All I Want Is Justice

Mark Hurd, CEO of Hewlett-Packard resigned due to unethical conduct. Over the last five years he has earned over $100,000,000. Yup, I counted the zeros. Plus, he will receive over $12 million in a severance payment. Yeah, you read right. He's unethical, funnels money to his lady love, has to resign, and still gets more money on his way out the door. How many people get severance payments when they quit? How many people get severance payments when they're forced to quit due to unethical, illegal activity? Only if you're a CEO.

Twenty-eight years my husband gave to that company. A year after Hurd became CEO my husband finally got cut in one of his massive lay-offs. Bitter? Surprisingly, I haven't been extremely bitter until today. There were so many people losing their jobs, that I never took it personally, and for some reason, never felt bitter. Today is a different story. I am beyond bitter. Just totally ticked off is more like it.

I want justice. Who wants to join me in demanding justice? Anyone?

Oh well. While I'm waiting I'm going to have an icy gin and tonic and a bowl of guacamole.

Me In No Particular Order

I hate wearing make-up.
I hate wearing pantyhose.
I hate hair gel, hair spray, curling irons.
I hate business/office clothes.
I love my jeans.
I love loose, full, long skirts.
I love cotton blouses.
I love being barefoot.
I love Birkenstocks if I must wear shoes.
I love walking barefoot through the dewey grass in the morning.
I love drinking coffee in my orchard.
I hate arguing, debating.
I love discussions (both sides open to learning).
I love people.
I hate crowds.
I LOVE my children.
I LOVE my husband.
I love walking with my husband, holding his hand, brushing my shoulder against his.
I love thunderstorms.
I love laying in bed with the window open while it rains.
I love laying in the orchard at night with my husband.
I hate discontent.
I hate that we have so many divisions that cannot be put aside for friendship.
I hate touching and looking at raw meat.
I hate warm milk.
I love cucumbers, tomatoes and lettuce from my garden.
I love salads and eat a big one everyday.
I love books.
I love rearranging my books.
I love snuggling.
I hate violent movies.
I love fresh baked bread with butter and homemade peach jam.
I love the feel of a freshly laid warm egg.
I hate fast.
I love slow.
I hate traffic.
I love taking my time.
I love daydreaming.
I hate most sitcoms on TV.
I HATE arguments over religion. Hate, I say.
I love star gazing and letting my mind wander - the possibilities.
I love roads I've never traveled.
I LOVE the ocean.
I love daisies.
I love my home.
I HATE consumerism.
I love finding things I don't need.
I love getting the last itty bit of toothpaste out of the tube.
I love Tolkien.
I love hobbits.

That's all for now.

Why Can't I Get Past All This?

Spring is here. The weather has been perfect. The yard is shaping up. The orchard is full of color and life. And I'm all depressed. I HATE it. I know only I can change it, but My God, it's hard to move on sometimes. I was not going to write, but many times writing it all out seems to be the only way for me to start moving forward again.

All the recent news about sexual abuse in the Church is difficult but most difficult is the news that hits home. Over the past few years I've been sort of following the news about Fr. Maciel, the Legion of Christ, and particularly, Regnum Christi. Over the years I've been closely involved with people in RC; in fact, no one knows how close I came to joining. I've always been a person that needs to belong to something. I need a tribe. So I go looking. That's how I found RC. For whatever reason, thankfully, something held me back from taking that final plunge. It was that something that never settled quite right with me. Plus, Tim had no interest whatsoever in it, and they were always after both of us although I think they would have taken me alone.

Anyway, for years I've been very closely involved with RC people even though I never joined. I helped with their groups, meetings, etc. My children were involved with their groups: Kids 4 Jesus, Familia, Challenge. I attended their women's meetings for some time. They were my support group even though I stayed on the sidelines. These people were my friends. I care about them. And what I see now absolutely sickens me.

They refuse to acknowledge the truth. Of course, RC still controls what goes into their minds. They read the RC communiques carefully and do whatever they're told. When they're told not to read certain authors, newspapers, blogs, they don't read. Still! How can you overlook and excuse the truth. One family still has Maciel's picture prominently displayed on their dining room wall. I was just reading a blog entry by another friend who was stating how much they still loved and respected Maciel for all the good he had done. Another friend was writing how we're not in a place to judge as we're all sinners. (Yes, we're all sinners but how many of us sexually abuse children, take money of people we've hoodwinked and build an empire?) Many are still hanging onto the fact that John Paul II loved Fr. Maciel, and of course, JPII could never be wrong.

Where does all this take me? Back to religion. The power religion has over people. I'm beginning to think that religion is the most powerful influence that has ever existed. Religion doesn't just deal with life here on earth; it deals with your eternal life. Hell or Paradise with God. Think of that power. Incredible. For several years I've viewed religion as neutral, neither good nor bad. It's power can go either way - great good or great evil. There has been great good done, and there has been great evil done. The deciding factor is human nature. Humans use religion for their own purposes. If there wasn't religion, humans would find some other means to get what they desire.

I'm beginning to wonder now if religion is as impotent, on its own, as I've made it in my mind. Now I wonder if religion, by its very nature of separating and dividing, doesn't tend to bring out the negatives in our nature. We desire to be right, for our truth to be the Truth, and for that to happen we need to be able to point to those who are wrong, whose truth is not the Truth. Religion does that for us.

These are my own personal experiences. How I experienced religion. When I said I was sickened by behavior of friends, what truly sickened me was the knowledge that behavior was my behavior and could still, very easily, be my behavior. I see myself so clearly in them. That is what appalls me and frightens me. I feel as a recovered alcoholic might feel: one drink might land me right back in the gutter. I do not want to fall of the wagon.

Funeral Thoughts

This has been one of those weeks you don't want to repeat. I'm not sleeping well, my back aches, plus I get so hot I'm tempted to turn on the AC expect for the fact that my husband is snuggled under the down comforter. It seems everyday there has been an interruption, and then last night Tim's mom called to let him know that a man he attended school with for 12 years was killed in a tragic accident. So today found us at his funeral. It was odd - looking around at all the familiar faces it seemed as though it should be a high school reunion, but instead everyone was gathered together to say good-bye to a 52 year old man.

What I hate hearing most at times such as this is 'it's God's will' or 'it must have been his time'. Doesn't work for me. God's will. What a damn cop out. Life is full of tragic accidents, illnesses, untimely deaths. Let's just blame some God that sits up there in heaven for everything. It's just life. The good and the bad. For those people who believe it's God's will, I hope it is a balm for them, that it helps them in their grief. When I have tried to find answers for suffering, unhappiness, grief, it has driven me crazy to the point of depression.

More and more I'm feeling at peace with just letting it be - letting the mystery be. Suffering is. Death is. At the same time happiness is. Joy is. Instead of wasting precious time, of which I don't have enough, in trying to figure out why there is suffering or tragic deaths, I would rather spend my time living each day fully. Enjoying and taking pleasure in EVERY SINGLE MOMENT I HAVE HERE ON EARTH. I want to spend my time listening and being with people/God (same thing for me). No need to go looking for sacrifices - they will present themselves in a way you will not be able to say no to. They'll come.

The one thing funerals seem to scream at me is: slow down, simplify, live slowly and fully, love fully. There is enough in the world that needs love to keep you occupied until the day you die. Actually, Tim and I are doing pretty well. I think we are. Our lives move rather slowly, we don't need a lot, we're a pretty simple couple. We have time - so much more now that's he's not working. Time. Once you sell it, it's gone. All you've got in exchange is the amount for which you agreed to sell it. What a poor substitute. This is my own private revolution against our culture. I will fight it tooth and nail. They can keep their high standard of living, their big, gas guzzling SUV's, huge homes and all the rest of it. And I'll keep my time.

Funerals do have a way of keeping life in perspective.

Sacred Things

Every once in a while I come across something that just speaks of God to me. This blog and its owner shout out 'God'. His compassion, love, generosity and spirit makes my soul swell to the point I think it might burst. Even if one isn't religious or spiritual, I have to think they would be touched. So do yourself a favor, and visit his blog. You will be impacted and challenged.

I've been feeling down lately. There has been more nastiness going on in my extended world. Why oh why do people have to look for reasons to exclude other people? And what gives you more reasons than you need to exclude someone? Religion, of course. Every time it happens, I feel as though I've slugged in my soul. How do you get away from it? Or how do you become immune to it?

On a much happier note, my daughter and son-in-law are here. It looks as though my daughter will be staying and looking for a job. As soon as she finds a job, her husband will be moving here; he is currently a long-haul truck driver. They were planning on moving here by this summer anyway since my daughter will be starting school again in the fall, but if she has a job, it will be much easier for her hubby to quit.

My beautiful daughter and handsome son-in-law. I love them both so much. Isn't it wonderful the way families grow?

My two oldest, beautiful daughters (actually I have five beautiful daughters). Sisters and best friends. I do feel proud and accomplished. Plus, I really like them. A couple of wonderful young women.

Out With the New...

and in with the old. I have been known to get rid of new items in favor of old ones. New items don't have stories. They're empty. They have yet to be handled by human hands, used, adored or even disliked. I much prefer 'things' that have been used, that have memories. Even if it's something I picked up at a thrift store, and never knew who owned before me, I can still fill in memories with my imagination. I have quite a few things that belonged to my mom and dad. There are many items I let slip through my fingers after my dad died. At the time I thought I was avoiding issues, but I so wish I kept some of them. But who knows. Maybe they are now sitting on someone's shelf who appreciates used items with spirit.



My mom and dad had this bowl for as long as I can remember. Perhaps they used it in the restaurant they owned at the time I was born. I have vivid memories of my dad eating popcorn out of this bowl. This is the bowl he always used for his sourdough pancakes, and it is now used for my sourdough pancakes.


My dad's grill. My newer grill burned out, but his old grill still cooks up a good batch of pancakes.



And we will eat the pancakes on plates that belonged to my parents on a table that was in their kitchen. This is the table where my parents argued over the crossword puzzle every morning: mom always got it first so she could get her few answers in before dad finished it up. This is the table where I ate the last dinner my mom ever cooked. This is the table where I sat with my dad, crying, the morning after mom died.

See what I mean? They have stories. They have memories. These are sacred items.