miscellaneous drivel

stuff that doesn’t fit anywhere else

So Where Is the Balance?

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It’s hard for me to remember the last time I thought the government was worth trusting. Come to think of it, my natural inclinations go back to that old dichotomy posited by the behavioral psychologist Erik Erickson – Trust vs. Mistrust.

I don’t trust jack squat. I grew up with a bi-polar mother and a sociopathic older sister. Compound that with being a high functioning autistic with serious anxiety issues, and it’s a miracle of faith that I trust in the law of gravity. Then again, I’ve fallen down more than enough times to know that’s one law that doesn’t get broken even though my bones just might.

Of course I don’t trust the current government at any level anymore than I would trust a Taco Bell, White Castle, and boiled egg fart.

I can say this much regarding any attempt to re-hype the COVID narrative. I don’t believe the ends warranted the means- nobody uses a machine gun to kill a housefly. One, the machine gun will only inflict collateral damage. You can destroy property and kill people while the housefly goes merrily on.

Humanity has suffered various plagues since the Fall and will continue to do so. If we find the means to defeat one plague, another will rise as surely as maggots arise on roadkill.

To add insult to injury, the various COVID vaccines have proven at the least to be ineffective and at their most detrimental people are dying from the effects of the vaccines. Many of us were threatened with our livelihoods should we have chosen not to get the vaccine.

So the balance between bodily autonomy and public safety is a fine line. For there are those who scream bodily autonomy at all costs- ironically the liberal left who regards the unholy sacrifice of the unborn to Molech as a sort of anti-sacrament to their god of secular humanism simultaneously demands that one and all receive an untested and potentially lethal vaccine because “stopping the spread” is imperative to public health. What about the poison you force me to put into my body without proof of either its safety or efficacy?

I add an important aside- I have no issues with vaccines that are proven and do save lives from deadly diseases. Vaccination in general does protect personal and public health. But the COVID vaccines have been proven to be both harmful to many people and largely ineffective.

Whose bodily autonomy?

Whose health?

Certainly the health of the victims of abortion is of no concern- the aim for those unfortunate innocents is their demise.

What about those who have died and who will die from the effects of these flawed and deadly vaccines?

What about those who suffer the collateral damages of the vaccines, i.e. those with autoimmune diseases whose diseases have been drastically exacerbated by the vaccines?

I am not the only one who has experienced more- and more intense- RA flares since having the vaccines.

The take away for me is not to go along to get along. I am going to die soon enough. The government wants to kill off as many people in my age bracket as possible, especially those who don’t go along with the program.

I am not playing the game any more, especially when the “cure” is far worse and does nothing to thwart the disease.

Take your mask mandates and stick them where the sun doesn’t shine. Also it will be a cold day in hell before I take an unproven vaccination again.

I love you.

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Yesterday I married my best friend. I know it sounds trite and cliche, but in the past four years or so that we have been together you have shown me what love and loyalty really mean. I am a cynical person by nature. Both of us have been hurt and used by those who claimed to love us, but by the healing grace of God, here we are, two broken halves made whole together.

Yes, I want to shout out to the world, which I don’t usually want to do. I am usually private and keep to myself. Forgive me for my enthusiasm😊.

Bruce, my husband, my friend, I love you. I love our little family and the life we’re building.  You give me hope and strength and confidence.

The Blame Game, Personal Responsibility and the Reality of Risk

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Durex Extra Safe Latex Condoms

Forever in the history of human society- at least since the Fall- pestilence and contagion have been a constant fear and ever present danger.  Few things are more frightening than an unseen enemy that causes illness and death, especially when some are left unscathed and others die, without providing any understanding why one is afflicted and not the other.

There are a number of communicable diseases that are truly frightening and have high degrees of lethality, such as Ebola, that spread like wildfire, are almost always lethal, and have no known cure. These are diseases for which the most drastic containment measures must be taken because of their severity and potential for lethality.  Thankfully these diseases are generally rare and occur in very isolated outbreaks. Ultimately a disease that is too effective at killing its hosts becomes self-limiting and will hopefully remain both isolated and rare.

There are communicable diseases that can kill given the perfect storm of circumstances.  There are the communicable diseases that are a perennial scourge such as the common cold and the various influenza viruses that seem to elude containment or prevention (despite the barrage of yearly flu vaccines, thousands die from flu every year.)

The reality of communicable disease is that the battle against harmful microbes is an ongoing and often losing battle. A handful of deadly diseases have been eradicated due to vaccines, but new variants on old themes keep bubbling up before a vaccine can be created (think flu vaccines.)  The viruses that cause the common cold keep chugging right along despite the efforts of science to either fashion a vaccine or some other cure for it.  This isn’t to say that the fight to save lives from infectious disease is futile, but to realize that infectious disease will always be part of our reality.

I am not a microbiologist but I do know the common denominator of human life on this earth: no one gets out alive. Everyone is going to die of something.

Most of the verified COVID deaths have been in nursing homes.  Sadly most people in nursing homes have numerous health issues to begin with and are of advanced age.  Many in nursing homes ultimately die from pneumonia or other respiratory issues, which is why what may be a cold or flu that lasts a week or two for a healthy person in their thirties can be lethal for someone in their eighties with a laundry list of health conditions.

Enter the politicization of communicable disease.

It’s disturbing that people have the notion that the government- any government- has the power to protect us from ever getting a disease.  It’s even more disturbing that people on both sides of the political fence are playing the blame game, as if microbes are conservative or liberal.  The common denominator is that personal health is somewhat a matter of personal responsibility, but the spread and the effect of communicable disease is largely open to the uncertainty of chance (i.e. the genetic lottery, physical perils, microbes currently circulating in a particular area, and so on.)

Life has inherent risks.  It’s possible to slip and fall and die in the shower. Should we forbid bathing?  It’s possible to die in a car crash. Should we ban driving?  Should we continue to go on overprotecting our children and making them so risk averse that they come to believe the world owes them a pain-free and completely shielded existence?

Statistically speaking, here are few odds of dying with the causes: Drowning in a Bathtub: 1 in 685,000 (.0023%). Fatally Slipping during a Shower: 1 in 812,232. (.0028%) Being Struck by Lightning: 1 in 576,000 (.0019%). – source: Google Search

In 2019, an estimated 38,800 people lost their lives to car crashes – a 2% decline from 2018 (39,404 deaths) and a 4% decline from 2017 (40,231 deaths). About 4.4 million people were injured seriously enough to require medical attention in crashes last year – also a 2% decrease over 2018 figures. – source: National Safety Council  (this translates to one in 7,732, assuming the population of the US is 300 million)

The odds don’t care if you are a flaming Marxist or the staunchest Bircher. Death (other than maybe the Clinton hits) is generally not political.

Realistically the odds of dying from COVID vary greatly based on the age and health of the victim, but averaged out (numbers from Google Search as of 7-15-20) one’s likelihood of death by COVID is .0045% A little higher than death by lightning strike, but still a lot lower than death by car accident. Most of us still take to the freeways in cars and don’t think too much of the risk inherent in that though.

I am not a statistician by trade, but age is by far the biggest determining factor regarding who dies from COVID.  If you add in other co-morbidities such as diabetes, heart disease, breathing disorders, or obesity, then the mortality rate skyrockets.  Like pneumonia, COVID generally seems to be a “tipping point” disease.  If someone is already on the threshold of death’s door from age or chronic illness, COVID can definitely be the factor that kicks that person through death’s door.

I don’t mean to sound callous but as a society and a culture we like to believe that we are invincible and will never die.  It is gauche to mention death or <gasp> plan for it, but the hard, cold reality is that everyone is going to die of something. When we become fear stricken over a disease that a.) is going to run its course regardless of all the hysteria, masking and social distancing, b.) is going to kill some people, just as every day someone’s loved ones get killed in car accidents, and c.) shutting down the country and destroying people’s lives has done nothing but compounded the damage.

Perhaps a better choice is to live with the realization that yes, we are all going to die of something. It’s one thing to take reasonable precautions against physical danger and against contagions, but quite another to confine one’s self to a box and fail to live.

The Fine, Lost Art of Percolated Coffee

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A few weeks ago I picked up an old percolator at an estate sale. I don’t know if it was curiosity or nostalgia or a bit of both that triggered me to do so, but for $3, what the hell?

Today I finally decided to open it up and see if all the pieces were in it. Miraculously, they were. So I figured I’d hose it out with bleach (because it had likely been sitting for some years) and then run white vinegar through it to get rid of any scale. Either it would work or not.

This percolator is older than I am. If I had to guess it was made some time in the late 1950’s or early 1960’s. It’s a fine specimen of a model 1698-2 electric percolator made by the long-defunct Duralux company in Wooster, Ohio.

It works beautifully. I had forgotten how much mellower (and how much more highly caffeinated lol) percolated coffee is compared to automatic drip or even, God love them, Keurig pods.

So I am back in to a love affair with real coffee☕ like my grandmother made with a percolator very much like my bargain estate sale find.

Yes, I know they are a pain in the hiney to clean (though if you use the proper filter, and are careful loading the grounds, it is not much worse than cleaning an automatic drip machine) and the brew time is longer. But dammmm, that was good coffee. I haven’t had percolated coffee in at least 30 years.

Maybe it’s just nostalgia or maybe we just don’t appreciate what we’ve got until it’s gone.

I had not bothered to buy a new percolator (yes, some manufacturers still make them) because they’re expensive- about $60. But for three bucks, might as well try my luck.

I have to appreciate trinkets like this that have managed to survive their way from a better managed time.

Waking up and smelling the coffee, and not just any coffee. Luscious, rich, mellow, percolated coffee. A beautiful, simple reminder that there were once things that were right with the world.

Orwell’s 1984 Is Not an Instruction Manual, Mine is a Second Amendment Household, and Deep, Deep Misanthropy

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uninvited

I do not entertain solicitors of any kind.

warning sign

I like this cautionary sign a bit better.

I thought that life was weird before. Of course, the 2020 COVID plandemic has to take the prize, not only for governmental overreach, but in displaying the absolute worst that humanity has to offer. Three months later and people are still wearing masks and are scared shitless of each other. The only good thing I see right now is that Costco now has plenty of shit paper for all again.

I am not at all butt hurt for lack of physical contact with others. Not being expected to glad hand and God forbid, hug people, takes a weight off my shoulders. I like working and doing my dealings online as it’s a lot less stressful. I can focus on what I’m doing rather than on all the intricacies of body language, eye contact and tone of voice. It’s easier for me to deal in the single dimension of the written word. In my world, physical contact is pretty much for family (and a very few very close friends) only anyway. I need that t-shirt that says “NOT A HUGGER.” Not because I am afraid of COVID (I am a hell of a lot more afraid of strep, with my disaster of a medical history) but because I don’t want strange people touching me. The only exceptions I would take to that would be the necessary touching that must take place for medical care or hair cutting, and even those points of contact wigged me out long before COVID.

This planned destruction of the economy and attempted coup on President Trump that sparked the hysteria over a disease less lethal than seasonal flu, is much more disquieting than even a paper nightie visit to the gyno. (yet another fringe benefit of having had a total hysterectomy- no cervix, no need for a yearly PAP smear…yay!)

Those of us who have studied history and who understand forced collectivism find it frightening that so many people can think Marxism is the answer to society’s ills. Socialism, fascism, communism, Marxism, Islam- whatever the moniker or the far left or far right ideology behind them- all of the forms of forced collectivism are fatally flawed.

Forced collectivism goes against human nature and the innate drive to survive.

We can see the problem very clearly in the example of the Seattle Autonomous Zone or Deranged Hippie Alliance or whatever they want to call themselves. Nobody wants to work. Everyone seems to perceive their own special snowflake selves as somehow entitled to what they haven’t earned. The phrase that my very Catholic mother loved to drill in to my head when I was a child comes to mind, “Beggars can’t be choosers.” Only these beggars seem a bit picky given their predicament.

supplies

The squatters in Seattle think the rest of the world owes them crap. Nope.

If the squatters in the No Bathing Zone were actually interested in virtuous self sufficient living they might want to look up the Amish. They live (quite successfully may I add) off the grid.  No computers, or paying tax, or enduring the politics and micromanagement inherent to working in the cubby farms for them.

The Amish don’t use modern technology, nor do they tolerate laziness. In their society one must pull his or her own weight. I don’t mind hard work, but I like technology too much to go down that trail. Electricity and flush toilets are pretty high on my list of essential things I am willing to pay for. Doing a hard day’s work without the benefits of air conditioning or the ability to pinch a loaf on my nice comfy toilet and flush it on down, in the air conditioned comfort of my bathroom, would make the hard work somehow not seem worth it.

I don’t owe the descendants of slaves anything either. I never owned slaves. My Celtic ancestors like as not were slaves at one time.  Big deal.  Nobody owes me anything for that either.

Of course in this election year the Democrats (or should I just refer to them as Flaming Marxists, because that’s what they are) are trying to pull out the race card again. It’s a shame that anyone falls for the racism rhetoric anymore.  Anyone who believes that the exaggerated reaction to the death of George Floyd was anything other than a political stunt, I applaud your naïveté.

If the dirty Dems would study history (and they don’t study it with any kind of rational lens,) they would discover that the race riots of 1968 did not do them any political favors. Neither will the race riots of 2020, especially since the motivation behind the 2020 riots is more about scoring big screen TVs from Target and burning things down for the hell of it rather than fighting “systemic racism.”

Why do I call Democrats Flaming Marxists?  For historical accuracy, of course. The KKK was founded by and largely supported by Democrats (flaming crosses ring a bell?) and they seem to espouse and glorify the teachings of Karl Marx. Two of the things Democrats do best are to portray minorities (and to a lesser degree, women) as pitiable victims with no abilities and no capacity for accountability instead of human beings created equal to all other human beings with the same rights and responsibilities, and the other is to put forth the notion that forced collectivism will cure society’s ills.

The truth is that Democrats and today’s snowflake nation refuse to take any personal accountability.  It’s easy to point the finger of blame, but the decline of society can’t be pinned down to one simple cause or explanation.

Neither can over 50 years of the welfare state and the continuous corruption and dumbing down of public education be undone in one presidential term- or in four or five, and that’s assuming we don’t get another Manchurian candidate like Obama foisted upon the nation like a wrecking ball to inflict even more race baiting, chaos, destruction and anarchy.  I don’t carry a whole lot of optimism that the evil Marxist tide first set in motion in the days of LBJ and amplified a million times by Obama can be reversed any time soon, if at all, but I will fight tooth and nail against any form of forced collectivism. I know one old woman can’t do much but I won’t be silent, and I will do what I can.

trump no crybabies

We learn in Scripture,

I will praise the Lord all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.
Do not put your trust in princes,
in human beings, who cannot save.
When their spirit departs, they return to the ground;
on that very day their plans come to nothing.

Psalm 146:2-4 (ESV)

The bottom line is we can try to elect and support officials who will do the right things, but at the end of the day God is the only one who is trustworthy.  I have little to no faith in humanity. Never did, and probably never will.

I also have absolutely no trust in the media, either.  1984 was meant to be taken as a cautionary tale, not as an instruction manual. The media lies so much that nothing they say can be trusted.

Welcome to the Apocalypse, Take #354,427 (or so) We’re All Gonna Die!

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the-plague

die

Got news for everyone.  The mortality rate is still 100%.  You’re gonna die of something.

The current pestilence- the coronavirus- is more or less a really bad flu.  It isn’t gonna kill most people. Millions of people get the flu every year and several thousand die from it.  That’s every year.  Four thousand or thereabouts die of flu every year just in Ohio.  So much for living in fly over country serving to any advantage.

I have my suspicions, and frankly I believe the dreaded coronavirus already made its rounds around here back in January when about 70% of my coworkers- all the outside sales people who were in one meeting, and all the accounting department- all got a really bad flu that held on for about 3 weeks.  One of the accounting ladies ended up in the ICU for a couple of days, but even she recovered. Yeah, that was a bad flu, and believe it, I had the Lysol spraying madness the whole time these people were wandering in and out in their various states of illness.  By the grace of God somehow I didn’t get it, but I stayed the flying hell away from everyone, even more than I normally do. I’m all about social distancing. You don’t have to tell me twice to put at least 6 to 10 feet between me and other people. I prefer it. Especially when I have Lysol to spray.

But since it’s an election year, let’s take a page from the Marxist handbook (desperate Democrats) and never let a good crisis go to waste.  Let’s attempt to destroy the economy, while blaming it on a particularly bad flu season, and try to sell socialism that way.

It will backfire.  The crisis will end, sooner rather than later, and that’s all I really have to say about that. I hope and pray that all the overreacting will serve as even more fuel to pour on the dumpster fire that is being created by the Democrats and their corrupt enablers.

dumpsterfire-1

Granted I don’t want to see people die.  I particularly loathe respiratory illness because I have chronic sinus issues even when I am well. My biggest fear is strep throat (which could be more lethal to me than any flu because of my history with rheumatic fever.)  So yeah, I wash my hands and use a lot of sanitizer anyway, especially in the winter when I am surrounded by the hacking and coughing multitudes.  I get the flu and pneumonia shots. I don’t like being in crowds or in loud places and avoid them when I can.  I’m not a huggy-feeler either, and I don’t go around fingering people, or kissing on strangers so I have that in my favor.

The bottom line even with precautions taken – and I have a sharp eye for the macabre as it is- is that we are all gonna die of something. 

I’ve already defied the longevity odds for a person with autism.  The average age of death for a person with autism is 37 years. I made it to 51. Yay me!  To be honest though, I remember my doctor telling me once when I was 30 that if I didn’t do a whole lot of things differently I wouldn’t make it to 35. I did change my lifestyle to a certain degree. Now I know why, but still, the fact that even with a boatload of meds that I am still vertical and sucking up valuable oxygen amazes me sometimes.

Part of the abysmal longevity projections for autistics, I am sure, is that we have a horrendously high suicide rate, as well as a plethora of co-morbid conditions such as heart disease, diabetes, various physical and mental illnesses, lack of social support, and the list goes on.

But coming from the perspective of an autistic, I think I can explain why we die very young.  We aren’t made to live in your world.

Of course everyone experiences stress.  But “normal” people don’t experience the stress of trying to live in a world that isn’t made for them.  Autistic people have to adapt to the “normal” world in much the same way as space travelers have to adapt to the unnatural atmosphere of space.

Some of us learn to navigate almost seamlessly- you can’t see the space suit or the oxygen mask- but they’re there.  We script.  We mask. We mirror.  We do what you do and perfect our acting skills…and it takes a ton of energy to hold up the faςade. Over time this takes a toll.  We have hypertension. We have stress headaches. We deal with anxiety 24/7 because we can’t script, mask and mirror forever without stepping away from time to time.

Those of us who can’t learn to navigate are even worse off than those who can. Those of us who are non-verbal and/or who have cognitive or severe physical deficits on top of autism are at the mercy of the medical industry (whose only “care” is the almighty dollar) or even worse, the public educational system whose lack of common sense and dearth of efficacy is only equaled by its lack of care.  So for people like me- you either figure out things and navigate for yourself, and live with an eternal stress meter pegged out on 11, or you’re doomed to a life of marginalized, institutionalized poverty.

No wonder autistic people die young.

And yeah, every single human being out there, whether you’re “normal” or autistic, we’re all gonna die.

Get used to it.

 

 

A Random Prayer for a Transaxle, Gratitude, and Patience- One of Many Virtues I Lack

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A transaxle is a combination transmission and differential used on front wheel drive vehicles.

I know it doesn’t make any sense to assume that things mechanical are beyond the power of prayer, but let’s just say I don’t want to have to locate or pay for a transaxle for an old Honda Accord. It’s not my car (I only drive Toyotas with manual transaxles…) but a family member’s. One that is pregnant and hurting for cash. The things I get involved in. But at least my involvement is voluntary.

So for what it’s worth, I don’t want to have to locate or buy one.

I am grateful for most of the happenings in my life. I would love to see an improvement in my career, but at least I have something to live for besides work. For many years that was the only thing that I had to hold on to.

I am not a patient woman. Most of my life I have had to claw and constantly watch my back, and that hasn’t changed. I find it hard to trust anyone.

I still hope and pray for help with my own cynicism and unbelief. I have to trust that no matter who or what is trying to defeat me that God is there. Sometimes faith is not an easy pursuit. Sometimes my past and my tendencies toward depression and despair win out.

Lord, have mercy.

Sorry? Yeah, for a Lot of Things- but Not for Being Alive, or for Being Autistic

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It’s bloody amazing what people will shame parents for. It’s also scary that the reality of parents being able to screen out and dispose of any less than perfect embryo is quickly coming to pass.

I gotta ask the ethical question: if my parents had known how jacked up I would be mentally and physically would they (should they?) have terminated my life then and there?

Now, I have to state this choice is merely hypothetical in that my parents both come from ultra conservative Christian traditions that are vehemently pro-life.

Abortion, infanticide and genetic selection are concepts that they find to be morally repugnant and on the same level as murder. Even if they had not held that particular view of life and the hand of God in it, in 1968/9 genetic testing, ultrasound and all those technologies were unknown. You got what you got back then. Lucky me. They didn’t have the choice, (wouldn’t have taken it if they did) and were handed a rather dismal result of the genetic crap shoot.

I sort of feel bad for that. I am the third daughter of three for a man who wanted but never got a son, and a defective, sickly one to boot.

So if parents could know (and sooner rather than later the technologies will be in place) if their unborn offspring will be genetically “defective” or anything else they don’t want- wrong hair color or gender or height, the list goes on, how many would rationalize their way to termination?

How many already do? (How many perfectly healthy, normal children are sacrificed on Molech’s altar of “convenience,” but I digress.)

Recently I responded to a discussion on a forum for the autistic community regarding someone commenting to an autistic boy’s mother that she was “sorry” about the child’s autism. I’m sure my Mom’s friends had some of the same remarks to make about me.

They knew I was different and had multiple issues – I know the constant freakouts due to anxiety and the constant doctor visits and trips to physical therapy weren’t fun. They knew I was not and would never be a normal child. No one knew why I was so screwed up, as I wasn’t diagnosed as autistic until I was 35.

Nobody wanted to deal with me when I was a child and I don’t blame them. I was a hot mess of anxiety and insecurity. If I am sorry for anyone I feel sorry for them- my parents, teachers and health professionals who were clueless but had to deal with me- terrified and sickly as I was- anyway.

I had to think about what to say from the other side, from the perspective of that child who lives life as the deer in the headlights.

This is what I replied in the forum:

I’m autistic and have lived with it for 50 years. I don’t know anything else. I have always had a profound and deep anxiety and vulnerability because the rest of the world knows I am wired differently and I don’t respond or interact in a predictable manner. To make it worse, in the 1970s and 80s when I was growing up there were scarce health or educational resources for people like me. I am hyperlexic and was advanced in reading and academics, but was hopelessly socially inept. I have very profound gross motor deficits which made me an easy target for verbal and physical abuse- first by my older sisters and their friends, then by the kids at school. Teachers did not want me in their classes because they didn’t know what to do with me. I hid in books and music and did what I needed to do to get good grades and stay under the radar.
My parents imposed strict standards of conduct and behavior with the thought that if I looked normal and acted normal I would be normal. I learned to script and act, especially after being backhanded not once for “staring” or for “not giving so and so friend or obscure relative of Mom’s” a hug. Mom meant well, but the forced interactions only turned up the volume on my distaste for physical contact. Eye contact is still uncomfortable for me and the whole concept of body language is simply vexing. I still struggle to read people.
I have been gainfully employed since age 16. I have a business degree and have been a parts manager, and a fixed operations manager in various car dealerships. By age 30 I had serious health issues due to anxiety: uncontrollable high blood pressure (still takes high doses of 6 meds every day to control) and severe panic attacks. At age 35 I was finally diagnosed as a high functioning autistic and got proper treatment for the anxiety and depression and panic attacks. These issues do not “go away.” Meds help (Prozac and Catapres) but it’s management, not a “cure.”
All this being said, I would not wish my wiring and all the physical and mental health issues that go with it on anyone. Even so, I cannot imagine being any other way. My particular manifestation of autism is a double edged sword. I see and experience the world in ways others don’t and can’t understand, but I miss much and can’t experience the world like the “normals” do. I thank God my son (age 28) is neurotypical and that he doesn’t have anxiety or the motor and visual deficits I have. He sees the world in a way I can’t. This being said, I have still had and continue to have a full and accomplished life by the grace and mercy of God. I am not sorry for the way I was made even with its disadvantages and challenges.

I still have to ask a valid question (again playing devil’s advocate.) Is my life worth the aggravation I imposed on others?

That’s the question at the heart of eugenics. Which people are worth the investment of resources and which aren’t?

If the traditional Christian teaching that the humanity and worth of an individual begins at conception is edged out by the rationalizations of the various Molech worshippers- whether the altar is one of convenience or of genetic imperfection, then whose lives are valuable and whose are not?

Is my life less valuable because of the way I am wired, or even because of the fresh hell it has to be to try to raise an autistic child?

It’s already considered “acceptable” among many to abort children with Down’s Syndrome because it can be identified via genetic testing. In some countries almost all Down’s children are aborted, even though people with Down’s can live happy, fulfilling and productive lives.

Either we believe that life is sacred even when it is imperfect or frightening or inconvenient or we risk losing our humanity.

The reality is that the human condition includes suffering. Not that we should strive to cause more, but that our attitude should be that people’s lives are worth the aggravation and worth the investment.

Today it’s seen as a travesty if a child is conceived at an inopportune time, or if he or she is the wrong gender or he or she has certain genetic faults.

Where did we get the hubris to think we were in charge of the process?

I’m not sorry to be alive. I’m not sorry I’m autistic. I am sorry that the world is coming to such a pragmatic and utilitarian place that we fail to value life even in its more challenging forms.

Changing Spheres, and Back to Everywhere and Nowhere

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It’s been awhile since I have been here.  So much has happened since my last post. 

I’m finally living in my grandparents’ old house.  It feels like home, and I haven’t been home in a long time. 

I thought the trains would bother me, and maybe they will when I can turn the air conditioner off at night.  I do hear them above the A/C, but more as a backdrop rather than a theme.

Jerry is terminally ill, permanently disabled and all that.  The pulmonary fibrosis is only getting worse.  He lies in that bed with the oxygen box on alternately sleeping, then barking orders, often unintelligibly. 

I don’t know what to do.

The move here was horrible- Jerry wanting to hang on to every worthless piece of crap, and me just wanting to snag the essentials and get him the hell out of there.  I couldn’t keep everything, and with the limited amount of time and help I had it was surprising it went as well as it did.  

I am setting myself up for living alone which is almost a comfort when Jerry has his explosive coughing fits- and irrational fits of rage. He is often positively evil to me, and I don’t know how to respond.

It’s getting creepy being around him.  

And even in the midst of this I have been most pleasantly surprised by the chance appearance of an old friend from the very distant past.

He is not the old friend/ former paramour that I have obsessed about for the better part of 20 years and whom I pretty much have written off. He’s someone who has never been on my radar screen until now, even though I’ve known him casually for the past 35 years or so. 

Here’s to old middle school admirers who I never knew I had.  When other guys were chasing my oldest sister he was watching me from a distance.  Fun to find out after all these years.  And even now it is oddly satisfying to hear a man say that,”fucking your sister would be like fucking a fence.”  I had to be catty and add my thought that he would have had to tie a board across his ass to keep from falling in the abyss.  Comedy is indeed the flipside of tragedy.

I am both pragmatic and cynical enough not to get my hopes up. I have said it forever that when Jerry dies I won’t seek a replacement, but I won’t turn down an upgrade.