When our son Blake was born, his father Jeff asked me if I thought it would be a good idea if he "made contact" as he put it, with his mother. "If you want. That would be nice" I told him.
I had never met his mother and he hadn't spoken to her in over a decade and yet he felt compelled to call her and tell her she was a grandmother. He called, they spoke for twenty mins and then never spoke again.
When Jeff started smoking crack, I took "my" son and went back home to Tennessee. Jeff eventually came back too and saw his son a few times but crack use ended up taking over his life and forcing him out of Blake's.
On March 15, my son became a father. Holding his daughter--my granddaughter--in his arms reminded me how tiny he looked in his own father's arms. I wondered if history was going to repeat itself. Later on that evening, Blake asked "Do you think I should find my dad and tell him he's a grandpa?"
"If you want. That would be nice." I said. Those were the same words I had said to his father twenty years earlier.
In both occasions, I didn't think the absent parent deserved to know about either birth but it wasn't up to me then and it wasn't up to me now. So when Blake asked me if I could locate his father, I told him I would see what I could do.
Why not? Maybe things had changed for Jeff. Turned his life around. Gotten "sick and tired of being sick and tired" after all these years. Maybe he wanted to reach out to Blake but so much time had passed he didn't feel it was his place. He never "made contact."
Through the powers of social media, I got a message to Jeff. I gave my phone number and asked for a call. What if he called? What was I going to say to him? What if he didn't call? What was I going to say to Blake? Which would be worse--telling Blake his father called or that he didn't?
Less than twenty-four hours after my message, Jeff called.
"Hi Dyane, this is Jeff." he said, "I got your message. I thought about not calling but I figured something must be up for you to call."
"Blake asked me to see if I could get in touch with you because he wanted to tell you that he's a daddy now...that makes you a grandpa." I don't know why I said it that way but it's what came to mind. I told Jeff this situation reminded me of when he had called his mother to tell her about Blake. Unfortunately, the woman had died without ever speaking to him again after that December morning over twenty years ago.
But this wasn't going to turn out to be a Lifetime movie where Dad realizes what he'd missed with his son and what he'd gone through with his mother and decides to change. No credits would roll, no happily ever after.
Jeff said that he had read about Blake's athletic accomplishments in newspapers over the years but confessed to still being addicted to crack, homeless, in and out of shelters and jail. He said that every time he got a job, he blew his money, got high, got fired or just didn't show up to work. In essence, "once an addict....."as he used to say.
The next day I told Blake I had spoken to his father and what he had to say. It actually gave Blake peace. A question has been answered. Life goes on.
Haven't spoken to Jeff since and probably never will.The 'happily ever after' will be with Blake and his daughter--and me.
Roll credits!
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
The Cashier Comments
Like a lot of incidents, this one starts with "I was minding my own business."
I needed motor oil and The ******* was open just ahead so I pulled into the parking lot, got in a parking space and dashed inside for a quart. As I got in line at check-out, the elderly man ahead of me asked for a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter. The cashier rang up the sale and said, "That will be $4.35---welcome to Obama's world."
"How's that?" the man asked.
"Everything's gotten so expensive now that Obama is in charge of the country." The cashier explained.
The customer said, "Oh, I don't vote."
"Then you're one of the idiots that got Obama elected...not voting at all is a 'bump' for them." the cashier replied.
"I just want to get my cigarettes and go." the customer said.
"Here you go, sir," the cashier said handing the man his cigarettes , "maybe next time you'll 'go' to the voting booth."
Surely, these two knew each other, right?
Neither men knew each other, the elderly man made that clear. But the cashier "decided" that $4.35 was too much for a pack of cigarettes, his customer was an idiot and partly responsible for Obama's election because the man said he didn't vote.
I had never seen an unprovoked attack on a customer before and it was a shock. I'm not that naïve but there are things I see happen between people that surprise me. Maybe if the customer had initiated the conversation with the cashier and it had been 'just talk,' it wouldn't have been so bad but this poor man just wanted a pack of smokes and ended up getting insulted. Embarrassed. I was embarrassed for him.
None of the rest of us in line thought this was a way to treat a customer and told the cashier so. He honestly seemed surprised at us. He was even more surprised when we reported him to the store manager. Yes, all four of us in line reported this cashier to the manager. I'm glad that as four strangers, we took it upon ourselves to stand up for this elderly man. We tried to make him feel better but I don't think we did a very good job. Rudeness towards elderly people is just wrong--worse when it's unprovoked. "The customer is always right," is a bit outdated doesn't the customer "have the right" to shop without harassment?
More than likely, nothing will happen to the cashier and nothing at the store will change. Well, one thing will change...I'll never go back to that store again.
I needed motor oil and The ******* was open just ahead so I pulled into the parking lot, got in a parking space and dashed inside for a quart. As I got in line at check-out, the elderly man ahead of me asked for a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter. The cashier rang up the sale and said, "That will be $4.35---welcome to Obama's world."
"How's that?" the man asked.
"Everything's gotten so expensive now that Obama is in charge of the country." The cashier explained.
The customer said, "Oh, I don't vote."
"Then you're one of the idiots that got Obama elected...not voting at all is a 'bump' for them." the cashier replied.
"I just want to get my cigarettes and go." the customer said.
"Here you go, sir," the cashier said handing the man his cigarettes , "maybe next time you'll 'go' to the voting booth."
Surely, these two knew each other, right?
Neither men knew each other, the elderly man made that clear. But the cashier "decided" that $4.35 was too much for a pack of cigarettes, his customer was an idiot and partly responsible for Obama's election because the man said he didn't vote.
I had never seen an unprovoked attack on a customer before and it was a shock. I'm not that naïve but there are things I see happen between people that surprise me. Maybe if the customer had initiated the conversation with the cashier and it had been 'just talk,' it wouldn't have been so bad but this poor man just wanted a pack of smokes and ended up getting insulted. Embarrassed. I was embarrassed for him.
None of the rest of us in line thought this was a way to treat a customer and told the cashier so. He honestly seemed surprised at us. He was even more surprised when we reported him to the store manager. Yes, all four of us in line reported this cashier to the manager. I'm glad that as four strangers, we took it upon ourselves to stand up for this elderly man. We tried to make him feel better but I don't think we did a very good job. Rudeness towards elderly people is just wrong--worse when it's unprovoked. "The customer is always right," is a bit outdated doesn't the customer "have the right" to shop without harassment?
More than likely, nothing will happen to the cashier and nothing at the store will change. Well, one thing will change...I'll never go back to that store again.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Confessions of a March Madness Monster
Walk by my house during the next two weeks and the sounds you'll hear coming from inside will make you wonder if someone's being murdered or if someone's having sex. This is the time of year that furniture gets thrown around, holes get put in walls and people who come to my home "just to watch the tournament" start to realize that I'm a monster.
Normally, I'm a mild-mannered, professional nurse in intensive care dedicated to the health and well-being of all. I use the skills I learned in college and through life experience to make life better for my patients. But for two weeks, I go from nurse to nut all because of March Madness. When my shift is over--the monster appears.
It all began long ago when a date took me to Rupp Arena the night Kentucky played Duke. It's an unfortunate thing when a young girl's first "taste" of the NCAA tournament turns out to be the greatest college game ever played. I dropped the guy, became addicted to men's college basketball and a hopeless junkie.
My 'drug' gives me an undying love and blind devotion to certain teams but a fierce hatred for the men in stripes who 'purposely' make calls against those teams. I ridicule and verbally assassinate young men whose only crime was choosing the wrong team to play for in college while explaining away any infraction one of "my" players is accused of committing.
Cursing the ref? Technical foul? Oh no--MY player was merely trying to engage you in a short debate about the merits of criticizing and penalizing his youthful enthusiasm. (I know...it's bad.)
I do everything I can to help my teams--from my living room.
I hold my breath, OUR foul shot is made.
I scream at just the right moment--THEY miss theirs!
If the game is going "the other way" I change the channel for a second--you know, to break the opposing team's "momentum." Can't let them go on a run!
Then when my living room couch seems to be losing its power to effect the game, I call upon the big gun--St. Anthony. He is the patron saint of lost objects and sometimes, he is the only hope. I have put in emergency prayers to him a couple of times like:
"Please, St. Anthony, if you're not too busy---could you make something happen so 'we' win this game?"
Does it work? Ask Butler about that "last shot" against Duke. Ask North Carolina about "time-out" against Michigan. Ask Grant about "that pass" to Christian against Kentucky!
It's quite a burden to know that I have the power to influence every game my teams play in the NCAA tournament but I have come to accept it. I also accept something else. For two weeks out of the year--I'm a monster!
BEWARE!
Normally, I'm a mild-mannered, professional nurse in intensive care dedicated to the health and well-being of all. I use the skills I learned in college and through life experience to make life better for my patients. But for two weeks, I go from nurse to nut all because of March Madness. When my shift is over--the monster appears.
It all began long ago when a date took me to Rupp Arena the night Kentucky played Duke. It's an unfortunate thing when a young girl's first "taste" of the NCAA tournament turns out to be the greatest college game ever played. I dropped the guy, became addicted to men's college basketball and a hopeless junkie.
My 'drug' gives me an undying love and blind devotion to certain teams but a fierce hatred for the men in stripes who 'purposely' make calls against those teams. I ridicule and verbally assassinate young men whose only crime was choosing the wrong team to play for in college while explaining away any infraction one of "my" players is accused of committing.
Cursing the ref? Technical foul? Oh no--MY player was merely trying to engage you in a short debate about the merits of criticizing and penalizing his youthful enthusiasm. (I know...it's bad.)
I do everything I can to help my teams--from my living room.
I hold my breath, OUR foul shot is made.
I scream at just the right moment--THEY miss theirs!
If the game is going "the other way" I change the channel for a second--you know, to break the opposing team's "momentum." Can't let them go on a run!
Then when my living room couch seems to be losing its power to effect the game, I call upon the big gun--St. Anthony. He is the patron saint of lost objects and sometimes, he is the only hope. I have put in emergency prayers to him a couple of times like:
"Please, St. Anthony, if you're not too busy---could you make something happen so 'we' win this game?"
Does it work? Ask Butler about that "last shot" against Duke. Ask North Carolina about "time-out" against Michigan. Ask Grant about "that pass" to Christian against Kentucky!
It's quite a burden to know that I have the power to influence every game my teams play in the NCAA tournament but I have come to accept it. I also accept something else. For two weeks out of the year--I'm a monster!
BEWARE!
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Father & Daughter--Love at First Sight!
At 8:34a.m. this morning, I met the love of my son's life and the newest light of mine:
Zaya Renee!
(I'm gonna call her "Ziggy")
She's little and loud--definitely a family trait!
(I'm gonna call her "Ziggy")
She's little and loud--definitely a family trait!
Friday, March 14, 2014
Family Feud: The Nursing Home Problem
"What do we do about Mother?" No, that's not the question. In my family it's "What are YOU gonna do about YOUR mother?" In other words, I'm on my own.
My family has always been the type that said, "Call us if you need us---we won't do anything to help, we'll just wait 'til everything is over and then tell you what all you did wrong." Does that sound familiar to anybody out in "Bloggerland"?
Now that the nursing part of Mom's nursing home stay is settled, the business part is raising it's head. Though Mom has been "approved" to stay at the facility until July 2, 2014, her insurance had not, meaning the care and residence will now have to come out-of-pocket. Just a couple hours ago, I got a call from the administrator to "let me know" I owed $318.00. "It's been generously pro-rated" the woman said, "so we'll have to have that money today or your mother will be 'released' on the 16th." Apparently, Mom isn't physically eligible for 'skilled care' anymore BUT her mental condition prevents her from living in the apartment she'd had for years. Unfortunately, if they 'have to keep her' they'll need that $318 by Sunday. "By the way," the administrator said, "we aren't in the office after 5p.m. today and won't be until Monday morning the 17th so when will you arrive today?"
I guess I should be honored that the woman thought I had an extra three hundred plus to just give to her at the drop of a hat but the lady also called the next in line, Mom's sister Lily. Aunt Lily then called me to let me know that she "couldn't take the stress and strain of your mother's situation." I guess the administrator called asking for money, too. Then Aunt Lily's second son called to let me know that "Mom can't be bothered with things like this."
What are "things like this"?
The nursing home wants me to sign over Mom's social security check to them "just in case your mother has to stay here the rest of her life." Okay, I have no problem with that. What I didn't know was that Mom's apartment requires tenants to pay two month's rent if they are placed in a long-term care facility. Still not exactly sure why.
My problem is if Mom's released after 07/02/14, where is she going to go? Should I just let the apartment go and 'decide' that Mom will be in a nursing home the rest of her life? I was told that "Mom's case" would be re-evaluated after July 2--possibly released. They just can't tell.
I'm just facing what millions of people are facing but it seems to have happened all at once and my family is mounting a rapid retreat.
I'm screwed either way. "They" will be mad if I leave Mom in the nursing home--where she'll be well cared for (because they'll have her $708 a month SSI check) OR if I spend the money to maintain her apartment so she'll have somewhere to come home to. The FEAR is that one of them will be asked to take Mom into their home. But there's no danger of any of them "stepping up" they feel that's my job...and they want to be there to comment on the lousy job they think I'm doing.
I guess I hoped that I could go to people in my family to 'discuss' Mom's alternatives but in my heart I knew better. You can see it in their faces the defensiveness they feel--like they'll be asked for something or other like money. Tightly clutching their pocketbooks and readily passing judgment is all my family does. They are even more insulted if you DON'T ask for money. Why? Because they can't complained that you asked!
The way I feel about it--they can kiss my butt! Even though biology is the only connection between my mother and I, I'll take care of it. I'll stop thinking that 'family' is the group of people that love you know matter what. Mine never has--what made me think they ever would? I guess I always 'hoped' they would but to paraphrase a line from Morgan Freeman's character from The Shawshank Redemption--"HOPE is a dangerous thing."
But reflecting on the situation I'm in reminds me of another line, "If there is a problem YO, I'll solve it..." I'll succeed all by myself!
Thanks for letting me gripe!
Keep me in your prayers.
My family has always been the type that said, "Call us if you need us---we won't do anything to help, we'll just wait 'til everything is over and then tell you what all you did wrong." Does that sound familiar to anybody out in "Bloggerland"?
Now that the nursing part of Mom's nursing home stay is settled, the business part is raising it's head. Though Mom has been "approved" to stay at the facility until July 2, 2014, her insurance had not, meaning the care and residence will now have to come out-of-pocket. Just a couple hours ago, I got a call from the administrator to "let me know" I owed $318.00. "It's been generously pro-rated" the woman said, "so we'll have to have that money today or your mother will be 'released' on the 16th." Apparently, Mom isn't physically eligible for 'skilled care' anymore BUT her mental condition prevents her from living in the apartment she'd had for years. Unfortunately, if they 'have to keep her' they'll need that $318 by Sunday. "By the way," the administrator said, "we aren't in the office after 5p.m. today and won't be until Monday morning the 17th so when will you arrive today?"
I guess I should be honored that the woman thought I had an extra three hundred plus to just give to her at the drop of a hat but the lady also called the next in line, Mom's sister Lily. Aunt Lily then called me to let me know that she "couldn't take the stress and strain of your mother's situation." I guess the administrator called asking for money, too. Then Aunt Lily's second son called to let me know that "Mom can't be bothered with things like this."
What are "things like this"?
The nursing home wants me to sign over Mom's social security check to them "just in case your mother has to stay here the rest of her life." Okay, I have no problem with that. What I didn't know was that Mom's apartment requires tenants to pay two month's rent if they are placed in a long-term care facility. Still not exactly sure why.
My problem is if Mom's released after 07/02/14, where is she going to go? Should I just let the apartment go and 'decide' that Mom will be in a nursing home the rest of her life? I was told that "Mom's case" would be re-evaluated after July 2--possibly released. They just can't tell.
I'm just facing what millions of people are facing but it seems to have happened all at once and my family is mounting a rapid retreat.
I'm screwed either way. "They" will be mad if I leave Mom in the nursing home--where she'll be well cared for (because they'll have her $708 a month SSI check) OR if I spend the money to maintain her apartment so she'll have somewhere to come home to. The FEAR is that one of them will be asked to take Mom into their home. But there's no danger of any of them "stepping up" they feel that's my job...and they want to be there to comment on the lousy job they think I'm doing.
I guess I hoped that I could go to people in my family to 'discuss' Mom's alternatives but in my heart I knew better. You can see it in their faces the defensiveness they feel--like they'll be asked for something or other like money. Tightly clutching their pocketbooks and readily passing judgment is all my family does. They are even more insulted if you DON'T ask for money. Why? Because they can't complained that you asked!
The way I feel about it--they can kiss my butt! Even though biology is the only connection between my mother and I, I'll take care of it. I'll stop thinking that 'family' is the group of people that love you know matter what. Mine never has--what made me think they ever would? I guess I always 'hoped' they would but to paraphrase a line from Morgan Freeman's character from The Shawshank Redemption--"HOPE is a dangerous thing."
But reflecting on the situation I'm in reminds me of another line, "If there is a problem YO, I'll solve it..." I'll succeed all by myself!
Thanks for letting me gripe!
Keep me in your prayers.
Friday, March 7, 2014
Mom's In a Home
Mom had been diagnosed with the onset of dementia. Up until then, her diagnosis was described as "strategic helplessness." When around others, she seemed confused/disoriented yet she could function quite well alone at home in her assisted-living apartment complex.
On February 27, Mom was found unconscious and unresponsive on the floor of her apartment. She was taken to a local hospital where it was determined that she had experienced a heart attack which led to her fall which lead to a head injury resulting in a 'brain bleed.' In addition to these conditions, she was in acute renal failure. These injuries were why she had to be transferred to a hospital with a trauma unit. Now out of the trauma hospital, she is in a nursing home for rehabilitation.
I didn't realize that nursing homes were also rehab centers in many cases. Like a lot of people, I used to think of nursing homes as 'dumps' for old folks. There are far more stories of urine smells and poor patient care in these facilities that make news than ones about the dedicated people who work at the majority of them.. Her condition requires post-hospital physical and mental rehab, this center's specialty.
By reading a few of my previous posts, you'll find that I am really nothing more than 'Alice's' biological child. She gave me to her mother to raise so my love and loyalties will forever be with "Mamaw Trula," the lady I consider my mother. Just between you and me, I don't want to be any more involved in 'Alice's' care/condition than absolutely necessary but since I hold the 'title' of daughter, I'm supposed to "be there" for her.
Pearl Jam's "Daughter" has been playing in my head for the past couple of weeks. I have a hard time articulating my feelings sometimes and that song is very comforting to me right now. I've thought of it every time a hospital supervisor or unit nurse asked:
"Are you her daughter?"
When I have to admit to them that I am, Eddie Vedder sings "Don't call me 'Daughter.'..not fair to..." in my mind. Then I feel better.
I always feared that one day I would be expected to take care of Alice. I am not evolved enough to forgive and forget the fact that she left me because I was quote, "too much of a burden to raise," unquote. I pretend that I have forgotten putting her in jail for assault and all her "I wish abortion had been legal when I was carrying you" remarks...but I haven't. Things like that tend to stay with a person...
especially a daughter...
especially this one.
Now the situation is here.
I must confess that there is a strange feeling of satisfaction here. Alice couldn't be bothered caring for me my entire life but expects me to care for her in my home because NOW she's my 'mother' and I'm her 'daughter.' She wouldn't care for me back then and I can't care for her now. Her condition requires a medical facility. What do I think?
Revenge is too strong a word to describe it.
Maybe it's karma.
On February 27, Mom was found unconscious and unresponsive on the floor of her apartment. She was taken to a local hospital where it was determined that she had experienced a heart attack which led to her fall which lead to a head injury resulting in a 'brain bleed.' In addition to these conditions, she was in acute renal failure. These injuries were why she had to be transferred to a hospital with a trauma unit. Now out of the trauma hospital, she is in a nursing home for rehabilitation.
I didn't realize that nursing homes were also rehab centers in many cases. Like a lot of people, I used to think of nursing homes as 'dumps' for old folks. There are far more stories of urine smells and poor patient care in these facilities that make news than ones about the dedicated people who work at the majority of them.. Her condition requires post-hospital physical and mental rehab, this center's specialty.
By reading a few of my previous posts, you'll find that I am really nothing more than 'Alice's' biological child. She gave me to her mother to raise so my love and loyalties will forever be with "Mamaw Trula," the lady I consider my mother. Just between you and me, I don't want to be any more involved in 'Alice's' care/condition than absolutely necessary but since I hold the 'title' of daughter, I'm supposed to "be there" for her.
Pearl Jam's "Daughter" has been playing in my head for the past couple of weeks. I have a hard time articulating my feelings sometimes and that song is very comforting to me right now. I've thought of it every time a hospital supervisor or unit nurse asked:
"Are you her daughter?"
When I have to admit to them that I am, Eddie Vedder sings "Don't call me 'Daughter.'..not fair to..." in my mind. Then I feel better.
I always feared that one day I would be expected to take care of Alice. I am not evolved enough to forgive and forget the fact that she left me because I was quote, "too much of a burden to raise," unquote. I pretend that I have forgotten putting her in jail for assault and all her "I wish abortion had been legal when I was carrying you" remarks...but I haven't. Things like that tend to stay with a person...
especially a daughter...
especially this one.
Now the situation is here.
I must confess that there is a strange feeling of satisfaction here. Alice couldn't be bothered caring for me my entire life but expects me to care for her in my home because NOW she's my 'mother' and I'm her 'daughter.' She wouldn't care for me back then and I can't care for her now. Her condition requires a medical facility. What do I think?
Revenge is too strong a word to describe it.
Maybe it's karma.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Images from the Ukraine
While I sit in my warm, comfortable home awaiting tomorrow's Oscar presentation, I see images on the national news of people in the Ukraine awaiting freedom and independence. That's quite a contrast, huh? Rationally, I know I have nothing to do with that part of the world and know even less about it but news programs bring so much information into our American homes that it can make one think about how we might feel in those circumstances.
History tells us that though separated from the rest of the country, Crimea is the peninsula former Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev gave to his native land in 1954. But when the Soviet Union broke up in 1991, Crimea ended up in independent Ukraine. Current news report that Crimea now wants to be with Russia.
From the news, the Ukraine is just trying to be free and independent. As an American, I'm supposed to know all about that and encourage it all over the world. Images on my television show "boots on the ground" in Crimea strategically "unidentifiable." Apparently, it is a pro-Russian population awaiting Putin to take over this peninsula. 60% of the 2 million there consider themselves Russian.
The Ukraine, by contrast, appears to want to rule themselves and get on with life after ousting their former leader.
My news programs say that Putin wants Crimea and the Ukraine.
A line from the classic song 'Me and Bobbie McGhee says, "Freedom's just another word for 'nothin' left to lose.'" Watching the situation in the Ukraine play out makes me think as an American, "freedom's just another word...we take for granted."
I have never had two countries battling for the ground on which I walk. While I have sent plenty of my relatives to various branches of the armed services to fight for the rights of people in other countries, there has never been any soldiers in my neighborhood--unless in a "Welcome Home" parade. So when I see the citizens of that part of the world marching, carrying banners and at times with bloody faces it makes me grateful for where I live and embarrassed that I take the freedom it provides me for granted.
My news says that Russia's Putin has claimed Crimea and is looking to invade the Ukraine. He had a reported 90 minute telephone conversation with my president in which Mr. Obama strongly advised Putin against an invasion. This made me think, 'what must it be like to be discussed as a possession'--for lack of a better word. It made me wonder about the millions of people who will belong to this or that country or government solely at the discretion of a single world leader. No matter how viciously our American Republicans, Democrats, Independents, etc., fight amongst themselves claiming we "need to take our country back," we'll never have anything as remotely intense as the situation in the Ukraine.
I wrote this post as a "shout out" to those who are listed as from Russia and the Ukraine in the 'audience' category on my blog. We see you.
History tells us that though separated from the rest of the country, Crimea is the peninsula former Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev gave to his native land in 1954. But when the Soviet Union broke up in 1991, Crimea ended up in independent Ukraine. Current news report that Crimea now wants to be with Russia.
From the news, the Ukraine is just trying to be free and independent. As an American, I'm supposed to know all about that and encourage it all over the world. Images on my television show "boots on the ground" in Crimea strategically "unidentifiable." Apparently, it is a pro-Russian population awaiting Putin to take over this peninsula. 60% of the 2 million there consider themselves Russian.
The Ukraine, by contrast, appears to want to rule themselves and get on with life after ousting their former leader.
My news programs say that Putin wants Crimea and the Ukraine.
A line from the classic song 'Me and Bobbie McGhee says, "Freedom's just another word for 'nothin' left to lose.'" Watching the situation in the Ukraine play out makes me think as an American, "freedom's just another word...we take for granted."
I have never had two countries battling for the ground on which I walk. While I have sent plenty of my relatives to various branches of the armed services to fight for the rights of people in other countries, there has never been any soldiers in my neighborhood--unless in a "Welcome Home" parade. So when I see the citizens of that part of the world marching, carrying banners and at times with bloody faces it makes me grateful for where I live and embarrassed that I take the freedom it provides me for granted.
My news says that Russia's Putin has claimed Crimea and is looking to invade the Ukraine. He had a reported 90 minute telephone conversation with my president in which Mr. Obama strongly advised Putin against an invasion. This made me think, 'what must it be like to be discussed as a possession'--for lack of a better word. It made me wonder about the millions of people who will belong to this or that country or government solely at the discretion of a single world leader. No matter how viciously our American Republicans, Democrats, Independents, etc., fight amongst themselves claiming we "need to take our country back," we'll never have anything as remotely intense as the situation in the Ukraine.
I wrote this post as a "shout out" to those who are listed as from Russia and the Ukraine in the 'audience' category on my blog. We see you.
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