Class war; the Division that will always exist.

I'll start this by taking a look at our current President. Donald Trump. Self made man, self made Billionaire. New money; as opposed to old money. Is he accepted in the hierarchy of blue bloods? The answer is no. No, he is not. He's allowed a certain standing, but a precarious one. If we were to strip him of his money and title, who would he be. 

I digress, this is not really all about Trump. In 2016, the year of Brexit and Trump, two pieces of data, neglected by the shrewdest of establishment analysts, Tells the story That in the U.S. , more than 1/2 of  Americans could not qualify to buy the cheapest car on the market. The Nissan Versa Sedan, priced at just a little over 12,000.00  According to Federal Reserve data. Meanwhile in the U.K, 40% of families were using credit and food banks. 

The elites readiness to ignore widening class divisions and replace them with class blind identity politics has been the greatest gift to toxic populism. 

Hating to recognize the intensified class war, the vast public bangs its head on conspiracy theories and Russian influence with bursts of misogyny, the flow of migrants, and the rise of the machine, ect. Meanwhile the fears are correlated with the militant parochialism fueling Trump and Brexit. These, only tangential to the deeper cause. Class war against the poor. (Which we spoke of with the car affordability in the U.S and the credit dependent U.K. This is all propaganda to further turn you're head away from the classes. 

Politicians love division, and if they can get our attention in area's of less importance, while lining their coffers, so much the better. 

You see, they don't care about us. They do not care about affordable health care, Social Security, or retirement. They do not care that we might possibly live on the streets, or go without food. It's just data to them, and we, "the people" buy into it. It then perpetuates itself. 

Does it matter what kind of car you drive, or where you live? What kind of education you had, or how you got it? What about the clothes you wear, or even the state you are in? Have you asked where your taxes go, or do you blindly allow the government to tell you where they went, with no proof, no accountability. 

I like to think, that I can put on a million dollar outfit, and attend a benefit with a 35,000 dollar a plate entrance, and no one would be the wiser about my background. 30 years ago, I could have. Maybe not so much now. I come from middle class America, which no longer exists, and live below poverty level. You would not think that, to look at me, or talk with me. So does the division really exists? 

In 2008, the financial collapse of the market, and subsequent recession buried the dream of class equality. Yet the liberals ignored the the fact that there were huge losses incurred by the quasi-criminal financial sector, that were cynically transferred to a working class they thought no longer mattered. "Polite society" seemed not to give a damn that it was now easier to get into Harvard or Cambridge, whether you were black or poor. It was blatantly ignored that identity politics could be as divisive as apartheid if allowed to act as a lever for overlooking class conflict. 

Just recently, The University of Colorado set aside 3 buildings housing students, for all Asian, all Blacks and  LGBTQ students. So what happened? Now we have not only division of class, we have taken a step back in time and have a division of race. What I find even more interesting is that it was the students themselves that requested this division. Since the inauguration of President Trump; everything we have worked for in America, stood for in America, and fought for in America has come full circle.

Trump has had no compunction to speak clearly of class division. It has largely been ignored although deceitfully. Predictably, the embrace of the working class by Trump and the Brexiteers was always going to arm them with electoral power that, sooner or later, would be deployed against working-class interests and, of course, minorities — always the penchant of populism in power, from the 1930s to today.

 

Suicide; before and after

This is one of the toughest subjects out there; because there are no answers. 

Suicide. I've known 3 young boys that have taken this step in the past year. 

Words are meaningless, and being a person who rely's on words to express my thoughts, I didn't have many. Not when it happened, not after it happened, and certainly not during the telling of it. 

I went to a viewing today, and as I sat with the mother of this young boy who died, I thought, "grief" what is it. What does it mean? I drew a blank. Like the look in his mother's eye's as she went through the motions of tending to her family. Minus one. His father, greeting people, and repeating the same thing, over and over. Thank you for coming, please light a candle, I'm sorry if I'm being rude, I need to greet people. 

I heard his wife say, you be you, and I'll be me. But who are they now? After this young boy had blessed their lives with his grace and love. Daniel was 15. He loved music, and animals. He loved his friends, and family. On the surface, he was generally a happy kid. Hiking, camping, playing. He was a gamer, a musician, a brother and a son.  He was a normal teenager, with normal teen angst. But somewhere along the line, he got lost. 


I believe the spirits of these young men who have been lost to the tangible world are still with us. I do not believe that these things happened through any fault of the parents of these children, nor friends, or school officials. Its been a little over a week since I went to this viewing, and I still have no words. 

As a parent myself, I fear the pain of this kind of loss, and can only sit back helplessly as other parents go through this and attempt to carry on as if life was still normal. But it is not.... not for them, and not for anyone close to them. I find myself attempting to start a conversation with the parent's. Thought out in advance in my head, and nothing seems appropriate. Everything is trite. Flat, as I imagine it is for them. Words hold no meaning. We take them out and analyze them, yet there is nothing cohesive. Nothing to put the word together and make it mean something. 

I think about the 1st's; 1st Christmas, 1st birthday, 1st everything. How do you get through this, knowing a piece is missing. Getting up and facing the day because there is no other choice. Stumbling through,  acting as if nothing is wrong, but everything is. 

31 years ago, My best friend in the whole world lost her 15 year old son. My godson.  I was on the search and rescue for him. I really did not know how she did it, getting through all these things, going back to life again. I asked her this past week, and the only thing she could put her finger on was life. Her life, her 2nd son's life. She said the 1st few years after loosing Tim were a blur, as I imagine it will be for Daniel's family. Things will cut you and make you bleed, memories will make you want to curl into a fetal position and never come out of it. But the human spirit is stronger than we realize, and for the parent's of these lost boys, they will also find a way to get through In their own time. 

I want to tell Daniel's family that they will make it. Yet  I don't know how. I want to say to the other 2 boys family the same thing, and again, do not know how. So in this, maybe this is one of the 1st answer's we really have, these lost boys did not know how to tell someone how they felt. The words they may have used would be flat, and hold no meaning. There was nothing tangible for them to point to and say, this is why I did this. This is why. And maybe this will be the 1st step in the healing process for them.

Warning signs of suicide

• Talking about wanting to die
• Looking for a way to kill oneself
• Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose
• Talking about feeling trapped or in unbearable pain
• Talking about being a burden to others
• Increasing the use of alcohol or drugs
• Acting anxious, agitated or recklessly
• Sleeping too little or too much
• Withdrawing or feeling isolated
• Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge
• Displaying extreme mood swings

What to do

If someone you know exhibits warning signs of suicide:

• Do not leave the person alone.
• Remove any firearms, alcohol, drugs or sharp objects that could be used in a suicide attempt.
• Call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or send a text to the Crisis Text Line at 741-741.
• Take the person to an emergency room or seek help from a medical or mental health professional.

Most people who die by suicide grapple with mental health or substance abuse, or both, although sometimes those conditions go un-diagnosed. In 2015, suicide was the second leading case of death among 15- to 35-year-olds in the United States, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The number of suicides that year, 44,193, dwarfed the number of homicides, 17,793.

I'm choosing not to use photos in this piece, because I don't feel that photo's belong to this story. Photo's do not belong to the term Suicide. A voice does. And word's can become a voice. 

This is dedicated to Daniel, and his family. May god surround you with his love and peace, and may Daniel fly with the Angels. 

Please; If you can,  make a donation in Daniel's name to https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org

Corporate careers should not come in two flavors; his and her's.

30 years ago, I started my career in the food and beverage industry.  (Even though I wanted a career in Law enforcement) Waitressing in a local club. This was just one of many jobs I would have getting to my final goal.  I say club, because back then, the focus was the alcohol for money, not the food. Food was only on the menu because of the liquor laws.  I learned within 6 months that this is not where I wanted to be. I had no patience for people. Period. My perception was, they were like drunk 2 year old's. 

About the 6 month mark, I had a table that had 6 or 7 guys at it. They all knew the owner. One in-particular I ended up cutting off.  Of course he was not pleased with this, and proceeded to put his hand up my skirt on my return to the table with drinks for the others. All of them finding this hilarious, although they could see I was seething. I turned to the guy who had done this and dumped my entire tray, (about 27 drinks in all) on his head. Chaos ensued. My girlfriend who was the bartender, came rushing out to pull me off the floor, and the owner of course had rushed down to apologize to his friends, and get them more drinks.   

Jennifer got me a drink and pulled me to the side, and then talked to the owner while I was calming down. She came back and asked if I wanted to work the door. I said yes. The term bouncer was used back then and the protocol was a lot different than it is now, but that is what I was. 

The rest of that story is a hazy memory these days, but the point was, I ended up in the security industry from then on. (My dream to go into law enforcement was on hold due to other things happening in my life. 

So the story goes, Security became my career. My start was that 1st local club, and then more local clubs, due to how good I was, and then along with recommendations from the liquor board, I went to private security. 

Now, in the security industry, there were not many women at all. I was one of 3 that I knew of at the time, and the other two did not pursue this. I was up against men for local jobs but because of my gender, I ended up with some pretty cush positions and wages. My ceiling was 16.00 an hour and that was then. (more than I am making now, (working food and beverage) and the same in that particular field) 

When people 1st realized what I did for a living, they were like, no way! How do you do that? Aren't you scared of getting hurt, or getting into fights? My answer to all this was no. The reasoning was because I am female, the expected is no longer the norm. Men fight, not women. So I was the un expected element in this industry. I had 2 incident reports in 20 years of doing this, compared to men, who had 1 -2 a night or weekend. 

I'm back in the food and beverage industry, and it's taken me less than 2 months to realize, again, this is not where I want to be. Let's face it, people are A**holes, and if I were to go back to security, I can throw them out. (for the most part) 

What I have noticed in the job I am in right now, is that if there is any conflict, either internal with co-workers or with the general public, we (women) do not have the power, or confidence to take a stand on what is right or wrong according to club policy. (or Casino) where ever you may be. It's a strange feeling to be back under an invisible ceiling after 30 years of having a semblance of control in your position. You literally feel suffocated and like you cannot contribute to making you're current position feel like you are on a team. 

In chatting with other women in this field they also feel the same way I do. When I bring this up with men in these positions, they have no idea what I'm talking about. They do not feel like I do, as if I am running to the boss to tattle, or to solve an issue that cannot be solved alone. There is an atmosphere of being stifled. Feelings that if something is brought up, or mentioned, then my job is at risk. 

It's the supervisor's position to create an atmosphere conducive to good moral and teamwork. Not to allow one that makes you feel like a 2 year old when an issue cannot be solved on your own. 

In my current position, I have come across 2 co-workers, that feel the need to constantly put me on edge. If I were in security, I would not be feeling this way. I'd have my game back. I would be able to work freely without fear of retribution or job loss. The difference between being a man and a woman in these fields, are glaringly noticeable, yet nothing is done about this, even 30 years later. 

Women will always have a ceiling, whereas men will not. I would think in this day and age, that invisible line would have long since been blurred and washed away. So, with that said. No, we are not equals, and I don't believe we ever will be. No matter what we do. I think there will be a select few, who disregard that line, but it will still be there. I'd dearly love to be the one that can erase this line, and I am sure there are also many women who feel the same. The only thing I can do is write about it, and hope that enough people, men and women, read it and spread the word. Policy and protocol should be the same for all of us. 

Let's talk about customer service.

Growing up we were taught manners. It did not matter if we were in the public or not. 

Going to a restaurant, even though the waitresses and waiter's are paid, short of removing glasses and plates, we cleaned up after ourselves.  We took pride in how we were in the public, and it showed. If a napkin was dropped we picked it up. If we spilled food or drink, we cleaned it up. We did not leave this for the waiter or waitress. We also left hefty tips, for good service, knowing that these are what they depended on the most. 

As I grew older, I ended up in the customer service industry myself. I started as a cocktail waitress.  Back in the 80's, we had a very high standard when it came to the customer. We still do, but I have found that the appreciation for what we do is no longer there. 

It seems as if the general public has a expectation that we wait on them regardless of our wage or tip. Most jobs that entail getting tips are not just a person standing behind the cash registrar and taking you're order. We also clean up when you leave, making sure you have condiments, coffee, tea, cups sauces, pop, water,  and more. On top of picking up after you once you have left the table.  and we are on our feet for 8 hours straight at a minimum. 

I have watched over the years, how customer service has changed on both sides. We still get minimum wage, and we still do an incredible amount of work, but now we get less and less in the tip jar. I think an expectation has come about that because the public does not see the side work we do, (apparently thinking it is elves in the middle of the night that do it) we no longer get the appreciation we used to. Customers these days can be thoughtless, as well as employees who don't really care, but the majority of us do. It's why we do what we do. 

I'm hoping to clear up this miss conception that all we do is stand behind a registrar.  I'd like the general public to stop and think a moment about the service you receive, and the amount of work that goes into making sure your needs are met 100% and above. For very little money. 

We have a tip jar in front of us. It is there for a reason. Penny's from your change is an insult, and I know there are many times we would love dearly to shout it out about how rude this is, we stand there and take it, because we need the job, and even more important, some of us, probably the majority of us in this industry, truly do care about the service you receive. We've been doing this for many years, its a career for some of us. Let's acknowledge it for what it is. Just because some of us do not have degrees, and don't come in in business suits with 6 figure incomes, does not mean we like our jobs any less or more than you do. 

So for crying out loud. Tip! Even if it is 1.00. Thank you :) 

Holiday Tradition

From the time I was a little girl, Thanksgiving and Christmas were my favorite Holidays. 

Last Thanksgiving with mom and dad 

The house always smelled of firewood, candles, cinnamon  and baking. Mom always had the card table set up in the living room, to write to everyone she knew. I remember one year, when I realized we were getting older, was when her card list went from 500 to 300 pretty quick. People were doing form letters on the internet, and by email. 

Last time we were all together 

Every Thanksgiving, we had family over. Dad was from a family of 13 brother's and sisters, so we had lots of Aunts and Uncles, and cousins. Thanksgiving was always traded off too. We would do it at our home one year, then a Aunts home the next. There was always lot's of food. Usually a Ham, a Turkey, and sometimes a goose. Everyone brought pies and sweets, and stayed over night. 

At Christmas, we had friends in on Christmas Eve. Mary and Charlie usually. They were friends of my parents that came every year, and also brought gifts. We were allowed to open one gift Christmas eve and the stockings were left for morning before our parents got up. They both smoked, and that was the one time a year that mom allowed smoking in the house. For me, this smell combined with the warmth of candles and cooking was a great memory and every time I smell that now, it reminds me of then. 

Thanksgiving with Uncle Randy 

During my marriage, we did holidays the same way my parents did, and I tried to pass that down to my children. It was always a good time for me, and I wanted that for them. For years as they were growing up, I passed along the traditions of the holidays. We always use Grandma's China and Silver, and that too will be passed to my children at some point in their lives. 

As I got older, and we started going our separate ways during the holidays, hanging out with friends and surrogate family's that became our's along with our friends. My parents would visit friends more often than not as we always seemed to have other plans by the time we hit our late teens and 20's. 

My children are now doing the same. They are old enough to make their own plans, with friends, girlfriends and surrogate family's. I hope that one day that they will pass along some of our traditions to their own children. 

I miss a lot of the tradition these days, as my own children are older and going their own ways, but I get it and wish them all the love and happiness that I had during the holidays. 

Shopping tips; staying on budget.

As a single mother, budgeting and staying hip are not always conducive when it comes to shopping for a wardrobe. For myself, I have a love of  clothes with labels. (So, I'm going to share how I am able to make this happen) 

Jeans, True Religion, 70.00 Boots, Uggs, 2.00 manager special. 

It used to be, buying clothes 3 to 4 times a year, not only for style but for seasons also, was done at Walmart or Value Village. I still do Value Village, but I watch for labels and condition now. 

Top, Free People, 34.00 Shorts, Hot topics, 28 

I also watch for sales on-line at some of my favorite sites, True Religion, Free People, Buckle and American Eagle. 

Once I have purchased a few main pieces new, Jeans, 1-2 pairs, and a versatile jacket or sweater, I hit Value Village and accessorize. We also have a local store by the name of Platos, which carry's high end merchandise, covering you're entire wardrobe, all of it, from purses to shoes, second hand and tons cheaper than buying new. 

Faux Jacket, 18.00 Platos, Boots, 12.00 Value Village. 

Black Dress, vintage, 7.00 Black pumps,  5.00 Platos

Black is always a given in any ones closet. You are able to mix and match, to almost anything. Adding bold colors in jewelry and scarves helps you look fresh and new. Changing from a jacket to a vest or shrug can change your outfit from casual to business. Adding boots or heels can also change the look you want. 

My suggestion is always getting the basics in place 1st. 

Jeans/slacks 1 to 2 pairs, 

T-shirt/Blouse 2 to 4 sets. 

Tank tops, and shorts, 2 -3 pairs. 

AND always have the requisite little black dress.

Shoe requirement, 2 pairs of Boots, A sexy pump, and a pair of black high heels. All these can be mixed and match to each outfit to change the look you want for that day. Business or casual. 

Also, one pair of practical, (I hate practical, its so boring) for everyday use. Your choice. 

Then, Accessorize!! Scarves, hats, gloves, Jewelry and more. Be creative.  

Shopping the way I do, I am able to keep my wardrobe fresh, new and it's lasts at least a year, before I buy again. 

Look for second hand stores in your town, hit the sales on-line, and outlet malls are always fun! 

Stay in Style, on a budget. 

Memoir of a single mother

Last photo of my family when we still had our house. In the front, Myself, and 2 granddaughter. Alexis, and Taytum. and back row; left to right, Jacob, Gabe, Krystal, and Antony. 

I was a single mother 4 years before I knew it. 

The one thing I want you to understand is, that you are getting a woman who has felt radically separated from most of the ideas that seem to interest people in this day and age. A woman who lost the slight faith she had in the social contract. 

Last photo of my family with my parents, since loosing the house. 

I never thought of  myself as a single mom. To me,  that had negative connotations, and my life was anything but negative. Did I struggle? Yes. Was it difficult at times? Yes. But the "single" term never entered my mind, nor my world. I had my parents, and family. I certainly never thought that I raised my children on my own. I was the primary caregiver, but I was never entirely on my own. 

When I was married, or the last few years of the marriage, I realized it was not a good one, but not able to pinpoint why.  Not in the marriage and not in the world in general. This comprehension came after I was divorced. Once I looked back at the marriage, I get like I had been in my own insular world. Whereas the outside world acted and thought differently than I did. 

My children, at the time, were 15, 11, 10, and 9. I suddenly found myself without the presence of a partner on a daily basis. I made some poor decisions right after my divorce. 1st in men, then in lifestyle. Going out, meeting people, engaging in the music scene again. Some of this I regret, but not all of it. 

One choice I was forced to make, was leaving the family home and splitting my children up. I had promised my oldest I would not leave him, and yet that is exactly what I did. Unfortunately it was through no fault of my own. This choice however, made him grow up faster than I wanted. 

Antony, my oldest son. I always had to fight for him. There was strife between his father and I, so the courts intervened through the years. The same for my granddaughter Alexis whom we had custody of. When I met and married their stepfather, I thought, at the time, this is good, They need this bond. They needed the stability that marriage afforded. The betrayal of that bond devastated both these kids. More than I knew, but did suspect. 

Jacob and Gabriel, my two middle son's, were Paul's children, but the betrayal was still the same for them. I had Gabe, my youngest at the time, caught in the middle of this nasty split. Caught in the middle of me, going a little bit crazy, but still trying for the facade of looking put together. I wrote a lot during the next 3 years after the divorce. 

My writing was about processing things that had not yet happened. It was a way to deal with things to come. My children growing up in a broken home. Moving on with their own lives and the loss and grief I went through, not having what my parents had. Separation, sorrow, pain and loss. A lot of it being dark because it was a dark time for me. 

Through all this, I fought to keep my family together. The impact the divorce had on all of us, was complete chaos. We had no anchor. There was no cohesive record of our time, because time then was not cohesive.  

Somehow, my children have survived this pretty well intact. Even with failed parenting techniques, they have come out the other side of our time together, as productive young men, with admirable goals and dreams, that make me a proud Mother.