rant – Page 16 – The Hermits' Rest

Love, Peace, Happiness. The Big Letdown

Many times, I write about how the passage of time and the learning opportunities I’ve taken advantage of have led me to be more content. And it’s true. I’m handling life’s ups and downs fairly well right now. That doesn’t mean I don’t notice what’s wrong in the world, though.

All day today, I’ve been reading about Martin Luther King, Jr. and the things he said and did. (His actual birthday was last week, but the US loves Monday holidays.) I also listened to a lovely song imploring us to listen to what John Lennon said, give peace a chance and all that. Today, I’m reminded that King said:

“Call it democracy, or call it democratic socialism, but there must be a better distribution of wealth within this country for all God’s children.”
Speech to the Negro American Labor Council, 1961.

I came of age in the 1970s. It wasn’t a perfect time, but to me it seemed like things were going in the right direction. Women were working toward equal rights in all ways. Black people could marry white people. Gay friends were emerging hesitantly from their closets. People talked so much about peace, love, and equality.

Now that I’m over here, looking back from over 60 years wandering our poor beleaguered planet, I think I was quite wrong. By surrounding myself with my “tribe” of people like me, I was blissfully ignorant of much of US society, and certainly VERY naive about how businesses and capitalism worked.

I know there are still people out there like me, working to improve the environment, feed the hungry, bring peace and understanding among our fellow humans, and all that. I see that in my volunteer work every day. But, I no longer have confidence that we have the numbers or the strength to accomplish much. (I’ll still keep doing my part.)

Really, stop reading if rants bore you like they do me.

Here’s Why (Or Stop Reading Now)

The heart of my sadness is this: I once believed people were basically good and kind, just sometimes they were confused or misled. I now see too many people taking pleasure out of harming others, spurred on by their own “tribes.”

Passive Aggressive Facebook Posts Are for Doofuses and Doofi

Gee, Suna, what are you going to rant about today? Maybe you can complain about something, and by doing so, do the thing you are complaining about. We used to have a word for that in linguistics, but never mind. At least you are presenting both alternative pluralizations of doofus, to please your friends.

You know how you ignore things and ignore things, then one day your tolerance dips or something, and you suddenly get really annoyed? Today that happened. I saw just one too many vague, passive aggressive Facebook meme about how “some people” just don’t do the right thing. I just shouted aloud in the parking garage, “If you have a problem with someone, TELL THEM.”

I then ran off and found a fine article to back up what I was feeling: How Facebook is a Weapon for Passive-Aggressive Destruction, by Alex Miles. Three years ago, she was also getting sick and tired of people who would rather fire off vaguely worded barbs at “someone” than talk to whoever it is about what’s bugging them. “Someone” is just supposed to KNOW the barb is about them, and learn from the helpful advice and turn their lives around. HA. Nope.

Myles points out:

The classic method of passively displaying aggression on social media is via quotes and memes that say something, often seemingly politely, gracefully or even cryptically, but the intent behind the message is condescending, patronizing and deliberately posted to make a definite point. There is a degree of separation in this method as the person sharing them is not the one who wrote the words originally.
How Facebook is a Weapon for Passive-Aggressive Destruction

This one stabbed me right in my highly sensitive soul. And who among us has not dealt with this:

…if the passive-aggressive one is confronted and questioned they may downplay the situation by reverting to denial and manipulation. They might even send smiley emoticons to make it seem as though they are perfectly at peace and then turn everything around to make the person questioning them appear over-sensitive, paranoid and as though they are overanalyzing or imagining things.
Same source

Or need some good old-fashioned therapy, a thing you do not obtain on Facebook.

Go ahead and read the article, which does provide some insight into how people end up doing this stuff, and ideas about how to nip it in the bud. I give Myles credit for thinking people just might be able to actually talk to others about their behavior, discuss whatever brought it on, and come to a mutual understanding and trusting relationship. That sure would be nice!

Am I wise or what?

My favorite solution for doofuses or doofi I know who engage in this behavior is to ignore it, and then send some invisible love rays out to them, because they obviously need it. Doesn’t that make me seem saintly.

Name Calling Is for Doofuses

Look at that. I called people doofuses. Shame on me. That’s about the worst thing I like to fling around, though.

In our current troubled times, I see (and read) a lot of nasty name-calling going on. I know it’s not new, because I’ve read some doozies in old letters to the editor, which were at least more creative than some of the 2020 ones. I read something on Facebook today, written by J., a minister friend of mine, too, that got me going:

People don’t have to agree with me politically to remain my Facebook friends. People may also criticize people whom I like and won’t get deleted. However, calling me or anyone else a snowflake or a libtard seems to make me press delete every time. Lack of kindness, not content, is what I gauge.

I just don’t like name calling. One thing I’m proud of in my child-rearing is that my kids didn’t call each other names or engage in derogatory name calling toward other kids. I admire them both for their adult selves staying that way, too (as far as I know).

Another Skill I Must Work On

Yep. I’ve found another gap in the skill set needed on my path to serenity.

I have got to learn to go with the flow

Today I was supposed to stay at the ranch so we could work on the chicken coop. It’s nearly sunset. I got in a whole day of Planview work. I fed the horses. I walked the dogs. I’m worried Carlton has been killed by a cow, because I tried twice to get him to come home but he kept going back. Then it got silent.

Whew. I hear him again.

But, no chicken coop material is here. See I thought there was a plan. I stuck to it. I did NOT go with the flow and accept that by the time the day was over, many new plans, distractions, and duties would come up.

Just like yesterday when we went to get coop material and ended up with a mattress.

It’s no big deal. The coop will happen. I just might have done something else with my day. Some people are planners. Some are spontaneous. I’m in with a spontaneous group right now.

What a perfect time to learn to understand that plans are just possibilities. I’m going to go back and breathe some more and greet my dirty cattle-chasing dog. He still has plenty of energy.

Classism Today: Keeping the Good Folks Down

Caveat time: I am aware that classism is a fact all over the world. Today I focus on small towns and use Cameron as a specific example. This doesn’t mean I think less of its citizens. It’s a great place full of many kind, caring friends and with much warmth.

Yesterday I talked about how my father came up from poverty thanks to hard work and talent. Yet, you couldn’t take the Chattanooga out of the boy; he had a rather intense (and sometimes incomprehensible) accent, and his broken nose and funny ear testified to his past as a boxer. He didn’t always look middle class.

The moon was lovely last night. I’m grateful for its calming energy. All pictures in this post are designed to make me remember good things in my life.

But, he was allowed out of the shackles of his past by kind friends, coworkers and others who saw his kind heart, great humor, and intelligence. He was lucky. He also moved away from his hometown where the Kendall boys had quite a reputation for mischief, from that I hear.

What If You Aren’t So Lucky?

While I’m noticing many newcomers to down, Cameron is a place where many of the families have been there long, long time. There are surnames in this town that I see in the newspapers from the early 1900s (by the way, this includes Mexican names whose families were here before this was the United States and long-time black residents). Some families have done well, and are the scions of the community, populating all the right churches, the right organizations, the country club, etc. Others are respected business owners known for their charity and work for the community. Many are successful ranchers and farmers who live outside of town behind gates proclaiming their ranch names and fencing that costs more than many homes.

Ah, trees shining in the winter sun. I love going for walks on brisk meteorological winter days.

The children of these families are beloved by their school teachers, who come from the elite families or are their friends. These children dress well, participate in the important clubs, win dozens of 4-H ribbons, are in the prom court, play on the football team, are cheerleaders, etc. Nice kids. They also enjoy some leniency at school, since everyone knows they are good kids from good families. Sound familiar? Sound like where you came from? Sure! This is the norm in the US, especially in small towns.

What about the others? Some of the surnames in town have different reputations. They are assumed (because of how their parents, grandparents, or distant relatives were troublemakers, lived in the “bad” part of town (literally on the wrong side of the tracks in Cameron), or had other nefarious connections) to be the kind of folks you don’t want to associate with. These kids may not have parents who can afford all the activities. They are the ones who get picked on because they smell funny, live in an ugly house, have parents with drug or alcohol problems (or their relatives do). They go to the churches who dare to accept everyone, no matter what their family history. This, too, is not surprising.