I've Been Erased by AT&T!

I was surprised how much of a shock it really was. Let me explain. For most of my life I have been a customer of AT&T or one of their many subsidiaries. Mind you, there weren't that many other telephone companies out there. So, by default, unless you were bound and determined to communicate some other way - you were handled by AT&T - in the main. As such, You could count on, without fail, that "the" telephone company would handle getting you a new paper residential telephone directory and yellow pages to you in a plastic bag, if you lived in a house, or, as in the case of my building, there's just a honking great pile in the lobby with the annual delivery. This was an event that marked the years. A new telephone directory was like someone pushed the "refresh" button, and you got the new directory with all the new community changes in your hands.

O.K., O.K. A paper directory is a dinosaur for many people. However, it can actually be more convenient to whip out the book to look up a phone number or address - than having to boot up the computer or locate your multi-tasking phone. It's recycleable, usually stays in the same place, and it gives its listings a feeling of permanence simply by the weight that rests in your hands. There have been pretenders and competitors to the paper telephone directory throne over the years. Usually, without fail, the AT&T directory listed the latest information. You could count on them to be super efficient. The throne pretenders were usually working off of old information.

Well, with all the so-called progress in the electronic media market in the last few years. Especially after 9/11/01 knocked out our usual form of broadcast media for television - telephone companies decided to get into the computer and television market and, the cable providers followed suit. Or vica versa. At any rate, many of us have been forced to purchase these bundled services if we want to a) stay in touch by talking; b) watch the latest television shows or Pay-Per-View packages (like in hotels for blue movies!); and c) surf, research, etc. the internet, text the entire world or expose one's pecadillos for the entire electronic world to see - in the name of social networking. You no longer can have a simple land line to call folks or 911. You no longer can have the basic broadcast channels on your tv. And if you want a connection to the internet - then you have to have one that handles everything.

These improvements are all market driven. They've brought a level of communication available to the general public to unprecedented heights. It's wonderful. It can also cost you and arm-and-a-leg. We are stuck with all these new parameters.

To get back to the erasure of me....because AT&T wanted to charge a bundle of money for their bundle. I found I could keep basic television, and buy the rest of cable's bundle for about $25 less per month. This is very important as I am currently incomeless and rather media driven! So, I switched my telephone and internet to cable. I got a brand new telephone number. Hallelujah! My old one belonged to a deadbeat, and after 5 years, I was still getting collection agency calls. The new number with cable, yes, it did belong to someone else, but fortunately, I've only received two calls for its former owner.

So - now that I have a new telephone number from my cable company, my friends and family are unable to look up my current telephone on the internet (which can be a blessing). But what is most heinous (sp?) to me, is that AT&T has erased me from their new 2010 telephone directory. It made me feel like I was living in the Twilight Zone, or that a science-fiction novel had come to life on me! On the one hand, anything you put on the internet is there for all eternity. But to go to an old friend - my new annual telephone book - and find that I no longer exist, is rather unnerving. In the past, I believe, even if you weren't a direct customer, you and your listing showed up in the phone book. No more! If you are not a customer, you are dead to them!

The competitor's phone book still has me and my old phone number. And my cable company? They don't bother with a telephone directory. 'Course it's now becoming apparent - if you call a number not handled by your telephone company - you will probably be told that "there is no such number." I guess the various telephone providers don't talk to each other. It doesn't work in the spirit of economic competition. Mind you, it would be extremely beneficial in a emergency. Let's hope we don't have one.

Ooops! Forgot Ireland

Well, not really. It's just that the English portion of the post went on a bit. Yes, I cheerfully admit to that. I had a ball in the land of my birth.

O.K. Ireland. Well, I was at a conference there just outside of Dublin, so I mainly saw the hotel, the shopping centre next door and the airport. Tho' I must say the sky is a huge presence there. Perhaps it is because the countryside around Dublin is not as intensely developed as U.S. suburbs. Also, the reality of "skyscraper" seems to be non-existent there - thank goodness. The sky is huge and lovely with the sun and clouds. You really get a feel for the term "ever changing." I can also understand why painters of yore would want to capture the sky on their canvas. Magnificent! Though, on cloudy and rainy days - you don't really want that much sky hanging over you. It can get rather over whelming. The gift? When the sun comes out after days of rain - the colors of the countryside can knock you sideways. The people are rather fabulous, too!

While in Ireland I did, however, have the opportunity to visit Glendalough (Gaelic for "Valley of the Two Lakes"). My guide book calls it "the epitome of rugged and romantic Ireland." And on a sunny afternoon such as we had, it truly was. It's prime attraction are the remains of the monastic city (being notoriously uneducated in religious whatnots -- who knew?) which was built by disciples of St. Kevin, a single monk who had originally come to the area (according to the guidebook) for peace and quiet. Don't you love it?

In it's heyday, Glendalough was home to one of the largest monastic cities in Ireland. The monastery lasted for four centuries from the 9th to the 12 century. After surviving several Viking raids (being an economic gem), the English forces from Dublin apparently finished the monastic city off in the 1300s - tho' I can't remember if any reason was given. There's a fascinating graveyard (amazingly still in use!); a round tower built in the 10th century with its front door 20 feet off the ground; the remains of the original monastic gate: and several churches, built during various centuries, are still there in this deep valley surrounded by forest. The Visitor's Center has a fabulous video presentation which give you a far better appreciation for what you are seeing, before you see it. The whole area is best described by my guidebook as a "deeply tranquil and spiritual place." It truly is. It is also a visual feast for the eyes. I very much enjoyed being introduced to this intriguing place.

So, if you're ever traveling on Ireland's eastern side, I highly recommend this magical valley to you. Bring your camera. You'll want to bring a bit of the mystery home.

It's Lovely To Go Away...

It really is. Especially when you have a great time! The immediate benefits are obvious: change of pace and scenery, someone else (if you're lucky) does the cooking, the chance to meet any number of interesting people, the challenges of dealing with another culture, and hopefully, a new way of seeing the world - at least for the length of your stay. And, if you're really fortunate, you may get a new perspective on the life you've left behind. An old saying in our family is "A change is as good as a rest." Then again, I suppose it depends on the changes.

For me, traveling to the United Kingdom last month did not challenge me as much as going to a county where I have no history and no knowledge of the language. However, it was wonderful simply to get away from my life for a while. First, in England, I stayed with some cousins for about 5 days whom I hadn't seen in 14 years. My second week was spent in Ireland. The weather in England was perfectly lovely with one day of rain (which gave me a chance to recover from jet lag). In Ireland, it rained. A LOT! That's why it's so green. The weather was also deliciously cool, which viewed now from the perspective of the hottest summer on record, made it even more lovely in retrospect. I am a child of more temperate climes, specifically the U.K. and the Pacific Northwest of the U.S. I am not in any way, shape or form structured for very hot and humid climates .... or icy, windblown frozen tundras, either, for that matter!

It may not have changed the world, but my trip last month was immensely satisfying. My cousins are extraordinarily generous hosts, especially when one takes into account that their kitchen was completely torn up - so meals were created in the downstairs hallway on a two-burner propane stove. microwave and a refrigerator that dominated the proceedings - along with a breakfront which provided the dishes. Funnily enough, even the drawers on the breakfront were being refurbished every other day, so we'd have to hunt for where we'd put the utensils or the tea.

My hosts are quite extraordinary. They did everything in their power to ensure that my 5 and one-half days with them were fun, fascinating and interesting. They deserve an award for meeting the challenge of entertaining a guest whilst their downstairs was compromised. In fact, most of my vivid memories from the few times I've visited England, usually revolve around these cousins, and the excursions they planned for me. John is a retired lawyer with a passion for family genealogy. Sue restored works of art, especially paintings; her knowledge is encyclopedic and her enthusiasm for new experiences unbound. You would be hard-pressed to find a better guide to the National Gallery (or any gallery, I would bet). Both Sue and John love to travel, explore and try new things. I suspect that without their strong sense of duty and their love for their family (who've all left the nest) - not to mention their grandchildren! - they'd love nothing more than to hit the road, and not look back.

'Course their geographical location helped a great deal. They live in the country town of Marlborough, Wiltshire - smack dab in the middle of Salisbury Plain in the middle of England's countryside. The significance? Oh, just a few old places like Stonehenge, Silbury Hill, Kennet Long Barrow and Avebury are found on the Salisbury Plain. Not to mention lovely country walks, a canal system, the White Horses, Salisbury Cathedral and stunning vistas that stretch the eye for miles. (Thanks for the expression, John.)

Not too far away in one direction, is Jane Austen's City of Bath which was built over a number of hills in a golden stone. This is a beautiful sight from the right viewpoint. Sue even managed to squeeze in a day trip to London for me. This included a trip down the Thames to Greenwich passing the London "Eye" and the Tower of London - where we were saluted with a 57-gun salute in honor of each year the Queen has been on the throne! Afterwards, we did a quick turn around the National Gallery. Our highlight was to see a man walk by in a black suit while wearing a bowler hat! Bowler hats are NOT seen these days. They are considered part of London's past. Not to mention seeing a black suit in high summer. Very cool. And, yes, Sue. Definitely surreal.

Now - Throw in a Russian Orthodox Men's Choir performance; a picnic dinner out on the Gallops by the side of the old coach road to Swindon while the sun went down; intelligent and perceptive conversation; climbing Martin's Sel (sp?) with Ramage, and seeing an old prop plane flying over the checkerboard of fields looking like something from the last century; climbing the steps of St. Peter's church tower to the top, and viewing Marlborough from above; shooting through Paddington Station after navigating the Underground; breathing that sweet country air; bombing through the tiny country lanes by car; trying to identify my pence from cents; the lovely enclosed gardens; leaning up against the stones at Avebury; having the executive tour of The Merchant's House; and finally, looking down and across a field to see Stonehenge looking majestic and inimitably itself!

Yes. It is truly amazing what you can do in five and one half days. My cousins have definitely set the bar incredibly high for any future hosts. And I am extremely grateful for all the wonderful experiences and memories they have gifted me.

So, I highly recommend your getting away from your life for a wee while. It can really refresh one's soul.

Mercury, Your Friendly Deadly Toxin and You!

I've been trying to think how to start this post with enough impact to startle anyone who reads this. So far, I haven't really come up with anything that's remotely satisfying. Truthfully, to do the matter academic justice, I could probably research Mercury and its household uses and dangers for months. I would probably end up with a result better suited to submitting a doctorate thesis than writing a blog post.

It just bugs the hell out of me that the generic and relatively inexpensive energy saver promoted (touted) to a busy, distracted public as the answer to their high electricity bills is ... the fluorescent light bulb. Fluorescent light bulbs are being recommended to every household (and business) as the one, the only, long-lasting, energy saving, cost effective replacement to the old incandescent light bulbs. (If anyone else has found an alternative, it's been kept very quiet.) The manufacturers and marketers carefully avoid mentioning some of the drawbacks associated with the light that is emitted by fluorescent lights: a) visusally, the light is very cold in appearance; b) the light flickers just enough to cause distress to anyone with Asperger's Syndrome or Autism; and c) can contribute to epileptic seizures in some sensitive people.

However, in my mind, what tops all those cautions, is the simple fact that each fluorescent light bulb or fluorescent tube contains Mercury. Mercury is a known deadly toxin. Mercury poisoning, when not fatal, contributes to a slew of physical problems including neurological damage. Ironically, it has also been considered as a contributing factor to Autism.

Once Mercury gets into an enviroment, it doesn't go away easily. So. Just think about it. All the electric companies are promoting the fact that you need to bring this deadly toxin into every room in your home. Go ahead. Light your world with a deadly poison. Do the cost benefits outweigh the health concerns? Maybe so. I'm not convinced. As long as the bulbs are not broken, there's absolutely no risk to your health. The problem arises in breaking a bulb or in disposing of it.

Wikipedia notes, "When broken indoors, bulbs may emit sufficient Mercury vapor to present health concerns, and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency recommends evacuating and airing out a room for at least 15 minutes after breaking a fluorescent light bulb." That's lovely. Honestly, how many people at home are going to take the time to leave, and air out a room where a bulb's been broken? I'd wager, not too many.

And as far as properly disposing of fluorescent bulbs so the Mercury doesn't doesn't enter the environment - most communities have no easy way to handle this. Like batteries, wouldn't you want to just toss the dead fluorescent bulb into the household trash? This is far more likely to happen. So the Mercury in your dead fluorescent bulbs - as the Mercury in any batteries you may have tossed on occasion into your trash - are all ending up where ever all our office and household garbage goes - and leaches out into the air and soil.

There are so many ramifications here that could be developed on so many products marketed to consumers. But for now, and this blog post, my concern is the Mercury - the toxin - contained in fluorescent light bulbs. My question to you is simple....

Do you really want to bring a deadly poison into your home to save a few dollars?

Writing Your Story

A teacher recently said that it is a really good idea to write your personal story. He went on to say that it was a great way to provide perspective on your life. To write your very own story of your time on this planet, is a grand reminder to you of where you’ve come from, and what you’ve done. You will essentially be “witnessing” your self, and your life. Your story is (or can be) a confirmation of who you have been up until now.

Some would say that the practice of writing one’s life is terribly self-indulgent. “They” would say that “we,” as a generation (and by generation, I’m including everyone alive today), are too self-involved as it is! True, there seem to be legions of unfortunates who are incapable of showing any awareness or concern for any one or any thing past the physical limits of their own bodies. On the other hand, there are almost an equal number of people who are so careful to publically show that they are utterly selfless in every thought, word and deed that they tend to pay no attention to the consequences of their own actions. Further, they seem to feel as though their very practiced selflessness excludes them from all blame or responsibility. Then, of course, there are the select few, such as myself, who are perfect in every way. [Now, if you believe that last statement, I have some lovely real estate you may wish to buy along the Gulf Coast ….or in the Nevada desert (our supposedly post 2012 western continental United States coastline) – with water views.]

There is also something rather seductive in writing about your own life. Actually, it all boils down to self judgment. If you can withhold the judgment and simply relate the facts, you’ll have it done. ‘Course, for me, withholding judgment upon myself is nigh to impossible. I can barely get through a line sometimes without thinking: “Is that too much?,” or “Who died and made you use million dollar words?,” or “How can you say he was being bitchy? Maybe he had gas and was only trying (poorly) to be polite?” Honestly, with this soundtrack running through the back of my mind, it’s a miracle I write much of anything. Every time I click the “Post” button, there’s a small leap of faith that what I’ve written even makes sense.

So back to writing one’s own life….where to start? at one’s moment of birth? Much has been written and speculated upon about the ensuing trauma caused by labor, the short trip down the birth canal and the smack on the bum immediately there following (or the paddling pool of warm water). Thanks to the media, we (who are not biological mothers) are all somewhat familiar with the physical and emotional challenges to the mother before, during and after the birth which could then impact the child’s (your) upbringing! To think of all that drama removed by the growing use of the Caesarean method. Just think of the stories lost!

Or shall one start at the point of conception? The possibilities are almost endless as to the circumstances surrounding the inevitable meeting of sperm and egg. Those circumstances would be endlessly diverting to a writer, such as myself, as there are so many opportunities for variety and creativity, whereas the act of birth generally tends to be rather straightforward. Oh, I‘m not saying birth is always without complication. It is simply that we can all conceive of the many things involved in a child’s birth. However, on the occasion of conception – before, during and after – (and a little imagination), the possibilities of who, what, where, how and when are simply endless! Not to mention – tempting.

Oy. This writing of one’s life may prove to be too challenging for me. It would probably serve me a great deal better to simply stick with the facts. And where the documentation doesn’t exist, the family members involved are dead, or the things that no one’s really ever been able to explain to me – shall just have to remain a mystery. Or I can make up. Okay, here goes….

“It was after the War [you pick which one] when from a great height, my father espied my mother flying across the fields.” [Now you fill in the rest!]

Snow White II

We’ve had a discussion, and Snow White is ready to continue her travels. While I was away visiting family in the U.K. she really relaxed – hit the beach, slept in, did a little gardening, watched a bunch of TV and got caught up with the news. Not that there was much of anything that was new, she said, but that it was nice to catch up with the various talking heads whom she thought of as old friends. She was also glad to see her old studio was still around, tho’ she misses the celluloid days of yore. The Dwarves were not mentioned.

Watching the evening news, however, Snow White found the information of the oil problem in the Gulf of Mexico very concerning. She kept asking me why they kept calling it the “oil spill.” “A spill,” she clarified, “happens when something spills out of a container, not up out of the ground!” She was quite indignant. Apparently, having spent so much time with her head in the sand, Snow has had many heart-to-heart talks with Gaia. Snow said that Gaia was really pissed with the way her resources were being used and abused. So this “spill,” is 63 plus days of oil being furiously pumped out into the Gulf by a very cross Gaia. The oil company may be able to relieve the pressure, but Snow warns that will not be the end of it. She said, echoing a very old television advertisement, “It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature!” Apparently Mom Nature has a few tricks up her sleeves that we haven’t seen yet!

Concerned that her mode of transportation will be compromised, and that she might get her gown covered in oily residue, Snow White is planning on departing these shores this week. She’s anxious to get ahead of the worst of the oil plumes before they head up the East Coast of the United States. Snow is heading off on the next leg of her journey ferried by the North American current of the Gulf Stream. She has a yen to see Europe tho’ she understands that the Gulf Stream actually splits and heads both for Norway and the Canary Islands. When I mentioned that Europe wasn’t a guarantee, Snow simply shrugged and said that the Canary Islands would be lovely as they have many beaches upon which to land. Norway would be more problematical with its cliffs and deep fjords. Snow was very sanguine about it all, and mentioned that should she be heading for Norway, she's considering stopping briefly in Scotland as she's curious about Haggis.

I’ll let you know when she goes. We need to do her roots with some dye and give her the black back, and a couple of very minor repairs to her chemise. Snow said that whenever she goes traveling, she likes to look her best!

Still Here

Yes indeedy, I am still here. Inspiration just hasn't decided to peek in recently. I have high hopes for the new moon on Thursday evening. A quick update -

Snow White is still with me. She has decided to wait a bit longer until Summer decides to show itself in June. I'm very glad to have her company and perky presence in these interesting times. I will let you know about her send off.

I'm also happy to report that I have a new tree. I offered to buy one, but it turned out it was in the complex's budget. Yay! The new tree is quite young with only a 3 inch trunk, but it seems strong and steady. It's also about a third of the height of the one I lost, but I'm told it's a quick growing maple. So. With a bit of luck, it will reach a respectable height (i.e. be easily visible outside my window without my having to lean out to look at it) before they cart me away or I move first. lol. I'm also told that this maple will have stunning red foliage in October - so now, ironically, I'm looking foward to the Autumn!

Happily, after the new maple went in, I found out that my downstairs neighbor had also become attached to the old tree and view. Vindicated! Tho' I did wonder why the landscapers put the tree in before they took the fallen stump out and repaired the wall. The ways of my Property Manager remains a bit of a mystery. Well, they were fun to watch for the ensuing two days! I'm always glad for some entertainment.

And as for whimsy? It seems to have been hiding, tho' I am keeping my eye out for more. Cheers!

Shall I Run Away?

Too experienced, and too expensive to hire, and far too young to go on Social Security. That’s me. Is that a euphemism or a fact? Companies are “gun shy” with the economy. They only want to move on sure things and/or people, especially those that fit in a box. I’ve been told that after one year, I’m no longer changing my career. No. I’m now re-entering the workforce, as though I’d taken time off to raise kids. I need more skills! I need certification! It’s extremely frustrating.

I’m half-thinking of running away. Let the bank handle the mortgage, and just run away for a little while. By getting out of the area that I’ve lived in for virtually my whole life, I might get a new perspective. I could find out what interests me, or for what and whom I need to be grateful, or I could find out … nothing. I’d much rather think it would be a new beginning.

You see. The fact of the matter is, if I left tomorrow, very few people would really miss me much at all. They live their lives. And I really haven’t. I’ve pretended, and I’ve survived my life so far. I worry about it, and at it. Live it? I think I’d like to, but I honestly find it hard to imagine what it could be like – in a good way. In a bad way, I can come up with way too many scenarios!

In my career search the questions keep coming up: what do you love? What inspires you? What do you want to do? Replace all those “what”s with a “who,” and the answers are the same. There are some folks that I really depend on to keep me going. One, I’ve depended on for years. And bless her heart, she still takes my calls.

I keep thinking…. maybe a change of place, a change of circumstances and a change of people,… and maybe, just maybe, it would kick me into gear. Of course, my head would be coming with me, so I’m not at all sure that’s the right plan! Lol.

No wonder people make themselves sick, and then, die. It takes the matter right out of their hands! I used to live that way. I’m not doing that any more. So now, I’ve got to come up with an alternate plan. Running away is only one.

Bread Line NYC 2010

Yesterday, when I saw the great mass of people lined up waiting to go where I was going, I blurted, “Good Grief! It looks just like a bread line!” A woman in line shouted back at me, “That’s because it is!” Thankfully, it wasn’t the Great Depression kind of bread line. Food was not being given out. The bread that caused people to show up was money. This massive grouping of humanity was caused by a simple job fair. O.K. It had been advertised to the entire metropolitan area. However, it was, still, simply, a job fair.

I had gone because my career counselor thought it would be good for me. The excursion’s purpose was to help push my own job search into high gear. She wanted me to see what was on offer, who were the companies, ask questions, find out what kind of skills/people companies wanted to hire, and finally, to see how people dressed and what they said. The afternoon was fascinating on several levels. Why? Largely, because of the parallels I drew to the Great Depression. It was also rather a fiasco, but I’ll get to that later.

It’s a different time, different people from that America in the 1930s. Why am I calling this line leading to the job fair a bread line? Because, there were startling similarities. Also, there were major differences that emphasized the cultural changes which have occurred in the past 50 years. The Great Depression was a time of great economic deprivation, and of the Dust Bowl that forced a migration of thousands of people. (Today, it would be millions – except there’s really no where to go.) The whole country lived off of its newsmakers. Not so different from today.

Unlike the old bread lines, nothing was offered freely except admission, yesterday. Whatever you gained, you had to earn. However, before you got to the action, you had to wait. It took a good 10 minutes for me to find the end. The line stretched from the entrance of Madison Square Garden, to the corner of 7th and 31st; turned the corner, going all the way to 8th Avenue; and then, stretched back almost all the way to 33rd Street where I got on the line. That was a little after 2 p.m. Luckily, it was a beautiful Spring day. I got through the line to the job fair doors at 4:15 p.m. somewhat dehydrated, and vaguely delirious! Yes, two hours later.

The job fair was jammed. There were more, very long lines inside! The U.S. Census was there, along with US armed force recruiters looking for cannon fodder. Most of the names were business schools or employment agencies. The actual number and caliber of jobs were small and low level. The fair was held in a concrete-floored room with all the charm of a public toilet. They also had one of those, too, thank goodness!

After such a long wait, the fair was a disappointment. It was also very depressing. The sheer number of people looking for work was a sobering reminder, how truly recessed our economy is. When you are alone, you only see your own struggle. It’s rare to see the sheer number of other people who are “out there” and looking – just like you.

The similar parallels to the bread line are simple. First, there’s the obvious - a huge line of people waiting on a sidewalk to get in the door for “bread.” Next, most people in line refused to make eye contact with anyone, almost as though they were ashamed to be in this line. Third, all the people were eerily silent. There was almost no talking between folks. Fourth, everyone was amazingly patient. It became an endurance test of standing, and waiting. It’s not just the strong who survive. It’s those with the best bladders! And yes, we actually shuffled. It’s impossible not to when you’re in a line. And, in the end, it just wasn’t fun.

The differences between lines from the 1930s to 2010, were mainly cultural. First, because it was a job fair, everyone was very well dressed and groomed. We were a good looking bunch! Next, there were men and women. Third, because the event was co-sponsored by AARP, the age range was extremely broad. Fourth, there was a mix of races which in the 1930s would be unimaginable. And, in the end, when the silence got to be too much, most people hauled out their phones. However, most conversations were short and abrupt. No one wanted to be there.

I sincerely hope I do not go to another job fair. The effort really outweighs the reward! Not only standing in line, but also the time and cost of just getting to the job fair. A gentleman in the line behind me, said he’d been to one at Giant’s Stadium, where there were so many people – there was no parking. So, he left.

I’ve decided to use the power of positive thinking. The economy has turned around. More and more jobs will be created as the days go by. The strategies that do not work will be abandoned. And the job fair will become extinct. All my co-job fair attendees will soon be working in their desired fields, and getting the wages they deserve.

There’s such a thing as repeating the past. I’d rather not! Nor do I wish it on anyone else!

There Was A Tree .... There.

A lot of people in the northeastern United States – well, those who aren’t flooded out of their houses – are experiencing the above phenomenon after the most recent nor’easter. There was a tree there. In some cases, it’s the plural. And. Well…..They’re just not there anymore.

It’s a very strange feeling when you lose a grown tree. It’s like a visible piece of your world has disappeared by magic. Irrationally, it just doesn’t seem to matter that you know exactly how it came down. Or that its down fall was due to a soaked ground and a massive wind. Not having the tree where it’s always been, is very strange. The missing tree really leaves a gap in your world. You can feel rather exposed. I know I do.

In my case, the tree was a major psychological buffer between my apartment and the harsh condominium lights from the building on the other side of my neighbor’s lawn. Especially in the summer with its full foliage, I could pretend the other condominium wasn’t there so much. Since being unemployed, my tree had become a steady companion while I did my morning writing. I’d watch the sunrise light up its branches. I'd watch the birds coming and going, and squirrels chasing each other all over it. When the mulberrys were ripe, it was fun to watch the squirrels fighting each other and all manner of birds for branch space, barely hanging on.

Now, I wonder if “they” can see me in my apartment at night, or early in the morning. (This is assuming, of course, that "they" care!) I find myself making sure the blind is down more often now in my living room. It’s not that I’m doing anything remotely interesting. However, I do spend a lot of time in there. Talk about self-conscious. Oy. And, too, any time, I glance through the window, I’m startled by the tree’s absence. The view seems much harsher.

Needless to say, one of my priorities, aside from getting a livelihood, is to have a new tree put in! I’ve even offered to pay for part of one, so that something more than a tiny sapling will be purchased. Silly? Perhaps. Though I think of it more as an investment in my perceived privacy and feeling of security – not to mention, my early morning entertainment!

Census 2010 - What's Wrong With This Picture?

Have you received your 2010 Census form yet? After a bevy of reminders on the news, public advertisements on television (on heaven knows how many channels) and radio, and then, a mailed notice to your address saying “Hey! Your 2010 Census form is coming!” I sincerely hope you have. I suspect all this brouhaha has cost us all another billion dollars or so. You’d think it was the second coming of a Messiah.

So then, you open it up. What’s the big deal here? There are only about 10 questions all told. O.K. I understand “they” need the numbers for an allocation of political state representatives country wide, and “government funds for highways, schools, health facilities and many other programs you and your neighbors need.” Cool. However… Would you please tell me why it’s any of the government’s business to know our marital status? The IRS already has those figures. What exactly does that serve here?

Now. Here’s my major complaint causing me to blog about the 2010 Census:

Why on earth is it important for the government to know our racial makeup?????? Good Grief! This smacks of blatant racial profiling. For the disbursement of government funds? That only makes it much worse. Paranoia? Perhaps that’s it. The government wants to identify communities of one predominant racial type. That way, should the gov’t get nervous – all those folks of one racial type can be “easily” rounded up, and held in modern-day internment camps (or less politely, concentration camps). I am appalled that here in the 21st century, our government is apparently going to base a lot of its decisions upon the racial makeup of neighborhoods, communities, cities and states. If this isn’t racial profiling, it’s damn close!

And hey – writing as a “white person” – all whites are not the same! Why only one category for whites????? For instance, I’m an Anglo Saxon white person with a genetic makeup from at least 5 countries. Is that the same as an Eastern European white person with a genetic makeup of 5 other countries? Or is the cultural background unimportant?

It’s all a matter of perception. Why our government needs to know what color its populace is - is beyond me. Is this a hangover from the early history of this country when it was solely run by rich white males? Are their descendents still worried about “other” folks taking away their power – both economic and political? If so, that might explain why they want to know how many people are male vs. female. Maybe they should ask how many people identify as neither gender, or both, or something entirely new. No. That might prove to be too worrisome.

To review the main 2010 Census questions: Age – o.k. Location – Great. Number of children vs. adults – Great. Gender – pushing it. Marital Status – Why? Looking for a date? Racial Makeup – Completely unacceptable. As I understand it – they need a simple head count of the number of people in this country, and where they live. They really need to stick with that. Anything else is highly provocative.