Posted on by Fred

A Slap in The Face

Fred’s Facebook

March 28, 2022

4:49 PM

I recognize that much of what I’m about to write (or, if you’re listening to the podcast, say) is due to seeing the world through the lens of clinical depression.  I see the sadder parts of the world with greater clarity, and I become uncharacteristically cynical.  Normally, I eschew cynicism.  I think it does nothing to move us closer to solving problems.  It usually gives us a reason to throw up our hands in despair and accept the unacceptable.  Nevertheless, today, probably because the chemicals in my brain are malfunctioning, I am feeling cynical.

My feed is filled with opinions about what two multi-millionaires did on television last night.  Because they are celebrities, everyone feels the need to discuss their behavior.

And I’m frustrated by that.

Week after week, I discuss ideas that might help us to change the world.  I discuss the evils of hunger, poverty, insufficient health care, and homelessness.  I talk about the existential threats to freedom.  I discuss the value of Love and the Joy of having Enough.

Since I’m not a celebrity, and I never will be, and I don’t have celebrities on my show, (although a good friend pointed out that I did have Sara Niemietz on my show once, and that’s true, and I was ecstatic to have a chance to talk to one of my heroes for more than an hour!) I am fortunate if I can get even a single like or comment on my ideas.  I have begun posting them in writing, for those who don’t want to listen.  And all of this is largely ignored.

Next week, (which, by the time you read this or hear it, will be last week… Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny used to have a good time on Saturday morning discussing this issue) I’m going to talk about the possibility of alternative universes.  Science tells me that if we could create human-made wormholes, we might be able to travel to such places.  Instead of putting our money and our greatest minds into the work that needs to be done to make this possible, we are inventing new and more efficient and effective ways of killing one another, and we are concerned about who embarrassed himself or someone else.  We live for click bait and blood.  We live for hatred.

So, today, I am depressed.  I want to live in a world where ideas are not only more important than celebrities, but they are also more interesting.

Please, I beg you, don’t tell me in the comments which celebrity was right, or why they are more important or more interesting than trying to create a better world.  I already have seen that in abundance.

Perhaps there’s nothing to say. Perhaps this is just the world in which we are all required to live.

So today I am depressed.

There are real problems in the world today.  Children are dying in Ukraine.  Children here in The United States are going to bed hungry.  Income Inequality continues to rise.  Someone you love is sad today.

And there are real Joys in the world today.  Children are being born at this very moment, their lives just beginning.  Children here in the United States are meeting their puppies for the first time, finding a love they never knew existed.  People are getting jobs that pay them more than they need to make ends meet, feeling successful and fulfilled.  Someone you love has a reason to celebrate today because they have earned something valuable to them.

These are the places I would prefer to focus attention.

On March 27, 2022, on National Television at the Academy Awards, Will Smith slapped Chris Rock in the face.  (I realize the people who will hear or read this during its first run will know that, but I hope to create Art that will last through the ages, and, frankly, it’s so entirely unimportant that I wouldn’t be surprised if, by the time this is published in April, it has already begun to fade from the public consciousness.  Ten years from now the moment will probably have faded into the mist of trivia.  It really ought to.)  What was the result of this behavior?

Social Media was filled with opinions.

“Chris Rock was insensitive to tell a joke about a woman suffering from alopecia losing her hair.” 

“Will Smith committed assault on National Television.” 

And from those two camps sprang pages and pages of subgroups of more opinions.  Sensitivity was a big topic.  Standing up for your spouse was another.  Violence on television was a third.  The list went on and on.

It was discussed as though it was a topic of great importance.  I’m sorry.  It’s not.  It’s two millionaires behaving badly.  If this happened in the house next door, it would receive no attention.  Spousal abuse and domestic violence are important problems that are rarely addressed, and they receive scant media coverage.  Since these are celebrities, we are enthralled and anxious to tell everyone what we think.

What is the cause of this?  I suspect I may be a part of the problem because I participated, actively, in public education for 29 years.  Somehow, despite my best efforts, I have helped to produce a society that values celebrity over ideas.

In 1967, Andy Warhol told us, “In the future, everybody will be world-famous for fifteen minutes.”  And that fame is vital to us.  What’s trending is where you must focus your attention because everyone else is doing that.  You can’t afford to be left out.  In 2022, many of us hope to “go viral.”  This has nothing to do with the quality of your content.  It’s about what amuses people for a few seconds.

We have developed a media that garners ratings by creating divisions.  Compromise in Congress is tantamount to taboo.  This will be covered by the media, and the voters will decide you’re not sufficiently devoted to your own team.  You will lose in a primary.  I heard somewhere that in Congress reelection is at 92%, even though only 28% of us are happy with the job they’re doing.  The attitude is “He sucks, but he’s on my team.”  We have to be Republicans or Democrats.  We have to be liberals or conservatives.  The slightest move to the right or left can be political suicide.  Journalism sold out for the ratings.

In the infancy of mass communications, the Columbus and Magellan of broadcast journalism, William Paley and David Sarnoff, went down to Washington to cut a deal with Congress. Congress would allow the fledgling networks free use of taxpayer-owned airwaves in exchange for one public service.  That public service would be one hour of airtime set aside every night for informational broadcasting, or what we now call the evening news. Congress, unable to anticipate the enormous capacity television would have to deliver consumers to advertisers, failed to include in its deal the one requirement that would have changed our national discourse immeasurably for the better.  Congress forgot to add that under no circumstances could there be paid advertising during informational broadcasting.  They forgot to say that taxpayers will give you the airwaves for free and for 23 hours a day you should make a profit, but for one hour a night you work for us.  And now those network newscasts, anchored through history by honest-to-God newsmen with names like Murrow and Reasoner and Huntley and Brinkley and Buckley and Cronkite and Rather and Russert – Now they have to compete with the likes of me. A cable anchor who’s in the exact same business as the producers of Jersey Shore.

— Will McAvoy, The Newsroom, “The 112th Congress,” 2012, by Aaron Sorkin

How do you feel about the fact that children are sleeping on the street tonight?  What do you think we should do about that?  I’m interested in your opinions about that. 

How do you feel about the fact that a person whose sexuality is different or whose gender is subject to change is likely to be assaulted for having the audacity to vary from the norm?  I’m interested in your opinions about that.

How do you feel about families all over America being forced into bankruptcy because someone got cancer or any of the hundreds of other illnesses that can bring lives to a sudden and painful end?  I’m interested in your opinions about that.

The fact that someone is annoyed with me now for even suggesting that the Slap in The Face wasn’t important is a serious contributor to my depression.  Again, I recognize that much of this is chemical.  That, however, does nothing to minimize or mitigate my feelings.

For me, The Real Slap in the Face is the one to those of us who want to change the world.  I’m not close to being alone in this.  There are hundreds of thousands of people who are smarter, stronger, and more charismatic than I am who are trying to end poverty, get everyone enough money to live, end the bureaucratic labyrinths one must navigate to get any assistance, renew and revitalize public education, and save us from the nightmare of out-of-control health care costs.  They are doing plenty of things to try to make a difference.  I’m ridiculously small.  Others are going to be more successful.  But that doesn’t mean my cheek doesn’t sting right now. 

I want you to know that since you are listening to this podcast, or you’re reading this on Word Press, you are actively helping to defeat my depression.  You’re saying that my ideas are worth considering.  You’re telling me that I’m not singing an aria in an empty cave.  And because so few people do what you’re doing at this moment, you’re more valuable than you believe.  I thank you deeply, sincerely, and humbly. 

There are those who would suggest I relax and get some Prozac or some other medication that would straighten out my brain chemistry.  It’s kind of you to think of me.  Thank you.  And that’s not the solution I think will help me.  As opposed to muting my response to the inequities of the world, I would prefer that we change the world into one where liberty and justice for all is more than a mindless chant. 

I know I can’t hope to do that, but maybe you can.  I have a friend who is getting involved in politics.  She was instrumental in helping The Yang Gang get started.  Perhaps she can help.  You may have friends who will benefit from listening to or reading this.  Perhaps you could pass it on.  Maybe one of your friends knows someone in Washington or in your state’s capitol who might be able to change a bad law or write a better one.  If nothing else, maybe we can get one more person to the ballot box to vote for someone who can change something.  I don’t know.  What I know is I just can’t give up yet.

Even my worst depression won’t allow me to buckle under to cynicism for long.  I can still hope. 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.

— Emily Dickinson

Posted on by Fred

Sara Niemietz and the Musical and Spiritual Value of Playing Poker

“Keep away from those who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you believe that you too can become great.”


Mark Twain to
Gay Zenola MacLaren

I was originally going to title this piece My Relationship With Sara Niemietz, but the word relationship is too often misunderstood to imply a more intimate connection, and I didn’t wish to mislead anyone. I have no such relationship with her. I thought of changing With to To, but that sounds like the relationship I have To the keyboard on which I’m writing or To the chair on which I’m sitting, and that seems rather cold. I don’t wish to sound that way either.

I thought a bit about how I know her, and I find that instructive to me, and I suspect it might be interesting to you if you like Music, or poker, or stories of wildly unlikely circumstances that change one’s life. Those things I can deliver for you.

Who is Sara Niemietz?

She’s the most popular singer of whom you’ve never heard. She’s utterly independent, and her music is unique. It can be called many things. There are elements of jazz, pop, blues, and even a bit of dance to be heard in it. She’s the most well known artist in the group Postmodern Jukebox. Her videos have millions of views. She’s just a very quiet, unassuming genius.

Well, how DO you know Sara Niemietz?

To answer that, you have to go back to 1988, before she was even born. That was when I first saw The Wonder Years. If you’ve never seen it, the show is about a young boy growing up in the 1960s, and it is told in first person from the point of view of the protagonist, 25 or so years later. The Narrator is the Adult Kevin Arnold telling us about his childhood. Particularly in its first few seasons, it was a brilliant show. I watched it religiously. And it changed not just my writing style, but it moved me toward writing about my own childhood from the same era.

One of the most powerful aspects of the show was its music. The theme, by Joe Cocker, “A Little Help From My Friends,” was fine, and popular. Everyone loved it. And I didn’t care nearly as much about that as I did the way the music felt behind the dialogue. The music helped me to feel the words. It snuck inside of me, and it guided my heart in the direction the writers intended it to go.

A few years later, I’ll Fly Away, arguably the greatest series ever on network television, arrived. The music in that show was also properly applied. There are scenes I have never seen with clear eyes. The music sees to that.

And then in 1999, we had The West Wing. The show was incredibly popular, and the writing is beyond compare.

What does all this have to do with Sara Niemietz?

Snuffy Walden.

He was the genius behind the music that had moved me so deeply. His work was hard to find. He appeared now and then on a Christmas CD for Windham Hill or something, and he did finally release a CD of his own called Music By… but that was about it.

Snuffy Walden was my musical hero. He has been for over 3 decades.

Fast forward to 2015.

I begin playing Facebook Poker. I get to be good at it.

And one night I play a particularly rare and interesting hand. I’m told that technology exists that would have allowed me to record the hand, but if it did, I didn’t have it, and if I would have had it, I wouldn’t have known I was about to experience a life changing moment that I would love to have recorded.

I played against an opponent whose icon was an older man playing a guitar. He was an amazing player. He was, in fact, the first player I had seen in a long time who was better than I was, so I began to pay attention.

We started talking in the little Poker Chat. I told him how impressed I was with his performance, and he was equally impressed with my play.

After a few minutes I mentioned he shared a name (Snuffy) with one of my favorite composers, a guy named W.G. Snuffy Walden. And he told me that was him.

Wait…. what??

I had just met someone who had been my hero for nearly 30 years. It was unbelievable.

And we talked and played, and played and talked. And soon enough, we became friends on Facebook.

A few months into it, he mentioned he had a band called Babylon Social Club that would be playing in California over Thanksgiving. He suggested I come out from Arizona to see them. I not only got to know my hero over messages on Facebook; I was going to get to meet him. This was unbelievable.

I borrowed $500 from one of those neon sign loan places, at about 239% interest, which was a financially stupid thing to do, but I couldn’t possibly have cared less. I was going to California to meet my hero. And I did.

I got a room at the hotel at which they were playing, Westlake Village Inn. I got there the night before they were going to play because I wanted to be well rested so I could enjoy the moment as much as humanly possible. And I got to the venue, a place called Bogie’s, a good hour before the band was scheduled to start. I wanted to make sure I got the best seat in the house.

And in a little while, in walked a man whose music had brought me to tears and sent me into pure Joy more times than I could count. He recognized me from my Facebook pictures. And he came and gave me a hug. He bought me a beer. We talked a few minutes, and he had to go set up. I was floating in the air.

In our conversations on Facebook, he had mentioned that he had been mentoring a young singer. He had even sent me one of her videos. I looked at it, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was distracted by life. It was just a video.

And then, she took the stage. And when she sang, I was completely overwhelmed. Her voice owned the room. The venue was packed to the gills, but it was utterly silent when this band played, and when they finished, the bar erupted with deafening applause. Who the hell was this girl?? I had never heard anything like her.

Everyone in the band was a significant musician, recorded on albums with artists like Kenny Loggins, Tower of Power, and Bonnie Raitt. This wasn’t some cover band from Phoenix. This was a group of professional musicians playing at their prime in a small intimate venue, and I was right up front to hear and experience every blissful note. I felt like my father, listening to Miles Davis in a smoke filled bar before I was even a twinkle in Dad’s eye.

By the end of the evening, I was emotionally exhausted, and I was floating in catharsis. Snuffy introduced me to everyone in the band, including Sara Niemietz, and her mother, Cheryl. I wanted Sara’s CDs. She had two out, by then, and Cheryl had them both for sale. Fountain and Vine was the latest. Push Play had been released earlier. I bought them both, and Sara and Snuffy autographed them for me. I took pictures with them. And I was the luckiest man on the planet.

Greatness

Because one believes in oneself, one doesn’t try to convince others. Because one is content with oneself, one doesn’t need others’ approval. Because one accepts oneself, the whole world accepts him or her. – Lao Tzu

When I met Sara Niemietz, she behaved precisely as though she were an ordinary person. There was no barrier of Greatness, as one might expect. I was talking to someone infinitely more talented, more successful, more famous, and quite possibly more intelligent than I will ever be. And that made no difference to her. She was just Sara. She was just a young woman, just the same as someone to whom you might say hello in the grocery store. It was almost as though both she and Snuffy were entirely unaware that they inhabited a part of the universe to which we mere mortals have no access.

I saw them again after I had quit teaching. After a time, Sara knew I was pursuing my hopes of writing a successful screenplay. I bought myself a little blank book somewhere in LA, and I used it as something to have Sara and Snuffy sign. And she quoted one of her songs in her autograph. “Find that dream!”

Snuffy and Sara create Art that reaches tens of millions and touches most of them. They do this without pretense. They do it without a sense of superiority.

I create Art that reaches hundreds and touches dozens. It’s just me sitting on my Front Porch.

The Beatles weren’t particularly great musicians. Their singing was average. Neal Peart is never going to be made nervous by Ringo Starr. But, the songs they wrote were unbelievably good. They are so much a part of the world that it’s now impossible to imagine a universe in which “Yesterday” doesn’t exist. It’s as basic to Music as “Over The Rainbow” or “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring.” It simply has to be.

Sara Niemietz is a demonstrably better singer than Paul McCartney or John Lennon. But, she could never write “Imagine.” And that was how I felt about her work when I first heard it.

It’s grown on me to the point that I can’t remember a time I didn’t have it inside me. It’s as though it was always there, right between The White Album and Aja. The songs which seemed like light pop became more profound when I listened more carefully to “On Your Way.”

When the clock strikes twelve
When they’ve gone away
When you’re all alone with nothing left to say
When you walk upstairs
And you comb your hair
And you get ready to go on your way
To go on your way

They’re all simple images. But, when you put them with Snuffy Walden’s delicate piano that is so adept at opening musical passages into the soul through which words can pass to touch places in us that we didn’t know we had, and Sara’s understated, heartfelt performance, they take on a cumulative effect. It felt as though a girl half my age had written a song about my life from a time before she was born. She touched something both personal and universal. It feels as though it must be about me. It feels as though this happened. That’s the value of Art.

Whether it’s music, or painting, or literature, or film, or dance, or television, it can answer questions we’ve never been brave enough to ask ourselves. It puts us through the experience we need. Through Art, we’ve all been in the court room with Tom Robinson and Atticus Finch. We’ve all made him an offer he can’t refuse. We’ve all figured out that we can’t always get what we want… but if we try sometime, we might find, we get what we need. Its unifying feature is that it feels as though it was just for each of us.

The music of a girl half my age asks, and sometimes, but not always, answers questions I have never allowed myself to consider. It does it with words joined with a melody that allows the soul to feel that universal connection. It is as spiritual as it is musical.

//
Posted on by Fred

Gratitude


Shall I play for you?
Pa-rum pum pum pum
Pa-rum pum pum pum
Mary nodded
Pa-rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time
Pa-rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him
Pa-rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him
Pa-rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum
Then He smiled at me
Pa-rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum”

 Katherine Kennicott Davis 

There are those who have extra. They have all of their needs met, and they still have some left over. They never worry about paying rent this month, or whether the electricity is going to be shut off, or the car repossessed. They have plenty of food, and they can always get another pack of cigarettes. I have never, in my life, been among them, with the exception of almost a year after I retired, and I pulled the little money I had. I lived on it, and I had more than I needed, for a little while. And it was glorious.

It has been suggested that my choice was irresponsible. That may well be true, but I would never make a different one. The money I had would never have been enough to sustain me throughout the rest of my life. And, if I hadn’t done what I did, I would never have had the experience of living the life I wanted. I will never have it again, and I know that, but I’m grateful that I got to have it once. No matter what happens for the rest of my life, I lived a life I wanted for a little while. I saw people and places I couldn’t have seen otherwise. I wrote a damn good screenplay that still needs work. I made some fantastic videos. I slept until I wanted to get up. I worked until all hours of the night when I wanted to. I was never out of cigarettes or soda, and I ate properly. It was a Wonderful Life. George Bailey would have approved.

I have no money to offer anyone, anymore. I did for a little while, and I helped out anyone who needed it. I allowed a couple of convicted felons to live with me rent free for several months until I couldn’t afford it anymore, and we were close to eviction. They needed help, and I could offer it. I regret that, I suppose, in some ways, but, for the most part, I’m glad I did what I did. It was the right thing to do. And, for a little while, I had their Gratitude. And, that is what made the difference.

When I felt that I was making a difference in the lives of people who needed my help, I got something from it. I got to feel that I mattered. I got to believe that someone was better off because of me. Is that arrogant? Perhaps. I still enjoyed the feeling. It’s the feeling I sought when I became a teacher. It’s the feeling I have always most enjoyed. When they began to take it for granted, and they refused even to try to find work, I admit I grew resentful.

I like to recommend focusing on one’s reasons for Gratitude as often as possible. Not only do other people get something from it, but more importantly, you can keep yourself from feeling entirely defeated. You must be of some value to someone, or they would never do all the things they have done for you. That’s worth remembering when fighting off your Depression.

I’m at a place in life where there is little I can give to anyone, anymore. I’m too old to teach Elementary School, and my diabetes has made those kinds of days impossible for me. As I loathe what has happened to public education, I don’t think I would want to do it anyway, but I have noting but respect for those who carry on the profession. The world needs you. And, I’m grateful to you.

I think Gratitude may be the last, best thing I have to offer. And, of course, I recognize (daily) that I have much more for which to be grateful than many people. I have a home. I have enough to eat. I have a car. I have a cell phone. I have this computer. More than those things, though, I have people who I love and who love me. And, of all the things I value in my life, it is the people I value most.

There have been several occasions in the past several years when I should have been without a home. My nephew was the first to save me from it by getting me an extended stay hotel room until I could get the money together to rent the tiny studio apartment I was trying to get. Without him, I would undoubtedly have been living in my car.

Before I could get out of the 2 week rental of the hotel room, I wound up in the hospital with Diabetic Ketoacidosis. I should have been not simply homeless, on that day; I should have been dead. But, a friend called to check on me, couldn’t get me to answer, and became concerned. She communicated with my nephew, and somehow the decision was reached to have the Mesa Police break into my room if necessary to do a Welfare Check. When they arrived, I was mostly dead. They took me to the hospital, and I woke up a couple of days later.

By the time I got out of the hospital, the room rental had run out, and again, it was people who saved me. One of my colleagues at Alorica, who had called me every day of my hospitalization, offered to let my dog and me live with her and her wife until I could work out my new place. And, it wasn’t long before the three of us, plus their three cats and my dog, were all sharing their place. I wasn’t going to be homeless.

I managed to contribute enough to the household that we managed to avoid homelessness for the last couple of years, although, again, only because people stepped in to save us. My friends and relatives have saved my car, kept me from eviction, saved my life, and made sure I knew I still matter. So have the friends and relatives of my roommates.

I feel now like The Little Drummer Boy. (Although, I have to swap my Writing for my Drumming. I’m not even good enough to be considered a mediocre drummer anymore.) He went to see the newborn king, but he had nothing to bring. Everyone else was bringing cool stuff: Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. He was, like Jesus, a poor boy. All he had was his ability. He couldn’t feed the baby. He couldn’t offer him a place to sleep. He had none of those things, himself. But, what he had to give was his talent. And, when the kid played his drum, the baby Jesus smiled at him. I like to believe that when you read my words, you smile.

I think, if I were The Little Drummer Boy, that smile would have been more than enough to repay me for my performance. Why? The kid knew he made a difference. He made a child smile. He felt Gratitude from the baby.

I can never pay back the people who have helped me, unless, of course, Steven Spielberg decides he can’t wait to get his hands on my screenplay, or I win the lottery, which I can’t afford to play, thereby reducing the already incredibly small odds greatly.

What I can hope to give to others, though, is the feeling I have most valued in my life. I do my best to give my friends and family, and all the people who have helped me, the feeling that they made a significant difference. And, for many people, this seems as valuable as the smile was to The Little Drummer Boy. I do this by explaining precisely how they helped me. I want them never to doubt my Genuine Gratitude. I hope to return the Glowing Feeling they have given me. Sometimes it comes from someone sending me something, and sometimes it comes from something as small as Clicking Like on a post or a blog entry. I glow with Joy. I hope you do, too, when I express my thanks.

They continue to help me all the time. Last week my bed was destroyed by the incontinence brought on by my blood sugar dropping below detectable levels. I mentioned the incident on Facebook, and by the end of the week, people were sweeping in to change my life. I didn’t wind up only with a new mattress that I couldn’t have gotten for a couple more weeks, and then, only at a Thrift Store. I wound up with the most beautiful bedroom set I’ve ever owned. There are new sheets and comforters coming from someone else. There are pillows on the way. People have thrown in some cash to help me. And I asked for precisely NONE of those things. (Well, I did send a close friend a message asking if she could help me out to get the bed… and she came through in an over the top way. And she and her husband kept me afloat just a little while longer. It meant Everything to me. I hope I made her feel that.)

I did my very best to let all of these people know that what they did changed and improved my life significantly. When I got out of the hospital a couple of years ago, all I had was an air mattress on which to sleep. And I was grateful for that. It was all my Little Drummer Boys had to offer, and it kept me alive and going. Today, I have a king bed, a massive mirror, special lights above the bed, and matching bedside tables and a dresser. This was completely out of my ability to obtain, ever again. I feel as though I’m living in The Lap of Luxury.

I know I will never be able to return to people the money they’ve given me from time to time. In the past 3 years, my record for earning in a single month has been $1600, and by the end of that month I was in the hospital with DKA. I usually make just shy of $1000, though I’m hoping for more from the raise I recently got. It won’t be much, but it will make a difference. I’m hoping to train for a new job that would pay me even more, but that’s up to my employer. I’ll do my best.

But, if I can give them the feeling that they made my life better, and let them feel that in a way that is completely free of ulterior motives, so that they can see and experience the difference for themselves, I think I will have given them some little bit of Joy. I know how good I feel when I know that I made someone’s life better. My favorite part of my Facebook page is when a former student pops up to tell me about the way I inspired, excited, influenced, or helped them in some way. Their Gratitude is worth more to me than my paychecks were. I get to feel like I matter. I love that feeling.

This morning, I took $11.00 to Wal Mart to get enough Diet Pepsi to make sure I wouldn’t run out before my roommate gets paid on Thursday. I’m addicted to caffeine, and to be without is not a pleasant experience. The headaches alone are beyond description. I spent $10.44 on the soda, and I had 56 cents left in my pocket.

On my way back to the car, a man who was, based on his attire, in much worse condition than I am at the moment, asked me if I had any change. I recognized his state, and I recognized that I could very easily end up being him in the not too distant future. I have, fortunately, never yet been required to stand in a parking lot asking strangers for money. There’s nothing to say I never will be. And, I can only imagine how horrible that must feel. He was trying to get a bus pass or something, and said he was short. I gave him the 56 cents. And, he was genuinely grateful. The feeling inside of me was worth way more than the quarters, nickel, and penny he got from me. He told me that was great, and he was really close now. I don’t believe for a moment I changed his life. But, Life is made up of Moments. And each of us gave the other a Pleasant Moment by exchanging what we had. I had a little bit of money. He had a little bit of Gratitude. I’m sure there are capitalists among my readers who think what I did was wrong. If I’m so damn broke, what am I doing giving money to strangers? I’m Making a Difference.

Today, for those of you who have helped me, I want to you to know that you matter. I’m doing as well as I am today, in large part, because of you. Without your help, whether it was financial, or emotional, or in the form of something you gave me, or something you did for me, I wouldn’t be where I am today. No, I’m not at The Top of The World, but I AM on the Green Side of the Earth, and that’s a good beginning. I can keep working on pulling myself up a little bit at a time because of the people who love me.

Generosity of Spirit is as valuable as Genuine Gratitude. I offer mine.

If you would like to help out a bit, I will be able to offer you my Gratitude, too, even if all you do is click Like. It will make me glow. If you have a couple extra dollars you would like to contribute to paper and ink, I’d be glad to have that, too, but please don’t feel remotely obligated.

http://paypal.me/HilaryBatty

Posted on by Fred

Is Facebook a Good or An Evil?


“Listen, Bob. A gun is just a tool. No better and no worse than any other tool, a shovel- or an axe or a saddle or a stove or anything. Think of it always that way. A gun is as good- and as bad- as the man who carries it. Remember that.”


Jack Schaefer

Facebook, for me, is exactly the same. It’s a tool. There have been many valid arguments against Facebook. It has the potential for evil. It connects groups of people who share the same small minded, often ignorant or dangerous, views of the world.


“The problem… is that there is nothing special about humans in this information system. Every data point is treated equally, irrespective of how humans experience it. “Jew haters” is just as much an ad category as “Moms who jog.” It’s all data. If Group A has a bigger presence on Facebook than Group B, so be it, even if Group A is trying to demean or organize violence against the Bs. Of course, the reality is that humans are all different, and cannot be reduced to data.” –


https://qz.com/1342757/everything-bad-about-facebook-is-bad-for-the-same-reason/

I recognize its potential for abuse. But I also recognize its potential to be a life changing force for those of us who fear actual human contact. And by no means are we the only group for whom Facebook is a significant benefit. It helps those who want to launch careers. It helps those who write. It helps those who want to share ideas.

For me, Facebook has been the difference between complete social isolation and a feeling of being connected with the world at large. I’ve reconnected with friends I haven’t seen in decades. I’ve found people who share my interests and political views. I’ve encountered ideas I would never have considered in any other way. I’ve been able to get the help I’ve needed when I have had the courage to put my shame aside and ask for it. I’ve found Love, and, being Fred, plenty of rejection.

But it has made me into someone I wouldn’t have been otherwise. It’s changed me for the better. It’s saved my car, kept me from homelessness, and sent me to a Phil Collins concert. It even made it possible for me to meet one of my greatest heroes, who happened to be playing Facebook poker at the same time I was. I’ve become actual friends with him because of Facebook. And because of him, I found more music, more friends, and more acceptance.

I’m accepted in a world over which I have more control. I have a larger audience than I’ve ever had before for my ideas, my passions, my writing, and my creative endeavors. I feel safe, confident, and respected. On Facebook, I’ve been able to celebrate my successes, mourn my losses and failures, and support causes and people that are important to me.

It’s more than just pictures of Cats. (Although, of late, I’ve even begun participating in that. When Cats love you, they change you.) It’s a safe window into the world. It’s a door that can be opened and closed as necessary. It’s a tool… no better or worse than the people using it. I surround myself with the best people I can find. That makes Facebook, for me, the best tool I have.

Posted on by Fred · 2 Comments

Clicking Like

I wonder if you understand the effect you can have on someone simply by clicking “Like” or commenting on a post. It is, for me, the equivalent of saying hi when we pass in the hallway. Commenting is like having taken a moment to talk to me.

When I was in high school, I would have floated from class to class if some of my classmates had just said, “Hey, Fred.” 40 years ago, however, we occupied entirely different social classes. I was a Greatest Nothing among The Coconino Nothings. Many of them were the Cool Kids. They were attractive. They were talented. They were athletic. I was none of those things.

Today, that caste system has evaporated. I have friends, now, who simply weren’t allowed even to acknowledge my existence, then. It would have been a violation of etiquette.

If they take a moment to say, “Hey, Fred,” even now, I am delighted. It’s a power they have. I would like to believe I’m someone who has that same power for them. I hope they get a little smile when I click “Like,” or when I comment on something they’ve posted.

It’s a way of saying, at least in a small way, “You matter to me.”

Yes, if you’re reading this, you may be sure you matter to me. Thanks for letting me inside your mind and getting beyond the social norms that would once have separated us. I’m grateful.

Today might be a good day for you to let your friends know that they matter to you. Perhaps you could make a point of clicking “Like” or making a kind comment when you’re on your Social Media today. You might make someone smile. That can be your Good Deed for The Day. And if this post got you to do that, I’ve done mine for the day, too.