Watching our “officials” deny the undeniable — with the head of Homeland Security saying she hadn’t seen or heard anything about snatching children from their parents while on the split screen you could see it happening — America isn’t American.
Like most countries, we have plenty of dirty laundry. Slaughters of our Native Americans which was for many long years the actual policy of the U.S. government and its armed forces. Homemade concentration camps for Japanese citizens in World War II.
Then, there was slavery, the huge, bloody war we fought to (supposedly) end it. The neverending inequality and hatred that still remains and is still growing.
But what we are doing today, tearing kids away from their families and locking them in cages — especially after having fought our way through World War 2 to end such monstrous behavior — this is as evil as anything else we’ve ever done and I am ashamed to be American.
Someone else asked it this morning in a post: “So when do we start loading parents and kids on trains to those final camps?”
Because that’s what’s left. If we accept this as “Just Trump being Trump and it’s all a media lie,” then we are as bad as they are, as evil as they come.
If you have a line in the sand, some kind of conscience that screams “this is the line I cannot cross,” now would be a good time to look down at your feet and stop.
I don’t know how to live in this country anymore. I’m not sure I even want to — and I was born here as was my mother and father.
I’ve been watching for a new orchid. Every day I check. Did another bud open yet? Today, there it was. The third flower is in bloom.
I got all excited. I was going to go take pictures, but it turned out to be four o’clock which is the dog’s dinner time, so I had to stop and feed them. As soon as they finished choking down the food — they really eat as if no one ever feeds them — I grabbed two cameras. First, the OMD with the macro lens and the tiny Pentax Q with its fast “normal lens.
It was a bright day and I hoped I’d have enough light to get clean shots with the macro. The Pentax Q was my fallback position.
“I’m so excited,” I told Garry. “I didn’t use to get excited about plants.”I stopped when I said that because I realized I was lying. When I lived in New York, my whole first floor looked like a greenhouse. I had hundreds of plants. Hanging and standing. Tall and flat. And they were literally everywhere you looked.
I had special stands made on which to put the plants in which I could put water so the heat from the radiators would turn to mist and keep them from drying out. People I didn’t know would leave me cuttings on my porch. I was, in fact, know as “The Plant Lady” unless it was someone to whom I had given a cat or dog, in which case I was the cat or dog lady.
To say I didn’t get excited about plants was an out-and-out lie. No one who doesn’t get excited about plants grows a few hundred of them indoors.
“Okay,” I said, having rethought my original statement. “I guess I do get excited about plants.”
Garry remembers the house on Dikeman Street. I didn’t have curtains. The plants covered the windows in every room on the ground floor. I had a miniature hose which attached to my kitchen faucet so I could water them in a couple of hours.
I had started out with maybe three plants, but there were clippings and the arboretum had a sale. And people gave me plants. Cuttings. Ferns.
And all I did was water them when they got dry and make sure they got a reasonable amount of light. When I left for Israel, I had to give away my plants. I had one hanging fern that was about five feet around. I gave to friends as a wedding present. They looked puzzled. A fern? A gigantic fern?
“Water it when it gets dry and be sure it gets light. It doesn’t need full sun, just light.” I have no idea what happened to it because the next day, I was on a plane to Israel where I had to rethink my plant choices. The balcony on which I grew my plants, was on the south side of the house. It got hot, semi-tropical sun from mid-morning until dark. Most plants fried in that kind of sunshine.
It turned out the only plants that could cope with it were petunias, hanging geraniums — which have simply got to be the most versatile plants available — and cactus. Everything else burned to a crisp.
So here I am, 41 years later. I still get excited about plants. I don’t have as many of them — indoors, just a half-dozen. I don’t have the energy to maintain a huge indoor greenhouse. Moreover, we don’t have enough light to grow most of the plants I grew in those less golden olden days.
I did get a third blossom on the orchids, though. That makes up for a lot, even if my outdoor garden is a terrible mess.
Based on Donald Trump’s public behavior, some of America and the world’s leading psychologists, psychiatrists and other clinicians have concluded that the president of the United States is mentally unwell. Trump appears, in their opinion, to suffer from malignant narcissism. He is also a compulsive liar who lacks empathy for his fellow human beings and shows no remorse for his bad behavior. Most importantly, Trump’s personality defects amplify his authoritarian values, beliefs and behavior. The results …
Interesting in a lot of ways, especially that it was (ironically?) Disney with whom Stewart worked. I remember the television shows very well, especially the movie about the fire which was based on Stewart’s book.
You might think scholarship is boring. Dull as dirt. Best reserved for those in the monastery or the ivory tower.
You’d be wrong.
Scholarship is an adventure, a treasure-hunt. And the quest brings surprising and unexpected discoveries – which usually lead to new treasure. Researching the George R. Stewart biography, for example, I discovered that famous writers like Stephen King and Wallace Stegner and William Least Heat Moon, musician and composer Philip Aaberg, scientist Dr. James D. Burke of JPL, and Jimi Hendrix were influenced by Stewart’s works.
Walt Disney was also a great fan of Stewart. He even hired Stewart to work at the studio as a consultant. Stewart discussed ideas with various studio personnel; then submitted a report about the potential for American folklore films and educational films. Stewart’s recommendations went to Ben Sharpsteen, legendary Disney producer and director.
Purple is the color of half the stuff leftover for clearance sales! Enter the annual purple sweater of the year.
Welcome to the Ragtag Community Blog. This is the place where all our Ragtag Daily Prompts will be located, so it should be much easier for everyone to play along. We are indebted to Leaping Toes from Oh Border! for establishing the Ragtag Community Blog for us and for you.
Without further ado, here is the Ragtag Daily Prompt for Thursday, 7 June 2018. We invite you to post something related to purple.
The weather has been really lovely for the past few days and I managed to get out of the house with a camera. Not for any kind of long shoot, but for a few minutes here and there.
Today I went to the dentist and when I got there, realized I’d forgotten to take my antibiotics. You have to take them to have your teeth done if you have an artificial heart valve — and I have two of them.
But we were parked next to the dam and the trees were blooming. And, as it happened, I had a camera.
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