A Dollar In My Pocket

I was talking with someone today, they had pair of vintage dungarees accidentally disposed of. I know the back story and even helped trying to find such a pair. I understood, empathised and advised how to put it into perspective. I have lost some things in my life that at the time were quite devastating. It reminded me of how small things can seem huge.

I was off shopping for Christmas presents when I was 12. I had my own money I had saved, $8.00. I had a job where I got paid $1;00 per day for delivering groceries on a behemoth of a bicycle. On this day I had bought all the presents I needed and had one dollar left. I felt like a rich man, I reached into my pocket and out it fluttered, quickly scooped up by the person behind me whom when I asked for it back said “finders keepers”. I was devastated, I even went to the Police who said sorry sonny, no proof, can’t help. That was it. In the scheme of things it didn’t matter as I had bought everyone a present, the last $1.00 was going to possibly buy me an ice cream soda. Now why would I remember this 50 years later, even now as I think about it I remembered an earlier loss of a coping saw, brand new and left on a bus. Another incident occurred the week of my first wedding (I know married more than once the loss in that is a whole nother story). I was in town to pick up the suits. I got to the shop and reached into my pocket for the $60:00 and it was gone, I rushed off to backtrack my steps but came back empty-handed, the proprietor said I see you have a cheque book sir, I said yeah but not the money in it to pay for the suits, he said post date it for two weeks and then we will worry about it then. Although I was relieved and thankful the fact that it has stuck in my memory indicates to me that it was a significant blow.

I have yet to work out why some of my most embarrassing, hurtful and frustrating moments seem to be indelibly scorched into my memory. Sure there are moments of triumph and wonder that still reside there. Perhaps I will do some reading about it as I think it is an important factor and can bog us down or leave us stuck when what is essentially a moment in time can impact us in a big way yet the thing is really trivial. I know it didn’t seem trivial then and everything needs perspective however the biggest perspective is that we come into this world with nothing and we take with us out of this world nothing material.

I have a judeo-christian set of beliefs about this life however my beliefs about the next are pan, that is they will pan out in the end. In many ways it is not about what we lose in this life it is about what we leave behind. What is our legacy? What memories do we leave behind for others? What impact on others do we leave behind? It is those things that really matter. I am not talking about money here, I am talking about things that help lives change. It is those moments that cancel out feelings of loss. Looking back and seeing the impact on others, (sometimes we will never see that impact).

Psychologist Julius Segal, in looking at what helps children overcome adversity, wrote that “one factor turns out to be the presence in their lives of a charismatic adult — a person from whom they gather strength. And in a surprising number of cases, that person turns out to be a teacher”. Being an influence that overcomes the adversity of others is not limited to teaching we must remember that if we mourn the loss of $1:00 how much more we must celebrate the people in our lives who bring the gift of overcoming adversity. In doing so and realising this we need to be intentional in doing this in any way we can, whether it be small or large actions. We never know when the smallest act can make a difference.

With love

Paul

Beware Here There Be Idiots

Dumbo’s Friend

Who can remember the name of the mouse that was Dumbo’s friend in the movie about the flying Elephant? Well as it turns out I can. I regularly do a Newspaper Quiz, I average around 12 out of 15, sometimes even ace it.

Memory is a funny thing. I incurred what is described as a minor traumatic brain injury (I think it was about 4 years ago). I was hit in the head by a rock the weight of a 24-ounce hammer, and then kicked in the head by the same person who was wearing steel cap boots, You can read that story here.wordpress.com/post/kiwipaulspoetry.word… This is not about that and it is. I incurred some memory issues, often just periods of slow recall, forgetfulness about small tasks, birthdays, well sometimes. Yet I can remember the name of a Mouse in a movie from my Childhood (Timothy) and equally obscure I can remember that there are three rules are listed in Dua Lipa’s New Rules? What the actual? I have no real idea of who Dua Lipa is? Ok, Google tells me she is a singer-songwriter. I rarely listen to commercial radio, my radio is permanently tuned into Radio New Zealand National programme, (Aotearoa New Zealand’s equivalent of the BBC). I do listen to music programmes on that station however I could tell you the name of one of Dua’s songs, let alone recognise a tune. I realise however memory is like a muscle it has to be used, exercised and rebuilt otherwise it becomes smaller, weaker, and prone to injury (forgetfulness). So I purposely continue to read, look at new research, analyse the news and test it via quizzes etc.

No matter that I still forget my words sometimes (an occupational danger for someone whom others describe as a walking dictionary) I find them somewhere. The biggest long-lasting issue from my head injury is concentration. I have become aware that I need to concentrate more when I am driving. My spatial and speed awareness is still very good, I have however missed some visual clues to behaviour (red lights). That knowledge is power so I am now far more vigilant and I haven’t needed an infringement notice to remind me ( a helpful son has been good). The other significant symptom that has endured is a significant loss in my IQ. No, not my intelligence Quotient but my idiot quota. Idiots including Bigots; racists, misogynists, homophobes, religious pharisaical plonkers, conspiracist theorists, our world is full of them. As I have written before I have learnt to sit on my hands so I don’t slap stupid people, my ability to sit on my tongue has diminished. I can however walk away and will do so. No point in arguing with idiots or engaging in a battle of wits. My father always said don’t fight unarmed opponents.

Dear God, there has been a mass disarmament either occurring or becoming clear since the emergence of covid. If you want evidence, look at people who cut and paste on their Facebook pages notices instructing Meta what they can and can’t do, the irony of having ticked the terms and conditions of using a privately owned platform and expecting to be able to limit their power whilst you use their platform is palpable, the ignorance and lack of critical literacy screams out like a 20-metre bill board, the message reads “Beware Here There Be Idiots”.

I’m Tired (its the human condition)

Conflict wears me out. It grinds me down and dries my spirit, soul and body. Sometimes there is no ethical choice apart from engaging with an issue and that often leads to conflict. As much as I will still engage in issues I have learnt to pick my battles, know when to yield, know when to stand and know when to walk away. I should have learnt it a long time ago but there it is.

I walked away from a group recently, theier mysygony, racism, ableism and every other ism in the book you could think of just became too much. As individuals they are nice enough people, they mean well and are generous with their time and money often. They are however dinosaurs who are stuck in times past and cannot break free from their thought patterns, you can throw a dice and take your pick why people choose to remain with beliefs that at the best are immoral. Religion, politics, personality, hurts fear they are all there to choose from. The biggest of these in my humble opinion, (a wee pause whilst you all laugh at my use of the word humble… ) ok that’s enough people.

Fear is based on the unknown and an unwillingness to grapple with that. What if someone looked at their racist attitudes and saw they were wrong, what then? Change, redress, possibilities of vulnerability, relationships at danger? All real fears. I am happy to go out on a limb and say it takes real intyegrity and bravery to admit you were wrong, the older you are the harder it gets. We that is in the communal we actually reinforce the notion of not admitting our failings. From Kings and Queens to Politicians, Prime Ministers, Presidents through to the completely average person have grown up in a world where being wrong is hard wired to feelings of fear of the consequences.

Much is said of restorative justice, however in a world where injustice prevails everyday, enabled by society, the state the church, clubs, individuals, political parties justice is a a very rare beast, almpost as hard to find as rocking horse scat. Martin Luther King said “Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable… Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals”. This is why I still engage because not to do so is unjust. The key to surviving is to detirmine what you can do and when, how much can you care, surely one would go mad if one was to rail at every injustice in the world (externally). It is fine and healthy to be aware of injustice, doing so makes sure your reflective lens is in place and it keeps one honest.

I have realised that my limits are somewhat smaller than what I thought them to be which is a nice segue back into the title of my blog. As you may or perhaps may not know I have had cardiac rythym issues, they seem to be well managed however one of the medications just knocks me I can wake up tired and continue in that for the rest of the day. The post concussion syndrome doesnt help either. The good news is that eventually I will be able to stop that medication and very very slowly my concussion symptoms are abating, (hence the writing). The bad news, well it could be 6 months to a year before I can change medications. The problem with the medication is that my pulse rate sits at around 54 and doesn’t increase to much above 70 when under load, which doesn’t allow enough oxygyn to power the exertion.

Small steps towards more cardiac fitness will help as will weight loss. As to my brain fog well being hit on the head witha 900 gm stone doesnt help, nor some subsequent falls however re-engaging the left side of my brain does help, so trying to instill discipline back into my writing will eventuall help that it does tire me as does conflict however that which doesn’t kill me, postpones the inevitable but it does help climb above the walls, swim the moats and walk the fields.

Paul

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Why Food Banks are not the answer.

is a phrase coined in the 1500s, well before state welfare even existed, is the mantra that sits behind the government’s preoccupation with outsourcing to food banks, says Danielle Le Gallais. https://thespinoff.co.nz/society/13-12-2021/why-food-banks-arent-the-answer . Danielle provides around 150 people a week a meal on a Sunday for the people she calls people who are facing food insecurity. Danielle says the lockdown impacted the food she normally could provide in terms of quality and quantity. Is Danielle some rich lister? I doubt it she is a single mother of two who’s busy studying law at

Let’s end the LockDown because of Cost

Said the cynics, you know those who know the cost of everything but the value of nothing, that is to quote Oscar Wilde,

The Casketeers

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Freedom

Just another word for nothing left to lose, so goes the lyric in “Me and Bobby Gee”. A nice catchy tune covered by  a lot of famous artists over the years. Kris Kristoffersen wrote the song, almost to order, Guy meets Girl, leaves Girl and regrets his decision, he reflected that

Feb the 1st

Feb 1 has come and gone, Feb 1 was my mums birthday, I thought about her as I often do and wonder how things might have been different if she were alive today.  She has been gone 23 years now and whilst I still miss her it is nowhere near the intensity of when she first passed away.

You must be rich

said a small voice to me.  It came from a young boy maybe eight or nine.  I was siting in my car when I heard a small noise and saw this boy bent over my strawberries.

El Zorrito

I have a dog, Zorro is is name, or Zorrito (Little Zorro).  Zorro is a Jack Russell Cross fox terrier, or fox terrorist!