Blogstream   -   Create a Blog!   -   Login Chat   -   Options   -   Clean   -   Flag   -   Family Filter: Off   -   Recent   -   Rndm >>    

Blogstream  >  Anything  >  Blog  >  Page #14
 
Memories and Moments


 WIZARD OF OOzE - 20
 

Copyright
June 23, 2002

CHAPTER 20

...."We're in to see the Wizard,
The Wonderful Wizard of OOzE!"....

....Nahomi stepped over the threshold in her magical muddy army boots (even Bo's People Wash couldn't touch those), dragging TaTa along by his electronic leash. Poopeyer, Shadow Caster and Postal Man pushed in closely behind her.

As soon as they were all inside, the doors closed with a quiet hummmm, and they found themselves in a totally dark anteroom, staring at double smokey-mirrored doors, through which faint rainbow colors twinkled out at them.

"Hmmmm, seems this 'Wizard' is smoke and mirrors!" a nervous Poopeyer tried to quip.

"Yeah, ole buddy, we know all about that, don't we?" Shadow Caster poked Poopeyer in the ribs with his tinny elbow.

"Owwieee!" Poopeyer yelped. "You hadda know that was gonna smart!"

"Yep, I knew! It wasn't anything serious though, pardner, forgeddaboutit!" And he did.

"What is this anyway?" Postal Man exploded. "Hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait!"

Nahomi began, "I'm sure this is only a minor glitch, ...."

She was interrupted by the doors whispering open to the sound of "There's A Place For Us", issuing softly from a fantasia of Wurlitzer Organs, all around them. Surrounding the organs were rainbows upon rainbows, wavering in the misty orchid light. Bouquets of purple flowers perched everywhere, even on the ceilings. Long soft couches, of orchid with sprays of purple flowers filled the auditorium. No hard benches here!

"Whooooie!" Poopeyer exclaimed. "What was in that pink lemonade at the kiddie park last night? This joint is humongous!"

"Unbelievable!" "Surreal!" came from Postal Man and Shadow Caster (who had been using the new word ever since they crossed the Surreal Counting Line, just to add it to his vocabulary, though he still wasn't very clear on what it meant).

Nahomi blinked, closed her eyes. Opened her right eye, closed it. Opened her left, closed it. Finally she opened both eyes and blinked again. "It isn't what you think it is at first glance," she told the others. "Do what I just did, and tell me what you see."

Giggles were heard as little Sockpuppeople watched the foursome winking and blinking at each other, while TaTa just nodded in his electronic choke collar.

"Why, it isn't a humongous auditorium at all!" Poopeyer finally blurted out.

"And there's only one Mighty Wurlitzer Organ!" exclaimed Postal Man.

"This room is all mirrors!" Shadow Caster added.

"Yes," Nahomi agreed. "Only one rainbow, one vase of purple flowers, one organ, but lots and lots of mirrors"

Indeed. The ceiling and floors and all four walls of the Wizard's audience room were made of one foot square mirrors, each feeding into another so that the room loomed and the contents multiplied. There were even uncountable Shadow Casters, Poopeyers, Postal Men, Nahomies and unfortunately, scraggy TaTas filling the eye, everywhere you dared to look.

As the group became accustomed to the illusion, they noticed that there was an aisle down the middle of the room. It wasn't much longer than your ordinary parlor, and on either side of the aisle were five of the long orchid/purple flowery comfy couches. Some of the couches had a few Sockpuppeople seated, staring at them with big painted smiles and roundy round eyes. Probably a senior class from Mensa on a field trip to watch the Wizard at work.

Down at the front of the room was the Wurlitzer, still playing the 'A Place for Us' tune, and on top of the organ sat a huge brass vase with a display of purple flowers--Surreal Counting's native bloom. Above the organ was a second level to the room, that featured whispering folds of orchid curtains, hiding what was behind on the little 'stage'. Above it all, an arcing rainbow of lights illuminated the whole room softly with their reflections in the mirrors.

No sooner had the group adjusted to this, than the Wurlitzer struck up the theme from "Rocky". A door opened in the mirrors to the side of the room and Sir Rocky strode forward and down the aisle toward the group. Shadow Caster started clanking in fear, his tinny legs doing the mashed potato, while his arms were doing the swim. Poopeyer edged over to get further behind Nahomi. "Biitttch," he breathed, very softly.

"I beg you pardon?" she exclaimed.

"Not you, the other one," Poopeyer hissed.

"Yeah, Nahomi, you know he calls everyone/thing that doesn't agree with him, or that he's afraid of, biittcchh" Postal Man tried to explain, while he kept a firm grip on Shadow Caster's arm to keep him from shaking apart.

"Oh! That's just like Billy Pissen in Candida. He can't help it, huh? It's a dis-ease?"

"Yeah, only in this case, his dis-ease comes from Sir Rocky. He's more than Poopeyer can handle, you see?"

Sir Rocky had gotten to them by this time and reached out a hand to take Shadow Caster by his shaking arm. "Don't Instant Rusty me! Don't Instant Rusty me, please!" Shadow Caster moaned shrilly.

"There will be no spraying in here. This is the Wizard's audience--a place of truth and trust. With any luck, you may understand the definition of those words before you leave today," Sir Rocky assured him. "Now come on, stop shaking in your TTTS and follow me to your seats in the front of the room."

'Grrrrrmph!' TaTa snarled.

"And tighten the collar on that Rapid or we'll muzzle him!" Sir Rocky added to Nahomi. And she did.

As soon as Sir Rocky had the group seated on the first couch to the left side of the aisle (of course Shadow Caster was propped up against a high arm rest, especially built for persons in too tight tin suits), the mirrored doors again opened and the rest of the FACT troop entered.

Sirs Heggy and Kemosabe stood at attention (or guard?) on the left side of the orchid/purple flowery couch, while Sir Rocky and Dan stood beside Shadow Caster on the other side (there is no right in Surreal). Ta Ta took one look at the big guards in their shining armor and stuck his head under the couch, his limp tail fixed securely between his hind legs, his butt mooning the Wurlitzer.

Taaa Raaa Raaaa Tilos's horn sounded from behind the orchid curtains as a soft perfumed breeze began to set them a-billow. The Wurlitzer fell silent. Slowly the curtains began to part in the middle, sliding softly into the mirrors on either side, while from the rainbow of lights overhead a soft voice with a smile in the middle announced....

"It is Time to speak of A Place for Us,
Where OOzE is OOzE
And
Trust is Trust.

A Time to see, with no mud or muss,
Which is OOzE,
And
Which is Trust.

Behind the Truth for us to share
You'll always find
(she's ALWAYS there)
A Little Old Lady With White Hair.


When the billowing orchid curtains had pulled back into the mirrored walls, the stage showed multiple computer centers, some with Apples and some painted Orange with PC's, (for those who didn't know the difference between apples and oranges). There were lap tops, Web TV's, tiny little handheld units and Big Macs (without the dressing), and others that could not be recognized by the google-eyed audience. Behind each and every desk sat a little old lady. White hair fluffed around a smiley face and the large glasses that looked like a figure 8 laid upon its side, didn't hide the sparkle in the dark eyes.

"Oooooo," breathed the Sockpuppeople in the back.

"I. Don't. Freakin'. BELIEVE it!" Poopeyer hissed to Nahomi. "That stooopid looking old broad is the Wizard?!!!!"

The little old lady, fluffed her white hair a bit and looked down at Poopeyer, (her hearing was better than her eyesight, not by much, but enough) "But of COURSE I am, little green man!" And she was! Before them all sat The Great and Mighty Wizard of OOzE! From the floor came the tamping of standards, as the FACT troops applauded the announcement.

"Might as well leave now, Nahomi," Shadow Caster said beneath the clamor from the Fact troops and the Sockpuppeople; "Little Old Ladies on Web TV puters ain't gonna solve our problems."

Hearing this, Sir Rocky edged his spray can of Instant Rusty just far enough out of his pocket to let Shadow Caster see the spray top. "Errr, on second thought, maybe we should at least listen to what they have to say."

Poopeyer snorted in disgust at Shadow Caster. "Maaaan, how stooopid can you BE? There ain't no --ladies--, there's only one old broad. It's all done by mirrors!"

Now the Wizard rapped for silence on the computer desk with her stapler. "Ok, young men, let's all get together on one page with this. Remember that it is 'you' who came seeking the Wizard, not the other way around. Whether there is one old broad, or many, Seeker Poopeyer, is irrelevant. Under my white hair is the Wizardry of all those who have seen a lifetime of OOzE. If you really wish to know where the buck stops, you had best lend an ear. Last Chance! Now we shall begin."

Poopeyer and Shadow Caster hung their heads and waited.

"We are all here in the Palazzo of OOzE in Surreal Counting, today, to answer questions by the petitioners, Nahomi of Candida, for herself and TaTa; Shadow Caster, Poopeyer and Postal Man, for themselves.

Before questions can be appropriately addressed, it is necessary to fully understand your presence here. This is Surreal...the dream of the wish your hearts made. Only in your true life can your circumstances really be altered. However, if in some way the truth you seek can be found here in the dreams you are dreaming, you may have your wishes come true."

"Huh?" Poopeyer whispered.

"Hush! And listen for once," Nahomi warned him. "Maybe you'll learn something!"

"Oh ho! Look who's talking!"

"Poopeyer, STIFLE!" Postal Man hissed.

The Wizard quickly typed in a query to the computer in front of her, read what appeared on the screen and then addressed the petitioners:

"The first order of business is the request of Nahomi of Candida for several matters concerning the Scosh Terror Rapid creature called TaTa (among other things). Her question is, 'What can I do with all the TaTa doo-doo that I've been cleaning up after him?

"That is easy." The Wizard pointed over to a large metal can with a heavy cover that had a skull and crossbones on its middle. "Trash It!"

"The next part of the question is, 'How can I keep TaTa from messing on people's private property in the future?'"

"Well, my first instinct would be Trash It, but there is more to this than many may first see. Please drag the creature out from under the couch, Sir Dan, and put him up here where we can get a good look at him." And Sir Dan did just that.

"Nahomi, you have for years and years been searching for mockers in wrestling masks, not paying any attention when told by others that you had a creature worse than any mocker right by your side all of the time. A creature so diabolical that it should be called 'the worst of the worst'. A creature that earned this definition by not only spamming its OOzE across the Surreal world of the Net, but by inflicting its sickness and hatred upon many innocent people in their 'real', or 3D world.

"You refused to see the true creature behind your 'doggie', TaTa, because you could not face the Truth. Now I call upon Theosafits to appear and present, to all who will see, the true TaTa....."

Theosafits drifted in from the left on shiny golden balls of light, took the wand within her hand and tapped the TaTa.... KA-BLAM! Instantly the Scosh Terror Rapid Doggie disappeared and in its place on the Wizard's stage stood a hulking humanoid.

He stood about 6 feet tall, greasy curls popped all over his head and wire rim spectacles magnified his beady black eyes, (which were bugged out quite a bit, because TaTa's electronic collar was still around his thick neck.) He had TaTa's stubby legs and distended belly, which gave an oranguatan look to his beefy, overlong body, as he stood there with his knuckles almost scraping the mirrored floor.

"There he is, Nahomi. There is TaTa, Cody, Stain, Stanwee, and a list of the hundreds of other aliases will be provided you as soon as they are printed out. Bring that back to Candida with you, if you dare...but I suggest you leave it here, in Surreal, where there are those trained to deal with such creatures," and the Wizard waved TaTa away from her sight. RoboCop Jerry666 immediately appeared, took one of TaTa's gangling arms and led him off the stage.

"Oh, my! Right before my eyes!" Nahomi gasped. "I know I won't be taking a chance on that again!"

"Lesson number one learned, then!" and the Wizard smiled even more brightly as she began again tapping on the keys in front of her.

"We now have Petitioner Postal Man before us. His first question is, 'What do I do with all this out dated junk mail I have for the Wizard in my bag?' Another easy one! See that can over there? TRASH IT! Even Wizards have no use for outdated special offers that OOzE from the 3D world! Make sure you get it to the Palazzo on time, from now on!"

"I'll try, now that I can see clearly, with no haziness to keep me from finding the way easily," Postal Man replied apologetically.

"Very good, very, very good!" approved the Little Old Lady with White Hair.

"Your second question is, 'How can I get Nahomi to take me to Candida to live happily ever after with her?'

"Well, now, there is no real answer to that. Only here in Surreality do you even have that desire. Here you see Nahomi as a young, naive, person to be protected. You would be surprised if Theosafits touched her with the magic wand, which she will be doing soon." (Nahomi glanced nervously about her) The Wizard continued, "I believe we will wait until then, to see if you still really wish to petition for that.

"You understand, Postal Man, that you, too, have a 3D life. Somehow your dreams of being the discoverer of conspiracies, champion of weak women, and friend of misguided webmasters, have plummeted you into Surreal Counting with the others. Maybe your 3D life is lonely, as are the lives of so many out there. However, usually lonely lives are caused by the company you keep, or the company you choose not to keep. You must learn the difference between OOzE and Trust. After all, what do you have to prove, anyway?" the Wizard proclaimed.

Postal Man looked in astonishment at the Wizard, "Gee, I think I get a glimmer of what you are saying, and I don't feel the least bit mad!"

"Of course! The 'real' you has no reason to get angry at things said by a Little Old Lady with White Hair, in the way that the Surreal you does. That's because the Surreal you is affected by the company it keeps!"

The Wizard looked down at them all sitting in the first row couch....The company you keep...hmmmm, that does present a problem for you all."

"I think I'll take a walk outside and think seriously about all this," offered Postal Man. And he did!

Now the Wizard began typing again. "The next questions are from Petitioner Shadow Caster. First he asks, 'Where can I get a heart?'" The Wizard chuckled mightily. "Shadow Caster, all you have to do to find a heart is to leave the Surreal life for a real life. Of course you have a heart! It is just that you will never find it in your little box of a world of ratings, rantings, cleansings, disrespect, pomposity, untruths and untrustworthiness! There just is no chance for you to feel a heart in a body so stuffed with such OOzE!"

"I don't believe a word yer saying!" Shadow Caster revolted.

"Of course you don't. You can't believe the truth when you hear it, because you so seldom speak it! Think of your days in the Castle on the Cliff. You struggled to be above all others, the first at the table, the leader of the pack. What did it get you?

"Think of the many people who have gone through your life, never to return once they are recipients of the back of your hand? How many people came to your radio show and chats just to speak of cabbages and kings, butterflies and bee stings, good and bad, stripes and plaid--whom you will never see again?

"Take Zzzpydy. Hazed along with others, always with something interesting to say. First time he didn't agree with you, you bounced him, derided him and wished him dead and gone.

"Take the old timers that brought life knowledge and heartfelt opinions to share with you. You used them and when they no longer suited your purpose, when your 'numbers' didn't add up to a 6 figure income, you abused and trashed them, right along with all the other folk who had ever added some lift to your down-trodden performances.

"The list is long, Shadow Caster, copies of the other incidents that show why you carry the logs of discontent on your shoulders will be provided you, once they are all printed out. I hope that in the future, it will not all be 'over your head' as in the past."

Shadow Caster rattled a tinny fist at the Little Old Lady with White Hair.

She smiled and said, "Which brings us to your next question, 'How long will I have to stay in this too tight tin suit?'

"The simple answer is, 'Just as long as you keep that stiff necked attitude about your superior knowledge and continue to mouth inanities such as these words to promote eternal feudom":

'Never before have I been so offended or ashamed
for my association with a group of people....'
- BeholdMod , Tue, Oct 30, 2001, 00:25:30"


"With those words, and the equally shameful pomposities that OOzEd out of your brain and through your fingers, you put yourself into that too tight tin suit. You feel the heat every day from those who finally saw you for what you were...a bully with no idea where his heart should be, except in his empty wallet.

"When will you be free of the TTTS? Do you have the heart to answer that for yourself, or will every day be the same o', same o' for years and years? Who knows? Who else casts the biggest shadow on your life besides yourself?"

Shadow Caster turned on his heel and walked from the room. Some say he still wanders Surreal Counting, looking for a way out of the TTTS. Others say he is rusting away somewhere among his old, forgotten laurels. Who knows? Who cares?

The Wizard now nodded at Poopeyer, "Please stand," she said as her fingers busily tapped on the keys. "Hmmm, it appears that you have no real questions for the Wizard. In fact, you have been heard to say you 'don't give a toot!'

"You have been heard to say that 'Uncle Stanley never made a fool of you, like some others.'

"Words like stoopid and idiots and tards and even biittcch! OOzE easily from your tongue, when speaking of those around you who would dare to question your actions. Strong words for one who claims not to give a 'toot'.

"You dream of being a green lover of spinach, here in Surreal. Yet, in real 3D life, you are green with envy for those who gain praise for their accomplishments freely, while you are left to pat yourself upon the back. Why is that, do you suppose?

"Maybe because you are prone to take those who never said a bad word about you or to you and set out to deceive your motives in your undertakings? Could it be that when they came to console and commiserate with you about the unfeeling boot given you by your 'ole buddy', you hid the fact that you were secretly in communication with him, that you may have even plotted to find 'secrets' from those good friends--names, addresses, circumstances, to help the Caster of Shadows in his work?

"Who, besides you and your 'ole buddy' would bother to have a logo removed from a competitor's endeavor?

"Who, besides you and your 'ole buddy' would be wishing anyone dead from disease or mock (there's that word) others for physical disabilities? Who, besides you two, would knock people on the net behind their backs, people like Naomi, Maw, Gom, Spiderman, Phantom, Kemosabe, Rocky (a list will be provided) and then one day say, I apologize, so that's all OK, and then do it all over again?!!!

"What is your pain? Why did you need to build tCoLC, and become a maker of sock puppets to feed your ego? You could have had it all. Friends who would comfort, entertain and respect you. What was offered you? Why were you lead off the track of camaraderie into the gutter of distrust? Only you can answer that, Poopeyer. But first you must understand that it has always been about trust. Whether you can find your way back to that enchanted land of friends and fun and trust, we will never know. Some will never again care...."

"Loooser Bitchhhhhh!" Poopeyer yelled and arose from the couch to storm after Shadow Caster.

The little old lady with white hair smiled, "Poopeyer, don't forget to apologize. That will make it all better....not! Oh, yes, don't let the door slap you on the ass on your way out. I know that's a bit of a rough way in which to say it, but I try to speak in a language you'll understand..."

Now the Wizard looked down at Nahomi, sitting all alone on the orchid couch with the purpley flowers. "Do you see now, Nahomi? Do you understand the difference between Surreal and Real?"

"I see that I've got nobody left with me here," Nahomi's lips trembled. "I see that I am a little girl, all alone....

"But you are not, Nahomi! Theosofits, please touch Nahomi with your wand. It is time she sees her true self in the mirrors..." And Theosofits did!

"oooooo," went all the Sockpuppeople.

"Ahhhh," went Nahomi.

Everyone stared at the reflections replicating all around the room. Gone was the skinny little kid in the ratty voluminous gingham apron with all its umbrellas, pads, pencils, spyglasses, and everything else that she had dreamed she must carry with her in Surreal.

Gone were the magical muddy army boots. Neat and clean white deck shoes glistened on her feet. The tangled curls were now sleek brown hair. She wore perky little red shorts and a halter top (red white and blue stripes). In her arms she carried a guitar that beautifully replaced the Rapid doggie, TaTa. Music had been another of her dreams, now a reality.

Nahomi had finally grown up.

"Do you see? That is all you can be and more!" grinned The Wizard. "How many Little Old Ladies with White Hair tried to tell you about the beauty that is Nahomi? Now what was your question for the Wizard?"

"Uhhhh, question? I had a question?" Nahomi asked, twirling to catch a view of herself at every angle in the mirrors.

"Yes, something about 'mockers' and knowing everything in the Universe..." began the Wizard.

"Ohhhh, THAT! Nahhhh, that all seems so surreal now! Look! I even know the meaning of the word! I'm just so haaaapppppy, none of that seems important anymore."

"Exactly!" said The Great and Mighty Wizard of OOZe. "I do believe she's got it!" she added to the audience. What a mighty stamping of feet, applause and cheers arose! Nahomi GOT it! Even Theosafits was doing a little bump and grind on her golden ball.

"And now, it's time for you to go back to Candida, is it not?" asked the Wizard.

"Uhhhhh, I guess so. I don't have many secrets to bring back to enlighten Aunty Kadie and Uncle Hashish Net there on the Net Farm, and for sure Moanen, Pissen and Groanen could use a LOT!"

"But you have the biggest secrets of all Nahomi! How to be TRUE to yourself and love what you see in the mirror. And the second secret is how necessary TRUST among friends and loved ones is to make a wonderful life! Everything else is just frosting on a beautiful double decker chocolate cake! You understood all of that the second that you discovered the difference between the Surreal and the Real you."

"Well, then I'm ready to go back to Candida! Uhhhh, how am I getting there?"

"Well, you dreamed your way here, so you can dream your way back. Think about the most wonderful transportation that you could have, and Theosafits here will sprinkle you with dream dust...and you'll be off!"

Nahomi closed her eyes tightly and imagined the RV covered with colorful masks that she had seen when she was running away with TaTa to Diamond Barnone, way before she even dreamed of OOzE. She was picturing the smiling man that came around the side of the RV and said that he was The Great Stash, when Theosafits reached over and sprinkled her with sparkly dream dust. Nahomi never noticed.

Soon she was dreaming that the Great Stash was saying, "Of course, Nahomi. We are destined to travel the world together, for ever and ever and ever...."

**********


....It couldn't have been very long before she found herself rumbling along the road up to the Net Farm beside Stash the Great in his colorful RV. "Oh, there's the house!" she called out, and there's Aunty Kadie, too!"

Stash pulled the RV up the dusty drive and had barely turned off the engine when Nahomi jumped out. There in a row were Aunty Kadie, Uncle Hashish and Moanen, Pissen and Groanen, all joyful that they had found her again.

"Welcome home, Nahomi," the hands called out. "We're just getting up out of the fruit cellar, and here you are! Where you been?"

"Come on in Nahomi, I'll make all of us a nice big pot of macaroni and cheese," welcomed Aunty Kadie.

"Well, I don't have much time for macaroni and cheese anymore, Aunty Kadie. Stash here and I are going on a trip to see the world. I'm going to play the guitar and sing in his medicine show and do poetry readings! I just stopped by to enlighten you about what I learned from The Great and Wonderful Wizard of OOzE in Surreal Counting. I had to fight my way through a whole bunch of OOzE, that's for sure, but now I am soooo happy with Stash, and I want to share..."

"Ahhhh, crapola, Nahomi! You're leaving?" Billy Pissen complained.

"Billy, you got to get rid of that dis-ease of yours, or you'll never be as happy as I am!"

"But Nahomi," Cliff Moanen and Rick Groanen began...."

"Hush now, fellows. I've got no time to spare. Here it is, take it or leave it....Love yourself and Be worthy of the trust of others!"

Aunt Kadie and Uncle Hashish Net smiled and said, "We always tried to tell you that!"

The three hands just stared open mouthed and said, "HUH?"

"Is that all there is?" asked Shadow Caster from somewhere out in the great nowhere.

"You betcha!" Nahomi replied. That's finally


THE END!




Site Meter
Posted by GrannyJo at 2:45 AM - No Comments   Add a Comment  
 

 SAVE THE COPER
 

This is a piece I wrote in the early eighties. One day when the world seemed to be going to hell in a handbasket (again) I sat back and let the memories flow about what was and what it might be going to be and why.

Looking through my files today, I found and read it again, and suddenly realized that nothing changes very much. Only TPB and those affected most by their selfish, ignorant, ways of managing this country. Now THAT'S why the prophecies in the bible can seem so real and threatening to its adherents....live it once, you can predict it evermore. IMO


SAVE THE COPER

copyright

Webster defined coping: "dealing with and attempting to overcome, obstacles and difficulties in life".

From the time man first vied with the elements and terrain in this huge country, hardy souls of every color and persuasion have thrived on the adventure of building a free and better life. Using self-reliance as their basic tool, Americans slowly developed a code, genetic-like, for the ability to cope. A glacier of adverse economic and social change, however, has proven more powerful than the supposed genetics. It slowly, but surely, threatens the extinction of this necessary human trait.

Possibly the last generation abundant with this rare bird, the Great American Coper, was born circa 1936, to parents who struggled to cope with the economics of a long, national depression. Though it brought financial prosperity in 1941, the Second World War held anxiety for loved ones at the front and frustration with commodity shortages at home. The blackmarket and other unpatriotic or illegal activities made the greedy, rich; yet, coping citizens tore off their ration stamps, rolled bandages, proudly displayed service stars and praised the might and right of America to the little ones.

Ah, those little Copers! The tin cans they collected! The milkweed pods they picked! The letters to GI's they wrote! Every school kept huge boxes for their collections at the entrance. Each month, eager youngsters lined up with their change to buy stamps for War Bonds, selflessly giving up that comic book or extra treat to cope with the national emergency of war.

1945--the war was 'over' over 'there'. The boys came home and wives left the factories; young couples everywhere got on with their lives. Housing was in short supply, so families doubled up wherever possible. The strain of overcrowding compounded difficulties already faced by post-war husband and wife. They must have coped, however. When mushrooms of housing developments began popping up all over the land, the baby boom was on!

Soon it was the fifities and last-generation Copers were in high school, juggling part-time jobs with full academic courses. College and a profession or personal business enterprise were considered the only sure roads to success and happiness. Small town youngsters didn't hear much of drugs then. Even in the bigger cities, beer was an occasional fling; to be truly daring was to swallow a few aspirin with Coca Cola. Jobs paying fifty cents an hour didn't leave much for extras, so house parties, record hops, school and church functions and inexpensive movies were ways that they coped with boredom.

Graduation from high school in the mid-fifties brought them face to face with the beginnings of the cold wars. Some went on to college; others worked in industry, or business places and quite a few took on the American dream--their own business--at some time or other. Many served in the armed services for two or more years, regardless of the growing unrest about the wisdom of U.S. involvment in 'incidents' such as Korea. Eventually, the majority married and settled down into the sixties.

Invention and economic change came at a heady pace. The Copers, true to the trait, however, warily sniffed the air and knew that something was going wrong.

An aging Mom and Dad found it difficult to maintain the home intended for their twilight years. Taxes soared as governmental bureaucracy, multiplying rapidly, took over the lion's share of support for those who (for whatever reasons) had never been able to cope--whose only production was more of their kind. The affluent claimed government privileges, wherever and whenever possible. Large corporations received tax break after grant, while ever-increasing tax structures, employee protection restrictions and enough red tape to cover it all, were dumped upon the majority of mom and pop establishments--in outlandish proportion to their earnings.

This same combination of greed, do-gooders, and all-encompassing government, long ago drained the Indian of his pride and strength, to the extent that he could no longer cope in the unnatural element which he never understood. And it has been spreading. Slowly, at first--in cancerous mutations, faster with each passing year, it finally confronts all those who will see, in this decade.

Certainly, the squeeze is on. Inflation of all things necessary to life and comfort, pushes from one side. Crowding in from the other side is indifference from the citizens and leaders of a me-too society. Disregarded and helplessly caught in the middle, quail those once the very backbone of this nation. Those who are 'just making it'; those who seldom seek 'something for nothing'--those who have always coped.

There is evidence of some awareness of the problem. Psychological and emotional counselors are trying to instill this once 'natural trait' into countless numbers who seek help from their confusion. In whatever way it is represented, the ability to COPE is the treatment advanced. It may be a hopeless endeavor. Endangered by a hostile environment to their kind, the ranks of those for whom coping is a way of life are diminishing.

Look around you, and quickly! You may still glimpse some of the species--The Great American Coper. Some will be faltering, others already ground to immobilization in their prime years. The oldest (and at one time, hardiest) are mere shadows of their former majesty. Beset by fraility of age and disorientation to society, they can only accept what is allotted to them--they can no longer cope. Nor, can these dinosaurs of our age understand what has happened. Pre-occupied in coping with each new economic and social burden, no one noticed the loss of many of the liberties and freedoms-of-choice vital to their survival, until it was too late. Now, one by one, they are just slipping away.

When they are all gone, who will carry the load of those who have never coped? Who will take the lumps and pay the bills for the fearful, who run for welfare at the first sign of adversity; for the greedy, that take for the sake of taking and who never have enough; for all those pseudo-patriots, whose real interest in Mom, Country and Apple Pie is having the Country take care of Mom and getting the biggest piece of the Pie?

Once they are all pushed out, and the Cuckoo rules the nest, will anyone even remember the Great American Coper?



Life is a ball.....
Dance or be a wallflower!




Site Meter
Posted by GrannyJo at 3:55 PM - No Comments   Add a Comment  
 

 GROWING UP OUT OF SYNC
 

Nothing better to start a tale of memories and moments than to go back to early childhood! This is something I wrote years ago--sort of a biography of an autobiography---based upon true facts. I hope you enjoy it. (I was about 50 when I wrote this.)


A TIME TO GO EAT WORMS


All of my life I've been out of sync: "A TIME to live and a TIME to die"; "Get to work on TIME"; "Take your TIME"; "All in good TIME"; "Turn the rope one, two, three, TIMES before you jump in (all in together now) -- THAT kind of sync.

It seems the essence of life is not biological, but chronological. My mind can see a teensy clock, deep within us. It begins ticking, while we are still in the womb, to keep us in step on our march through TIME. It's taken a while, but I finally realize that my problem is not physical, mental or emotional. I was just issued a defective clock.

For a long TIME, my clock was slow.....

When I grew old enough to hit the neighborhood and join in the fun, everyone within playing distance had five years seniority. Believe me, a lot of TIME ticked by, turning that rope, before I was allowed to jump in. That's when I learned the 'worm ditty', a favorite of rope jumpers at that TIME.

"Nobody loves me, everybody hates me,
Guess I'll go eat worms--
Big juicy worms,
Little Skinny worms,
Worms that wiggle and squirm...."


It grew worse with each verse:

"Turn that jumping rope!" "Fetch that Ball!" "Play the baby!" I'd do anything to participate, but there was never a way to catch up with their jump on TIME.

An unpaved, busy (according to my mother) street fronted our large yard; at least three cars a day streaked by at ten MPH. Well, (you guessed it), I wasn't allowed to cross that street. Any TIME things grew boring; the other kids crossed it and just stood there, waiting for me to go into my act. They were having a great TIME!

Several futile scream-outs were enough. I refused to go on being the One-Ms show of the block and retreated to my swing. Pumping it high, I shouted the worm ditty, now my mantra, up to the sky! Inside me, though, I vowed that if TIMES got just a l-i-t-t-l-e bit worse, I'd do it! I WOULD go EAT WORMS! Mom could never understand my desire for spaghetti that year.

Eat--HAH! There's another (pardon) can of worms. I was one skinny kid. Big, black eyes and curly, black hair; it all added up to a TIMELY candidate for 1944 war-orphan posters. My mother poured cod liver oil and a variety of tonics into me with abandon, and a wedge of orange to 'kill the taste'...

"But, it's the SMELL, Ma; it's the SMELL!"

"TIME you put some meat on those bones, " was her stock answer.

Until I grew cunning enough to actively rebel, Mom's build-a-bigger-better body routine included a weekly dose of Ex-Lax. "Come on, eat the nice chocolate candy," brought a "YUCK!" from me. Shortly after I started to school, I learned to look up at her with soulful, big eyes and say, "I gave at the office"; or something to that effect. At least I escaped being the splurge--purge queen of the forties.

It really wasn't her fault, though. My clock was defective and hers ticked right along in the era of chubby children, laxatives and tonsillectomies. (I had one of those, too.)

TIME marched on and I stumbled after.

Ah...seventh grade; complete with puberty, gym and showers. (Twenty girls at one TIME, in the same room, UNDRESSING). Just one session of that and I was never EVER going to school again; at least not until I had a training bra. No more undershirts for me--even if I had to eat a whole bucket of worms! I got the bra and had just begun to fill it, when my pals started gossiping about their first puppy loves. Ahh, me.

So, the missed beat went on....

A carefully planned (unawares of that defective clock), old fashioned wedding evolved into a military church ceremony. The PFC, intended, received orders for direct transfer to Hawaii--my TIME piece didn't care who or what answered to its tick. Did I let that little mess-up in TIMING bother me? Off I went for eighteen months of Paradise. So much Paradise, that when we boarded ship for the mainland on a December morning, eighteen months later, this little Eve was 'almost' three months pregnant.

Regulations specified that the only TIME pregnant wives could use government transportation was between their third and eighth months. Of course, all fourteen of us fibbed (whose pregnant?) to get on that sailing. We wanted to be home in TIME for Christmas. Needless to say, the four day trip took six, due to 'heavy seas'; we kept the highly suspicious sick-bay officer hopping. (Now THAT'S a memory!)

Our daughter arrived right on TIME, however. Her first gift was a brand new TIMEX; if SHE had it together, I wasn't going to break the spell!

The best of TIMES, the worst of TIMES, we had it all in 1957. A brand new baby and a TIME of high unemployment. We finally gave up on job hunting and borrowed enough from a kind relative to get ourselves into really big debt. We chose the restaurant business--Italian cuisine, of course. Wasn't I an expert on the subject of spaghetti?

Eight years passed with no additions to the family. Therefore, it seemed the TIME to take on more in the business world. Yep; we were laying tile in the new restaurant when I broke the news that I was running a bit late, calendar-wise. So, what else was new?

Number two was twelve months old when we decided to expand once more, this TIME purchasing an extensive piece of property. For a while I tried to fight off my fatigue and growing malaise. Soon, however, I was sure that I had a terrible disease, leukemia, maybe; or pernicious anemia; or, horror of horrors, uterine cancer! Finally, exhausted-- those black eyes rimmed by blacker circles, and sure that my inner clock had failed me again (death before my TIME), I dragged myself to the doctor. Seven months later we took home unexpected bundle #3.

Try as I may, nothing ever changes. A defective TIME clock can never be adjusted to compensate for daylight savings, jet lag, hippies, yuppies or women's lib. I never get any TIME off for good behavior. One can never quite get used to being out of sync. It's like trying to keep up with the parade while marching with one foot in the gutter. For instance, we invested in real estate and were heartily assured, "You're getting in at the right TIME!" Uh-huh. But, getting OUT at the right TIME takes a clock of superior quality.

Lately my clock seems to be running too fast. Many things keep slipping away from me. When the children were small, I missed much of the TIME I would have spent with them. Now that I've found the TIME, they're busy boogying to their new beat (thank heaven, sick-sync isn't inherited).

Getting older hasn't helped, either. It's just something else to contemplate, alone in the wee hours waiting for dawn to bring 'my' TIME to sleep. Oh, I read or write, but still....

We now live in Las Vegas, Eden for the out-of-sync. A twenty-four hour town, almost everyone here sleeps, eats and performs with minimal regard for TIME. In periods of extreme self-pity, I sometimes go to the casinos and mingle with the gamblers. Casinos have no clocks. Patrons must contend with their own defects; lots of company for the sync-sick, worm eaters ALL.

Oh, yes; remember all those tonics to fatten up the skinny kid with black hair, back in the forties? Exactly. They all took effect, at one TIME, about ten years ago....

(I really should start on that new diet tomorrow...have my hair touched up....

"Nobody loves me, everybody hates me;

Guess I'll go...

if TIMES get just a l-i-t-t-l-e bit worse......)

Copyright


Life is a ball.....
Dance or be a wallflower!




Site Meter
Posted by GrannyJo at 1:51 PM - 4 Comments   Add a Comment  
 

 Hello! From GrannyJo
 

First post here, just to get the feel of a new spot. I've been floating around the stream for awhile and it looks like a good place to tie up and sit a spell.

I hope to be able to bring some interesting writings, memories and loving moments from my 70 years on this whirly bird planet in the future. Most of all, I'm looking forward to hearing from you all--younger and older than I am (do they come older?)

I live in Las Vegas, NV, but hail originally from PA. I have a great hubby, 3 grown children and 2 grown grandchildren. (How that happened when I wasn't looking, I don't know.} A whole lot of my memories and moments surround them, so I must have been paying attention MOST of the time!

Anyway, I may do some remodeling here, soon as I figure out the building specs, but for sure I will be bringing some contributions soon. For now, just saying, HEY! 8-)


Life is a ball.....
Dance or be a wallflower!




Site Meter
Posted by GrannyJo at 10:45 PM - 4 Comments   Add a Comment  
 
Pages:   1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14
   
  About Me
Author: GrannyJo
From Las Vegas, NV, USA
Age: 72
 
This blog is about...
70 years of memories, spectacular moments and the writings that go with them. Looking forward to... more
 
My: Profile  Guestbook 
 
Bookmark   History

  Blogstream Sponsors
Have you checked out the new Blogstream site,

Question Stream.com?

Many Blogstream members are there already! Quotes from members: "It's like blog lite!" -- "I like the instant gratification!" -- "Stop spectating, get in the game!"

If you have not joined in, you are really missing out!

Send Free
Just Saying Hi
Greeting Cards
at

Greeting Cards.com


Good Morning


  Recent Posts

  Blogs I Like

  Archives

2576 Visitors