I write something like this each year. We all have our own idea of the Christmas season – and some have none. For those with faith, it is the hallmark of charity, love, and kindness, enveloped by the majesty of the celebration of their faith. For others, it is a secular celebration of family, friends, surprises, and time spent together. It is also a time of unreachable loss and loneliness precisely because our memories of love and family can’t help but be tinged by the nostalgia of times no longer within our reach. For others? It is a struggle of choices to afford to surprise their children, family, and friends with gifts worthy of their attention.
Regardless of its significance, we all own a piece of the Christmas season. Even the Christians wisely appropriated the winter solstice celebration to change the celebration of the birth of their savior. It does not lessen its profound meaning for them.
“The Gift of the Magi” is my quintessential Xmas story. Both husband and wife sacrificed what was most valuable to them to give the best gift possible.
We all have within our reach the ability to give everyone the gift of joy and acceptance. No matter how they choose to celebrate.
Each year, most of us universally agree that the ideal of Christmas lies not in things but in moments and thoughts of others, in profound observation of faith, and in our ability to celebrate collectively.
Regardless of why or how we are here, we are all here with our respective lives, beliefs, and attitudes.
Let not the harshness of personal conviction blind any of us to the joy of having a season in which we need no further excuse or justification to surprise one another, to be appreciative, and to find a way to look past the differences we each exercise during our celebrations.
Just to see if I could do it… Since I was up at 1 a.m. in real-time, I decided to attempt to catch the daylight savings time in real-time on multiple devices. Attempting to screenshot the online clock when all my devices reverted from 2 a.m. to 1 a.m. reminded me of those ancient Commodore 64 timer games. In high school in 1983, the chemistry teacher Daniel Lynn had his Commodore 64 set up in class. Each of us attempted to hover over the keyboard and jam a key when the screen flashed. My reaction time was that of a drugged hamster. I had to look the teacher’s name up. It could have been Aloicious Dragonlegs, and it wouldn’t have surprised me. It wasn’t until I looked him up in the way that I do that memories came back to me, ones I hadn’t thought of in years. This morning, I counted the last thirty seconds and closed my eyes on the last ten as 2 a.m. neared. And clicked, catching the clock reverting exactly.
As for DST, the effects of it are as insidious as those of being left-handed in a right-handed world. I hope I live long enough to see this stupidity eradicated. And not only that, but eliminated. (An old joke of mine, repeating synonymous words as if I don’t know what the original means.) X .
I got a thought-provoking message a little bit ago. Telling me what I already know. I was sitting in the creek in the cool water, so I took a moment. Here’s what I wrote back:
“You’re right. Expecting easy money is stupidity. But I will counter with the fact that unless you own the output, you’ll most likely ruin your body and sell your soul to make a fabulous living. Even with hard work. Even when you do everything right, you can fail. And as much as I love this country, it fundamentally frustrates me that we’re the only modern country without universal health care. People can have whatever opinion they want about it. But until you have a medical catastrophe, especially one through no fault of your own, you simply don’t understand how it can financially ruin you. Even with private insurance. It’s undeniably a fact that universal health care cost less per person then we’re currently paying now for our hodgepodge system. We’re supposed to be the country of individual liberty and freedom. Yet, unlike the rest of the world, we can’t even get our act together enough to provide healthcare without restrictions. For me, universal healthcare also comes with universal mental health care. All of us who are observant can’t help but notice that too many of us suffer with mental health issues, depression, or relationship issues. Failing to provide universal access is a guaranteed way to sit back and observe our societal problems worsen. Regarding education, it should not be fundamentally looked at as a way to fuel a production economy. Education has earned its own birthright. Yet, our system tends to reward those already rewarded. About half of our adult population reads at a sixth grade level or lower. That is staggering. It also explains a great deal of the issues we’re dealing with regarding the divides we suffer while trying to make compromises and decisions regarding social policy. People with means live in a different world than those of us who don’t have money. As for the rest, I’m different than the rest of y’all. I do not expect to get up and find that everybody I loved the day before will still be alive. It’s another one of those things that until you experience it, simply can’t be communicated. And when that happens to you, every cent you’ve accumulated in lieu of enjoying life and being with the people you love might as well be sand in your boot. You can’t practically live every day as if it’s your last. I know in my heart that we’re not put here to be means of production and efficiency. That’s the system we have, but it’s one with which I disagree. Everything and everyone can vanish, no matter who you are and how hard you work. Unlike most Americans, I do not believe in an interventionist God. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in the creator, but observation reinforces that we’re supposed to be using our brains to solve our problems. I believe that no matter who you worship, we’re expected to use our reason and collective ability in the furtherance of improving the quality of human beings as they live their lives. We’re definitely not doing that.”
People aren’t familiar with axolotls. (Unless they do a lot of hallucinogens.) They’ve probably seen Pokémons based on axolotls or salamanders. It’s a beautiful creature native to a couple of lakes in Mexico. They have no eyelids, are deaf, and don’t undergo metamorphosis like their salamander counterparts. (Much like incels. PS The word “incel” is a portmanteau of “involuntarily celibate.”) Axolots can be induced to replace their gills with lungs and become land creatures. They also are intensely studied because they can regenerate literally any body part.
The word axolotl is derived from the Nahuatl language. I find this fascinating because it’s the perfect example of people arguing about how to say the word “axolotl.” Most people say “AK-suh-laa-tul.” But that’s not actually how you pronounce the word if you’re saying it like a native. It’s supposed to be more or less pronounced “ah-sho-lote.”
The Nahuatl language considers the “tl” as an odd single sound that’s not comfortable for English speakers. Much like any polysyllabic word for that matter – such as “compassion.”
As for me, I’m not concerned with pronunciation. It’s just another branch of the pointless navel-gazing about language that frustrates me. Language is not static, everyone has their own set of rules about spelling and pronunciation, and it’s idiotic to me to worry needlessly about it. I LOVE it when people mispronounce words, especially when it results in the purists shrieking and running from the room with their armpit hair on fire.
More often than not, the grammar police and purists are wrong anyway.
I love Fayetteville, so please take this unusual post as-is: both humor and opinion woven together like a weird rug you might find at the red flea market.
Most of you don’t experience Fayetteville like I do. It’s a markedly different place in the early morning hours before thousands of people wake up and flood the streets. The beautiful houses along Garland, the surprising pop-up new architecture that violates the normalcy of the surrounding houses. This beauty also serves to drive the cost of living higher, pushing out the people who’ve called it home. The university, downtown, and many other places resonate with simplicity and beauty. If Fayetteville had its own statue of Jesus, he’d likely be slapping himself on the forehead and peeking through fingers at the town below him, wincing at the traffic near Wedington and begging us to use our blinkers.
We will always grip the steering wheel here. The traffic is a consequence of geography and people’s desire to live here. We are not in traffic. We are traffic. We’ll always shake our heads at the scooters somehow finding a home in the branches of trees. There’ll be beer cans scattered along the sculpted buildings. But there will be food, drinks, and great times at games, the theater, and a hundred other places that make Fayetteville worthwhile. I don’t understand the mentality of people dreading the influx of students. The university is the literal backbone of everything we are. Even if it irritates the heck out of us at times.
Another university year begins. And another pointless tug of war about people being allegedly underage and wanting to drink or smoke. I can hit a baseball and within the range of that ball, there are a dozen people who will sell me anything I want. When I say anything, I mean literally anything. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, fake IDs, a flamethrower – and if you’re really desperate, some Texas Longhorn fan memorabilia. We’ll complain while attempting to find a parking spot anywhere on gameday or the ability to safely pull into the Chik-fil-A lot without a demolition derby incident.
There are three or four popular drinking places near where I live. I observe drinking under the influence and the other behavior that accompanies this with such frequency that it fades into the background. Many of them give me subtle hints regarding their worthiness to drive by doing unintentional donuts, driving on the sidewalk, or being on the wrong side of the road. And I’m only talking about the traffic police. My apologies to the Fayetteville Police. I’ve yet to have a questionable interaction with any of y’all. I’ll never forget the early morning when one of you pulled over while I was walking to ask me if I needed anything. We laughed and talked about the nonsense that the night inevitably brought along with it.
Nestled serenely in the epicenter of these drinking establishments is the cultural landmark Bottoms Up. Its military-grade bunker appearance is so astoundingly beautiful that its website contains no picture of the building. Each time I pass it, I pause long enough to put Visine in both eyes. Just in case.
You shouldn’t get a speeding ticket on some sections of Leverett no matter how fast you’re driving; excessive speed at some points on that street is an act of self-preservation. I didn’t mention MLK or any nearby streets because it’s an open secret that speeding is not only desirable but necessary. If you want to drive slowly, please head over to Wedington, where the traffic snarls resemble a hoarder’s attic. I also don’t want to exclude College Avenue, which seems to have more traffic lights than Grandma’s Christmas decorations.
Prohibiting sales of alcohol here on Sunday is an effective means to force people to visit Springdale on purpose when they otherwise wouldn’t. Once they visit and purchase their spirits, they can at least absolve their horrors by imbibing the very thing that caused the visit in the first place. (PS I love Springdale.)
Living in Fayetteville brings front and center the issue of age restrictions constantly and more so once the students are back. Before the inevitable comments ensue: yes, I realize that restrictions do not originate in Fayetteville. If you can vote, I still think it’s intrusive to tell these people they can’t do what they choose. If they want to drink four Bear Claws and accidentally drive a scooter into the ravine, just keep the gurneys on standby. I don’t know many older people who didn’t start as young people. Those same people creasing their brows at the indiscretions of the younger generation mostly pulled the same shenanigans themselves before civility and sanity taught them to pretend to be well-adjusted, law-abiding folk. You can’t have a university town without the secret war of youthful indiscretion. Looking at the Washington County detention roster convinces me that it’s not the students doing most of the crazy stuff.
My opinion may not be popular with the older crowd. It’s extremely easy to tell other people what to do when the restrictions don’t affect you. Hell, it’s half the reason we have so many social arguments. If you’re going to restrict it, apply the restrictions to everyone. And good luck trying to effectively spend tax dollars thwarting people’s tendencies toward vice. You’ll never see a Mafia family attempting to horn in on the lucrative knitting trade.
Our focus should not be on the consumption of such things. It should be on enrichment, education, and treatment. Anyone who thinks this is an intelligence issue hasn’t had to stick their hands in the thorns of alcoholism. Or convince someone with the munchies that they don’t NEED Taco Bell.
The underground network that informs and connects underage users comes alive again each fall. Where to go to get whatever you need. Which establishments wink and nod while they give it to you and accept your money. Which food trucks will leave you dashing madly for a secluded spot.
Of course, I’m oversimplifying. I have nuanced arguments about specific substances and laws. Doesn’t everybody? No one likes nuanced arguments. It’s why we don’t like bowties or words with needless syllables.
Let the yearly games begin.
PS I still find more beauty in the lesser-known spaces and places around town. These are difficult for visitors to find because our focus tends toward Kodak events and places. Fayetteville is a great place due to its disparate (or desperate?) mix of people and places. When the students arrive, the town is a markedly different place.
And a much more vivid place to call home because of it, in my opinion.
X
I posted this on the FB “What’s Wrong, Fayetteville” page. 99% overwhelming appreciation and the inevitable fringe of bitter people.
If I had a way to tell every young person in the world one of the best ways to be ahead of most people, it would be to be able to stay calm when everything is going to hell around you. Not in a trauma-response way. When I was growing up, I didn’t realize that I was often reacting to the violence and craziness In such a way that it would imprint a foolish cycle onto my adult life. It’s difficult to remain calm and fearless because we are biologically wired to be adrenaline filled. Our endocrine system is our enemy in this modern world. Much of our anxiety stems from a lack of control, both for the things that swirl around us and our response to it. Letting it flow around us without internalizing it is a superpower. If you’re observant and prone to introspection and overthinking, you will have a bad time. Anyone living in this modern mess has ample fodder to wonder if we’ve all lost our minds. We are supposed to be spirits, yet it’s more likely we’re collectors, feathering our own nests at the expense of whatever passes for the greater whole.
My friend Marjay might tell us to “look for the helpers” when things go to hell. It’s good advice as far as it goes. It also belies the fact that we need to be helpers. When you’re on a plane and trained to use the oxygen masks that fall during an emergency, you’re also told to ensure that your own mask is on first. Otherwise, you’re useless. And so it goes with the mundane yet herculean task of navigating your own day. Be your own helper. It’s not a reassuring feeling to know that after decades of witnessing the casual avalanche of surprises in life, that I’ve failed to be my own helper. I’m not being glib; I’m being honest in the acknowledgment and nod toward my own deficiency. It was easier to look back to my childhood and shift the blame to the people masquerading as adults. It’s not their fault. They were broken. Using them as a template for either blame or guidance is stupidity. I might stretch the comparison to include how we collectively manage our society.
Every few years, I watch the 1993 movie “Fearless.” I watched it Sunday. It always triggers a wild parade of ideas and emotions in me. It used to do so because of my own plane encounter a couple of years prior to the movie. As my life progresses, it increasingly morphs into an analogy about how I’ve responded to crisis as it comes along. The main character survives a plane crash, during which he experiences a zen-like moment of clarity that detaches him from worry. The obverse side of his coin is that while it gives him an almost supernatural ability to detach and help other people, it damn near destroys him in the process. Enlightenment is personal; living is a task that requires immersion into the craziness.
“If you are what you do, when you don’t, you aren’t.” A convoluted way for Wayne Dyer to remind us that we are what we do and think. He also said, “How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.”
The “Try That In A Small Town” controversy is fascinating. It seems like people are using it to defend their identities with it, on both sides of the spectrum. That such a song can be true for both polar opposites should remind us of the danger of ideology and certainty. On a side note, I laughed my ass off looking at all the memes on both sides of the argument. People are clever, and many used it to satirically make their point. Satire and snark are two of my favorite nutrients to deal with the world. For me, the song also brought back my childhood and one of my harshest criticisms of it. A small town or parochial lifeview can be a comfort. That same circumstance can also hide a lot of violence and misbehavior. Families, like communities, often rubberstamp things that would be better served with a dose of sunlight and scrutiny. A lot of children walk around in a world where God doesn’t rescue them from senselessness – and family members turn a blind eye or don’t get involved.
How you react to what’s around you is your decision. You either float peacefully on the river, or it sweeps you downstream. It’s the same river regardless. As with the protagonist of “Fearless,” you might find yourself on the edge of the roof, looking a mile below you. The danger remains, whether you’re on the high roof’s edge or standing on the street below. You are your own biggest danger.
Most people don’t have someone to be their inner voice, someone who will tell them unflinchingly what they might not want to hear. We’ve all learned the horror of making the mistake of saying what needs to be said. Very few of us embrace and welcome loving criticism. Because most of us have blind spots that grow over time. Love, X
A recent viral video of a local arrest demonstrates what I’ve said a million times: people are going to react to whatever they think happened. I’ve been in the middle of some highly questionable police activity. Having known several police officers, I had the luxury of hearing some of the craziness that goes on behind bureaucracy and authority. This case is much more complicated than people seem to care about. Everyone loves jumping in with opinions, even though context and background are vital to understanding what’s going on. But, of course, people aren’t going to take the time to withhold judgment until they understand the subtleties at play. This is true about personal goings-on and doubly true for things happening in the world around them. Generally speaking, the public as a whole is wildly misinformed, and little can change that. During my normal days, I dart around and listen to people give opinions that reflect a huge disparity in their grasp of detail, whether it’s science, economics, or politics. It’s a reflection of strawman arguments. I listen as people with no expertise or knowledge in a particular field make sweeping statements far beyond their level of understanding.
As for the recent viral story involving the police, I took a bit of time and looked closely at the context. I was not surprised to see that people were dubiously questioning what happened. Most of them were doing so from a position of ignorance. The sound bite version had infected them with the mistaken idea that they understand what happened. Beyond that? They are not interested to know. That’s just human nature. We have more information than ever at our disposal, but our nature is one of superficial comprehension.
And so, they react to their misinterpretation, much like they did years ago when the woman burned herself badly with the cup of McDonald’s coffee. I mention that example because, to this day, people still talk from ignorance about her allegedly ridiculous lawsuit. History proved that her story was complex and that MdDonald’s had been negligent on multiple counts. But that’s not what people remember because the initial media frenzy crowded out the facts and context.
All of us were confused back in the day when the Paula Jones and Monica Lewinsky scandal broke. It took years for history to come forth with a much more telling recount of the misconduct of Bill Clinton. His pattern of sexually inappropriate conduct as a government employee turned out to be as wild as we imagined. But most of us were crowded into camps of defensiveness or accusation. The facts did little to change our initial point of view. Out of ignorance, I thought it was a case of political witchery. Of course, it turned out to be the case that Bill Clinton consistently behaved inappropriately in his positions of power. Several women were left with the consequences of dealing with the fallout.
A few years ago, most watched as the Duggar mess unfolded. Power and politics wrecked the possibility of a cut-and-dry outcome. What was uncovered in the long term unquestionably put to rest the idea that there was no fire behind the smoke.
There is police misconduct everywhere. That’s going to be the case because people find ways to misbehave regardless of their occupation. In the viral case over the last few days, people acted in good faith and in accordance with policies put in place to protect juveniles. It’s unfortunate to see the public go haywire with a misinterpretation. That’s the power of video in a nutshell. A strawman interpretation of what motivated the police to arrest someone infecting the public and few took the time to look into the ‘why’ of it all.
Time will reveal the details and subtleties. But most people won’t remember those. They’ll keep their inconsistencies in their head to mostly justify whatever conclusion or prejudice they have against the police or people in general.
As for the particular incident that prompted this post? I’m glad that we have school resource officers. Had they existed when I was in school, both of my parents would have been incarcerated multiple times, and I certainly would not have been allowed to live with them. That’s the plain truth. If the initial statements made by the person who put the chain of events in motion were not true, that’s a buttress to my argument about the power of words and accusation. Be cautious in your allegations; they can ruin people. And if they were true? It is a reflection of what goes on behind closed doors at so many homes all across the country. I’m making no hard stand regarding the ‘truth’ of the allegations precisely because we might never know in a meaningful way. Do I feel like people in authority behaved in good faith? Hell yes. And that’s weird for a liberal like me to say. There are countless examples of police misconduct everywhere. I don’t see it in this case.
I made the mistake of diving into the people involved. By way of confession, the booking photo of the person in question made me cringe. I’m as guilty as anyone for jumping to conclusions and more so in this case. I trust my instincts, though they are sometimes wrong.
I’d just like everyone to remember that we don’t really KNOW. And especially when we don’t have access to all the information. It would be nice if we lived in a society wherein laws and protection were applied equally to everyone. It’s obvious that we don’t live in that world. If people are involved, whether it’s the police or private citizens, it’s always going to be messy and full of unseen agendas, resources, and conflict. That’s part of who we are.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 