Imaginary Landscape

I attended a luncheon recently meant to honor veterans, in anticipation of Veteran’s Day, November 12. It was held in a small town, and the event was organized largely by local students. So one might excuse the occasional slip-up. But I had a few problems with parts of the program. First, the person singing the National Anthem was a last minute substitution, I think. She was not the person listed on the program, at any rate. She sang this difficult-to-sing song moderately well, but she sang, “… for the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming.” There was a poem printed in the program and read by a student. The printed poem referred to a “steal helmet.” Then there was this flag folding ritual, which has been popularized lately, which ascribes meaning to each of the thirteen folds of the U.S. flag. This is pure fiction. It is not listed in any officially approved flag etiquette, and I find it offensive. First, its emphasis is on Christianity and the Christian god. Second, one ...

Living in a rural area, on 20 acres, we encourage cats to take up residence to keep mice and snakes at a minimum. We feed the cats outside twice a day so they at least won’t be hungry enough that they are forced to eat birds to survive. Occasionally one or more cats will decide that a human is useful for scratching those hard to read places, for first aid, and even help with kittens. Often, queens remain mostly feral, but we try to get our hands on kittens to tame them in order to give them away or have them neutered when they’re old enough. Sometimes, kittens fall ill, or queens disappear and kittens are abandoned. Once, a queen gave birth to a large litter. She was black, and all her kittens were black but for two. These were tuxedo cats, a chip off the old Mr. Mistoffeles,  cats that are black and white, often with white toes or feet and white chests. After the litter was a couple weeks old, I watched the queen carry one of the black and white kittens out of her hiding place...

I have been tempted in the past six months to write a blog regarding the political atmosphere, but I hesitated because, first, it will be dated by next year (perhaps), and because there are more educated, informed, and motivated people out there who could do a better job. However, I have finally given in to the temptation because I have the need to say a few things. Wading In The current political climate in the United States is a combination of many developments in our recent history, even our long history. I do not pretend to offer an exhaustive list, but some of those are the civil rights movement, racial equality and racial profiling, the evolution of crime (in the sophistication of gangs and the weapons they use), which makes the job our first responders – especially the police – have to perform ever more dangerous. It’s the education system that acts more like an unqualified babysitter than a place of learning, more concerned (because of the way we measure “success”) with ...

This year marks the 50 th year since we started bombing North Vietnam, a strange anniversary, to be sure. However, as part of this commemoration, some organizations have taken it upon themselves to try to make amends for the way Vietnam era vets were treated in the 60s and 70s. When the debate about the invasion of Iraq started, some of those who objected argued that, since it had no real objective other than to take down Saddam Hussein, it would end up “just like Vietnam.” The Vietnam War has become the means by which we measure war. “This [fill in the name of a war or conflict] will be just like Vietnam” has been the opposing argument for all conflicts. However, during those arguments about Iraq, people were quick to point out that they were opposed to the war but NOT the military. Even those who supported the war expressed concern that an unpopular war might result in the abuse of military personnel. No one wants to treat the soldier, sailor, airman, pilot, Marine the same way t...

Photo by John Rogers Several of my acquaintances are fans of my ginger cat, Wally. So I thought I would leave the morose blog entries behind for a change and tell you about how Wally came to adopt us. It was the spring of 2012. We were still living in the 14 x 20 cabin we'd had trailered onto the place in August 2011 after the house burned down. The new house was not yet under construction and with all our accoutrement for daily living, a minimum amount of clothing for both teaching and farm work, and all the paperwork that resulted from insurance claims, mortgage pay outs, and ideas for the new house (plus an elderly dog), we were pretty tightly packed in. Population explosion Every spring we have a cat population explosion on the farm. I also suspect that there are signs erected in various parts of the county that read, "Free Food at the Joneses," written in a language only felines understand. Our "farm cats" are feral, and we don't have the time...

I still remember the day, a little more than three years ago now. We were stuck in that little cabin because the progress on building the house had hit half a dozen snags. I was just getting over the flu, and it was cold outside, so my husband was feeding the horses while I waited to start supper. My mobile phone rang, and someone from somewhere in Georgia asked for my husband. I was ugly. I hate spam phone calls and am suspicious of anyone who contacts me electronically who I don't know. But it felt – bad. Adrenaline suddenly coursed through my veins, and I felt as if I were buzzing all over -- vibrating. The caller asked when my husband would be available. I told them to call back in about 30 minutes, and they hung up. I started to pace. Who would be calling him on my phone? Who would be calling from Georgia? It had to be bad news, but what kind of bad news would come from Georgia – especially a place I'd never heard of – Gainesville? His oldest daughter had recently been ...

I just read an article (" I Liked Everything I Saw on Facebook for 2 Days. Here's What It Did to Me," by Mat Honan, from Wired , Aug 11, 2014 ) that a friend shared on Facebook. This author discusses what happened to his Facebook news feed when he "liked" nearly everything for two days. As one might expect, the news feed became entirely commercial or article-related -- no posts from friends -- especially on mobile versions of Facebook. "Liking" on Facebook is the new forwarded email joke. Remember? Everyone had at least one friend who persistently emailed jokes to you, sometimes more than once a day, old jokes, bad jokes, boring jokes, and often little cheery bits of fluff along the lines of 'somebody loves you' or 'forward this or go broke and then die." If you complained to your friend: "Stop sending me this crap! Can't you just say 'hello' and tell me what's up with you?" the target of your complaint ...