Considering 250

It's the big birthday month for our experiment in non-royalty, sorta by-the-people governance here in the USA.

Having watched and read hours of commentary about what I should think about it all, I've reached a conclusion:

I'm an unapologetic patriot for my country. Nobody gets to tell me I'm not. I think I'm that way at heart without being either all Norman Rockwell or Holy Crusader about it. It's not a boast, it's just how it is.

It isn't splashy or newsworthy but it sure is rooted well. I grew up on it.

And despite all the negativity and partisanship that floods the news cycle every couple hours, I still very much trust that the dream is not dead yet. It's a mess right now for sure but hell, so was I for a long time. With work, perseverance and luck, things got better. If it works for one, maybe it'll work for all. I still think we have a chance. 

The short version of it is simply I love living here. Always have. This is home and I'm a homebody. To me, patriotism is like homeownership, personal relationships and simple practicality all stuffed in one. Things that are worth working on.

Worth working on because I've been told many times of late by self-proclaimed patriots to "Love it or leave it" if I don't agree with the outrage du jour. But that isn't patriotic at all, it's just lazy. It ignores the work. It's a meaningless argument that's equivalent to burning your house down because it needs painting. Going back to my analogy, if my house has leaky pipes or drafty windows, I work at fixing what's broken. I don't move across town because I found a mouse nest or the furnace quits. That's part of the gig. 

Same thing with relationships. Only an idiot gives up on a good friendship or marriage or partnership on a whim because you had a bad day or even run of bad days. You screw up, you own up, you fix up. It takes work, patience, acceptance and willingness to see someone else's point of view...and maybe just possibly change your own.

And in practical terms, what kind of lunacy would suggest that the patriotic thing to do is abandon everything that works because some of it doesn't? Throw the whole thing out because it isn't doing what we want right now? Love it or leave it is like abandoning your car because a warning light came on. Especially when you still have loan installments to make. See where I'm going here? We still have a lot of stubs in the payment book.

Being patriotic means more than flying flags on your pickup, cheering whoever's in charge at the moment, wearing the correct swag, saying the accepted things, disliking the out-of-favor of the day or cheering for the loss of anyone. It's harder than forwarding a meme, insulting anyone who disagrees and calling names. It's not being happy all day about your country. It's being worried too. Sometimes very much so.

It's work. It's knowing that things are not all great and never were. Hating doesn't follow knowing as some would have us believe. Understanding what was gives context to what is. If teaching our unwashed history makes people feel badly, then we're doing it badly. I understand our country has done some horrible things but that doesn't mean I love it less and it shouldn't for anyone. Sweeping away everything that's ever been wrong diminishes all that's ever been good. Someone like me who loves their country should hate wrongs that were done in her name in the past but also believe she can do better in the future. One doesn't exclude the other. That means learning, thinking and yes, working.

You don't become unpatriotic because you admit we have a lot of very tragic and evil events in our history. The bad doesn't outweigh...only counterbalances the truly wonderful things we've done. And we have done some wonderful things. 

In the end, in thinking of the Semi quincentennial (which I still struggle to say without a lisp), I've re-upped my subscription to E Pluribus Unum and holding these truths to be self evident. I'm not really interested in making America great again, I'm all about making her greater still. We all should take pride not in 'again' but 'ahead'.  

I may not be able to do much in the grand sweep of things but it's worth a try.

Because what is a patriot if not as Webster says, "...a person who loves their country and is ready to boldly support and defend it." 

Sign me up.

The Advocate

I've been called a devil's advocate.

So of course I had to find the actual definition according to Cambridge: "someone who pretends, in an argument or discussion, to be against an idea or plan that a lot of people support, in order to make people discuss and consider it in more detail"

Well, yeah. In annoyance to some of my acquaintances, friends and social media followers, I do that. I tend to counter a lot.

I think I prefer agent provocateur at times though: "someone who intentionally causes arguments or discussions, or intentionally makes other people feel angry, offended, or uncomfortable", because sometimes the debate needs that.

There's a method to the madness however.

Watching and listening over time I've found that arguments over everything from politics to theology to science to...just about anything...have become shall we say, way too superficial?
People tend to see something quick that they agree with and suddenly that's the story. Memes, forwards, copypasta, conspiracies, glurge and now AI slop are all way too easy.

I think my rebuttal posts aren't just for the sake of being contrary though. The idea at least in my mind is to try to make the arguee follow the line of thought they've put out to it's conclusion. You posted it, why? Something made you want to spread it around, what did you want to accomplish?

In other words, think about it. Take what you've said to the end of the line and see where it leads. Slow down. Be honest. Have some facts in your pocket instead of a YouTube video. Or at least have a video by someone who makes some logical arguments. Also, I'm really, really bad at responding to references to 'them' and what 'they' are up to so you might want to edit that out.

I have a few pretty straightforward rules to debate by: I make it a point not to use name-calling, ad hominem attacks, 'whattabouting', anecdotes or 'everybody knows'. I don't use common sense as an argument because it usually isn't. I do block occasionally when someone is abusive, combative or proudly fact free. I will be respectful and try to present references. Don't tell me to 'do your own research' when that's literally what you should have done before starting out.

Maybe I'm not very good at it but thinking is a worthwhile enterprise. If you're going to put stuff out there, I'm probably going to try it.

Retired And Less Tired

 I have neglected my old pages. I'm retired now and have long felt I needed to write more. I used to click away much more often than any time in recent memory.

I looked back over some of my old posts going way back to the first one. It seems like such a long time ago and so much has changed. I'm really glad I wrote what I did and kick myself for not keeping up. 

It's a diary of sorts. A journal of the events that shaped who I am. More permanent than social media but less so than an actual paper book although I did write a great deal in green felt-tip when I was in real trouble. 

But now, the page has turned again and without all-night train trips and odd-hour phone calls, I believe it's time to revisit the old Wayward Home. 

As Paul Harvey used to say, "Stand by for news".

The Failing Light

 Let me tell you a story. It's the story of someone who has spent most of his life living with depression. He's felt invisible and unwanted for months at a time with occasional manic bright spots in between bookends of sadness. It's led to some really awful places over the years. It's cost in wasted days has no measure.

You know it's me and I've had a number of proverbial 'one of those days' days of late. I've been here before and know the signs. Over the years, I've learned some ways to keep the struggles mostly at bay and I can usually hang on and function at least marginally through such times. But every so often...particularly in November and December, the thread breaks, the monster roars and I collapse inside. Sometimes there's a hangover into January and sometimes even as far as March before I can stop 'gazing into the abyss'. These are when every hour is a slog. Most of the time I bury it under being busy or working or or doing. And then there's days when I just can't. My coping strategies can't keep up. It's a feeling of hopelessness and helplessness. 

I fell apart again in a bad way you see. My old enemy, The Black was hovering in the background waiting for a shot and then I spilled coffee on the couch. Next thing I know, I'm sobbing. I'm on the floor staring at nothing. It's like that. A little trigger or a tiny push and I'm gone. It only takes a casual word sometimes...something that a normal person wouldn't even notice. But it crushes me. The next few days got sucked up in fighting off paralysis. Plodding on through the minutes just to keep going. Put your head down and just keep going.

The "Holiday" season in particular is always like that and always the worst. I've written about it before and it hasn't changed much. It's isolating, sad, exhausting and dark. 

Thanksgiving 2022 was another one where I wondered why I was even there. I would have been better off working and not inflicting my loneliness on everyone...not that they noticed much anyway. Everyone was busy and I felt like a complete outsider in my own home. I don't speak TikTok or Snapchat or football or really much of anything that interests anyone. Nobody cares about trains or bicycles or rockets or skating or pretty much any of the oddball things that interest me. Attempts to talk about anything that matters to anyone else fall flat and awkward. I can't stay out of the way in the kitchen and there's nowhere to fit in the living room. As is so often the way of my world, I am surrounded by people and completely alone. 

2023 was the second year in a row that it was awful. I was actually hoping to be working knowing what was coming but made it home at two in the morning. I woke up after 5 hours dreading it so much I couldn't fall back asleep. 

People started showing up at noon and off we go. Hardly anyone said hello to me when they walked in. They know each other and it's a big family reunion that I don't fit into. The chatter quickly got so intense that I couldn't hear anything but white noise. Just layers of loud and snippets of conversations I wasn't part of. I felt like running. No one noticed. I just made excuses that I was tired and tried to be invisible. Standing by the corner out of sight and out of mind. I felt like sobbing. No one cared anyway. I hid upstairs with wine when it became too much to stand. I'm just being ignored and in the way. I sat at the dinner table in a blur of lonliness. Sitting next to Kellie all alone again. Awkward. Miserable. 

It doesn't help that I miss my kids. I saw posted pics and videos of my granddaughter laughing and playing in Florida with my ex. The granddaughter I don't know because she can't come here for some reason. I suspect I'll never know her. 

My sons are with visiting my ex and I'm here because she puts on the big show and pays airfares and is ever the better grandparent I guess. It cuts deep but I can't say anything because it might make someone feel bad. Wish that one time I mattered enough to put ahead of inlaws, exes and everyone else. Just once. 

But then I'm not so I stand and take it. It hurts so much.

So once again, it all comes together and I'm not sure why I worried about being home from work at all. I guess I'm supposed to. You'd think I'd know by now. My presence is neither needed nor noticed in the rush. I should learn that it's better to just miss these things and pretend that it matters to anyone. The world goes on as it has for so long without me being there. People get used to the idea that I might be away and so they make plans for that. If I happen to be around, it's just weird because they weren't really expecting me anyway. Nobody even knows what to say to me when I do appear because I'm such a stranger to everyone. It bleeds me out. I want to run somewhere but the garage hides horrors of it's own and my hobby bench or office is within earshot of laughter and fun that I'm not a part of. Just try to smile and keep pushing. 

I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. I saw that face again. Kellie says she knows the look when it's like this. I do too. I saw my father wear it often. It's just blank. A far, far look in his eyes. I have photos of him behind it and I know what he was feeling. A flicker of a smile on demand and then nothing. Oh yes, I know it well...it's baked-in empty with a layer of sad and frosted in lonely with a single candle on top of the cupcake. That tiny little flame is all that's holding the world together and it's so very fragile...struggling not to be blown out by a whisper of breeze. 

The failing light that you fight so hard to hang onto because if it goes out, there's nothing left at all.