Last night I had a very bad dream in which my October Social Security Retirement Check did not come. The rent was due, the cupboards nearly empty, and prescriptions needed filling at full price, because of the dounut hole.  My phone calls went in useless circles, and the penalties for late rent payment began to pile up.

Then, still caught in this nightmare of a dream,  came a letter in the mail that informed me that due to the need to help the market stay afloat, there would be no further SS checks for an undermined length of time.   The second letter I opened was from HUD, notifying that all Project based Section 8 housing funds were also needed for the bailout and would end effective immediately.

I need that housing subsidy in order to afford a place to live.

I need that SS check to survive: it is my only income.

It is my only income, because I had to use all my savings long ago while waiting for Social Security Disability to be approved, and then to pay for medical expenses while waiting out the two year period before Medicare would kick in.  Disability caused by a back injury that could only get worse as I aged, and did, until I could no longer work at all anymore by age 55, after 40 years in the work force.  I didn’t have a lot  of savings anyway, because as a single mother widowed at age 29 and raising two kids alone, you just can’t save up a whole lot of money.

It was a tremendous challenge, learning how survive and enjoy life on such a small income in these times. If forced me to reevaluate everything I thought I knew about what is truly the important in life. And I managed it. I managed to create a brand new, extremely fulfilling life.  

The dream wouldn’t stop. In it, I sat frozen in disbelief, facing the end of the road.  After all those years of working so damned hard, raising my kids on my own, paying taxes and being a productive citizen, this is how it will end?

Oh I know my kids wouldn’t allow me to end up on the streets. Somehow, one of them would carve out some small space for me in their very small houses, if it came to that. They wouldn’t  let me starve.  But oh my gawd: they don’t want me to live with them one bit more than I want to live with either of them! No matter how much we love each other, it would be certain disaster.  And who knows how long either of THEM will have jobs houses TO share, as much debt as they are both carrying and with their own savings now at such risk, also.  

Am I really still in America?

Is this really happening?

Please let me wake up.

Please let this all be a very bad dream.    

I woke up. Yes, thankfully, it was a bad dream.  

But after spending an hour on the internet reading about the bailout and the sick, terminally corrupted political system in charge of things, there is no way NOT to know it is very possible that my very bad dream could well be a premonition of what could yet come.

I’ve faced potential homelessness before, but I was still young, fit, and able to protect myself. Now I am old and disabled. Still, I could probably last on the streets for while, because I know where the homeless vets hang out, and I’d go to them with full confidence that they would help protect me as best they could.

If I am destined to be left to die on the streets by this wonderful country of mine, this land of the free and home of the brave, who better to die along side, than these old forgotten soldiers who gave their lives for this country, but just haven’t died yet.

May the force be with us all.      

On the streets, men who use women for sex can be arrested for being “johns”.

In Washington, men who use women like “John” McCain does get standing ovations.

This is my 67th Fourth of July and this is a Eulogy.

I need to lay to final rest, once and for all, the last tattered shreds of my love for and blind faith in this land of mine.

To lose a long beloved one, is very hard. Even harder, is having to admit that that long beloved one never truly existed in the first place.

As if only yesterday, the memories of being literally filled to overflowing with a such deep and abiding love of America I could hardly contain it are still fresh for me.  

Every soldier I saw on the street was a part of my very own child’s heart: I loved them all so much, I embarrassed my mother terribly by inviting every soldier I met home for dinner. I had to do “something” for them at age six..anything..to show them how much I loved them all.

I remember that I cried off and on all day on the 4th of July, as I watched the Parade, hearing the Parade Drums, seeing the crisp formations of soldiers pass by, simply overwhelmed with pride and yearning to be a part of them someday. I’d find a way, even if I was “just a girl”.  

Memorial Day and the Fourth of July were the most important days in the year to me,  much more special than Christmas. The whole world stopped back then, to honor these days of gratitude for those who sacrificed their lives for our beloved America, and to celebrate her with all we had, on Independence Day.

Some of those memories are permanently etched in my brain.

Memorial Day at Evergreen Cemetery, the whole town present, the crisply uniformed ranks, the solemn boom of the 21 gun salute, the planes flying over in missing man formation…and oh, all of the flags proudly flying against the verdant green, on the graves of all those who sacrificed their lives for us….

Then came the 4th of July. Independence Day. Time to truly celebrate the birth of this Great Nation: the Home of the Free and the Brave. I am feeling frustrated as I write, because I sense there are no words I could use, to bring anyone back there with me who has never once experienced this kind of Patriotism, the kind that  seemed programmed into ones very DNA.

Another memory is also etched permanently and so vivid it can still bring tears. Standing at full attention, saluting, as the crisp, perfect formations of Soldiers marched by, my own heartbeat in total synch with the Parade Drums. Every cell of my six year old body yearning to be a part of this, filled with determination to BE a part of it, someday, even if I was “just a girl”.

So odd it seems, that memories like that not only refuse to die, but refuse to even fade, after all these long hard years of discovering that nearly all of it was a bald face lie.

This discovery took forever..and was, in a word, simply excruciating, every damned bit of it.  It was like getting my heart torn out of my body, one small bloody bit at a time. (Except during Viet Nam, when half of it got butchered and buried along side my brother in a very short time)

And it has meant giving up the very foundations my life was built on.  The love of a land where I “belonged” to something so vast, so grand, something that would always be there for me, take care of me, something so good, … to  spend the rest of my life without that foundation at ALL. I am now a  “person without a country” because the country I thought I belonged to simply never existed  

“My Country ‘Tis of Thee..” I sang out so proudly, for so long,  along with everyone else..”Sweet Land Of Liberty…of Thee I Sing!”

There is, I don’t think, any safer more wonderful feeling a human can ever have, than to feel THAT  much belonging; THAT  much love for ones country.

So when I run into older right wing patriotic types now, the ones who WILL NOT SEE…and WILL NOT CHANGE, yes, I understand them. To expect them to change, is to expect them to willing cut out their own hearts. Not all of us can do that and still survive, or are willing to even try. Then factor in the effects of right wing fundamentalist religion,  ..and it’s easy to see why maintaining the status quo is their life’s work.

I don’t believe most of todays (ah hem) “leaders”  who have systematically torn down even the illusion of what America was and is, are old “cellular level” Patriots like this.

I think most of THEM  are greedy, power mad, souless, sociopathic  BASTARDS who are smart enough to have learned how to exploit and harness up all us old patriots, and exploit the hell out of us for personal power and gain.

And until “WE”  ALL DIE OFF…(everyone who was raised with that almost cellular level of  patriotic programming, about the history of this country, and those so well programmed by war-like religious fundamentalism,) and are replaced by enough of you, who were born into lifetimes where you had a damned chance to form your own beliefs..not a hell of a lot is going to go in any direction other than the one we’re heading in right now, big picture. That’s just how it looks to me from here.

So now must say my final good by to that America I once believed was my very own Heart-Land.  It was but an beautiful illusion, inserted into my soul.  

I can no longer sing  “My County, ‘Tis of thee, Sweet Land of Liberty, of Thee I Sing!”

But I can still sing, in a softer, sadder voice,

“My Country, Yet To Be…Sweet Land Of liberty…of Thee I Sing..”

And I am singing it, to all of you.

Take her. She’s yours now, such as she is.

Don’t hate us too much please.

Most of us did the best we could, with what we believed was true.

Remember that America, as she could be, and as I believe she is intended to be, is still in the womb gestating. She has not yet truly been “born” yet: the labor is long and it is hard, and it is going to take all of you to get this baby delivered.

It won’t be an easy birthing and I don’t think it can be done with old methods and systems long in place, either. Those belong to an era that is passing by. If every there was a time for innovation, for blazing new pathways… it’s now.

Me, well, I’m fine now. Us humans are remarkable in how much we can adapt to “whatever is”, given time enough to get past all the phases of shock, denial, depression, bargaining and finally, to acceptance and peace.

I trust you. I can make my exit knowing you will do your part in this birthing process.

(Not perfectly, however. You will bumble and stumble and get lost and try to kill each other off..just as we did!)

I still can hear the fetal heartbeat of this land yet to be born and I believe she is still viable.

And somehow, I just know I will get to see it, wherever the hell I end up..even if only as dust on the wind.. 🙂  

Let’s say ALL the dire warnings about an economic collapse come true and a DRASTIC change in lifestyle will no longer be a choice, but a mandate, for all but the richest among us.  

I believe all but the most vulnerable would not only survive it, but would emerge from it incredibly richer than they were going in. Richer in what really counts: the intangible, immeasurable richness of learning how to actually “live together” again. I think the long lost spirit of collaboration and concern for the “common good” would get resurrected from it’s premature grave, and rise up to take it’s rightful place among us.

While I long ago saw the futility of maintaining faith in any of the man made systems and political structures that make up the foundation of this country, the only thing I have never lost faith in is the awesome power of the individual human spirit that is present in all of us, that when called upon, can and does rise from ANY pile of ashes. Always has, and always will.

But sometimes, it takes chaos. Catastrophe. Disaster. Some force outside our control that is  more powerful than all our imbedded illusions and all the perceived security we have accumulated.  We seldom chose to make any drastic or difficult  change, unless our present realities become uncomfortable enough.  

I do not expect the family with the 4 bedroom suburban home and three car garage full of expensive vehicles to ever let that go voluntarily. I know that very few who are used to stopping in for four dollar lattes are going to suddenly start carrying thermos jugs of coffee made at home, while riding public transit to work. Ain’t gonna ever happen. Not in America, where so many honestly believe being able to have all these material comforts is their rightful destiny.

My heart goes out to people like this, if this house of cards does come tumbling down. Especially those who have only known material abundance as a way of life, from childhood on: those who have been taught “entitlement” to all the best, as a way of life. Their learning curve will be very steep and hard.

At the same time, my heart rejoices for them, for when this does happen, they will have a chance to grow into authentic human beings, with access to human values they may not have even been exposed to before: the kind no market forces can ever touch. The kind no one can ever again take away.

Ask any American who once “had it all”, (or at least had way more than “enough”) and lost it all through forces beyond their control. I mean those of us who have not only survived it, but who DID harness the authentic power of the  human spirit, and chose to learn from it all, and then to change whatever needed to BE changed, inside themselves, to create a new and wonderful life outside the “American Dream”.  

Yeah, I know. We’re  kind of hard to find, aren’t we?  Understandable, because most of us are considered part of the “lower class poor”, thus have been rendered completely invisible and voiceless by the powers that control all public information sources.

Those powers TELL you who we are, rather than let US tell you who we are, because then they get to control the color palate of our lives. Of course they choose the darkest, ugliest shades, as they want you all to believe that ending up like US is a fate far, far worse that DEATH! They love to lump us together in boxes with labels written on in big black print: mine has lots of labels! “Poor.” “Old.” “Disabled.” “Woman.”  These are among the biggest ones now, and they completely cover up all the other labels that once made me quite “acceptable,” such as “young,”  “beautiful,”  “health care professional,”  “tax paying, productive citizen”..etc etc.  Gone, all gone. As if they never existed, to most of the world I walk in now.

So it stands to reason then, in a culture with values like this, that Americans who were born poor, not white, or otherwise “disadvantaged”, are stuffed into boxes from the second they GET here, and piled in stacks far outside the public eye, where what happens to them can’t disturb those busily chasing their American Dream.    

That, friends, is the outcome of a society build on false values. It is the outcome of a society that has embraced competition and greed and acquisition of material status and wealth as it’s primary human values.  It is a society clearly based on achieving power over others, at whatever the cost,by whatever means necessary,and then calls this “success”.

So I present you with this question to ponder. If this truly is “success”, and so many of us have “failed” to achieve it, or had it and lost it, how come so many of us are so damned happy? How come so many of us feel like our lives are rich and full and free at last?  

Granted, there are multitudes of us who are suffering terribly from deprivation of basic survival needs, oppression, violence, homelessness, addiction, lack of health care, decent education..all of those things and more.  There are multitudes of us who will die from this, way before our time.

But mixed in with those suffering multitudes are a growing number of Americans like me, and our numbers are increasing every single day. It may not have been our chosen destiny, but it’s the one we got, and somehow, we survived it, and in that process, we’ve rediscovered each OTHER. And a hell of a lot of other things this country seems to have abandoned as “not profitable enough” to bother with.

Like the need (and the immense shared rewards), of taking care of the common good, not just ourselves.

Like meeting the essential human need to feel a sense of “belonging” with others,joined in the shared challenges of life.

Like honestly learning at long last, how to “use what we have”, because when all is said and done, we DO have all we “really need”, once we realize it, and tap into it fully. And then learning how to share these things with each other, rather than hoarding them, or just trying to “sell them” to the highest bidder for more money.

It has always been in the best interests of the power elite in this country, to DIS-EMPOWER the masses. Gotta hand it to them, they’re done a bang up job of it,too, and have done a helluva good job of collecting all the marbles for themselves.

But when this ship finally sinks under it’s own bloat, guess who will sink, and who will survive?  Those marbles are damned heavy.  And there are multitudes of Americans like me, without that ballast, who have learned the long distance swim.

It’s an invisible revolution: a very quiet one, but it is very, very real and the current conditions are recruiting new members every single day.

I love sitting here contemplating the deep satisfaction I know will come, in time, to those who one day look around their simplified lives, and know again, the incredible relief of finally understanding the concept of “enough”. That is, in my view, the beginning phase of reaching for authentic “freedom”.

I love contemplating Americans, at younger and younger ages, questioning, then rejecting the mass hypnosis of the market place and political propaganda, in favor of investing in relationships with others across class, gender, race and age barriers, to see,  and then to claim for themselves, incredible and permanent riches this is certain to give them, that simply can never be lost or taken away from them, ever.

It me over 60 years to understand what FREEDOM really is, and this is it.

It’s being able to wake up in the morning, and know I OWN the choice of how I spend my precious life energies on this day. No. One. Else.  Just me.

It’s the absolute freedom to choose, as I did a few hours ago, to suspend my original plans for this morning, to allow myself the time to write this diary (that seemed to arrive from nowhere,) and know I do not have to account to ANYONE for doing so.

It’s looking around this small and humble abode I share with another, because it makes really good sense to do so, financially and companionship-wise, knowing I have all that I need, and feeling richer than ever, yes, even on this very tiny fixed income.

It’s knowing that when I go out to get groceries today, most people I meet won’t even see me, because lil old ladies with white hair and walkers are pretty much invisable here, unless we slow people down too much in check out lines, but being able to handle this better now, because “I” finally KNOW who I am. (And it’s one hell of a good “undercover” disguise” it’s really fun to put to very good use!)

Don’t let “them” scare you. Don’t bite the bait.  Spit out the crap.

(I know I am preaching to the choir again, but hell, no one else will listen to me!)

Just please trust in your own potential to “become” whoever and however you need to become, to have a REALLY good life. Create your OWN life. As early on as you possibly can. Sure you’ll make mistakes and that’s just fine: mistakes make for a stronger weave in the fabric of each unique life. (Perfection is an over rated piece of dung.)

This is really an incredibly exciting time to be alive, because the biggest paradigm shifts don’t come along all that often. I am no longer worried about the future of my daughters or my grand daughters, because I know what powerful swimmers they are.

The sky isn’t falling at all.

What’s falling is the man made cloud cover.        

I just made my first donation to a political candidate in my entire life, (and I am pushing 70.) I just sent 25.00 of my very small income to John Edwards.

Not because I am an Edwards groupie. Not because I think he’s the answer to all our wishes.

I did it because I am DAMNED if I can sit idly by and watched the freaking corporate owned media, (or any other corporate owned political machinery) to decide FOR US, who the Democratic Candidate ought to be! And because Edwards stands ALONE in NOT running his campaign on dirty money.

It just couldn’t GET more transparent than it now is,that the Repugs want nothing more than to fan the flames of racisim, sexism and ageism to five alarm level between Obama and Clinton!  The fact that one is the first black to get this close, and the other the first women to get this close, is being mercilessly exploited to their advantage, and people are falling for it.

FRACTURE THE OPPOSITION and WIN, while withdrawing ALL ATTENTION away from the ONE candidate they all fear the most: the one candidate they COULDN’T BUY OFF!

The media is totally invested in getting us all to choose between their pre-selected TWO: the two candidates MOST beholden to the Powers That Be: the ones least likely to kill their golden goose, if elected.  

And don’t think those made up,jaw flapping talking heads don’t know what side of their bread is buttered. The chances that my TV will survive this campaign grow smaller every day, I am so DAMNED DISGUSTED with all of this!

My measly 25 bucks won’t say much…but it is my fervent hope that a whole lot of folks with a whole lot more money than I have, will donate to the Edwards Campaign and SOON, even if he’s not your chosen candidate.

Because it’s worth a few bucks,in MY world anyway, to at least TRY to insure that this election is NOT completely bought off by the power elite of both parties, in this sham of a democracy. If nothing else, it might help me sleep a bit better knowing I did…”something”, however small.  

For years now, I’ve been watching people who post on blogs try to maim and kill each other with words. I’ve done the same thing, more often that I care to admit.

Many times, I’ve been flat out astonished at the depth of the viciousness: the no holds barred attempts to truly cause each other serious harm, in every way harm CAN be caused via the written word.  And I’ve been more than appalled to feel it within myself, on more than one occasion.

It happens so lighting fast sometimes: depending on my own stress levels, I can log on, read one comment from a total stranger, and feel an explosion of anger so huge it demands immediate release, and finds
it in ten angry fingers pounding on a keyboard, and in that satisfying moment of hitting “Enter” to launch that word bomb at what I HOPE is the most vulnerable part of my target.

Other times, I am much more controlled about it, and instead of exploding, I bide my time, and choose what is usually a more effective weapon: biting sarcasm designed to make my target look, and hopefully feel, like a fool, knowing full well that public humiliation is a deadly weapon. This has the added advantage of course, of having others who read it applaud my brilliance. Two birds, one stone.

Sometimes, this ends up being a totally satisfying experience for me: I come away feeling pretty powerful, even righteous. I did not silently comply with a wrong: I spoke up and I spoke out. Good for me. Yet, under that, was discomfort I like to ignore.

But sometimes, I end up with a strong urge to go take a shower. On the inside, I mean. And a curious sense of sadness: an emptiness of some sort.

It was time once again, for me to go weed my own garden. To see what was growing there that I did not plant, and do not wish to feed.

(x-posted from PFF)

Every now and then, one simply needs to vent. Here’s mine for today, feel free to add your own!