I am a student in addition to working full time for a highway construction company. I am finishing a B. A. in English that I started working on in the Fall of 1966. Okay, maybe this will be a record for the longest anyone ever spent earning a bachelor's degree. Regardless, the endeavor is a cultural awakening process. This semester I am enrolled in a "multicultural" literature class entitled The Politics of Beauty. Based on the syllabus, the class will include ventures into reading, feminist works as well as works by authors of various ethnic and religious backgrounds. Since web searches are the new way of finding what is going on out there in the world, I did a few searches: beauty/politics, politics of beauty, and others, but the search on beauty/power reaped interesting finds. The quote that follows is a couple of paragraphs from the home page of a Southern California Plastic Surgeon. The warrants and beliefs evidenced in the assumptions that underlie the text are a chilling glimpse into how "some" Americans, both men and women have come to view beauty and its consequences in our society today.

There is an ancestral need for beauty in mankind. Signs for this quest go back to prehistoric times: tattoos, rings through the ears and nose, the wrapping of Oriental women's feet, and many other tribal and cultural customs were for the purpose of enhancing beauty. More contemporary and sophisticated methods are more obvious - hair dying, cosmetic, and make-up techniques, and also the use of physical adornments, such as jewelry, earrings, clothing styles and hair styles in thousands of forms. All of these are for the single purpose of improving the appearance and creating beauty.

"Why?", we say. Improved self-image through improved appearance has proven to people over the centuries to be a means of better realizing ourselves as human beings, a means to influence other individuals and to communicate better in our lives, a means to gain power, if you will, and to obtain things. This urgent need threads its way through history as a mechanism for man to increase his level of acceptance. A more attractive and beautiful individual always appears to have a better chance to ascent in the social scale, to improve in his or her own fields of endeavor, and, perhaps most desirable, to reach new emotional and sentimental heights. Every man and woman searches for absolute truth through many pathways. However, beauty is almost always found in any of these as a constant, and, therefore, as an important intrastructure for the personal growth of the individual.

The pseudo-psychological and pseudo-anthropological 'evidence,' in justification of self butchery to conform to current definitions of beauty, are most disturbing because they appear to be so deeply believed. The chasm that exists between the reality of the physical appearance of the majority of Americans and the media prescribed images that are the domain of so few creates a disturbance that haunts the souls of many and wreaks havoc with the lives of young and old alike. There are no doubt many good reasons for increased exercise and improved diet. But aging is inevitable, and beauty is so much more than outward appearances.

Reflections on last evenings coverage of the DNC.... They emasculated Hillary. (Obviously that statement provides the basis for additional discussion, but for the moment try to focus on the fact that "the party" completely 're-contexted' Ms. Clinton.) She was relegated to the back pews, to a seat between her daughter and her 'husband,' re-contexted from leader to follower.) I swear even think I saw her hesitate to stand to accept the applause she received when acknowledged from the podium. Despite how one might feel about Hillary Clinton's politics, it appears that she was 'asked' (directed?) to behave very differently from the candidate that we have seen for the past couple of years. Hillary Clinton has been coming on strong, and seemed to aqctually be as strong as her marketed image in recent weeks. Last night she was Mrs. Clinton. Frankly I was disappointed. The Democratic Party hobbled one of its strongest members. I believe the move will be regreted.

judgement
One entry found.

Main Entry: judg·ment
Variant(s): or judge·ment \ˈjəj-mənt\
Function: noun
Date: 13th century
1 a: a formal utterance of an authoritative opinion b: an opinion so pronounced
2 a: a formal decision given by a court b (1): an obligation (as a debt) created by the decree of a court (2): a certificate evidencing such a decree
3 capitalized : the final judging of humankind by God b: a divine sentence or decision; specifically : a calamity held to be sent by God
4 a: the process of forming an opinion or evaluation by discerning and comparing b: an opinion or estimate so formed
5 a: the capacity for judging : discernment b: the exercise of this capacity
6: a proposition stating something believed or asserted

Merriam-Webster has some fairly straight forward definitions for judgement. However, I found the fourth listing significant. Having discernment and comparing show up as a couplet was, well, clarifying. I have a somewhat positive feeling about discernement. Discernment is a reasonable, careful, mindful consideration followed by a decision. Not so positive a feel for comparing. Comparing is looking at or considering two things, or ideas, or ways of being and assigning positive and negative values. That doesn't sound too awful, until you apply it to another human being. Another wayfarer on this journey through life fighting unique battles and finding unique solutions. I think I will work a little harder to assume all "judgements" about others will fall under definition three, an area outside of my authority

I attended a memorial service last Saturday. It was held in a beautiful church and was one of the most touching and teaching services I have ever attended. A convicting (or condemning) experience. You see, it was held in a "gay" church. There weren't any signs out front that announced that fact. There were no rainbow flags or other signs that I undoubtedly don't get. Inside I encountered genuinely nice people who came to express love and grief and all those other things that us "normal" people feel. What I found was a community of believers who live and love and find a way to survive. I am glad I was there.

I've always wanted to play a musical instrument....
I spent a substantial portion of my youth building things with saws and hammers and such..........

I have an idea.........

http://www.musicalsaw.com/

http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/

Go there.
Read.
Ponder.
Wonder why a philosopher must earn a living drawing comic strips.

The educational effort is derailed, at least until the Fall semester begins. I dropped the second semester Spanish course. No reason other than just plain tired. I have a dozen books I want to read and have not been able to do much reading for pleasure while in school. If I can finish three a week I'll be caught up by the time school starts.

Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane. - Philip K. Dick

Miles from the river.

Paranoia isn't paranoia if they are really out to get you.

It's not "clinical" depression if it's simply a reasonable response to reality, now is it?

Not enough time.
Not enough money.
Cry enough tears and your nose will be runny.

Deemed unworthy and unnecessary the grey haired old man of 58 plotted his own demise.

If I'm so smart, how come I ain't rich?

Hmmmmm. Been a while. Much new. A Walk to Emmaus on August 14. I think I can see clearly now. The why is really much simpler to understand when you get the me quietened down, abolish the tyranny of self and acknowledge the community of humanity and the link we have to God. It's all about him, and he's ready to share, just let go of 'self' and let the love decide.

RFW continues to live a rollercoaster life. Sinking to the depths with medicines designed to kill the cancer and hopefully not the man. Poisons accumulating and killing off the fun, the joy, the awareness and leaving a helpless befuddled old man. He struggles back every time they give him a breather from the meds or when he is filtered clean of the ammonia. But the good times last days and the lows stretch into weeks and months.

One of the answers,
one of the answered whys,

I know
I now understand I am to be there
to help him accept God's mercy.
I am to offer comfort and understanding
and love and friendship
to a man who is fighting death.
I pray
that I can point him in the right direction
say the right words
give him the hug at just the right time
share tears watching the sun set over the Brazos,
and just be still.
I'll be
what God requires I be
for a man, who fears and dreads the crossing over
for there is so much left to do
and so much left to see
and tears to shed and babies to hold
and weddings to attend
and kisses to share and he is so afraid.
I know
it is okay and it is my job and it is my honor
to walk right up to that portal
and when the time is right
and the moment is there
I will
simply be there as he steps across
and I'll place his hand in the hand
of another who loves him
a bride given in love out of love
forever.

Reading in The Book. Things I've read a dozen times in my life, now come alive, and speak, directly to me. Reading for his Message to me. Not reading for knowledge, or enlightenment, but in an earnest search for his instructions, to me, on what it is that he requires. I've struggled for years with "God's Will," baffled by the audacity of a mere man ( or woman) to say they were doing God's will. How on earth were they supposed to know? Well, duh! Picked the book up and prefaced some of the books with, "Roy, I had you in mind when I had my prophet write this story down," or "Roy, when I had Paul write this letter, I knew that you would need it to understand how to handle the decision you are facing." Now, I'll admit, it seems a little far fetched. Kind of like that "inerrant Word of God" thing. But, I do believe that when, in your loving relationship with Christ you have been given the Holy Spirit to guide you, then God's Word, to you, for you, about you, and supporting you, is revealed, (and therein lies the inerrancy.)

Speaking of The Book, I bought a "Life Application," Large print study bible for RFW. And lo and behold, he is reading it. That is unfortunately the good news (No pun intended, he started with Genesis.) The bad news is he is Full, Overflowing, with questions. So far, I've been a step or two ahead of him, but it is a struggle. He is turning out to be a good "master" for me, in that I have to read and study to be able to help him. (God does have a sense of humor doesn't he.)

My sweet baby girl is married. I gave her hand in marriage only a few weeks ago. Tough, but they seem to be so much in love that it is bearable.

Oh, well..... time to get on to other things.

ilovebacon.com - dumb but fun
A couple of cool days in August. Amazing, welcome, but in the way only a dedicated pessimist can, I feel the blast of heat that will follow, haunting me.

Hummingbird news on the river. I bought a cheap plastic and glass hummingbird feeder a couple of months ago. The cardinals have moved on and I miss watching the birds. So, hung the Hummingbird feeder on the hook just off the porch. We've seen a few hummingbirds, but infrequently and they were less than excited by the feeder. But, over the past couple of weeks there have been a few more. Yesterday morning I noticed the feeder was almost empty, so I took the jar off the feeder and took it inside to mix a new batch of Hummingbird KoolAde. When I finished and went to the trailer door I saw about fifteen (hard to count the little boogers) hovering, and chirping in dismay at the spot where the feeder had hung. I went out and hung the feeder and a frenzy of dive bombing began and they drank so fast bubbles wee rising through the red liquid. When we got back to the river last night only an ounce or two remained. We watched them for a while last night. As many as eight at a time hovering and jockeying for position. Gelaming green backs and the occasional red throat made an awsome show.
Simple pleasures.................

Welcome to My Yahoo!
The house on Rio Road may come available again. Seems the purchaser is having problems with financing or insurance. The current owner came by RFW's yesterday and said she was probably not going to be able to close the deal and would contact Roy, get a downpayment and just get it done. Hmmmmm. She also asked for help finding a plumber. RFW checked with a couple of people locally and couldn't come up with anybody. I talked to D. Smith and he knew a guy. I called AG and told her. She asked if we would be at the river this weekend and said she wanted to get together and discuss the problems she's having selling the house.

"If they ever start selling ignorance, I want first drilling rights to your head."

"You don't always get what you want, you don't always get what you want, you don't always get what you want, but if you try, sometimes, you just might find you get what you need."

A friend of RFWa came in from CA. Wants him to try the Mayo clinic. They did a liver transplant on a friend of his three yesrs ago. Cancer. He's doing fine. They did a "partial" trasplant using tissue from the guy's daughter. She was back up to full liver tissue in 4 weeks. I encouraged RFW to make the call. I reminded him however that because he has cancer of the liver, he will still not be able to get a liver from the organ pool, he'll have to have a donor. I also reminded him that a freind with O+ has already offered to furnish the needed tissue. I recommended that he be sure to remember that when he calls Mayo as I suspect they will not even talk to him unless he can provide his own donor.

Fishook George had a rough couple of days. Apparently he swam the river to play with some people who were wading and playing on the sandbar across from us. He then wandered away and di not find his way home. RFW and DW found him in a neighbor's yard up the road. He was glad to be found and stayed alful close to DW all day Monday. The prodigal dog may have well learned a valuable lesson.

Well the no-braiiner was a no-dealer. House already sold when I got ready to make an offer.
Good to remember "The Rule"
Everything that happens is supposed to happen, and everything that is supposed to happen, happens.
I think Peggy Lee did the song or was it Doris Day? K sarah sarah, or some such.
So, time to move on. Look for a lot or a couple of acres and buld MY dream house on the banks of the Brazos. No rush, I'll probably not be able to retire until I'm in my eighties.
Saw the Eagles last night in concert at the AA center in Dallas. Incredible show. I thought Joe Walsh stole the show. Henley was his usual personable self. No smiles and sort of perturbed at having to do this performance thing in his own neighborhood I suppose. Walsh made his guitar(s) glow and his voice, well it was the same melodious assault on the ears.
RFW continues to do well, all things considered. Back to Dallas at Baylor Med Center to try an experimental thalidomide treatment next week. Prolong is the program.
Fishhook George continues to terrorize the Rio Road settlement. An adolescent male Labrador Retriever is an amazingly complex and persistent machine designed for mastication of virtually every, any and all inanimate object left within his reach. He eats hats, shoes, porches, fishing poles, boxes, firewood, frisbees, grass, any and all clothing he finds that is within his reach and not currently occupied by a human, but not chew toys or rawhide bones provideed for his amusement.

For a no-brainer, this one is dragging out.
Looks like I can buy the Dr.'s house for a reasonable price and get the Dr.'s widow to carry the note.
In-Laws still need care, B in Law still lives 15 min. away, The Brazos is still 55 min. away.
We're in town every day, for work.

More rain, in June, in Texas.......

We toured the River House yesterday evening...... Small, very nice, well built, not much closet space, would require a storage building, it's just a matter of deciding what to do.

Oh well...........................................................................................................................

Quandry.
The house at the river that is for sale has a contract on it, my refuge is sold, unless I step in and beat the offer, time is up, and it is time to decide how we live the rest of our lives.
We have responsibilities to others, family and friends. We have things pulling us to stay here, in town and maintain our availability for those who need from us.
We also have responsibilities to ourselves, to take back our lives and live for a while for ourselves.
It's a no-brainer isn't it?

Time and the weather. That's whats going on today. Second day of rain, in June, in Texas, that is news.

Last Saturday Morning: on the way to Love Field to catch a flight South to attend a funeral:

Most of my life I've bemoaned the fact that God has steadfastly refused to reveal himself to me. I postulated that if God really wanted me, and others, to acknowledge and accept his Glory and Might, he'd give us a sign, a real sign, BIG, NEON, flashing in the sky, Christmas Eve every year, or on Good Friday, or Easter morning, proclaiming his omnipotence with a message, in all the languages, something clear and to the point, like, "I'm the Almighty God, creator of the universe and King of Kings. You, and all you have, and all you know, you have and know at my pleasure." But, for over 50 years, no sign, nothing, nada, kaput.

Last Saturday morning, driving East I realized the signs had been there, all along, but invisible to my closed eyes and heart. I rose before dawn to catch a flight to Houston and for whatever reason, God set the sign in the heavens for me. As I made my way East, the ebony of the night sky eased into sapphire and steel gray clouds appeared as broad strokes splashed upon the bluing canvas of the sky. A few miles further and the horizon glowed lavendar and orange. As the bright orange disc of the sun slowly inched over the edge a raging inferno burst across the east and the steely clouds grew brilliant silver halos. So, on this Sabbath morn the signs were evident, my eyes were open and my heart permitted, and God's power and glory were there, for me to see or not, for me to hear, or not, and I saw and heard.

Summer is here. Nineties and bumping a hundred in the afternoons are just another Texas summer flexing its muscles for the hard, hot run to fall. I left the air off in la casa pequeña con ruedas. A couple of hours on the porch reding and playing Scrabble gave it time to come from 97 inside to a tolerable 75. Quiet on the river and no breeze. RFW & DW in for the night before we arrived. A nice quiet night.
This morning we took it easy. Breakfast at Joe's with RFW. He was in rare form and on his way to Dallas to check on TW. Tomorrow he is trading mowers , picking up 4wheelers, and taking care of broken toys in general. I'm off to a funerla in Houston. I made the decision to fly down early tomroow a.m. and fly back as soon as the funeral is over. I have to be in SA Monday morning at 7 and don't want to spend my entire weekend driving.