. Jay chose NOT to play football and in December of 2009 he obtained a dual degree in Politics and Sociology from Oglethorpe University in Atlanta, Georgia where he ran cross-country track. He worked for the U.S Department of the Treasury as a Tax Examiner. On Sunday January 14, 2018 at 03:19 he departed this life in a way you would hope to, he was with the love of his life and he quietly slipped away without pain. He was healthy, athletic, and happy; his big strong heart simply stopped beating. We are told sometimes that just happens.

Jay was a good person who loved Jessica Howard, his family, and his friends.

Jay was right-handed.

Jay’s favorite color was yellow.

Jay wore a size 13 shoe.

Jay’s favorite bird was a crow.

Jay loved cold weather.

Jay loved to cook.

Jay had beautiful teeth.

Jay was a kind soul.

Jay was thoughtful.

Jay had a pet cat, her name is Kitt.

Jay’s favorite dog was a Pembroke Welsh Corgi

Jay was loved by his family and friends.

Jay loved and respected animals.

Jay also loved the Arts, the environment, and Circa Survive.

Jay was a writer and a critic; he had a lot to share for his short years on this Earth.

Jay was bigger than life in stature and presence.

Left to carry his memory in their hearts are his immediate family; father and mother Wes and Eileen; his big brother Carlton; his sister-in-law Destini; his niece Addison; his nephew Kai; aunts and uncles by blood and contact  notably Anna of Las Vegas and Arthur and Al of Los Angeles, “Aunties” Kim and Denise; His lady, his love Jessica Howard; his “grandmother” Momma Daisy  and his godmother Yvette. Additionally his cousins, a hosts of “other” family members, friends, colleagues and co-workers. Too many names to list.

If you look too closely at a star it’s beauty can blind you, Jay’s light will FOREVER shine within us.

Posted in Non-Fiction
12 Feb 2018
2 Comments

Loss -Part One

So you are angry, but who is your anger directed at? There is this empty feeling and there is nothing that can fill that void. Are you in a dream? From one minute to the next I am on the verge of tears. My child was a source of joy, yet he was taken from me. How am I supposed to think of this any other way?

This process is terrible, it is going on an unplanned journey to a place you did NOT want to go to, not knowing what to expect.  My son had a “good death” quick, pain free and with his love.  In my effort to comfort myself I tell myself this time and time again. Yet I am now painfully aware that I do NOT have a place or a person to direct this anger in me at. In saying and believing this, I have only the unknown. There is no comfort in that.

Am I running away from the pain, damn right I am. Am I trying to go through the pain to feel better, absolutely. Am I running straight to the pain, yes an affirmative response again. The problem is no matter what door I decide to go to at any given time, there is just plain old hurt behind it. I want the pain, the hurt, the anguish, the sorrow to stop. The problem is I FEAR that when these sad and awful feelings leave me, I will be walking away from one who was a source of sheer joy for me all of his days

Posted in Uncategorized

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