Restful Days

From the front window of our motor-home

We got away from the grind this past week and spent a few days in Florence, Oregon. For those not familiar, it’s a town located on the Oregon coast, about two hours from where we live.

We visit this area fairly frequently to enjoy the weather (which was beautiful this trip), do a bit of shopping, dine in some of their nice restaurants (several are next to the water), and just “hang out.”

The RV park we stay at is owned by the Elks (my other-half is a member) and costs considerably less than most parks. It’s located inland, so no “ocean view,” but it’s set among the trees and offers quiet surroundings. Its only downfall is minimal wi-fi. *sigh*

Anyway, we’re back now — and I’m trying to catch up up on the many, many blog posts and comments that I had to skip while we were gone. 🤪

Reblog: Fishing. Tales.

A diversion from all the “stuff” …

Just started following this blog and have found considerable talent on display.

Richmond Road

I think I have it right this time. 99 words. But one needs to mentally transpose the image onto a slightly different backdrop.

April 26 Flash Fiction Challenge

We stood there together on the edge of the world. Before our eyes the waves announced their arrival from beyond the horizon with suicidal assaults on the rock ledge below and created a salty curtain of mist that you could taste.

“This looks like the place,” he had said, laying down the rods. He imagined that I had been lured there with tales of wild fish and of tortured line and of aching arms. But I was there just for this moment. To be with him.

We stood side by side and my head reached almost to his shoulders.

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When I Was a Kid …

There’s been so much “heavy stuff” going on with many of the blogger posts lately, I thought I’d lighten things up a bit.

Do you ever find yourself saying things like …

When I was growing up, we did _____

I remember when we had _____

As I kid, I really liked _____

I think many of us, especially as we get older and find ourselves “tolerating” what goes on in the world today, often look back with fondness at our younger days. So I decided to open up this post to any and all and invite you to share what you miss about the earlier times in your life.

PLEASE!! No references to religion or politics. There’s more than enough of that going around. This is JUST FOR FUN … !!

Plight of the Porta-Potties

” … everyone on this earth has to go to the bathroom.”

Somewhere in the southern California city of Anaheim is a dusty encampment that’s home to hundreds of men, women and children. They live in tents and other makeshift shelters and do what they can to survive.

Recently, an important part of their simple living was taken from them when the city confiscated three porta-potties and locked them up in a storage facility. Now, these homeless individuals have nowhere to relieve themselves except in the bushes, or in buckets, or in the cramped privacy of their own tents. (Read more about their plight here.)

There is an old proverb, used by believers and nonbelievers alike, that goes like this: “There but for the grace of God go I.” 

The truth behind this statement is obviously being ignored by those who live in comfortable homes with plenty of food on the table … and one or more (indoor) bathrooms.

What adds to the insensitivity of this scenario is the porta-potties were purchased with donations and set up by local activist groups. In addition, money was raised to have them pumped and cleaned.

Yet “the city” in its all-knowing wisdom removed them because the installers had no permit! As one city official commented, “The toilets pose a health and safety concern and were placed … without permission.” (I couldn’t help but wonder about the “health concerns” that will result when people must relieve themselves in nearby streams and river beds.)

As the homeless advocate pointed out: “Sickness and disease will spread among homeless men, women, and children that cannot wash their hands. This is a group of people that is being left to die due to their government’s depraved indifference.” (emphasis added)

I apologize if this posting has offended your sensitivities. However, if you can come up with a way to avoid the natural process described in the opening quote, you may be in line for a Nobel Prize.

Culture Shock

The following is from a post written by “Emma.” She explains that within a few years after migrating to the U.S. from Poland (over 25 years ago), she wrote a piece that described her feelings at the time. While her entire post is quite touching, for me this particular entry from her earlier piece really hit home.

The first one [stage of adjustment] was related to a tremendous culture shock – everything was so different that not being able to understand, I despised it. I hated everything: food lacking taste and full of preservatives; huge, ugly cars; commercials on TV and in magazines; being called by my first name, the striking omnipresent urge to impress everybody around with one’s possessions and status. My first impression of America was depressing: it seemed to be a country being destroyed by mighty commercialism, and deeply split along the lines of gender, race and class. A place populated by salesmen, where everybody was in the never ending process of buying or selling something with the highest profit, hardly appeared friendly or hospitable. Those temporarily not involved in the selling circuit were busy trying to get in touch with their inner victim.

I don’t think many of us can deny that her “culture shock” aptly describes the American way of life. And it’s not very flattering.

While the post is personal, she offers a bit of political insight by showing how her feelings/experiences were/are similar to “Trumpism.”

I urge you to read the entire post.