How would we be different if we spent our days running for our lives? I’ve been watching the wildlife, and it’s an interesting frame of mind to consider, especially knowing that every other species but us, and maybe our pets, does that very same thing. Life can and does change drastically for them in an instant. I saw a squirrel attacked by a very small and very far away cat the other day. It was freaky. This cat stealthed by me like nobody’s business, and next thing I know I heard the squirrel screaming(?) and saw a glimmer of it in kitty’s mouth. Almost instantly the squirrel was wounded, head bleeding, in my yard. I watched as she desperately tried to get away from a second curious cat but didn’t have enough to stay on the tree she climbed. Kitty number two lacked the interest, and I watch miss squirrel licking herself and stumbling around while flies gathered on her head. As I left for my walk, she was quite entangled in some bramble, and I wondered whether she’d make it or die suffering, no hospital destination to feel protected by. Just her, in the middle of the day, in some leaves, doing all she knew to do. When I left my driveway, stealth cat was headed her way. She wasn’t there when I got back.
This isn’t the first time I’ve wondered how different I would be, how life would be, if that was my reality. Would it be better? Would I live in the moment and not worry, savoring every nut? Or just react quickly to dire realities? Is the life I live better than that, or worse? People still die unexpectedly, people still die violently, and we still die from illness. It’s the in between, the LIVING, that’s so different. On which end of the spectrum have put ourselves? I do wonder.
This week’s Mail Bag pick is from a Charlie Perkins in Georgia. Charlie writes:
“Is it wrong for me to wear tube socks and high heels? My niece and nephew say that it is. Some people point and laugh at me, especially at the beach. I think that it is both fashionable and comfortable. I told my niece, ‘There is no rule book that says that men cannot wear women’s shoes.’ Tube socks add a masculine touch to my day wear. Some people just don’t get fashion. Don’t you agree?”
Oy, Charlie. I had to turn to some other folks for some help with this problem of yours.
Super-brainy literary icon and extra-terrestrial humorist Mark Twain once wrote this:
“We are all alike on the inside.”
By this, I believe he means that we all need love, we are all seeking something of substance that makes life worth living, we all have skeletons in our closets, we all crave more Drambuie than Rabbi Spiderman thinks is good for us, and, though our many prejudices may keep us from acting like it most of the time, we all agree that we probably are all alike on the inside. He means that it’s really the OUTSIDE that matters.
So, fashion is important, hon. Real-real.
Now the rightness or wrongness of those tube socks is debatable. Here are quotes from two other famous brainy folks:
“Are right and wrong convertible terms, dependent upon popular opinion?” ~William Lloyd Garrison (abolitionist and feminist)
It doesn’t seem as though Garrison knows the answer to this, but I do. It’s “of course they are.”
“The only correct actions are those that demand no explanation and no apology.” ~Red Auerbach (National Jewish Sports Hall of Famer and basketball coach)
I think Coach Auerbach would read your long-winded query and advise you to keep that beach attire in your closet. Right behind those skeletons.
But, Charlie, I once wrote this:
“If it feels real-real good, just damn do it!”
So. Do with all of that what you will. Just remember, sunscreen is essential when frolicking on the beach, but bossy nieces and nephews are for suckers.
Thanks for your letter, Charlie. Y’all keep ’em coming. Leave a comment here or at The Gilda Sue Rosenstern Computer Internet Show.
I began calling myself the Outlaw Farmer because I wanted to make the statement that at this point in time, growing and eating real food is an act of civil disobedience in America. But over the brief course of my blogging career, I’ve realized there’re more layers to this story. See More…
true beauty to me is not being afraid of who you are. and not being afraid of who you aren’t, either. it’s hard sometimes to not wallow in that new varicose vein, or lump of cellulite, or cleavage wrinkle, but the fact of the matter is, it’s part of life. and true beauty dictates that we won’t be judged as people by our inconsequential details. that said, finding these things sucks! i literally lost my breath upon the discovery of my outward-popping leg vein. as my friend laughed hysterically, i remember thinking that i’d finally reached the point where things were happening in my body i naively thought i’d never have to deal with, but felt sorry for others when they had to. well ladies, here we are! but you know what? at the end of the day, seriously, i’m still walking, i’m still breathing, and my neighborhood isn’t getting bombed. a bit cliche, perhaps, but true. and i know i’m still truly beautiful because i go on trying to be brave and good, and lots of people love me, and i love lots of people. that’s true beauty to me. and i dig it the most.
ahh, the joys of special glasses. i love to collect them. you know the ones: your friend is moving and she has that wierd glass she kind of likes but doesn’t want anymore, your mom no longer has a complete set so you get one or two, the cool cup you find at a thrift store or garage sale. these make my day that much more lovely. i have a belief that if a drink is drunk out of a special glass it becomes more tasty and more of an event. i think we need as many of these small pleasures in our day as possible. make it count, i say, even if it’s just a glass of chocolate soymilk.
a few drinks i love out of my special glasses:
coconut juice and chocolate soymilk ( i prefer mostly coconut juice) cool, creamy, and delish!
tomato juice with a little tony chacheres seasoning salt (although i’ve discovered this has a lot of sodium)
port wine or sherry
water with a bit o’ pomegranate juice
champagne, always champagne!
Ahh, the joys of cooking. There’s nothing for me quite like getting a craving, buying all the fresh ingredients, putting on some great music, and cooking up my very own flavor creation. As long as I’m at home, whatever my heart desires that day is what I end up eating. So healthy! So good! So fun! Honestly, my days off are taken up mostly by cooking and eating. And I can’t bring myself to feel bad about it. In fact, I feel really good about it. So here’s to cooking what you love to eat! Now onward to some Japanese-style green beans and Sade. I hope you’re doing something just as nice.
This week’s letter is from Frimunt.And that’s this person’s name, y’all. Not a town. And I’m not sure if this Frimunt is male or female, but no matter. My answer will be the same, regardles.
OK. Frimunt writes,
“Dear Gilda Sue, I have lost faith in my dreams, my family, my friends, and my religion. Everything and everyone around me seem to lack the depth and substance that make life worth living. I’d kill myself, but I’m afraid of dying. What should I do?”
Well, Frimunt, hon, thanks for giving me a little break from all the tough questions. This is simple, because you are on the right track. At least half-way.
Y’all, the world is totally full of meshugeners and putzes wading around in ankle deep waters volleying hollow and meaningless banter at one another and dressing it up as thoughtful discourse, whether it be on the broad public forum or in seemingly intimate, personal relationships. But, as for being afraid to die, oy! That’s just crazy.
Hon, first of all, death is a lie, and once you realize that, it stops being so scary.
Here’s the thing, bubee. I grew up in a small town and once I could buy my own bus ticket (or secretly borrow some money from my mama’s purse to buy my own bus ticket), I moved as far away as that bus would take me, and I never went back. Now, when I left, those people in my home town didn’t think I was dead. Well, actually, my bobeshi did think I was dead for a few days, and she’s never forgiven me for giving her such a scare. But my point is that I wasn’t dead. And though it is possible for me to return to my hometown, I’ve just never had a reason to do so, which is why I left in the first place. I moved forward. I changed residences. And that’s all “dying” really is.
Disclaimer, hon: Neither Rabbi Spiderman, Father Fitzpatrick, or Pastor Grizzle agree with me on this. And, I don’t claim to know what the forwarding address will be for you, but I feel fairly certain that whatever it is, you should definitely not be afraid of to “die.”
So, no worries. Thanks for your question, Frimunt, and happy trails!
I service my car at Bates Garage because I trust them and they deliver a great product. One of the reasons I trust them is because we live on the same street. Another reason I trust them is because they depend on word of mouth to stay in business. There it is, plain and simple. We rely on one another. We’re a community and there’s pressure to do each other right. There’s consequences otherwise. Not to mention the fact that the Bates’ are good people and highly skilled mechanics. Yeah, they charge a little more but it’s worth it for the peace of mind and future security of knowing they’ll still be there the next time I have car trouble.
When I go to buy something I want to spend the extra bucks on craftsmanship, on products and services made with pride, made to last and made in America. These days it seems like taking pride in America freaks people out (including a lot of Americans and people who want to be Americans). But that’s a whole-nother strongly opinionated discussion I’m steering clear of at the moment.
Right now I want to talk about why I use a hand me down vacuum cleaner that’s twenty years old. This thing makes my house smell like a combination of Glade plug-ins and Caesar, our Doberman Pincer who died when I was in the fifth grade. See More…