Zoomer Chronicles: Beauty.

     67 degrees Fahrenheit is an invitation to this Minnesotan to reclaim the out of doors.  This year 67 degrees feels different than in springtimes past.  The spring green buds burst forth in the trees before my eyes.  Yet, this year, I am being transported out of doors via Zoomer's powers.
     This year, I am not restoring my emotions from past challenges.  This year, I am not denying pain that seemed beyond me to cope, much less get diagnosed, and treated.  Tempting though it might seem to say, I do not regret my past responses.  I needed restoration.  I needed diagnosis.  I needed treatment.
     Now, no temptation lures me.  Diagnosis and treatment secured, now a new chapter begins.
     Curb cuts. Sidewalks.  Curb cuts. Traffic.  Sidewalks.  Uneven planks.  Sidewalks.  Asphalt patches.
     By map, the terrain is well-known.  Yet, I know better than to presume that I may traverse it with a speed of years gone by.  Someday, down to the beauty of downtown St. Paul's riverbank--Kellogg Boulevard.   But, that was not today's expectation of success.
     Ralph Waldo Emerson sets worthy aspirations for success.

     SUCCESS by Ralph Waldo Emerson

     To laugh often and much;
     To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
     To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
     To appreciate beauty,
     To find the best in others,
     To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
     To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
     This is to have succeeded.

     By Emerson's prescription for success, today I took one dose--I appreciated beauty....a different beauty.  Though the budding spring green trees were beauty-filled, beauty looked different--beauty felt different today.  Curb cuts. Streets.  Sidewalks.  Bumpy planks.  Uneven pavement.  Frightening, short inclines.  Some oncoming traffic.  Patchy asphalt.  Sidewalks.  Curb cuts.  

     Beauty felt different.  A healthy heart pounding.  Physical exhilaration.  No physical pain.  Stamina.

     Thank you, Zoomer.  We will venture out again.  Yet, remember, Zoomer.  No rush hours.  No bustling traffic.  Let us traverse sympathetic sidewalks....conciliatory curb cuts...forgiving intersections.  Maybe Kellogg Boulevard--the banks of the Mississippi River.

Zoomer Chronicles: Speed. Torque.

     Finessing turns, and calculating speed are key to reigning in Zoomer.  Destinations emerge.  That is my department.  Zoomer has given me four choices of speed I may travel.  OK, five.  I forget.  As my intimate, she reminds me--with Joy, I may turn on Zoomer.   I forget.  If Zoomer takes advantage of me--of our partnership--I may simply turn off her reckless abuse of me.
    Speed choices.  Having never before driven, I do not know whether the speed range 1-4 options equal gears used on a manual car.  My formal instruction was minimal.  If memory serves me, the overall potential speed of Zoomer was calibrated to be slow on the speed scale--Zoomer's speed potential was calibrated before she was named.
    The overall speed of Zoomer was calibrated by the manufacturer.  It has been--it is, and it will be always--for me to calibrate the speeds 1-4 based on my confidence initially.  He advises me not to travel at  top speed--on 4.  Fear leads me to agreement.
     Torque.  Torque?  Initially, I recognized only the word--not its meaning.  The vendor told me torque is the power that speed allows me to travel.  OK, I thought.  With time, I may understand.  Words' meanings eluded me.  Traveling up hilly terrain, now I understand.  Speed.  Torque.  Calibration.  Speed.  Torque.  Success.
     My learning curve is steep by my personal expectations.  Yet, by the chronology of our partnership, we--Zoomer and I--are becoming intimate in due time.  Zoomer has the enthusiasm of a young child--an impetuous child.
     "So what if I nick a few walls, run into some basis, get caught in handicap accessible doors?  You've gotta admit, I am better with elevators."
     "Tell me, Patty.  Have I ever hurt you?  Has my "impetuousness" every caused bodily harm to you?  Has my "enthusiasm" ever hurt anyone we have met along the way???"

Preconceptions

     Have you ever challenged your preconceptions, when you hear yourself speaking out against the views of someone?  When you hear of geographic places you have never traveled, are you aware of your preconceptions regarding the place, and the people who live there?
     I pride myself on being an open-minded person.  I pride myself on being sensitive to other people, and deliberate in my thought--not rash in making conclusions. At the same time, I would like to think I am a humble person.  How is that for a contradiction in terms--prideful, and humble.   I was about to say that I am not proud of being prideful:)  I guess that means a friend was right.  You are not "Perfect Patty," you are human.
    OK.  I offer these thoughts as a  pretext by which to understand my offering today.
    I have been writing this blog since September 2010.  Initially, people reading my blog were from the United States.  No one from other countries was reading my blog.  I was excited that anyone was reading my thoughts. However, as time passed, I became greedy.  I harbored grandiose expectations of reaching people from other countries in the world.  I didn't have a particular country in mind, I just wanted for my ideas to travel beyond the borders of the United States.  My expectations have never been to rally supporters for a particular political, or religious ideology.  My life is guided by political, and religious principles, yet, winning converts to my personal beliefs for the sake of winning over the largest number of converts was never my goal.
    As time progressed, I did break the barrier, if you will, of the American borders.  I started to recognize preconceptions I had, when I learned of the different countries my blog reached via online search engines.
    I feel very fortunate regarding exposure to people of other countries.  As a child, our family participated in a foreign exchange program through which social workers from nations throughout the world visited social service agencies in the Twin Cities.  Over the years, we hosted a man from Denmark, a man from Italy, a South Korea, and a woman from Austria.  Travel was a passion.  I have postcards from other family members, who traveled to England, France, Poland, and the Soviet Union.  I have enjoyed seeing Austria, England, France, Germany, Ireland, Norway, and very brief moments in Switzerland, and Liechtenstein.  I say that not to brag.  Rather, I say that to portray the subtle foundation upon which I imagine my preconceptions are based.
   Upon learning that my blog had been read in Denmark, images of Knut--our Danish exchange participant--came to mind.  Upon learning my blog had reached Russia, I was transported back to family postcards, and phone calls from the Soviet Union.  You get the idea.  My preconceptions were rooted in associations with Russia, and experiences in European countries.
    Since September, 2010, I have wondered about South America.  My blog entries had been read by at least one person in Europe, in Russia, in New Zealand, and in Africa.  The South Pole exceeds my aspirations.  Yet, no one from South America.
    Today, someone did--someone from Peru.  [Be assured, I know nothing more than countries, tallies of hits within those countries, and the time when  someone in the world read my blog.  So there is no reason to be concerned about privacy.]
     Touching Peru--someone within Peru--led me to question my preconceptions regarding Peru.  My only personal association with South America was a family member's Caribbean cruise that touched Venezuela.  But, I knew little of South America.
    My sense of South America, of what people in South America were like, as though a single profile could be, is based upon coverage regarding South America, and South American people.  I am being very deliberate about saying South American people, because, I thought I was being open-minded by drawing one single profile.
   Given that, let me offer fleeting impressions.  Rio de Janeiro.  Mardi Gras.  2016 Olympics.  Venezuela.  1973.  OPEC.  Oil.  Colombia. Drug trafficking.  Brazil.  Brasilia. Modern society.  Chile.  Andes Mountains.  Rescued miners.  Paraguay, Uruguay.   Nothing.  I know they exist. But, nothing.   What other countries in South America have I forgotten.  A Google search.  Bolivia.  Coffee.  Ecuador.  You've got me.  French Guiana.  Guyana.  I was thinking Africa.  But, I was confusing Guiana, and Guyana with the African nation of Guinea.
    Peru.  Mountains.  Remote villages.  Farmers.
    I am not proclaiming that my impressions are accurate.  That is just the point.  Am I open to the notion--am I willing to admit--that my preconceptions may be inaccurate?  Am I open to--interested in--challenging my preconceptions?  Am I interested in correcting gross inaccuracies in my preconceptions?
    I am not saying that it is humanly possible to disspel all preconceptions we have.  Preconceptions are an essential starting point in our daily lives.  We need to have some basis to take any actions in our daily lives.  But, the danger of preconceptions in our lives--in our world--is when we are not willing to challenge our preconceptions, and correct inaccurate preconceptions that we become aware of.
    I pray that when I am inaccurate in preconceptions, that the individual who becomes aware of those inaccuracies will call me on it, and correct my understandings, so that I may live with greater integrity.  I invite you to submit yourself to that same standard.  But, I respect you more than to make complying with that standard as a litmus test for my respect of you.

Zoomer Chronicles: Brainy the Blockhead

     Zoomer and I are continuing to become acquainted.  It seems longer than about three weeks, since we met.    
     Doors, and elevators are my challenges.  The real challenge is tight spaces, and trying not to jam a control box on my left arm rest into a wall, or doorway.
     Never having driven a car before, I am still trying to learn how--in what direction--to turn my joystick, in order to avoid crashing into doorways, or elevators.
     The control box needs a name.  It needs a gender.  The only way to surmount the challenge of The Control Box is to give It a name.  The Control Box is not an It.  The Control Box is a He.  The Control Box is hardly a name given to a male being.  The long-form birth certificate of The Control Box was issued on April 14, 2011--the date I adopted him.   The Control Box needs a strong name.  Thus, I have named The Control Box as Brainy Blockhead.  I want him to know he has a bright future, yet, he has a lot to learn.  Brainy has a lot of say over how I travel, yet, he is far from a veteran driver.  He and I have been issued our learner's permits, and we pray that we kill now one due to our inexperience.  
     The real challenge of tight spaces is Mr. Blockhead.  He protrudes from my left armrest just shy of my left elbow.  Brainy contains levers that control elevating, and reclining the chair, and leg rests.  Brainy will allow me to do a tremendous amount.  Someday.  Yet, Brainy has a lot of bravado.  Mr. Blockhead can't seem to get it through his thick skull.  I don't have the time right now to give him the attention he demands of me--his mother.
     "Watch me Mom, watch me!   Look at it.  If you put your hand on the lever on my head to the right, and I can move your leg rest up and down."
     "Brainy, I am busy right now.  I can't watch you.  I am busy right now trying to get through this door carefully, so that I don't hit you on the head, and give you a terrible headache."
     "But Mom, I can make you more comfortable.  Look at me, look at me!"
     "Brainy, I told you, I am busy."
      "Mom!  Listen to me.  Put your left hand on my lever.  Move it to the left, and I can elevate you from the ground.  That would help you, wouldn't it?"
     "OK Brainy, so you have my attention.  I have stopped.  So, now what?"
     "Mom, put your hand on Lisa the Lever.  Push her forward, and your seat will recline.  Then, push Lisa the Lever back toward you, and she will push up your back to the upright position."
     "That's nice, Brainy.  I need to talk with your sister, Joy the Joystick now.  So, you go back and be a good boy."

Osama bin Laden???

     Osama bin Laden.
     What do we know of the man named Osama bin Laden?  What do we know of the human being named, "Osama bin Laden?"
     Can you tell me, who were bin Laden's parents?  How old was Osama bin Laden?  How many years older or younger than you was Osama bin Laden?  Did Osama bin Laden have siblings? If so, how many?
     Osama bin Laden was born in 1957--three years before I was born.  Bin Laden was the seventh son of 50 sons, and daughters born to a Syrian mother, and a father from Saudi Arabia.  His father was a strict disciplinarian.  He died when Osama was only 13 years old?
     Did you know that Osama bin Laden graduated from college in 1981 with a degree in public administration?
     These questions simply scratch the surface of understanding the man named Osama bin Laden, who lived for 57 years.  I offer these questions for your reflection.
     Bin Laden's early life did not justify the actions he took during his life.  That is true of each of us.  Our early life may not be a justification for our adult lives.  Yet, our early life does inform our adult actions.
     How do we view individuals, who are labeled as "terrorists."  Do we go beyond scary pictures, frightening recordings, and haunting threats?  Are we held captive not by terrorists, but, by our own fears, and broad generalities regarding a group of individuals who act in the same way?
     My intent is not to place judgment, or minimize the effects of Osama bin Laden's actions.  My intent is straightforward.  Do we view terrorists as individuals?  How would our relationship to the threats made be if we viewed terrorists as human beings, not as evil enemies?  Is it possible to render peace, if we have labeled people as "terrorists," before we know them to be human beings?
    We have much to reflect upon.  Satisfaction, and jubilation are not within the feelings in my heart tonight.
    How may we be instruments of peace?

bin Laden....Enemies...Evil...Peace...

     Last night, President Barack Obama announced that Osama bin Laden was killed.  I sat transfixed, remembering, as many others where I was when the twin towers of the World Trade Center were attacked.  Transfixed as I was, discomfort set in as the killing of Osama bin Laden--a human being--was celebrated with jubilation.  Complexity of my convictions set in--a Christian, a supporter of pro-choice, a pacifist, and an ardent supporter of "respect for life" in a broad sense.  See A Geography of Respect for Life  to discover how I understand "respect for life."
     In our daily lives, our elders advise us not to engage in acts of retaliation.  Clearly, the stakes involved in the advice we are given does not approximate the extremity of bin Laden's actions.  Yet, common to both situations is retaliation.  Is retaliation--an eye-for-an-eye, a tooth-for-a-tooth--a mentality constructive to addressing extreme crimes, and grave injustices?  Common to both situations, everyone involved is a human being.
     Do I celebrate that the underlying basis for our entry into Afghanistan is gone now?  Yes.  Do I believe that extinguishing Osama bin Laden helps our society to live with greater civility?  No.  Do I believe civility is essential for a fulfilling society?  Yes.  Extinguishing Osama bin Laden's life presents an opportunity to affirm a peace-filled alternative to future needs presented by Osama bin Laden's life, values, and actions.
     How may we be instruments of peace?

Threshold of Life

     Just now, I read that Moamer Gadhafi's son, and several of his grandsons have been killed.  The United Nations is pulling out its staff from Libya due to the violence there.
     The Catholic Bishop of Tripoli, Giovanni Martinelli was quoted as appealing "to NATO, the United Nations and the international community to end the bombing of Libya. 'I ask, please, out of respect for the pain due to the loss of a son, a gesture of humanity towards the leader,'"...
     We need to discern how to execute policies of humanitarian aid--policies to preserve the lives from the potent threat of despots.  How do we exact a number to guide a foreign aid policy--humanitarian aid?  How many individuals associated with despots may we execute to justify including arms within the framework of humanitarian aid policies?  Do we want to affirm an eye-for-an-eye, a-tooth-for-a-tooth model of foreign policy in relation to despots?  Do we think that we can extinguish evil--extinguish the prospect of enemies--once and for all by targeting one despot at a time?  Where does it stop?

A New Career? A Work in Progress...

     A new career seems to be starting.  It is more than a new job, yet, career seems to be too grandiose of a description.  Retirement--early retirement--has never suited my prejudices of the word.  Retirement and early retirement are choices made after a full career--at a prescribed time, at an opportune time thanks to a sufficient source of living.
     Am I the only person with these experiences, thoughts, or feelings?  What are yours?
     In July 2009, my paid work life ended.  I went from a full-time-employee--an FTE--to long-term disability--LTD.  Long-term disability seemed a bit too transient a term for my tastes.  A magical cure worthy of a personal interest news feature story will not be forthcoming.  I will not be returning to the paid workforce within my lifetime.  Let's face it, that will not happen.  But, do not despair.  I am doing my part to make possible that another individual may enter the workforce:) OK, maybe not, but it was a nice try:)
     My doctor gave me the best advice I have received during the past two years.  Get up and dressed at the same time, and invest yourself in something you enjoy.  Go to it, as if it was your job.  That is what the last few years have been.
     "The next chapter will be to strengthen myself physically as much as is possible."  That is what I told my colleagues, when I left my job--that was my life's priority.  Restoring my physical strength took months.  Precious chemical balance of anticonvulsants, and holding.osteoarthritis at bay by ankle surgery.
     Concurrent with restoring my physical strength I undertook an exploration.
     As I told my colleagues, "I must discover opportunities that call upon my mind, rather than tax my physical abilities." 
    Now, I am diving into that longer range pool of opportunities--swimming at the YMCA...volunteering.  OK, so I am just getting my feet wet right now.  Yet, that is a far cry from where I have been during the past several years.
   During more than 25 years in the work world, I stayed with the employer who hired me in 1985.  Within the company, I did the jobs that I was given.  Early on, I begged for a position more befitting my abilities--my potential.  Yet, it took years to get to any such position--longer than it should have--longer than it did for my colleagues.  However, I never dared step out and risk securing more fulfilling work, for fear that my disabilities--the cover of my book, in a publishing company--would work against me in demonstrating my capacities to fulfill the assigned responsibilities.  Was I right or wrong to act as I did?  I wonder.  Yet, I cannot torture myself with that wondering.
     Somehow, always I sensed that I would not retire from my job at the prescribed time.  I knew it was extremely unlikely that I would take the risk necessary to find more fulfilling work.  My sense about my retirement was accurate.  Yet, I did not see how it would come to be.
     I am feeling very blessed presently.   No longer do I work in the fast-paced, tension-filled corporate world.  I have had surgery to ameliorate bone spurs--osteoarthritis, and now, I can get out into the real world without fearing harm is being done to my right ankle, thanks to Zoomer.  I love surprises.