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Posts Tagged ‘Mexico’

I began reading Helen, of Margaret and Helen, during the elections. This 80 something year old lady is just a hoot. Her logic is infallable and she is not afraid to speak her mind. Today’s post was a lot about American’s thinking about exactly who they are and who the other guy is. Margaret and Helen

My belief is that someone, at some point, drew this huge line in the sand.  They drew it under Texas and above Mexico and, there but for an accident of my birth, I could have been a person born on the south side of the line.  Being born on the north side does not make me better or brighter.  It does not give me the absolute right to have a job and feed my family (as millions of people are beginning to find out in this economy).  And, it sure as heck does not mean that a man should have to sneak a foot over the border to get a job to feed his family.  His family has as much right to eat as I do.

If we could just pull up all these imaginary lines and realize that we are all one big world, with my agriculture depending on your climage change and your rain forest depending on my pollution, we maybe, just maybe, could start working together to feed ALLLLLL the people on this earth.

And, I know, my potential editors and agents, that I may be alienating you with this blog.  I am sorry, if I am, but I presume we might not work well together anyway, if that is a problem. 

Now, I have a sister who is a self-avowed “Bigot and proud of it.” Since she proudly proclaims this, I do not think she will be upset by my post today. I “think” she will laugh.

But, Helen’s blog just reminded me of my sister. She grew up in Illinois and she hated African Americans. She moved to Wisconsin and she hated Native Americans. Now, she lives in Arizona and she hates Mexicans. Why is it that no one has says “Mexican Americans” ?

Her husband is a Hungarian American. And, that is another one no one says. This sister of mine, who so hates anyone not like her, married a 1st generation Hungarian. Okay, his skin is white, but his accent is not. I am not sure about his brain yet. I have a lot of thoughts on that. Most of them she knows already, and I can’t use that kind of language here.

But, my point is.  There is always going to be someone different than you and you need to look at all the things that makes us alike.  We breathe air, we bleed, we get sick, we die.  We all need clean air, health care, food, and shelter and we all better start working together to get it in a non-destructive way or none of us will have it.

Love you, Sis.

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Were you ever in a relationship where you woke up one morning and said, ‘This person is making me old.’?

 

It’s not that they are actually making you old.  Mother Nature does a fine job of that on her own and when your genes add something like heart disease or cancer to the mix, it is scary. And, it is not that I am afraid of death, because I am not. And, someday I will explain that when I am feeling very psychic and ready to open my soul to the world (plus a death experience- not my own though).

 

What the thing is, is that I want to enjoy every minute of this life while I am here.  It is way too short not to.  I used to hike, picnic in the Dunes State Park in the winter, ski (cross-country and downhill), and just explore.  I went camping every chance I got.  Daughter-of-eleven and I once went camping with the tent and a roll of aluminum foil.  Seriously, I forgot blankets, bedding and utensils.  I stopped and bought a spatula and a blanket.  You can make a very good bacon and egg breakfast on foil, over an open fire.

 

I have visited every state in this union except Alaska. I have camped in Canada and spent two hours in Mexico.  That’s a whole other story.  I have whale watched and driven a large cargo van up a gravel mining road in Colorado.  That MAY just be what is wrong with daughter-of-eleven.  She was with me and never quite got over that adventure.  She did not mind going up so much, it was the backing back down the narrow, steep, drop-off, gravel mining road that did her in. 

 

The point is, and I am sure there is a point somewhere; I am not ready to sit in a rocking chair yet.  I have given up most things for years now because it seemed so unfair to my husband to do things without him.  He cannot help being disabled, but I realized a few years ago that I was getting older than I should be because of not living and it was not doing him any favors either, that I was declining.  He does what he can and I need to do what I can.  As I said, life is just too short.

 

I started out taking violin lessons.  It was something I had always wanted to do and I inherited my uncle’s violin.  So, the last year and a half I was in Wyoming I studied with Rainer Schwartzkof and, if I do say so myself, and actually, my teacher did; I’m rather an advanced case study on violin.  It may have been the years of music in school. and teaching myself to play organ.  But, by the end of the year and a half, we were doing Mazas duets and, oh, how I loved that.  I gave that up when I moved.

 

So, now that I am all better (my chest has been opened and my heart repaired) and I again have health insurance to get some rehab to help me get exercising again, I am anxious to get back to the violin.  My goal: to play Hay Una Mujer Desaparecida by Wolff; Three Pieces from Schindler’s List by John Williams and I have a book of Classical Solos to tackle.  I am also anxious to get back to painting.  

 

Until they get me settled in rehab, I walk (on our four acres), and I tend the garden (getting my pulse rate up a bit) and I take pictures, and I write. Irritating Chihuahua accompanies me and occasionally sneaks away, but when I am out of doors, it recharges my batteries.

 

Life is too short, not to live it.

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