Friday, February 26, 2010

Some Things I Wonder About

Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because I like watching other people, but sometimes I wonder...

Who wears spiked heels and blue jeans to the grocery store? I saw one at the Travis AFB Commissary on Wednsday, made my feet hurt. To her credit, she looked good, but Why? I had several thoughts, admittedly few of them kind, but Why?

Had a chance to drive the So-Cal freeways lately? It's hard to imagine that kind of traffic, especially if you find SF or Sac busy. So many lanes... I wondered how it could ever be gridlocked... Then I hit a three-mile backup on I-5 South, right around the 605 merge at 11 am. I wondered how people could face that day-after-day. I-5, in So-Cal, has 24-hour car pool lanes, with limited access. Once we got into LA-proper, we breezed through traffic, which was heavy, and made excellent time, but every day? San Diego isn't much better, basically LA-South, which will offend everyone in San Diego, but it's true. I'm on I-805, doing 80 (by my speedometer), and was getting run over by little-old-ladies in walkers. Every day?

Every day, I wonder what kind of Grandfather I will be. Isabella is such a joy, the first of my own blood. Victor, too, brings me great joy, but I'm guarded. Adoptions have so many uncertainties, and I watched what happened with my sister the first time she tried. Not that there are any similarities, Mark was part Native American, and the Tribe got involved. Victor, on the other hand, was neglected by his birth-mother, who was, apparently, not equipped to deal with Victor's fussiness. As a result, Victor became a "failure to thrive" child, and taken by CPS to UC Davis Children's hospital. Once stabilized, he was placed in foster care, pending a court decision on parental rights. I'm not certain how Tyffany (my daughter) came to know this little guy, but I'm really glad she did. She wants to adopt him; I pray for it to happen.

I always wonder where our futures lay. I've lived through tense times before, my first the Cuban Missle Crisis of 1963, but not like today. I've lived through some hard financial times before, double-digit inflation, recession, but not like today. I have dedicated a large portion of my adult life working towards a small, government pension, the Navy, so far, has honored it's commitment, but will Social Security? Is my Navy pension at risk? "Obamacare?"

I wonder why people can't seem to get along. Wherever you go, someone seems to go out of their way to be heard, to be seen, to be first, to be "ahead of you," to have more, earn more, buy more... It wears me out. Hardly anyone shows respect for anything, or anyone else. Pepole are in such a rush... To get where, exactly? I've taken to listening to Classical music, or the Mormon Tablernacle Choir, whenever I drive into a "city". The music calms me, and I am rarely "in a rush" to get anywhere. I'll keep up with the flow of traffic, and try to keep lane changes to a minimum, but invaritably there will be someone "in a rush" who rides your bumper, flashing his lights, who speeds around you, and then cuts you off, trying to make the next exit, usually accompanied by some form of gesture (most often, "The Bird"). All for what?

In my times "overseas," I got to meet a good number of the "local indiginous people," wherever I was, and some became friends. I used my "at sea" time to learn about the people of a nation we would be visiting, local customs, the whole nine yards. I even learned phrases in the various languages, enough to say "Hello/Good-bye," "Do you speak English," "How much for two beers," things like that. You'd be surprised at the number of Europeans who speak English, when you take the time to learn a bit of theirs. One thing that has always stood out, to me, whether in Europe, Africa, or Asia, people all want the same basic things. Once I found that out, I could no longer justify any "-ism" that demeaned people because they were "different". In our own ways, with our own beliefs, customs, ceremonies, people just want to live a relatively comfortable life, and to be proud of who they are. What more can one ask?

No comments:

Post a Comment