SILENCE LIKE A CANCER GROWS
I can’t get the words of “The Sound of Silence” out of my brain, especially after watching the cover by the band Disturbed.
Do you remember that suggestion I made several installments ago, telling people to pick up the phone and call me, to have a real conversation, that suggestion netted one call. One. Not two, not three, not ten . . . one! Thank you, Lori, you were a pleasure to talk to.
Indifference is a force, a negative presence in the world today, the personification of the anti-human, for we were meant to be tribal, I believe, to have each other’s backs, to support one another, to provide comfort in time of need, to lend an ear in times of loneliness, and far too often we do exactly the opposite. And why? Too distracted? Too busy? Too frazzled? Too tired or stressed or preoccupied with making money or climbing out of debt or watching the latest episode of Boob TV for Boobs.
I am going to ring this carillon until the day I die, in hopes that someone will hear it, pay attention, and respond in like action. The only job we have, as humans, that is worth a good goddamn, is to be human and improve our humanness through conscious effort and active love for one another. Everything else is window dressing and not worth my spit.
For whom the bell tolls? It tolls for thee! It tolls for every damned one of us.
“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.” Can anyone tell me who wrote those words? Anyone? Fine, let’s move beyond the author and concentrate on the words.
I have grown weary of people on Facebook who constantly share self-help pearls of wisdom they obviously do not practice, or who constantly complain about the affairs of the world, or who are outstanding in blaming others for their lot in life. Here’s what I think . . . the price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. Put another way, in this context, be the change you want to see and quit complaining about all that is wrong in your life and in the world.
Serious question: how much time did you spend, today, complaining about something, or being negative about something? Was today an average day for you? I can tell you without hesitation that twenty years ago, my primary outlook on life was negative. Today it is positive and hopeful. Would you like to know what changed in those twenty years?
Me and the amount of work I committed to for the purpose of changing me.
Period! End of discussion.
Daydreaming about owning fifty acres and starting a commune/community. I know, I’m off in LaLa Land right now, but stay with me on this. If I owned said land, I would invite positive people who would make a positive difference through their actions. I would start by inviting Bev, of course, because she makes people feel better about themselves simply by her caring actions. I would invite my new friend Tay because her positive energy and loving spirit would be a huge benefit for all.
Who else would I invite? I’m not going to get into the Name Game because surely I would leave someone out who deserves to be named, but suffice it to say I can think of at least ten of my online friends who would be invited to join us, and that’s one hell of start.
Now all I need is the money to buy the fifty acres. Me thinks I’ve started dreaming too late in life. But still, it’s one hell of a dream, right?
Who would like to join us? Drop me an email at holland1145@yahoo.com and tell me if you want to be a part of this imaginary new community. I will save you a prime acre of lovely land.
PROBABLY THE MOST OFTEN ASKED QUESTION
“What are you going to do then?”
I hear it almost daily, either in person or through social media.
“What are you going to do then? What are your plans for the Fall and Winter in the bus? Where are you heading next? How about next summer? Do you know where you will be going then?”
My father dropped dead on the night of January 9, 1969. One minute we were watching The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, and the next my dad was dead. No exaggeration, it happened that fast.
I wonder what my dad’s plan was for the next day?
It’s an important question which illustrates perfectly what my viewpoint is about the future.
Making plans is for suckers!
No, I’m not calling you a sucker. I’m simply telling all of you how I feel about making serious plans about my future. I am so done with that and, truth be told, I thought I would have a hard time adjusting to a life sans long-term plans, but not one ounce of angst have I experienced. I love having practically no responsibilities. I love not living by the calendar. I love not being dictated to by the clock.
I love, I love, I love.
Can you imagine? Serious question. Can you imagine what my life is now like? Many of you have no frame of reference. If you were like me as you matured, you have lived a somewhat regimented life for decades, so that the idea of being free as the proverbial bird is completely foreign.
I was talking to a friend the other day, also a full-time traveler, and we were talking about the hierarchy which exists among the RV community. At the top of that hierarchy are the owners of the behemoth Class A motorhomes. At the bottom of that hierarchy are those who live in buses. Mind you, I have worked and contributed to society for fifty-five years, but because I live in a bus, I am looked at, by many, as being one step above homelessness. It really is an interesting statement about society as a whole, and how we view certain people, and how we judge people by their possessions and outward appearance.
Don’t you dare tell me it’s my imagination. You know, deep in your heart, it’s true. It’s why some RV parks will not allow any RV which is older than ten-years-old. Gotta keep up appearances, you know. Can’t sully your hands by getting too close to the unwashed. And people have been programmed to believe it all, from the American Dream myth, to the thousands of advertisements showing what success looks like, to the classism and elitism prevalent in schools.
It saddens me. It makes me ill. And I completely understand it and how it has happened. Any student of history could see it coming from decades away, but most Americans were blinded by the pretty baubles and the sparkling, glittering, shimmering trinkets paid for by credit card.
CAN I TELL YOU A STORY?
Hang with this old man while I share a story, a story which has a message, a message which I believe is vitally important in the year 2023 and beyond.
My father did not say “I love you.” I have no idea why. I have my suspicions, based on what I know of his family and his upbringing, but they are just suspicions, and since he is long gone from this spinning orb, I have no way of saying with any certainty. But I do know, with certainty, that I may have heard him say “I love you” five times in the twenty years I was in his presence.
Having said that, each night, from the time I was a nine-month-old blind child, to the night just before I left the house for college, Dad would come into my bedroom, at night, ruffle my hair with his meaty hand, and tell me I was the best son he could have ever hoped for. And I do know that between my tenth birthday, and my twentieth, he never missed a baseball game of mine, oftentimes taking off early from work to catch my game, knowing he would have to make up that worktime on the weekends.
My mother did not like gifts. Again, I am quite certain that quirk was related to her upbringing, and her belief that spending money on things frivolous (directly related to the Great Depression) was akin to a sinful act. Still, when I would come home from elementary school, and hand her a card I had made at school, a card that said “I love you, Mom,” with childish flowers drawn and the inevitable hearts liberally adorning the card, her face would break out in a smile which could warm the coldest heart, and tears would flow down her cheek.
I am telling you these memories of mine to point out what should be obvious. Acts of love and compassion and empathy do not need to be spoken. In fact, the acts are the only communication needed . . . and we are all capable of performing such acts with family members, friends, and complete strangers.
It is so ridiculously easy to do. I love my close friends. I may not always tell them, but I believe my acts of love speak volumes to them. Honestly, it may make some of them feel uneasy. I am fully capable of telling someone I barely know that I think they are incredible and that I love them. Some react awkwardly; some accept it with grace and ease. How they accept it is not my concern. What is my concern and, I believe, my responsibility, is to communicate my love for them.
I think it’s important.
Sis, there is nothing more for me to say to you other than this: I love you!
Yes!! You were in rare form, Bro, when you wrote this chapter! For the record, I especially LOVE your final paragraphs. “I Love you,” is clearly the one expression that can be said, shown, passed on, in hundreds, perhaps thousands of ways! The expression that consists of merely 3 words…..8 letters of the alphabet, utilizing all of 3 seconds to speak, which through centuries, to all humans, of all languages, means love, concern, happiness, gratitude, respect, pride and nearly all and/or everything-or-part-of what we wish to convey.
The best part, as well as what’s most important, is that gestures, body language, facial expressions, certain tender motions or perhaps a simple hug, are just a few of those hundreds of way to otherwise say the words, “I love you.”
Bro….it just doesn’t get any better than this! Thank you for sharing such wonderful wisdom. I’m with you 100%!! Big Sis
Very kind of you, my friend. You have been missed on Facebook. I certainly understand your absence. I have considered doing the same thing many times. For now, I will simply rejoice in your return.
I have missed so much being off FB. Yes I was off deliberately many reasons. Being back on still gives me doubts BUT your writings give me. Many thanks my long time friend.