Monday, December 15, 2014

The "Citizen" Journals

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A few years ago I came to something of a  self righteous conclusion that I don't owe anyone anything any more, not my time or any explanations about anything and why I have chosen to live a life that is mostly away from the noise and chaos of competing with others for attention or to feel any need to make anyone else feel special even if I don't think they are, and most people that I know and have known through the years are coming to understand that any attempt to comprehend this attitude is better left unsolved. Some would suggest that I have sequestered myself away from the mainstream that continues to bubble outside and away from the inner peace I call my home, or that I live something of a hermetic lifestyle and if they did, they wouldn't be entirely wrong.

This is the third time I have dropped out and walked away from a large society; the first was way back in 1970 when I was a senior at Columbus South High School. I was one of those students that didn't want the clubs or associations I referred to as cliques and I didn't join any because I believed I would have to change in order to fit in with people I knew I had very little in common with. I wasn't willing to become them, or to pretend I was impressed by anyone who didn't look at life as I did. I saw things differently than those people and all that was on my mind most of those days was to keep being myself and charter a path for my own life that I thought was best, not what someone I really didn't like might have expected for me. I didn't want to be special or strive to be some day, I went about my days wondering more than I did planning and I always felt that if I would become someone special or different it would all happen in time, probably after my scholastic years were behind me and because I stayed on course. I went to school only because someone made me do it, not because I liked it, in fact, I hated everything about school. I hated being on schedules, stuck in classrooms and under the dictatorial powers of teachers and administrators who held the stronger upper hand over me and anything I was permitted to do from around 8:15 AM until 3:30 PM, Monday through most Friday's. At the end of that school year I said goodbye to almost everyone I knew since kindergarten and only looked back twice since; first at my ten year class reunion and then when I went to our 20th reunion. For me, when those years of mandatory school schedules ended I was really done with ever wanting to be surrounded by large groups of people I felt I had little in common with but I knew more groups would replace them in my adult work life; first as a radio announcer and then as a law enforcement officer; two professions that would bring me in contact with more people and more noise than all of my school years put combined. And then I walked away from everything and most of the people I ever knew when I retired and decided that becoming a writer of reflections of all of that noise would be a more tranquil way of spending my days; just wiling away the minutes and hours of every day doing only the things I choose to and at my own pace.

I have compiled something around a million words that are contained in 20 books that I have written since then and every few months or so I receive a check in the mail for writing endeavors as a reward for my efforts; the royalties I receive from the books I have written don't permit me to live a lavish life but I do live a very good one. Not because I have padded some large bank account with that money but because I stopped being needed by other people to do things I would rather not. The benefactors now of what I am able to do best are two bulldogs, Dee Jaye and Jessie because I would rather share my time with them than that world outside and most of the people I walked away from. What these dogs and me have in common is a striking comparison to what I believe we all hope to find in someone else; that is, we understand each other and all we expect from one another is unbiased friendship that allows us to be who we are. I never met a person I trusted more than these two four-legged creatures and I never met any who trusted me as they seem to. Nothing I do or say seems to annoy either of them and I couldn't get mad at either of them even if I might have ten or more years ago. Our time together at home is priceless and becomes more so with each passing day. I never felt that way about a person and if that sounds a little crazy let me explain; back when the very best people I ever knew were still alive I guess I took for granted that they would always be around so I didn't stop long enough to fully understand how short and precious that time was. Like many others I got busy doing the other things and it wasn't until most of them left and the world around me changed when I began to really know how special they all were. I'll not make that mistake with these dogs, they get my time and attention now, as much as I can give them. People come and go, sometimes by chance or by some other reason but they all eventually do go. Those who I care about leave me feeling lonely when they die but there have been many I have been glad to see gone and away from me. I never felt that way about any pet I ever had.

Will Rogers said that if there are no dogs in Heaven he wants to go where they went; I have always admired Will Rogers and believe that he was just about as smart as anyone else who was ever famous for something. There aren't many people around anymore who make as much sense as Rogers did when he had something to say and I think it is because there aren't many who had his courage to just say what needed to be said. I want to believe that I do and I think there are many others who think they do as well. But what I believe separates me from many of them is that I make it my work now, not merely something I do on the side anytime I am angry about something or get excited over something I or someone else does. My focus in life isn't about sports, entertainment or knowing what others are up to or how my peers are spending their own senior years; it has become more about accepting where I am in life now and feeling good about where I have been and all of the experiences that brought me to this place. I watch others and I study them, it has become something of a hobby with rewards for me because I learn more and more about people by just watching how they navigate through their days and because so many are willing to expose who they really are I know more about them than they will ever know about me; thus, I believe that by comparison to what I see around me I have an advantage over most, one that can't be had by having more money in the bank or my name in the press as much as it used to be, but by what I call Citizen Journals.

In earlier years little girls kept personal diaries; small books they would write in where they would share with only themselves their inner most personal thoughts; the things that may have happened that day and all of their feelings about themselves and everyone around them that they could lock away from the prying eyes of others and hide the key to ensure the privacy of what they wrote. They would fold the book, lock it and probably hide it somewhere they regarded as a secret place. Many of those kids would be furious if someone else found a way to peek into their stories and they would feel a sense of invasion of their privacy if someone did but we have come to a time when the diaries of everyone are left out in plain sight and none of them have a lock and key. In fact, these new diaries are advertised and the writers encourage everyone, including people they don't know and probably never will meet to have a look. When they are sick they want others to know and will even go as far as to describe the symptoms and what it is doing to them emotionally or even financially. When their hearts get broken they describe the circumstances and when someone wrongs them they share all of the details of what happened and even sometimes how they plan to get even. Feelings about bosses, neighbors and anyone who has anything at all to do with their lives or of someone they care about is shared in open forums we know as social networking sights on the internet.

The owners and publishers of newspapers have seen their business dwindle in recent years because more and more people have created their own methods of sharing news and finding out what the rest of the world is doing and sometimes we can know how someone's day begins, what transpires through it and how it all ends before they announce their day is over and wish us all a goodnight. It is because of this that I think I finally understand why so many of us long for the old days and why when we say to one another that the past was better than the present. It is also why I am not anxious  to see what else the future will bring and why I am as content as I am to remain in a quiet place as far away from what is happening now as I can place myself. What I have learned through the Citizen Journals is that I am a much better person than I ever knew I was and that many of the people I either admired or thought had more on the ball weren't at all who I thought they were. I began by saying that this is the third time I have dropped out  and walked away from the noise and chaos that once surrounded me and these are just a few of the reasons why. Because of the Citizen Journals I have discovered that I was wrong about some people as often as I thought I was right. There is a saying that some things cannot be be unseen and now that I have seen into the lives of people from all walks of life I wish it weren't so. That long list of people I used to admire isn't that long anymore and the facades that some built through the years came tumbling down when they became so willing and eager to show us all what was behind them. I have discovered that there is a little Rush Limbaugh in all of us; that is, Limbaugh is a national radio celebrity that millions of people love to hate for his views on what he believes America should be. He is arrogant and to some even despicable when he airs his opinions about what he sees happening everyday. But Limbaugh has the advantage of being a lone voice that cannot be challenged for a few hours every day because he has a radio program that is financed by a multi-billion dollar corporation. He gets to say what is on his mind and the world can hear it but cannot hold him accountable by disputing anything he says. It can merely mumble with approval or disgust out of his ear shot its opinion of him which leaves him free to continue every day to spit his diatribe into a microphone what he believes will make us all better off. But the authors of the Citizen Journals don't have the luxury that comes with the financial backing Limbaugh has and it doesn't care; they are going to share with the world every thought in their own heads by any means available and they needn't worry about a profit margin; it won't matter if not enough readers are willing to pay for what they have to share to keep their paper going and they don't need a studio like Rush has to get out their messages. At the close of their day all they got was the opportunity to be heard and what I find so disappointing is their zeal to want to be. Especially when all they shared only exposed who they really are. They aren't trying to change the world and I think most of them know they never will but still they write those Citizen Journals with fervency as if they believe they might, or that they will somehow change someone else's view of something they are passionate about.

When I first became old enough to vote there was something called a voting booth, it was a real booth with curtains that closed allowing complete privacy for a voter who went in to cast ballots for the candidates and issues they favored. It was a time when we held our feelings and emotions tighter to our vests because we believed our political leanings and innermost thoughts were no one else's business. We still have voting stations that we refer to as booths and they do offer some privacy but I am not sure why there is any kind of blind on those machines or why those who manufacture these things feel privacy is necessary anymore. With the new Citizen Journals, all forms of keeping ones thoughts and opinions stopped being private. I can go to facebook and know how anyone there is going to vote because they want me and everyone else to know.  I can go there to learn anything I may be curious about; I can learn what my neighbor's sexual preference is and their attitudes toward other people's sexual orientations and sometimes even if they had a sexual experience the night before. Sometimes I can calculate their income by what they reveal about their lifestyle and how they spend their time away from work; it is all right there in their Citizen Journal. 

All of this is the foundation for my first publication of 2015. The book is about people and why I am more reluctant to want to meet many more than I already know or remain as close to as many as I have through the years. What the new  Citizen Journals  provide us is something news publications chose not to offer back in those days when we all seemed more alike than we now seem to be. That is, to show us all who we really are. In the old days we could only catch a glimpse of society by turning to the editorial pages to read a sampling of letters written by common people; we needed the entertainment page to see what celebrities are doing and because we did even they behaved better than most do now. They had to because they knew that they were under scrutiny by masses of people they knew nothing about and there was very little feedback that would let them know what people thought of them; in other words they had to be more careful with their behavior. Now they can read Citizen Journals and know instantly what works best for them even if it allows bad behavior from them because they can see their own reflection in those they play to. They see the bully in themselves in other people and they are encouraged to become who they really are as well, and when they do they are mocked and some even try to be more outrageous when they act out their personal lives in public forums. It has spawned a generation of  wanna-be comedians, amatuer news reporters and power thinkers in the ranks of everyday people.

Breaking News used to require television and radio stations or special editions of newspapers to break it but now more people find it on one another's Citizen Journal and when they do they can immediately weigh in and that is when we can get a sense of who they are. I recently learned through these journals the attitudes and opinions of people I thought I knew... who they really were and where they stood when it comes to racial issues; I saw who the bigots were and who thought along the same lines as I do and whose opinions left me sure I never really ever knew them at all. I was shocked at how many people I have been wrong about all along, yet somewhat pleased with the few who had the guts to just be honest. However I was very disappointed in the number of people who are using their Citizen Journals to further divide us and cause the progress in race relations that were made in America over the past fifty years to come crumbling down. Just when it seemed we were finally at a point when skin color wasn't the measure of a society we learn that it is today more than it ever was. America has found a way to reignite the Civil War, only this round is more about entitlements and preferences than it is about state's rights or people held in bondage. It stretches across political boundaries just as it did in the 1860s, just as much as it does skin color. Those who have the most are caring less and less about those who don't have enough and there seems to be no middle ground. People of color and those who use their Citizen Journals to vent against others they call racists are demonstrating their own racism when their rails are only about the injustices that they believed are committed against one race only. Few if any of these people will demonstrate any anger whatsoever if the same news is about a white person; even worse, when an elderly person or the entire elderly society is wronged. They may vent a few words but they aren't likely to take to the streets to burn and pillage in the name of anger or social injustice. 

Is all of this a little too heavy for you to digest? Because if it is then I think I know who you are and if  it seems a little biased you should know that it is intended to be very biased because that is who we are, not just me but everyone who has ever written and kept a Citizen Journal. We establish them and keep them updated not to promote other people's thoughts and opinions, but our own. Those who are more polite are careful to keep their journals free of controversy for fear of what others may think of them but a good and honest one will let it all hang out and expose the owners for who they really are and most of them are free of any cost to read them. I like to think that my own journal is one that will reveal who I am but mine isn't free and that is where I have the advantage over many others; mine is bound together in various book titles and is for sale through Amazon. I don't leave myself open for minute-by-minute ridicule as others do by writing and posting all the things I feel or think every day or even every few days. I even stopped commenting on other other posts in other journals because I don't want people I don't know to know where I stand on social issues, including my own political preferences. I keep things like that private and I am no one's public relations spokesman anymore. In other words, it isn't my responsibility to throw around free endorsements of any kind. I turn my life inside-out from time-to-time another way and to see where these latest installments are headed you will have to get my latest book because it opens even more doors that shroud who I am away from public Citizen Journals!

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

I'll Be Home For Christmas

                                          Click image to enlarge

During the pre and post world-war years and until the late 1960s the old south end of Columbus, Ohio was a very blue-collar community that was heavily populated by single income families of mostly hard working dads, strong and determined stay-at-home moms and  lots and lots of children; neighbors who knew each other's names and whose kids went to school together, played outside with one another almost every single day and who grew up with a sense of values not commonly seen now but were mandated by tradition. Life in the south end back then was exactly that; carrying on long traditions with a sense of pride even though most of us were of average means while many struggled. Those who did struggle to keep food on the table and a roof over their family's head were just neighbors of people who had more, no one was outcast or forgotten because they may have had less and all anyone expected was to live in harmony and share a proud community. A few were people of great wealth but I didn't know any, only some that had much more than our family and they were usually the oldest people still around who could tell stories of the turn of the century and how the neighborhood began and their families' role in founding it.

There were butchers and bakers and probably even candlestick makers by the dozens and very few doctors or scientists and even fewer lawyers or for that matter very few men who went to work wearing a suit or driving a car that might cost a year's salary for most working people. It was not a community of professional people or fancy homes and most of the noise that was made came from the mouths of kids between the ages of 3 and 13. But then around 1965 things began to change and by the early 1980s everything did. It was that first sign of what was to come back in the mid 60's when a man named Frank Fetch visioned a community that would be named German Village and become not only one of historic preservation but one that would attract a flow of money into the area that would eventually price blue-collar families out of the market and scatter them to other far-a-way neighborhoods and other towns. Homes when my family settled here in the late 1950s could easily be purchased for about what a man could earn on his job in a year or two. Most, including the fanciest of them could be had for somewhere between 8 to 15,000.00 and only very few would have sold for more than that. Homes on my street that would sell for a quarter of a million dollars now were probably lived in and owned by factory workers earning less than $3.00 an hour in 1960.  Wrap the math around your head and realize that bare minimum wages today are only a little more than twice that amount and the dollar itself is worth less than a tenth of what it was then. A house that may have cost around $10,000.00 in the late 50s might be offered for sale for 30 times that price now. If those who lived in it more than 50 years ago who were able to pay the mortgage, a bank loan for a car, the utilities, medical expenses and what it costs to raise anywhere from 2 to 7 children as was common then tried to make it here today, that one paycheck they received on Fridays would not even come close to being enough today. That check was probably just over $100.00 a week and it was enough to maintain a prideful lifestyle and the traditions they wanted to keep; today it might not even pay for the gasoline they might need. 

To keep up today with the lifestyle they led then one might need a salary way north of five figures and in a community where blue-collar jobs were once plentiful and could be had sometimes by just asking for one and filling out an application all that is left is memories for some of us who were here then. The jobs that are close by are mostly minimum wage and those that offer more require higher education than just enough schooling to figure things out. My own dad had only a 7th grade education but he supported a large family on the salary of a meat packer at a local slaughterhouse. He also paid cash for a new 1956 Ford and paid off his mortgage in about ten years on a salary that didn't climb above $10,000 until the 1980s. This old neighborhood of bricks that he and other dads brought their families to back then has certainly been changed by its economic structure and the character of its residents, but not enough that I don't recognize every brick in it and not nearly enough to make me want to leave it until the choice is no longer mine.

My latest publication;  "Christmas Cards From Home"  is a compilation of musings and short stories about how it was for those of us who were here before the vault-loads of new money began to flow on these century old and older streets and back-alleys; my stories and the recollections of many others who were here including some that haven't been back home in decades is a history book; written the best way we know how, accompanied with snapshots of a very good time and place to carry on some of the traditions that were so important to us and to remember just how good life was when we were surrounded by more people we wish we could see again. That era before the technology revolution that sent us all to desk-top, lap-top or hand-held devices to know what others are up to or what we should expect from one another now.

By comparison to how things are now, what we had then was more like the 1800s than the 21st century because we still had many around us who were born in that century who tried their best to teach us the ways of old. So in this age of new and newer, and in this time when not nearly enough about our heritage is discussed, this book aims to be one that mocks the trends of a hurry-up and shop and eager anticipation of a generation that seems to want to be known for having more, even at the expense of letting bygone eras stay back there in the past as we plunder our way onto the next big things; it is a collection of descriptions and feelings that those of us who want to hold tightly onto have, especially during this time of the year. For about the price of a monthly magazine that might be bought, read and soon forgotten it brings back something that won't be completely forgotten, something that will endure for years to come. Documentation that things were better than they ever will be again for many of us. The photo shown here was taken on the evening of December 7, 2014 and when that horse and wagon came down Mohawk Street I imagined an area that aside from the number of people and modern vehicles probably looked this way more than 100 years ago; the clip-clop sound of that horse's hooves on the bricks would have been one that no one would have turned to even notice back then. That horse is an ancestor too! Those people in the wagon are dressed differently than any who would have taken that ride before most of us were even alive, and they could have chosen a more comfortable way to go where they were headed but they didn't because they wanted to feel something else. This book does the same thing.

Read more here-

http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Cards-Home-South-Columbus-ebook/dp/B00Q7L3R38/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1418235687&sr=8-1&keywords=rick+minerd+christmas+cards+from+home