Limitations

Often people describe themselves by their limitations, as if to give their identity understandable perameters: steelworker, GWF, housekeeper, cook, etc. (even though these descriptions might be dangerous for growth?). Life can be very circumspect, and I wonder if we will see a growth or dimutation in these self profiles. At a time when we are encouraged to be multifaceted it would seem to be imperative that our resumes go in multiple directions, less of "this is what I will and will not do." We are going to have to learn how to better duck, weave and dive, & be as flexible in our martial arts as possible (Aikido) ... A danger would be to be identity less, a pandora's box, a cameleon.

Mythologies of convenience

Many of them, "Too BIG to fail" comes to mind right now (BP, Massey Energy, Goldman Sachs, etc.), the big boys pushing their weight around, daring the little ones to shut them down, refuse to pledge allegiance. When we were first going through our man overboard drills at sea we were reminded that it would take about 11 miles (as I recall) to come about, return to the place where the man "hit the drink." Luckily we never had to pick someone who went over, especially if it had been in a storm.

I came periously close to going overboard one night when we were lashing the lifeboats down in a real "blow." A tall, very thin shipmate from Oregon, Johnny, grabbed me as I slipped toward the edge, no lifeline on. And after we came in and went to the galley to warm up I thought of that 11 mile radius. & now I think of the eleven men lost on that massive BP oil rig in the gulf, and wonder if overboard drills are held on these mammoth contraptions. Fire, fire at sea, always a terrifying possibility, I've been through it once. Aye. "Fire in the hold, below number 2 hatch." & fires in mines too... men's business, who could imagine women showing up to testify in congress about mines and oil rigs? Too big to fail.

The Ball is in your court

A statement made often by my Father, a better than average tennis player, and left handed. He was a man who deeply distrusted those who didn't respond to obligations, and to give and take expectations. The saying seems so old fashioned now-a-days, as does obligation. And this absence throws me off, because I am "my Father's Son in this regard. Very often when I ask someone about something that I've said (or I've heard them hear from someone else) there is simply no response.

I can imagine, almost feel, my Father grabbing my ear, saying "the ball is in your court," and/or giving me the dutch rub. Where are you? Have you forgotten the human duty to respond to conversation, to a request for information? S i l e n c e, I don't think so. Dialog? What is that? With a wicked topspin my Father could sometimes get a tennis ball to hop over your waiting racket, & sometimes it went clear over the fence. He could "lob you to death," too, if he had to.

BLOG

Not sure about this, perhaps blogs are already obsolete, passe (?). But yet it seems to make sense, perhaps. Writings which go back for years may find themselves here, shared thoughts which would otherwise go into oblivion, notebooks and journals gone to a landfill or (better) recycling bin. I'm not giving this enough time, and I'm not sure I will. It does take time to write, and I have a new appreciation for those who knowingly put themselves on the line for readers. I was a librarian for years, and bookseller, and I do think this sense of appreciation has not truly been there earlier.