And Ne'er The Twain Shall Meet

Good day, fellow castaways.

This week I want to expound just a little on something I said in my last post, just to reinforce a point. It occurred as I was writing that post that handing off our responsibility to the needy to a faceless government agency, isolates us not only from our duties, but from our fellow man. There are other factors as well that further isolate us one from another, and I think we can agree that isolation is not good for humans.

Credit: Isolation, by Neriak, posted on Deviantart

It's been said that Humans are communal animals. In this case, I do refer to humans as animals, because even though we are unique among all creatures on the earth, we in our basic definition, are animals as well. Which means certain conditions are so much a part of our nature that we cannot thrive without them. Interaction is one. Placing a prisoner in solitary confinement is considered among the worst punishments that can be inflicted upon a human. In fact, many studies have shown that a person can only be alone for a certain amount of time before their mind breaks, and death follows shortly thereafter. NASA even has numerous experiments on file that prove humans simply cannot survive long periods isolated from others. So at this point, I don't feel any need for posting evidence. You can simply google it and come up with page after page that prove my point. People need people. Period. Even teenagers.



Teens are strange creatures. I still remember when I was one, I sought isolation from my world. I hated being a teen. Hated being the awkward, shy boy who suffered panic attacks at the mere thought of asking a girl out on a date. Hated being bullied by those who sought to better their own social position by making others feel inferior. Hated being singled out  and ridiculed for speaking out of turn or saying the wrong thing, always a day late and a dollar short. So I sought isolation in my books. After all, a good book never judges, is always there for you, takes you away into into world
where you get to be the hero and save the day, instead of the kid in the back of the class that no one understands.

I did have two friends, with whom I hung out as well, and what did we do? We spent our time roaming the woods in Soldier's Memorial Park or out back of Fix Park, riding our bicycles around Pine Lake, and shunning society as a whole.

Anyway, teens are odd critters, who seem to seek isolation in every way they can. They use their cell phones, iPods, and the internet to remove themselves from a cruel society that they create themselves every day in the school halls. A teenager would rather text with their friend down the block than to actually go see them. A teen would rather spend hours on Facebook than spend a minute with a real person, and it shows in the collective society that we've created online in the circus that passes for social media. Unfortunately, those patterns of behavior become habits, and habits follow us as we get older. So we become hermits in our own families, virtual recluses living together, yet alone in our own little worlds.

Credit: Sylvia Hartman, 2010

We say things online that would get us a fist to the face in person, and we get away with it because that other person isn't there to confront us. We have Usernames that further remove us from accountability. We can create personae that aren't even us at all. How many Facebook pages have names like "Stupid Things People Do" or "I Hate Democrats?" There are people behind those pages, and they refuse to be held accountable to anything they say, so they get away with saying stupid, hateful,  and false things that get spread around the world in a mater of minutes. The more outrageous the claim, the faster the poison spreads.

In addition, look at what happens on our highways and streets. People in their cars, removed from direct interaction, tend to drive like idiots, in spite of a common belief on the part of most of us that we're doing just fine, and the other guy is the one who's wrong. Increased incidences of road rage bear this out. We feel free to gesture and yell and make ourselves a brain-dead zombie, because we're in our car and they are in theirs, and ne'er the twain shall meet.

So we have now officially created the most hostile, isolated culture in the world, two feet in front of our faces, and we're so ingrained in our habits that we can't break loose without intervention. We no longer feel the need to be civil with our communication, because we aren't interacting on a personal level anymore. You wonder why the internet is going crazy? Seriously, Sunshine, take a look at yourself.

So where do we go from here? How do we fix this? How can we come together as a united people once again, and do away with these factions, these divisions, this polarized isolation? I'm open to suggestions. Maybe just take an extra moment to consider the possibility that hitting "share" on that hateful rant in the form of a meme is helping or hurting. Maybe exercise the the right of other people to be wrong, and you don't have to correct everyone or everything that doesn't agree with your sensibilities.

To quote that able philosopher and all-around weird guy Floyd (I know, just go with me here), "I mean, good manners don't cost nothin' ya know."

Maybe the best thing we can do is stand up from our computers, put down our phones, and actually place ourselves in personal contact with someone on a regular basis. In a restaurant with friends, stack your phones in the middle of the table. The first person to pick theirs up gets to pick up the whole tab. Quit playing Clash of Clans long enough to share kindness with someone down your street who has a need. Rake their leaves, shovel their walk. Breathe fresh air.

We can do this, people. Make kindness a priority, and maybe we can all start getting along again.

Whose Job is it, anyway?

Greetings, fellow castaways.

I have summed up the conflict of conservatism vs liberalism in one phrase. Yes, indeed, everything that everyone has been fighting for and over, every little squawk and squabble from the left to the right and back again, can now be stated in one simple question:

"Whose job is it, anyway?"

There is a wide difference between the European model of government and the American model. European governments, in almost all cases, are derived from monarchies or dictatorships. In those models, "Government" is "Mom," who makes sure everyone is fed, clothed, housed, and supplied for. And maybe that works okay for Europe. Okay, except for Greece, who went bankrupt. And maybe England, who had to cut way back on social spending or they were going to go bankrupt. Or Germany, who went bankrupt. Or France, who went... You get the idea.

Now, let's compare that model to the representative republic model upon which the United States was founded (not a democracy, as some have led you believe): Old Tom Jefferson said, "Government at its best is a necessary evil, and at its worst, an intolerable one." Westward expansion (whether you believe it to be a crime or not) left many communities in situations where there were no government programs for the destitute. In fact, most of the immigrants moving west were destitute, which was why they were moving. To get away from their poverty and circumstances, and make a fresh start for themselves and their families.

Let's look at our rule-book. It's called the Constitution. The preamble, if you recall, says, "We the people of the United States, (Why?) in order to form a more perfect union, (for what purpose?) establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, (do what?) do ordain and establish this constitution for the United States of America." In other words, "We, in order to accomplish these things, do this."

The Constitution, in other words, lays out the jobs of the government. None of those jobs is to provide any assistance for anyone. I know it sounds cold, but hang with me here, and let me clarify, please.

In the old day, there was no government help for the destitute. But there was help. From whom, might you ask, did this help come? It came from charitable organizations funded by private parties. In other words, "We the people" provided for our own needy. So guess whose job it is to provide assistance? It's OUR job, NOT the government's. Which, of course flies in the face of the European model.

Now, before we travel too far down the road, can anyone (I present this as a challenge), and I mean ANYONE show me in our constitution the part where our federal government has the responsibility to set out "safety nets" for the needy? Please, anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

No, it's our job. It's the job of everyone who has the means to voluntarily give to organizations who provide food, clothing, and housing assistance to our needy.

I firmly believe that the programs initiated in the '30's should have gone away a long time ago. They were instituted partially as a means of keeping people dependent on government for their daily livelihoods.Maybe there was a need, on a temporary basis, to provide some help, as jobs were nearly non-existent. One of three people eligible to work in 1933 had no job, and had no way to get one. My grandmother used to go out with her 10 brothers and sisters and round up rotten apples from the ground in the neighbor's orchard, cut off the bad parts, and keep whatever was left for their apple pies. Their uncle Mark raised all eleven of them single-handedly after their parents died within months of each other. Believe me, I know hardship. I've had plenty of my own.

But it wasn't a government program that helped me climb back. I borrowed from friends, took jobs as I could (burger flipper, janitor, drywaller, roofer, day by day, week by week) until I could get a steady job that turned into a career. I've been homeless, hungry, and living in borrowed clothes. I've started over more times than I can count. I collected unemployment for about six weeks in all that time.

I believe it should never be the government's job to provide those "safety nets" because in abdicating our responsibility to a faceless commission or agency makes us lazy. We lose touch with the needs around us, and become harder people when we aren't directly involved in helping the needy. Some nameless, anonymous "them" has the issue, so we get to forget all about it and go our catatonic way down the road.

But that's not what happens, is it? Because we still encounter the needy all around us, but now we don't see anyone helping, mainly because the agency in charge of giving assistance is absorbing 70% to 90% of your tax dollars for its own employees and bureaucrats. So now, we have to blame someone, and in most cases we blame those who have more than us: "The Rich." Oh, hell let's just blame them anyway. It's their fault that homeless people don't have their own houses, because they aren't sharing from their wealth. So along with all that self-righteous indignation that comes from having poor people all around us is compounded by the anger at rich people for daring to have more, to earn more, to keep more than anyone else.

And we all know who throws gasoline on that fire: Our own wonderful news media, who have forsaken the art of journalism for their agenda. Which agenda, you say? Why, to make America more like Europe, of course.

We'll go more into that in future posts.

The Art of Breathing: How to Fight Depression and Win

Someone reading this is struggling. This is for you. If you're not struggling, read anyway, so you can help someone who is. I'm not a doctor. I'm just a guy who struggles, too. And I've found the secret to getting through. It's called "breathing."

Life is life. We can't explain it, we can't predict it. It is what it is, and sometimes your world just gets rocked. And by that, I mean not in a good way. It's in those times when you get leveled by a boxcar from above that you re-evaluate your priorities.

My daughter had to say goodbye yesterday to her dearest and closest friend. The lady got married, and they will be living in Alaska. I'll miss her, too. She's a good kid, and those two were thick as thieves. But life is life, and life is what it is. It's not like her friend died or anything. But then again, maybe it feels pretty damn close. Alaska may as well be another universe for a friend that close. The point is, my daughter is very down right now.

I've found in storms like this that it boils down to the basics. Situations hit, like atom bombs in our lives. A loss by death. Your friend moving away. That lab report that changes everything. One moment that can destroy your freedom. So many things can knock us right down, and so many people have no idea how to get back up again. The wallow in depression and just fade away.

I knew a woman several years ago who struggled with depression. My best friend was recently floored by a perfect storm in his life, and we spent a good deal of time scraping him off the floor in pieces and gluing him back together. It's horrid stuff, depression. It can steal away your ability to function. If you let it.

As one who has been run over by a few freight trains in my life (like the sudden death of my brother, loss of my father and younger sister to cancer, a son with severe disabilities, and a daughter I nearly lost before she was three, among other storms), I can speak from experience. I still fight my own depression once in a while.

There once was a time I could languish in my depression and give the circumstances time to immobilize me. I could lay on the couch for hours and just corrode, mentally. That was before I became a dad and husband. I could afford the loss of time. But now things are different. I had to learn how to work through and remain functional.

Yeah, it makes me sound like a machine. But when you're floored with circumstances, "functional" takes on a whole new meaning. "Functional" is where you're at. Look at it this way:

Okay, right now you're helpless. I get that. But you're breathing, right? I'll prove it. Take a breath. Good, yeah, you did it. Don't space out on me, some people don't realize how big a step it is to willfully take a breath. Okay, now take another one. Who cares if you're still lying on your side on the couch with a mountain of snotty, tear-soaked  Kleenex on the floor under your face. You're breathing. So breathe. Don't worry about your heart; it'll handle beating all on its own (in most cases). Just breathe for a while.

Once you get the hang of breathing, things actually get easier. Believe me, they do. If you can breathe, you can sit up. You have to go to the bathroom anyway. Sitting up is right on your way. So sit up. Now, if you can sit up, you can stand. Not "you may." You CAN. If you need help, get some. But you need to get that standing thing down before you go ay further. Note that by "standing" I include those among us who need wheels as well. Standing is a relative term. I don't care if you hate your chair, especially if that's the cause for your depression. Mobility is the next step. It takes an act of will. If you can't handle a step, don't worry about it. Just back up to the previous one. Breathe. Sit. Get mobile. Those are the basics.

Now, look at what's next: eat and drink. I know, things are getting to be a challenge now. We're getting into areas that require action.  Willful action. By "willful" I don't mean wanting to do it. I mean taking action by an act of your will. Crying isn't an act of will. Eating is.If you're still crying though breathing and sitting up, that's okay. You can address that later.

The key to breathing is to keep doing it, and take each step at a time. You don't go from the couch back to work in one huge quantum leap. I can remember when eating and drinking to me was a sign of things actually getting better. First, it meant I had food, and the utility companies hadn't cut off my power or my water. Yay me. I already had the first three steps under my belt, and I was eating. All on my own, too. I'm not being funny; it was that bad.

Next was keeping the utilities on. That meant work. It meant functioning as a profitable member of my company team. I'd get up, go to work, come home, and most evenings would find me back on that couch with the pile of Kleenex. But you know what? I was functional. Kind of like when you really need a car and you buy a '78 rust-bucket with no muffler and a busted windshield, where you can see the road through the holes in the floorboard and the trunk is falling out and there's no rear bumper because that rusted off a long time ago. BUT, it starts in the morning (even if you have to pump your leg furiously for the first five minutes just to keep it running), and when you push on the gas it goes, when you push the brake, it stops. And when you turn the wheel, it turns, hopefully in the same direction. That kind of "functional."

See, you can do it. It's one step at a time, and you don't have to lie to yourself (unless that's what it takes to get you to sit up). Do what you have to do, when you have to do it. Tomorrow doesn't exist. There's only This Moment and how to get through it.

And you can do it. Just start with breathing. Because it will get better. You will win.