I Know It Is Not Really Getting Better

Sunny - Hi 107 Lo 81 for Baghdad, Iraq
Sunny - Hi 108 Lo 78 for Qandahar, Afghanistan
Sunny - Hi 82 Lo 59 for Northern KY, USA

Song of the week: Let Go, Frou Frou

I have been remiss for not including Afghanistan in my weekly weather report.

Ramble:

I am very fortunate to be 42 years old and still have my grandparents. My father's parents have been and are still a vital part of my life. When my mother was working 18 hour days my brother and I would go off to my grandparents for the summer. My grandmother taught me how to set a table, polish silverware and play make believe, how to embroider, play solitaire, Chinese checkers, and jacks. My grandfather taught me the difference between a buckeye and a walnut tree. He taught me how to look at cloud formations and tell whether or not a storm was headed our way. He taught me how to put a worm on a fishing hook and how to go crawdad (craw-fish)hunting down in the crick (creek). I would call my grandmother every single day all the way through high school to tell her about my day. My grandfather was always working... whether it was at the job or in the yard or in his workshop (where to this day in one of the rafters is the Playboy photo of Marilyn Monroe)... I remember running out to be with him and he would be standing there using a rake or a shovel to lean against while he swigged down a bottle of Coca-Cola and staring at the sky. I would ask him what he was looking at and he would always respond by telling me about "that hawk is getting ready to get himself some dinner" or "that squirrel is getting ready for a bad winter". All of my idiosyncrasies come from my mother and my grandparents. Words in my vocabulary do not begin to express how important they are to me.

I must have been about 30 years old when it occurred to me that they had become... old... I don't remember what specifically triggered this realization... it just happened... My grandparents were old... that they weren't going to be around forever. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it simply had never occurred to me and that understanding hit me like a ton of bricks.

These are the folks that taught me respect and self discipline. They taught me to find appreciation in simple things - nature, music, a good book, imagination, falling asleep in a hammock under the stars, The Tonight Show...they taught me that love of country was important-- to always stand with my hand on my heart during The Star Spangled Banner... that freedom and liberty were things worth dying for...

The dichotomy was they also taught me through their example to be afraid of everything... to be suspicious and not trust others... I know now this is a direct result of how they were raised especially my grandmother. No doubt it was also a direct result of losing their daughter at the tender age of five to leukemia. Because of this, Terry and I were always "protected" from ourselves. My grandmother was/is an amazing cook and she never taught me. She was convinced I would get hurt in the kitchen... with a knife or on the stove...

In any event, I hate that they are old- I don't want them to die. But what is worse and this was my epiphany on Saturday... is that they hate it more. My grandfather just can't get around like he used to- he has no energy, he can't breathe. My grandmother is feeble- this was a woman of strong German stock and she used to tower over me... she is now so much tinier than me and bent over with osteoporosis. My grandfather forgets that he is limited and will continuously overdue it and that will cause him to be sick for days. They both suffer from depression-- My grandmother because her mind is still sharp as a tack and she is such a stickler about keeping things just so-so but no longer has the ability. My grandfather because he is slowly forgetting things and knows it. Today as my grandfather and I were running his errands he was still insistent on opening doors for me... At one point he said, "Cass, I just can't do this anymore... I'm puny, I'm feeble."

My grandparents... I love them. They would do anything... anything... anything for my brother and me. I pray that they put their faith in God. They are tired of living but too afraid to die. I just don't know how to make them feel better except to be there for them...

Blogs and Links to Check Out This Week:

Stop in and say hello to DragonLady. She and her family have suffered a loss.

Let Go

Drink up baby down
Are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind
'Cause it's all going off without you
Excuse me too busy you're writing your tragedy
These mishaps
You bubble-wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

So, let go, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, l-let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

It gains the more it gives
And then it rises with the fall
So hand me that remote
Can't you see that all that stuffs a sideshow?
Such boundless pleasure
We've no time for later
Now you can't await
Your own arrival
You've twenty seconds to comply

So, let go, so let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's alright
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, yeah let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

So, let go, so let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's alright
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, yeah let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

In the breakdown
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
The breakdown

So amazing here
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

Friday Funny

As a follow up to Valentine's Day....

HOW TO STAY MARRIED

A man and woman had been married for more than 60 years. They had
shared everything. They had talked about everything. They had kept no
secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoe box
in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to
open or ask her about.

For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day
the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not
recover.

In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the
shoe box and took it to his wife's bedside.

She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box.
When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money
totaling $95,000.

He asked her about the contents. "When we were to be married," she said, "my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep
quiet and crochet a doll."

The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears. Only two
precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two
times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with
happiness.

"Honey," he said, "that explains the doll, but what about all of this
money? Where did it come from?"

"Oh," she said, "That's the money I made from selling the dolls."


Then there is this brief but valuable dictionary...

WORDS WOMEN USE

1. FINE: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

2. FIVE MINUTES: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five Minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

3. NOTHING: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

4. GO AHEAD: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

5. LOUD SIGH: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)

6. THAT'S OKAY: This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

7. THANKS: A woman is thanking you, do not question or faint. Just say you're welcome.

8. WHATEVER: Is a woman's way of saying EFF YOU!

9. DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT, I GOT IT: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking, "what's wrong", for the woman's response refer to # 3.


- email from one of my customers...

Sharon Parmley Saves the World One Chink at a Time

Sunny Hi 107 Lo 79 for Baghdad, Iraq
Mostly Cloudy Hi 83 Lo 70 for Northern Kentucky, USA

Before I get started--- Happy Birthday Papaw!!!

Song of the week: Sunday Morning, No Doubt

I was seven years old when I learned the meaning of the word prejudice-- even though I didn’t know the word itself.

It was recess at Allison Street School and I was sitting on the stairs with a group of girls from my class. I was new to the school and painfully shy. I don’t know that I was trying to fit in--- I was just trying not to stick out… Allison Street School as I remember it was an enormous 3 story building most likely built at the end of the 19th Century. I was ecstatic to be going to school. I loved my new teacher, Mrs. Reed. As we were sitting, two older boys walked over toward us all the while pointing at me. I remember looking at the other girls and a few of them just smiled, a couple looked away and ignored them and I distinctly remember that two of them giggled. One of the boys said, “You need to come with us.” I don’t recall being frightened, anxious, intimidated, distressed, sad, angry, annoyed, irritated, or offended… I just remember feeling confused. I slowly got up and the one boy spoke into my ear in a quiet voice, “You’re a chink and you’re stupid. You’re our prisoner now.” Each boy gently held one of my hands and walked me over to the chain link fence that surrounded the school playground. There, out of sight of the teacher, they proceeded to tell me to stand against the fence facing the school.
They took my hands and put them above my head through the chain link fence. I was instructed to stay there and under no circumstances was I to leave. If I did, I’d be killed. All I could think was what (the hell) is a chink??? While I stood there, the girls that I had just been sitting with were now pointing and laughing at me. I wanted to die. As I stood there not knowing what to do and feeling completely ashamed, two other boys brought another girl over. Although she must have been a little older than me she was smaller, frailer and in hindsight she was Vietnamese. She was bent at the waist as they guided her to a spot on the fence next to me. I didn’t know what to do… so I looked away… Then the two boys that brought me to the fence brought a boy to the fence. He was also older and he lived at the orphanage. His name was Vincent. He was black. Like me and the other girl, he didn’t fight or speak; he just quietly walked to the fence. He looked over at the two of us and shook his head. No sooner than he was placed on the fence a girl, from the fourth grade and someone I recognized as living in the house behind ours marched over and took Vincent by the hand and pulled him off the fence, she grabbed my hand and the other little girl’s hand. She then gave the meanest look I have ever seen to those awful boys (I try to use that dirty look to this day when someone ticks me off). She walked the three of us over to the jungle gym and looked each of us square in the eye and said, “Don’t ever be afraid of those boys. They’re bullies and mean and think they can be mean to you.” You don’t have to do what they tell you to do—ever!!” Then she walked away and I don’t ever remember talking to her again. Sharon Parmley was the first person I knew to stand up and fight for what was right.

***OK… quick little sidebar… and for the record… Technically, I would not be classified as a “Chink”. A “Chink” would be a derogatory name for someone of Chinese descent. I would fall in the “Jap” category…. Good grief… idiot bigots***

Remember the following when reading the next segment----I’m a proud 1st generation American of Japanese heritage. Michael is a proud 1st generation American of Hungarian (Jewish) heritage. You know my mother’s story. Michael’s father escaped the Nazi’s and the Russians… It’s quite a story what little we know and one I’ll leave him to tell in his own time.

After I posted Anger and Hope I received a lot of feedback, most of it positive. I received a few that knocked the wind out of me. One person qualified their note by stating that they knew it was not politically correct nor was it rational, but went on to write “I want all Muslims dead.” Another wrote, “Anyone that follows Islam needs to be killed.”

What bothered me was the thoughtlessness of these "blanket" statements. This same high strung emotional blubber is what sent Americans of Japanese heritage to internment camps during WWII—those individuals lost all personal possessions, property and dignity, and in many instances their lives defending our great flag all in pursuit of the American dream.

Here is a better example… Lets round up all the Jews…kill ‘em all… Why? Well…because…IT IS THEIR FAULT!!! They’re Jews!!

The other evening Michael and I went to dinner with another couple that we love very much. Over drinks we discussed the hurricane and all the destruction and how horrid the situation was. “John” went on to spew how awful the president was. He was definitely on the bandwagon of “Blame Bush”. I believe he referred to President Bush as an asshole. Michael and I have an agreement. Everyone knows our political views, so when in mixed company (liberals and conservative) we bite our tongues and try to turn the other cheek--- we have a success rate of about 60%. There is one soul in our family that needs to be knocked upside the head… (Anyway… rambling…) Michael countered “John” with, “You wouldn’t sit down to dinner with President Bush if given the opportunity? Out of respect I would sit down with Bill Clinton.” I don’t think “John” realized how hateful he was being and I can’t properly describe it. The diatribe was straight out of the “Michael Moore Hates America” handbook. The venom in his voice, the look in his eyes was truly disturbing. I can’t tell you how upsetting this was to me to see him behave like this. This is a man I love dearly. I later made the comment, “The government is not responsible for taking care of us.” “John” said, “IT most certainly is!!…………………………”

It hit me, like a ton of bricks. “John” loves his family. He has some amazing qualities- a lover of the arts, an outdoorsman, fine wine, and good food. BUT, he is a cultural elitist. He believes others are beneath him. He believes he is obligated to take care of those that are beneath him. That is the worst kind of prejudice. “John’s” inability to see his idea of helping is in fact keeping them shackled and dependent upon the government. As long as we provide hand outs and not a helping hand, they will continue to be dependent upon the government and not understand what it is like to be self sufficient and independent and free.

We should have asked him if he would have expected his own children to find a means out of New Orleans. We didn’t. We should have. I would be curious to find out his answer.

Prejudice has no boundaries. Prejudice can be found in a Republican or a Democrat, a conservative or a liberal. Prejudice can be found in churches, synagogues and mosques. Prejudice can be found in the faithful and in the faithless. Prejudice can be seen in private and public schools. Prejudice can be overheard at the grocery store or a five star restaurant. Prejudice can be seen on the evening news...

Prejudice is found in the individual soul and perpetuated by passing on that irrational hate on to the next generation. It is the ugliest most vile trait a person can have.

I don’t know what happened to the four boys. I wish I were noble enough to wish them the best and say I forgave them. I’m not a good Christian that way… They were mean and had no idea why they hated me—except that I looked different… To them I had slanty eyes and yellow skin (I have great olive skin—that doesn’t burn when I go out in the sun all day without sunscreen—HA!)… Yeah… yeah… all good reasons to hate me and “my kind”...

Sharon Parmley… I don’t know where you are, what you are doing, but know this…You stood up alone and helped a frightened little girl learn a tough lesson. I’ll never forget you and I’ll always be grateful….

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
8/28/63

If you haven't seen the movie Crash please rent it. It is a thought provoking film that should be watched by everyone.

"Prejudice is a premature judgment--a positive or a negative attitude towards a person or group of people which is not based on objective facts. These prejudgments are usually based on stereotypes which are oversimplified and overgeneralized views of groups or types of people. Or, a prejudgment may be based on an emotional experience we have had with a similar person, sort of our own personal stereotype. Stereotypes also provide us with role expectations, i.e. how we expect the other person (or group, like all Japanese) to relate to us and to other people. Our culture has hundreds of ready-made stereotypes: leaders are dominant, arrogant men; housewives are nice but empty headed; teenagers are music crazed car-fanatics; very smart people are weird, and on and on. Of course, sometimes a leader or housewife or teenager is somewhat like the stereotype but it is a gross injustice to automatically assume they all are. " More


Welcome home Mikey.

Meet Kenneth Welch. He gave the ultimate sacrifice.

Use this link to find cheap gas prices in your area.

Have a great week everyone.

Reflection

Sunny Hi 115 Lo 88 for Baghdad, Iraq --- but it's a dry heat...
Sunny Hi 92 Lo 68 for NKY, USA

Song of the week: Let's Get It Started -- Black Eyed Peas
Turn it up!!! Wake up the house!!


Happy Sunday Everyone!

It is with renewed resolve, renewed determination that we should support our armed forces. My heart goes to the people of the United Kingdom. It is my hope that the men and women of the UK have a new found resolve, a new found determination to destroy terrorism. UK--Let's get it started again.... Don't let this be short lived...

My Mother and I have a strained relationship. I believe a great deal of the stress on our relationship is cultural. However, we can thankfully discuss gardening, politics (she is a serious conservative), my niece and nephews, and everything Okinawan. My brother and I have joked that when we are in her presence, we automatically feel like we are 10 years old. I don't know how she does it. Michael can probably tell you better than I what she does to me. I suppose it is the classic mother/daughter relationship. If you have ever read Amy Tan's novel, Joy Luck Club or seen the movie of the same title, that's us... There is not a woman on this planet that makes me crazier. There is not a woman on this planet that I hold in higher esteem. Of all the women in my life, she is the one that I wish I could make proud.

To give you the background on my Mom, from the limited information that I have, she was a little girl (maybe 4 years old) during WWII. Her father disappeared never to be seen again, and my mother, her brother and sisters witnessed her mother's death when she left the cave they were hiding in to search for food while war was waged on their very small island. (Food during wartime consisted of bugs, leaves, grass and what was left of the sugar cane fields-- as my Mother now laughs about.) When I was a kid, we went to Okinawa. While there we went to countless shrines. One that stands out in my mind, was a school. My mother very matter of factly told me that all her friends died there when it was bombed. One other vivid memory that she shared was after the battle for Okinawa, "American GI tried to get us to come out of cave. We afraid, because of what Japanese say about Americans. GI would hold up Hershey chocolate to get us out of caves. We afraid, but we like the chocolate, so we really not so scared." (My mom then giggles after this statement.) The Okinawans were peaceful farmers caught in the middle of one of the bloodiest battles. The Japanese treated Okinawans as subhumans, but pressured them into fighting against us. Over a quarter of Okinawans perished during WWII. I can not begin to comprehend the childhood she had.

She and my father met while he was stationed in Okinawa. She married him against the wishes of her family. My father brought her to the USA. She spoke minimal English, had no family here, she was very homesick. Later, I was born in Barstow, CA. She did become a citizen of the USA-- ask her anything about American history... I suppose things were ok for a little while. My father brought us to Cincinnati where my brother was born a few years later. I don't remember when things got bad, honestly as a small kid, I remember it was just bad. My father would leave for weeks at a time, leaving my mother without any money. Terry and I would never go hungry, but I know she went hungry to keep us fed. When my brother was just a little guy, my father walked out on us permanently- Mom, my brother, me. He left no information, no money, no forwarding address, nothing. He didn't tell a soul (that I know about). He should have stayed in the Marines. He didn't show up again until the day O.J. Simpson was found not guilty-- another story for another time.

So, my Mom was left to raise 2 kids alone in a country where she had difficulty communicating with others, a place where she was treated poorly because of the color of her skin-- The three of us all experienced prejudice alot of the time- even among some of our family members... if any of them read this, they know who they are. I suppose had she wanted to, she could have gone home to Okinawa, but she didn't. Staying in this country was a better option. My Mom worked her ass off. She worked as a seamstress making around $ 1/hr. As my brother and I grew up it was not uncommon for her to pull 18 - 20 hour work days. She was always working. It was at this age that it was embedded in Terry and I that work was essential. Depend on no one--Suck it up and quit whining. Terry and I were exceptionally good kids. I know that because we are told to this day by family that we were. I guess on some subconscious level we knew how intrinsically tough my Mom's struggle was, so we were quiet, did what we were told, we even played quietly. My mom saved every penny and somehow made it work. She was too proud to ask for help. Although we were close to my father's side of the family, it wasn't until Terry and I were adults did they realize how bad it was for us. Mom likes to tell a story about the time we were living in Norwood and she went to apply for food stamps. She was told that she worked too many hours and made too much money (we were poor!!!!). As she recollects the story now, the social worker told her that she needed to cut back her hours and then she wouldn't make so much money and then she would be qualified for food stamps. Mom replied to the social worker, "FOHGETIT!!!". How completely assinine is our system? A woman who is working hard, needs just a little boost, is told no--. Instead she is told to cut back--too much overtime-- let the government take care of you... that is NOT the what this country is supposed to be about!!! She didn't cut back her hours... she increased them... no handouts were ever taken. Mom learned so many lessons like that and so did we. She didn't get any help, and she expected the same from her kids--Do it yourself, "don't be baby." My dad left when I was 5 or 6, but by the time I was 10, Mom bought us a house--- a home--- a great place to grow up---Anderson Township... She did this in less than 5 years!!!! She started her own business and became very successful. She still works--- "keeps her young and her mind alert". She has every right to be proud. She has had a tragic life and yet she was able to overcome all obstacles. She is proud to be an American. She knows that this is the land of opportunity. She is the American dream. So, when bleeding hearts come crying to my Mommy... they get little attention except they may hear these words..."Yu beeg baby!!"

So on June 25, Mom and I went on a garden tour in Anderson Township. We were blown away by the private gardens of these folks in Anderson. They have created private worlds, retreats from the reality of everyday life--Lush, thick, exotic, beautiful gardens. The bar has been set higher, but I know what my goal is for our yard.

The most important thing however, is I thank God that she and I can enjoy gardens together...

Other places to visit this week:

Pictures of Okinawa

Japan Window

Okinawa Times

Chick blog of the week- North American Patriot: I just found this blog and this gal is a great read. She goes against the grain --conservative atheist... hmmmm... There is also a link to a debate blog she has with a friend of hers that is a liberal atheist.

If you ever meet my Mother or anyone of Okinawan descent, please do not confuse Japan with Okinawa.


Have a great week!!!!


Mom, 1962


Purple Iris


Private walkway


Everyone needs a mantle in their garden


Girls and koi


birdhouse


I love Japanese prints, especially those that have birds and cherry blossoms. This is by artist Koson Ohara, 1877-1945


We thought this photograph had the same feel as the previous print. It is by famed Kentucky photographer, Bubba-san, 1965-.