To PC or Not to PC: That is the question

I am not one to take offense at the mundane.  A Holiday greeting, appropriately worded for the person in question, is not offensive to me.  In fact, if you wish me a Happy Hanukkah, despite the fact that I am not following Judaism, I accept your wishes in good cheer.

I may not LIKE YOU  (I try to like everyone and in most cases I succeed) ...or your faith...it is irrelevant.  KINDNESS goes a long way.  And I love my family, all of them... wife's adoptive family, as well as her bio-family and my own...

I had gathered than one member of family had been raised in the Jewish faith.  Let me specify:  Not my "Immediate" family, but an in-law, we shall say.  Her sister was raised in the Christian faith (I am unsure of denomination, so I can't specify more).

Now, after a previous debate, I had determined that she was self-identified as Jewish.  I figured I would include her in a Facebook post, with a greeting of "Happy Hanukkah."

OY VEY, That was a mistake.  Is she ashamed of her upbringing?  This is the US, 2016, not Germany of 1933, despite what you are picturing as an incoming administration.

Although I am grateful she told me that she prefers a Christmas greeting (If any), I am somewhat saddened by getting cuffed in such a manner.

Still, I honored her wishes and removed her from the greeting.  I made a mistake assuming that she embraced Judaism, but we do occasionally step on toes.  If I were perfect, I'd be G_d.

However, it will not stop me from sending Wishes for a joyful season to her, or anyone.  I choose kindness.

To any and all:  Merry Christmas, Blessed Yule, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa.  If you don't like any of those, pick a generic.  It's not my place to guess what you prefer.  If you choose to take umbrage at my greeting, it is your choice.  I choose to give you a greeting.  I choose kindness.  How you act is not going to dictate my life.

I still love poetry.

As many of you have discovered, I am a poet.  I love poetry in almost all forms.  Some I don't understand, so I find it hard to include it on my list.
I love the rhymes, the meters,   I love a good limerick, and naked verses were the first type I did...in a journal, anyway.

This morning gave rise to another.

The morning of the twenty-third,
I heard a silent cry.
"I know that sound," I quietly mused.
"Something had to die."

It was early morning
the sun not yet on the rise.
The night was dark, the stars were out,
but the moon was in disguise.

I opened my door and went outside
while I held my breath,
hoping, somehow, to shield myself
from the prominent smell of death.

But the air was clean and sweet
on this dark and cool night.
But what of the sound, the cry I heard?
Could I have not been right?

The silent cry I heard again.
To find the source, I glanced around.
I saw a single, reddened leaf,
floating gently to the ground.

But in my apprehension,
I felt a twinge of grief...
Could I have really heard the death cry
of a single leaf?

A breeze blew softly through the branches
but with nary another sound
More of the leaves broke off a branch
And floated to the ground.

I realized, then, what I had heard,
It wasn't a leaf's cry.
It was the final cry of summer:
Summer had to die.

As we pass, like Earth, through seasons,
passing swiftly like a fly....
Let's appreciate our summer --
Because our summer, too, has to die.

Poetry --

About 2 years ago, I wrote a poem which I called "Take me to the graveyard."

May -- it's a horrible month, a month of one disaster after another, a month of problems and death.
It doesn't let up.  And it hurts.  It really hurts.

Today, people are likely to think I'm unstable.  But I have to write, or I lose my sanity.

The world is an ugly place;
you seldom see a friendly face.
People don't care if you laugh or cry.
They don't care if you live or die.
Your hair may be black,
or your teeth pearled--
No one cares:  Goodbye cruel world!

In this world full of hate
where big biz rules and you don't rate
Justice is absent and God's AWOL
And we're stuck here for the long haul
Ugly man,
or pretty girl--
No one cares; Goodbye cruel world!

All the people, dressed in black
Carrying guns and bags of crack
Living the only way that they know how
the Cops are coming to your door right now.
Does it matter?
Life's just a Churl
No one cares;  goodbye cruel world!

Many forced to live a life
full of anger, filled with strife --
Just enough to stay alive
defined by the crappy car you drive
I've bared my soul --
to the wind unfurled--
I bid thee GOODBYE, CRUEL WORLD.

So much I miss

Across the nation, thousands of people are losing their homes to foreclosure because of the economy. I'm one of those people. I am being hounded for money that I ain't got, our health (Both of us) is deteriorating, disappointment is everywhere. There is so much I miss.

I miss my old home. I could have been there, not facing problems of foreclosure. I could still be working at the second to last job, possibly earning 15+ an hour. But that depends on whether or not my hearing loss would have cost me the job. It could have.

I miss my parents. Dad gone 15 years, Mom 14.

I miss my hearing. My aid is not working (Need an ear piece and tube), and that's not assuring me of anything. My eyesight is going, too...or so it seems. It's not comforting.

But I think, even with so many losses (house, parents, hearing, eyesight, health in general, wife's health) I think I miss one thing more than anything....

I refer to dreams. I used to have dreams that I pushed to reach, I had goals, I had fantasies.

So many dreams fell by the wayside in the last 30 years. SO MANY. I don't know where to start, or even if I should.

I dreamed of being a musician. I wrote songs (Still do, but it's much harder). I sang. I was in a band, our goals were big. Larry went on to become a who was able to live part of his dream. Jeff disappeared. Dave wasn't really into it, went into accounting.

I became more conservative in my goals, aiming for computer science. Failed miserably. Took up locksmithing, but have never really used it. Instead, I became a nothing. I worked for a music distributor for many years...that's as close as I came to my dream there.

I tried to write. In fact, I finished a novella. But I wasn't able to get the publishing I needed. I continue to work on a new novel, but the lack of success on the first has given me no hope for the second one. It sits, unfinished. And I look at the dream destroyed. What good ARE they, anyway? I mean, really. What good is a dream if you can never fulfill it? It sits as a constant reminder of failure.

Pain is always with me, now. Asthma has taken away my ability to do a lot of things. Hernias have taken away my ability to do heavy lifting. And my hearing loss has taken away my singing... what's left?

It's said that when God closes a door, he opens a window. Unfortunately, my windows are all bricked up. There's no escape from the dismal existence which I now live. Except, of course, through death.

My poem ASHES (Written nearly 25 years ago) pretty much defines it:

The flame in the fireplace has flick'r'd out.

All that's left in sight

are the ashes of the log

which once burned so bright.

The ashes are the last memory

of that forgotten tree. But they

are even more:

Signifying me.

Once I was like that log,

so full of hopes and dreams.

Now all I have is ashes:

Shattered hopes, shattered dreams.

The floor of the fireplace has now been cleaned

ASHES thrown into a can.

And like the hearth is left, I too, am left....

A hollow, empty man.

So much missed. So many dreams destroyed. So much lost -- It's the facts -- As I see it.

Unbelievable!

I am cursed. There is no doubt about it, someone put a hex or curse on me back in 1973, and I've been followed by bad luck ever since. Odd numbered years, mainly...but not entirely.

In 1973, I busted a leg. In 1975, I dislocated a thumb. In 1977, there was an auto accident. In 1979, it was academic probation. In 1980, it was the death of a family membera, and the loss of a job. In 1981, it was the start of a flooding lake which would take away my parents' cabine 5 years later. In 1982 It was a romantic rejection. And it continues...
In 1984 it was my first battle with depression, plus the loss of my job at that time. In 1987, I bought a house which became a sinkhole for me. In 1990, I got married... In 1991 we started adoption processes. Those were shot down some years later...they kept changing the rules on us.
In 1992, it was the death of my Grandmother, the other one passed on in 1988. In 1995, it was dad's death, in 1996 it was mom's death. In 1997 it was another job loss (They moved, since have gone out of business). We purchased a new home which was a bad move...then we applied for a second mortgage (a worse move). Wound up in bankruptcy, and ... well, you get the idea. THEN, in 2007, a betrayal by a coworker cost me my job, and a betrayal by a former friend has now cost me thousands...court costs, loss of horses. Burned out 3 cars.

I am cursed. Everything is going against me, and there seems to be nothing to do about it.

The person who betrayed me in 2007 continued to befriend me...hiding her double-faced betrayal until I learned about it a few days ago. My wife broke her leg, is unable to work -- where does that leave us? In the gutter unless we can sell this place and move on. Chances? I don't know, but it doesn't look good right now.

Harrassed by the cops. Stymied by the State. betrayed and broken beyond belief. Tired and tearful. The curse continues...I want OUT.

Don't give me crap about "Self-fulfilling prophecy," do you understand? I had no idea it would continue for 36 years. And I am TIRED of it.

The only way to beat the curse ... is a way I don't want to take.

Maybe my poem, "Opposites" will explain it, but I shall use only the conclusion of the poem for you to determine what is going on.

"Yet turn I did from evil, but much to my despair --
when I turned around --
God was no longer there.
Today, it's death's reflief I seek
and yet I know full well:
There will never be relief --
Just th'eternal flames of Hell."