Showing posts with label WWII. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WWII. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 13, 2024

Hope

 

The first egg is always a monumental event.

After a winter of rest, sleep, and using her energy to grow new feathers, one of my chickens laid her first spring egg. I could name her Hope, but I have three red hens, and I can't tell them apart, so I don't know who laid the egg. That egg was from yesterday. Today, I got another. Yea!

 

 ----Imagine strips of paper upon which you have written your insights. 

You throw them up into the wind. And other people, like children running through their first flurry of snow, arms outstretched, instead of catching snowflakes on their tongues, catch those paper strips in their tiny little fists. If they like what's written on the strip, they keep it. If not, they throw it back into the wind to be picked up by someone else.

 

On a day long ago, there were murmurings at the kitchen table that were not understandable to little ears, but I knew something was brewing. My father enlisted in the Navy because he knew the draft was coming and wanted to choose his area of service. The Navy was not to be, though, for they found he was color blind. Therefore, he ended up in the Army. I learned of my father's colorblindness from those murmurings and how that surprised him. Maybe that's why he sketched in pencil or charcoal, a.k.a. black and white. I learned that during the war, he drew portraits for the soldiers, and I remember he said, "You can't put too many lines on a face."

 

Once, he wrote, "You thought I would only be gone for a short time, didn't you?" I don't remember knowing he was going to be gone. If there were any goodbyes, I don't know them. If there were any tears, I didn't see any. He was just gone. He must have slipped out when I was sleeping.

He survived the war, but not his marriage or his fatherhood with me.

Which brings me to a question:

If the civilians on the home front could watch their brothers, husbands, and sons go off to a foreign land not knowing if they would ever see them again, if they were willing to offer their pots and pans as metal for the war effort, if they could have necessary items, like shoes and foodstuffs rationed, and purchase war bonds to help fund the war effort and still maintain HOPE for a liberated future, we can do it.  

 

Those folks back home believed that goodness would prevail and that evil would be vanquished.

Do we believe that now?

Without hope, if we feel that the future will not be better than the present and might even be worse, we will die spiritually.

We have it backward. The opposite of happiness is not sadness. It's hopelessness.

Hopelessness is the root of anxiety, mental illness, and depression. So, why not shoot up a school, sleep with your boss's wife, take illicit drugs, or load up on pharmaceuticals by the bucketfuls?

 

 ----My strips of paper blowing in the wind will contain plain talk about magical things. I am gathering them into a book with the working title of YOUR STORY MATTERS, Living Your Life in the Most Awesome Way Possible.

 I metaphysically use the word magic. I know physics is at work. I also understand that something divine is swirling around that we find impossible to explain. 

 "I may not get there with you," said Martin Luther King Jr., "but I have been to the mountain. Mine eyes have seen the glory…I know that we will get to the promised land." 

He gave that speech on April 3, 1968. On April 4, 1968, he was shot and killed.

There was a man with a vision, a man who believed in non-violent resistance, and a man who had hope. He made a difference.

I know we are made of strong stuff. We must find our courage, integrity, and ingenuity and gather harmoniously. Remember, we are the ones to make a brighter day.

 Once, I watched a T.V. show where the presenter traveled the world looking for the happiest people. He found that the Taiwanese were among the happiest. The reason? 

They believed in hope.

 

 I was poking around in an old website that sat unpublished since 2015.

 

It was my old Blog, Where Tiger’s Belch and Monkey’s Howl.

Now when reading it it seemed happy.

 

Why did I let it go? When I read the  post,“What Makes You Happy?” and came across “Puppy Love,” I was hooked. It has a link to a Budweiser Clydesdale commercial that made me cry/laugh/smile. 

 

I am reopening the Where Tiger’s Belch Blog. I trust that the Universe is guiding me in the right direction.

 

When I read, “Have you noticed that it takes more effort these days to hold up your face?” I had to laugh.

 

Maybe you are much younger than me and haven’t discovered the face issue yet. Perhaps it’s just me. I look at myself in the mirror and don’t look too bad, but when I see a photo of myself, I wonder what happened.

 

Well, I discovered the truth. In the mirror, I inadvertently held up my face, and a photograph caught me slack jawed. 

 

One writer asked, “How does your writing look at its relaxed state? Do you let it drop like our face?”

 

See, someone else knew of this phenomenon. Oh, the pressure to hold up your face and your writing.

 

From Norm Papernick on Tigers:

 

 “Those who can laugh without cause have either found the true meaning of happiness or have gone stark raving mad.”

 

I was more light-hearted then—I’m returning to that blog.

 

Please give Where Tigers Belch a look- see. I would appreciate your thoughts on it. I will clean up some posts, delete some, and check my grammar and spelling. It could be like a high school play that is not perfect; it is not slick or professional, but it has the heart that professional Hollywood plays do not have.

 

It is fresh.

 

Here it is at https://wheretigersbelchandmonkeyshowl.blogspot.com

 

Soon, it will be www.wheretigersbelchandmonkeyshowl.com. I wanted simply wheretigersbelch.com, but alas, someone else got it. It’s “coming soon.” Please don’t confuse it with mine.

 

 

 


Tuesday, June 6, 2023

Guides for Souls

[[File:Walkyrien by Emil Doepler.jpg|thumb|Walkyrien by Emil Doepler]]


To entertain ourselves while waiting at the DMV, Daughter Dear told me about a Tom Cruise movie she watched last night.  

 

I had never heard of it. What? I missed a Tom Cruise movie? When I looked up Tom Cruise movies, I found I had missed several. However, the one I’m talking about is Valkyrie. 

 

It isn’t a movie I would choose by its title, for I didn’t know what Valkyrie meant. 

It means “choose of the slain” and is typically depicted by a female hero, so I wondered what they were saying. As best I can understand, Valkyries are female figures who guide the souls of fallen warriors into Valhalla, a magnificent hall where fallen warriors live in bliss.

 

Daughter Dear warned me that the movie doesn’t end well, but then we would have known if a Nazi attempt to assassinate Hitler had worked.

 

If the Germans had destroyed the wicked regime from within, it could have changed history. The Germans would have been heroes instead of vanquished. Perhaps the bomb wouldn’t have been dropped, and the Berlin Wall wouldn’t have been built. It was a gallant try. Unfortunately, it failed and is true.

 

So the story goes: 

 

Col. Claus von Stauffenberg (Tom Cruise) sees that Hitler is about to destroy his country. So with time running out for Germany and the rest of Europe, von Stauffenberg joins a group of like-minded, high-ranking men who want to overthrow the Nazi regime from within, with Col. von Stauffenberg becoming the trigger man in a plot to assassinate the evil dictator.

 

Daughter Dear and I had been discussing how people generally do as they are told, follow directions, and are a part of the herd. However, out of the many come one who rises like cream to the top of milk. Those are to be celebrated.

 

I once read and hoped it was true that a woman walked out of a concentration camp, and no one saw her. I’ve heard stories of a family who escaped Germany in a hot air balloon they built. One a man carried his wife out of Germany in a suitcase. He was a professor who carried books across the border so often that the guards stopped examining his suitcase, and thus he got his wife out. (And he had built up the strength to do it.)

 

I loved hearing a discussion between Oprah Winfrey and Jean Huston where Huston said, “We are made for these times, and we are up to it.” 

 

Let’s prove her right.