Susan's Scribblings the Blog

A writer from the Philadelphia area shares the week online.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog
  • Who the Heck is Kayewer?
  • Monthly Archives: June 2019

    • Incendiary

      Posted at 10:50 pm by kayewer, on June 29, 2019

      My town is selling fireworks this week from a tent in the shopping center, which is something I never thought I would see in my lifetime. July 4 is the big fireworks day, but it’s also a day dreaded by fire departments, law enforcement and emergency rooms nationwide because of the problems they create.

      Of course I come from the late baby boomer generation, and we swung incense sticks and sparklers around on Independence Day with reasonable care because our parents said that if we burned something they would kill us. And we believed them. We were the take-a-hammer-to-blaster-caps generation, and helicopter parenting was not the emotionally charged war zone it is today in the liberal age, and we came out okay.

      But then the world began to get dumber, and responsible fireworks handling (along with responsible parenting and adult common sense) was replaced by excessive caution and bans. At my age now, I see why this is not a bad idea, because the average American is so blase’ about handling cigarettes (which are pretty much miniature lit torches) that they don’t seem phased by an object set aflame and holding explosives with the potential to prematurely go off, maim and kill.

      Leave it to the pros? That’s for the pros to say to ruin everybody’s fun, people say.

      Every year our pros set up in the high school athletic field for the yearly ritual. They check winds and clearances, follow all the rules and do everything to ensure public safety. Usually debris from the fireworks falls away from anything important, and they’ve cooled off by the time they hit the ground, but once in a while a car gets pelted, or things land on lawns. And of course, every year some animals get the fur scared off them by so much booming and banging, that lost pet recovery runs into the next week.

      Funny thing is that I usually find it too hot, muggy or buggy to watch the fireworks outdoors, so I watch the New York display on TV. Not to insult my beloved town, but without children to enjoy it with, the thrill of being out there is gone. But I salute the pros who go out there to make the holiday fun and safe, and I wish everybody a safe time.

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    • Bonehead

      Posted at 3:10 am by kayewer, on June 23, 2019

      Our skulls are growing new bones! It’s true. A new bony protrusion has appeared on x rays of skulls, and the guess was that it was happening mostly in teens, as reported in a Scientific Reports article by some Australian researchers. The possible cause? Tilting our heads down too much when looking at our devices.

      Looking down used to be a cultural sign of submission, because one did not look others in the eye if they were of a lower class or being subjugated in some other way. Now we look down chronically as we watch cat videos or text our every move to our friends.

      This is nothing to panic about, however. The growths show up in people of all ages, including the elderly, and with our bones regenerating periodically, teens with growth spurts are bound to have bone spurs here and there. I had one in my shoulder which incapacitated me for a while until anti-inflammatories and a cortisone shot killed the problem. It’s not a big deal.

      What is a big deal is how much we look down, when we should ideally be looking up at everybody and everything. And yes, keep drinking your milk.

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    • Baby Boogieman

      Posted at 1:40 am by kayewer, on June 16, 2019

      Babies and I don’t seem to have good karma. The first time I had any real contact with a baby, I was about eight or nine, and my grandmother tried to plop the infant into my arms without any preliminary instructions. All I remember was that the baby was mighty heavy, and my arms not all that strong, and my short life flashed in front of me as I thought I would drop the poor baby and be put away for manslaughter. My grandmother laughed. Actually everybody who was there at the time laughed. Not me.

      The next time I held a baby, I was in my thirties. No, that is not a typo. Let’s just say that I don’t have much contact with big families with children. This time I was smart and sat down while the mother placed the baby in my lap. After about three minutes the child was bored and turned into a screaming terror anxious to get away. Everybody else just smiled knowingly. I was just as perplexed as I had been 23 or so years ago.

      Since then I’ve seen countless people with babies, but haven’t held or even touched one. The other day, a co-worker on maternity leave stopped by the building with her new son and older sister, who is about three-ish now. She looked glum, probably because everybody fawns over little brother and ignores her, so after I greeted my coworker and expressed my joy at seeing the new baby, I took a minute to talk to the girl, to let her know she was important. My coworker asked me to open the door to the office for her. I did, and off she went.

      So much for my life with babies: an unsolvable mystery.

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    • To Absent Friends

      Posted at 3:02 am by kayewer, on June 9, 2019

      Today I had the privilege of meeting with some friends at the local burger joint (the one with the name like that of the little bird who welcomes spring). Some of us have not seen each other in 20 years or more. We still look fabulous. And we still (pretty much) remember names and faces. I’m nearly always rusty with that, but not today.

      It was just five of us for lunch, but we’re planning a bigger event for all of us to get together one last time, sort of like D-Day 75 plus a year, with folks not quite yet in their final years. We may not be as spry as before, but we’re still moving well all things considered.

      We talked about the past and shared each other’s lives since we last met (along with our aging aches and pains). It’s get-togethers like this that keep me grounded in the present without dwelling on the negative past or the uncertain future.

      We all have similar stories to tell, and we all indulged in food we really shouldn’t be eating. Heck, it’s a reunion, so why not? After nearly ninety minutes and plenty of laughs, we decided to meet again soon.

      I’ve missed them; it can’t be soon enough.

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    • What Stopping Means

      Posted at 2:04 am by kayewer, on June 2, 2019

      This post isn’t for everybody, but if you read it, understand that one opinion is just that: one way of looking at something. Your way may be different in one or more (or all) ways, and that’s okay, too. I feel that discussion is vital on important issues, so some of these opinions are purely mine, and others come from an amalgam of information from various sources who may offer additional insight. Don’t vilify the messenger.

      NASA never committed murder when they ended a mission because of factors which made continuing unsafe; the command center simply told the crew to abort the mission. The word abortion, in layman’s terms, means the stopping of a thing. Lately, however, we hear the three words “abortion is murder,” along with angry-faced protestors hoisting signs, and the world becomes a polarized entity, as with anything which can divide opinionated individuals (like politics, religion, and what toppings are best on pizza).

      Since I am not one hundred percent on either side of the abortion issue (because I don’t fully like how it might be used, but realize it is a necessary thing in this world), I have been considering everything I have seen on either side of the Roe V. Wade issue. I realize that we cannot totally obliterate the availability of abortion. We cannot stop an effective and health restorative medical procedure from being performed. As long as the world is not one hundred percent pure and good and safe enough to allow us to overpopulate ourselves with abandon, we cannot stop abortion.

      One of the biggest things which convince me that we are not ready to not make abortion available is the way the so-called “pro-life” front argues their case. They are not pro-life so much as they come off as “pro-birth.” They appear to be cheering for rapists and dehumanizing and isolating victims, with some states going so far as to make abortion unavailable for victims of rape or incest; I have to sit down and take deep breaths when I see a woman–a woman–standing in a group of protestors endorsing forcible sexual assault. But then, I can’t grasp the concept of female genital mutilation, and women in countries where it’s still practiced cheer that on, too. It’s sad to think that somebody could be so convinced that a man should be allowed to subjugate a woman so horribly, and that I could share the public streets with them, and they think me a monster because I think a victim should not suffer a pregnancy resulting from such abuse. But then, a judge granted a rapist visitation rights with the child resulting from his assault of a woman, so I guess now that rape is okay.

      Sure I know that some people abuse the availability of abortion, using it as birth control instead of any of the myriad alternatives out there. However, I would rather know that somebody would not be born and be spared the horrors of adult inhumanity: I read about babies delivered only to be smothered or drowned and then dumped in toilets, left in trash cans or dumpsters or, in one infamous case, taken onto a crossroad and set afire. No anti-abortion people stood up and praised the fact that those babies were born.

      The anti-choice (my preferred term, which goes with pro-choice) front does not contribute a cent to the born: infants in constant withdrawal pain from the drugs their pregnant mothers took suffer alone. Born babies starve daily, and who on the anti-choice front is feeding them? The objective of the anti-choice front is to get the babies born, not to move beyond that.

      A woman going to Planned Parenthood receives knowledge and compassion, if she can get past the middle school playground styled bullying and rhetoric and harassment. Pro-choice don’t hoist signs showing babies who were born and grew up in households where their days were numbered and the their suffering atrocious. I remember reading about a toddler who was killed by his mother, who then tried to cook away the evidence by placing the dismembered body in a pot. Tireless articles pass my eyes, in which children were starved, abused and beaten, neglected and deprived. For years. Sure, they live to be tweens or teens sometimes, but so many are aged three or under, it breaks my heart. “Not my problem” is still part of our national fabric.

      You don’t see any anti-choice people cheering because those victims were born. It’s because we still stand on the sidelines of human suffering that it seems logical that we should try not to add to the problem. If somebody cannot be a good parent, either don’t give birth, or make adoption work better, or let’s figure out how to make rape bad again, and come up with sufficient punishment to fit the crime. I won’t elaborate on that.

      Sometimes we see the “sanctity of human life” as meaning that everybody needs to live. It’s the same mindset that keeps the elderly in pain-wracked stasis while waiting for what some of them hope will be their last breath. Human life is not pure and good and safe, and limiting options will not make it so. Standing by doesn’t make life better, either.

      And before anybody starts countering my words herein with arguments that there is a heartbeat and brain formation and the ability to smile in utero, remember that a flower is inside the seed, but at that point it isn’t a flower yet. And I don’t think that God is waving His mighty hand and picking and choosing who has babies and who does not: that responsibility, with the added burden of the foibles of the human body, He left to us with our free will. When my time comes to account for what I have said, I will accept what He tells me was right or wrong, not the words of an overly passionate sign-waving protester in front of a women’s health clinic.

      States are starting to enact tougher abortion laws. Remembering how life was before, I worry about our future becoming our past again: the bad part of the past.

      Let’s not be so rash that our absolutes start destroying what we are trying to build. The middle ground is what we need, and we’ve had it for decades: don’t lose it now.

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