My Generation

It would seem, watching the current world events, that my generation has tumbled into the abyss of their own self-regard. 

I watch as a world I knew becomes something so alien, I feel we are in the twilight years. Maybe we are, maybe it will all be sooner than any of us could guess. I just know that the passion I had when I was younger, no longer seems to galvanize me into seeking truth as I once did. 

Maybe it is being a mother of young men, who have formed opinions and ideals almost separate from my own. I do see a lot of myself in them, but I also see where I have become jaded and complacent in my views, or at least in expressing them. 

I stopped writing a few years ago. I made some major changes in my life. Working full time, I find I rarely want to do anything other than come home and watch movies, or read a book, rather than keep up on social media or the news. 

Don't get me wrong. I hear, and I see. I just don't say very often anymore. I keep my views to myself for the most part Maybe age, or maybe it's because we are losing sight of what this country is that I feel the need to put this to pen so to speak. 

Our upcoming generation of voters, the ones who will one day run this country, are speaking, and we are not listening. 200 years ago, we wrote the constitution for the good of this country. We wrote laws for us to live by. We taught spoken and unspoken rules of how to behave. 

Almost everyone I know, have gone off the proverbial deep end. Every conversation I have with my best friend is over something neither she nor I can do anything about and always instigated by her. I think she baits me on purpose. It makes me think of my other best friend John, R.I.P., who's email was ybnurmal@ .... spelled that way on purpose. Nothing is normal, but John would not just bitch about it, he'd go out and do something to change it. 

I've talked about John in other posts on here. Born in Colorado, but raised in the middle east, (Egypt)  a father who worked for the U.N., and a mother who worked at the American Embassy in Cairo. He really did go out and change things. He sprayed black flies on the Ivory coast in the 80's, he worked security for a Royal household in Sudia Arabia in the 90's. He traveled, flew helicopters, fought fires. In the 2000's he moved to Biloxi Mississippi and went to Tulane. He then went on Scholarship to Uganda where he built an all-girls school in Entebbe. 

If he was alive today, I have no doubt he'd be going on the humanitarian march to Palestine, and protesting here in the U.S. He'd be fighting for immigrants, and our laws that are arbitrarily being changed. I don't see that from my generation. I see them keeping their heads down, staying under the radar. It appalls me. What are we doing. Are we really going to leave this apocalyptic shithole for our kids or will there even be anything for us to leave them. Why is my generation counting on the younger one to change things, why aren't we? 

World in Despair

 Artists create the best work from pain, yet now we are in despair 

So, what does that look like?

There are moments that define our lives, and there are moments that divide our lives. Incidents that divide us into two people. Who we were before: and who we will be after. 

Forever. 

I never thought I would see the day when we had a President who could be likened to Hitler. In 2016 his 1st term, he showed us who he was. *Is* What's astounding to me, is we put him in again. The people I know who voted for him are shocked. My question to them, is why? He did not change. He's the same corrupt person he's always been. I mean, I get why. Kamala offered no change, the same as Hilary offered none. I just don't get why "We the People" cannot see past this. The two-party system is no longer viable and has not been for several years. Capitalism no longer works.  

So, what has happened to critical thinking?  I first noticed it when arts and music programs started getting cut and core math was introduced. I fought for the arts programs in Marysville, went to city council meetings and the local news. Our education system which had already been suffering, started to suffer more. I thought I was relatively smart, but clearly naive. My kids at the time were all in choir, and theatre. They were also in an after-school bible class. Probably the only one around that was still in a school. 

In 2010, my marriage was eviscerated. This is when I started to notice everything, from school politics, to city, to state and on up. I had been as apathetic in life as I believed my husband to be. The year before, my daughter had called me from Montana. She asked me how to vote. I laughed, and said, "you have to figure out what you want for your family, and what you believe in and vote from there. I was so wrong in that statement. 

We have to look at the bigger picture. We need to care about more than just our narrow little world, because if we don't, we end up with what we have right now. 

The days collide with news changing by the second. So much is happening that you can't keep your focus on any one thing. Media and corporations are owned by government. Even in research, it's hard to discern what's truth, or lie. Propaganda. AI plays a major role on the internet, and it's contained with bias by those who have developed it. 

I recently spoke with a girlfriend of mine from Beirut. We touched a little on what is happening in the current administration. I could see the fear and hopelessness in her, even though she did not voice it. I have a young friend from Spain who I've asked if he's gone to any of the protests, and his answer was no, he is staying under the radar. I have another friend from Scotland, and the answer is the same. Keeping their heads down and paying taxes and hoping this will pass. These are just a few people, Imagine the many that are now living this way. 

 We are a world in despair.  It needs to change. 

loppers

The cabin in the woods had a candle burning in the window. 

It was late, I'm not really sure of the time. I had been driving for hours and had started seeing the lopers. I've called them that for years. I've done a lot of cross country driving, so I know when I'm tired I start seeing them. 

They are dark shadowy shapes, black in color,  that look almost human, but with elongated features. They lope beside the roadways at night. 

Every once in awhile,  they sort of dart in front of your vehicle, almost as if to say, wake up. This happens when you are becoming transfixed by the passing lines in the road. They are creepy, scary, and real. 

On this particular night, I pulled over when one darted in front of me. I sat there, breathing hard, chills running down every inch of my body. Usually I keep driving, but on this particular night I pulled off to the side of the road. I needed fresh air to wake me up. I still had several hours to go.  

As  I got out of my car, I could see a light through the trees. Not entirely sure why, but I followed it. I came to a cabin and there was a candle burning in the window. I stood there, in the shadows,  silently observing.  Not seeing anything, I crept closer. The window was old glass, with discoloration from years of candles, and weather. It was difficult to see in. As I peered into the window, I could see the outlines of the loppers. I stopped breathing. I had goosebumps  on my arms,  and I felt frozen in place.  

I regained my senses and slowly backed away. Heading back towards my car I could feel them getting closer to me. Feeling like I was moving in slow motion,  I hurried to my car, fumbling to get the doors locked, and the car started. I drove away almost in a panic,  wide awake now. 

These loppers would be on mountain passes and long stretches of winding roads. Always in lonely desolate places, made lonelier at night.  Driving alone, made the nights a place of nightmares, every horror movie watched came alive in my imagination. 

I headed down the pass to a café at the bottom for some early morning coffee. As I sat at the counter, and ordered, a lone trucker looked over at me. He said, "You see them". A statement,  not a question. I knew he was talking about the shadows I called loppers.  He then said,  "they are the souls of the people who die on the roads, and they gather when they know someone is going to die". "They stay in abandoned cabins, and wait for the people who wreck".  I was frozen again. People I had met over the years had talked about the shadows, but none of them had ever given me a feeling of foreboding like this lone man. 

I gave a nervous chuckle and looked away. He stood up then and started to approach me. As he slide past me, he whispered, "don't let them touch you". He walked out, and I sat and finished my coffee. The old trucker was creepy and I wondered how he knew that I saw these things I called the loppers.  

I woke up with a jolt to see I had run off the road. I groggily took inventory,  and found I was in one piece. My car not so much, but drivable. As I pulled onto the road, I glanced back and I could see the glimmer of a candle burning through the trees, and the shadowy figures lopping off into the woods.  

I realized then, the loppers are real. I've talked to people over the years since my encounter in the woods, people who do long distance driving. They've all seen them, at night, usually after midnight, and always on mountain roads,  and long lonely stretches. 

The Past; letting go

Caveat: I have not been married to Antony's father since 1997. We have never been on great terms, but I tried to keep most of that from my son. His father, on the other hand, did not. 

My Son's father passed away almost a month ago now. I actually wrote a blog on him and his friends a little over a month ago. On Friday, my son and I went through his things. Mostly it was his clothing. Mohamed had a clothing and shoe fetish. He loved high-end expensive clothing, and about 3 of the 5 boxes we went through still had tags on them. I don't know how I feel about this since he died penny less and Antony has to come up with the money for funeral expense. (I've started a gofundme for that. https://www.gofundme.com/f/assistance-for-my-son039s-father-passing 

To clarify, A headstone. Which Mohamed's son deserves to have for him. 

Back to his effects. He also had lot's of paperwork, but most from the past. Our divorce papers, our court papers, allegations, statements, filings, etc.... My son just turned 24 on the 9th of August. If you've followed my writing, you've read about him and how much I have tried through the years to protect him. The papers should have long been thrown away or burned. It was history. I don't know if my son will read them, or if he does, what he'll think of them, but I am leaving that up to him. He can decide what to throw and what he keeps.

Mohamed never lived in the now. He was always chasing the money, and never appreciated the actual journey. The lessons he could have learned from it or should have learned from it, he did not. The purpose. 
Everything was status, his clothes, his cars, where he lived. His son.

I look back at all of it, and I'm sad, that he lived that way. Sad for him, sad for my son. There were good memories before Antony was born, and some after. Mostly though, there was strife. Mohamed passed in a country that was not his, with no friends or family. 

We have memories, photos, stories, but Mohamed is no longer with us. I hope in where ever he is, he has finally found peace.

 ارقد في سلام

Humanity is dying

I watched a T.V. Special on King 5, titled Seattle's Dying. Found here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpAi70WWBlw

In it, the commentator, asks the question, "What if Seattle is dying and we don't even know it?" Well, we do know it or the special would not have been done. I work in Seattle every day and see this and more. We are too damn liberal.

I hear about it from the people who come into my store. I see drugs and crime on a daily basis. What I don't see is something being done about it. Again, we have discussions, we run specials, we have programs and money set aside to help, yet NOTHING is changing.

Why? I can tell you what I see and hear. Example: A shoplifter walks out of the store with 100.00's of dollars worth of goods. Are the police called? No, because they do nothing. Are not allowed to do anything.  The city council voted to call these crimes, crimes of poverty. We stand and watch. Our policy is to not stop, not confront.  The city policy is to allow it. Too much paperwork for the courts.

Are the city and the corporations afraid of lawsuits? This is what I hear. Lawsuits from the thieves. The druggies. Employees can lose their jobs. When did crime become OK, and not stopping it becomes wrong?

The attitude of the people is anger, disbelief. I see people shake their heads in wonder but I see no one doing anything about it. It reminds me of talking to someone who does not vote. The belief is, why should they. One vote won't make a difference. This way of thinking is inherently wrong. Nothing is ever accomplished through in-action.

You listen to the police in this video, their hands are tied. They don't feel the honor they felt when 1st becoming a police officer. They are given kits to take to the people on the streets. They coddle the junkies, doing drugs that are illegal. Did you know there are still people in jail for marijuana offenses from the '60s and '70s? Yet, you walk by almost any street corner, in downtown Seattle, any park, or underpass, and people are shooting up. It's a liability to the city to put someone in jail while they are high.



There was a second video done, on skid row in California. 53,000 people homeless are living there. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9D9pZEjSxXQ

This is not just happening in Seattle. This is happening all over our country. It should not be. It should not just be being talked about. It should not be just being filmed. Something should be being done about it.

Humanity is dying. People say they care but it is glaringly obvious that they do not. Or this would change.

John

We were talking about you the other day. Jen and I.

Sharon and John in front of the School in Entebbe Uganda
One of my last photos of him before he passed. 

I can't really remember the 1st time you walked into the club. I know you were in between jobs at Evergreen Helicopter. Jen hired you to bar back.

We became instant friends. You had that effect on people. No matter who you met.  You spoke Arabic and started teaching me.  We spent all our time together, and we danced. To any band that played. You tended to have crushes on the female leads, and me, the bass players.  I don't know why, maybe because they were tall and lanky and so was I.

We followed the bands that we liked. One, all the way to California and back. Most of our friends were in the music scene. When you taught me to dance, it was swing. Salsa, Pasa doable, and ballroom dance. Every week we were out. You stayed with my parent's and helped dad with cutting and stacking wood. You would help mom around the house too.

Jen and I were laughing about when you went back to the Middle East. I believe it was in the late '90s when you went back. You called me because you had gotten engaged. You told me about Mahar, the Muslim engagement period and that you needed to come up with cow's, and goats and a house for her. Plus 5000.00 for her household. You told me you didn't think that the marriage was going to happen because you did not have the money for the goats. Thinking about this now, Jen and I laughed and laughed. Goats, of all things. Like there weren't a million of them over there.

In the Early 2000s, you came back to the states and moved to Hammond Louisiana.  My understanding was you bought a house and property down there and were attending Tulane University.  From there, you went to Entebbe Uganda. You also bought property there, while you were helping build a school for girls.

We had phone calls often, but the last one was in April of 2012. I was with mom and dad, right before she passed. You spoke to mom on the phone and she asked if you had stacked the wood. You told her yes, you had and to stay warm, and you would see her soon. I did not know how prophetic that statement was.

You didn't tell me you were sick. I had no idea until your brother called me in June. I knew when I picked up the phone. Before he said a word, I knew you were gone. 7 years ago today, you left us. We all miss you. I'll be seeing Karen on Friday night. Rail is playing.  She's bringing her daughter Samantha, who's as gorgeous as she is. Alex is doing sound for them. You never got to meet them, but they love music as much as you and I did.

I see Jen all the time. She has cancer but does pretty good.  She and Jim are still together after all these years. 43 years now according to Jen.  I can hear you laughing when they fight. I can see your impish smile when she and I are up to our usual antics all these years later.

I wish you were still here. You'd be proud of your brother and sister and niece. I remember you going to see her play with the Philharmonic Symphony. My son plays now too and has a band. You are missing so much, and so many circles that we are still in.  And Antony, my Egyptian child. He's not a child anymore John. He's grown, and he dances, and he works for Microsoft. You'd be so proud of him.

I found some of the letters the other day. The ones from Tehran, and the Ivory Coast. You had quite an adventurous life. You lived it to the fullest. God, I miss you. I live with Cyrene again too. I remember our trip to California and staying at your tiny apartment in Oxnard. I wanted to stay on the sailboat, but Cyrene would not.  She was so funny about things. There was a storm rolling in, but I know we would have been fine. I have pictures from that trip somewhere. I'll have to dig them out and post them here.

Anyway, I'll let you go now. Just know I love and miss you. Wish you were here.

1987

2 of my roommates from the house on 45th, and some of the band members
from Whiskey FIx that lived with me. 

In 1987 I was living in the C.D. in Seattle. Still working at the Riviera in Lynnwood, and also at a little Greek restaurant behind the courthouse on Yesler.

 I was so naive. I Lived on 18th with two Filipino roommates Naomi, David, and my 2-year-old daughter.  I had Cripps at one end of my street, and Bloods on the other. I honestly never paid attention to this, until a friend from college pointed it out to me.

I was walking to work on Yesler one day, and my buddy who I went to college with was driving a cab. He passed by me and turned around to pick me up.  He had no idea I was living down there, and so our conversation went like this.

Him: hey, what are you doing down here, walking around.
Me: I just live over on 18th, I walk to work every day.
Him: You have got to be kidding me
Me: no, why?
Him: you realize this is the C.D.
Me: yea, so?
Him: It's dangerous in this area.
Me: I've never had any problems.

RIght about when I said that, he came to a stop at a light. Two Seattle police officer came running up from behind the cab, yelling stop. I look around, and here's this African American guy, booking it, and slides over the hood of our car and keeps going. The police had guns drawn.

My buddy looks at me and says See? As if to say, I told you we are in a dangerous area. I started thinking about moving from then forward.

I did eventually end up moving. To a house in Sunnyside. A block off 45th. I rented a 5 bedroom home with 3 other girls, and 2 guys. All in bands. We had a soundproof studio in the basement. A few Seattle musicians practiced there, including Mike Starr and Jerry Cantrell, from Alice n Chains prior to being signed.

This was a start to another chapter in my young life.
More later~
peace~