Safer in Cuba, Israel, or anywhere else than in the U.S.?

Yesterday I was worrying about my adult son who is leaving for a trip to Cuba and my daughter-in-law who after Christmas is leaving for a trip to Israel. Both places I considered less than “safe”. Silly me.

My son and daughter-in-law, with our two beautiful grandchildren, live less than fifty miles from the place where a young man, well armed with legally purchased weapons, walked into a grade school and randomly killed twenty children the same ages as my grandchildren. And also killed their teachers and staff.

Lots of articles have been written, many in the last day, about all the random shootings we have suffered through in this nation in the last few years. Some, President Obama included, also mentioned the inner city gun violence that is claiming lives of so many cut down in the prime of their lives.

That kind of gun violence is not confined to the street corners of Chicago. Nearly every day in Louisville KY, gun violence claims the lives of men, women and children. Some no doubt are involved in drugs or crimes. And some are innocent children caught in the crossfire of gun violence.

I feel largely safe from the shootings. Since I stay out of those neighborhoods.

Not so back when my oldest son was a baby and toddler. Back then I felt safe to take my toddler every day to an outstanding pre-school on 22^nd street in west Louisville. He was one of two little white boys in a crowd of African American children, all of whom benefited from the outstanding caregivers at St. Benedict’s.

Now gun violence is a daily occurrence in the west end of Louisville, as it is in many large cities and even in the grade schools of bucolic Connecticut small towns.

 

All of this killing has one common denominator: guns. Enough with the “guns don’t kill people”. Or “this is not the time”.

It is the time. Guns do kill people. And far too many. No one other than trained military and law enforcement have any legitimate reason to have handguns, automatic weapons, protective gear, or anything else associated with killing people.

With all due deference to the U. S Supreme Count, they are wrong about what the Second Amendment means. It was never meant to allow gangs or lone crazies or anyone else to take innocent lives with weapons of war. Such weapons did not exist at the time the Second Amendment was adopted.

Just like the “Citizens United” decision with its topsy-turvy interpretation of the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, it’s clearly a travesty of legal thinking. But until the Supreme Court rethinks its interpretation their opinion is the law of the land.

So, as intelligent people we must come together and call on our elected representatives to change the law. If that takes amendments to the US Constitution so be it. In the meantime, we also must call on the President to take all actions he can take by Executive Order to put an end to the madness.

Dog Bites Man

I know—“dog bites man” is the oldest story in the book. Such that it’s not considered news. But recently it became personal. A couple of days ago our old dog bit my husband.

The reason for the bite? My husband had gently tried to wipe some of the “goop” near Schatzie’s eye. No stitches required but at least two puncture sites near the fingernails. And a throbbing redness.

As on most days, my husband had painstakingly walked Schatzie to the park at the dog’s snail’s pace. The dog can hardly walk but still thinks he should go to the park. My husband then gave Schatzie his many medications in homemade cheese balls. And then fed Schatzie a carefully crafted breakfast.  Which the dog turned his nose up at. I added more goodies to try to get our skinny dog to eat. 

You might say that the biting is excusable. After all Schatzie has dementia. And is in pain with arthritis. On his last leg, so to speak.

But that’s not really what’s going on. Biting is what Schatzie did in his prime. For example, Schatzie bit us—twice each--after we first inherited him from my Mom. It’s only in his later stages of dementia that for the most part he has forgotten his aggressive ways

My husband, bless his heart, (Please forgive the only language quirk I picked up from living in Alabama for two years. I believe it roughly translates to you are saying or doing something stupid but I’m too polite to say that.) does not blame Schatzie. Here is what he said: “Biting is the one thing that dogs can do to let the humans know they don't like what they're doing. Humans just have to show them who's the pack leader. Besides, I knew the risk going in. After all, I'd been bitten before by him doing something similar (eye drops). Could I have been more calm & assertive? Yep.”

I say my husband watches too many episodes of the dog whisperer. Biting is one behavior I don’t think is ever acceptable by dogs, at least not to their loving families. In fact, under the standard set by the several collies that have been part of our family, they would have gone farther than that on biting rules. For them, biting was never an option, save an attack on one of their family members.

Anyway, the latest is Schatzie now has idiopathic vertigo or doggy dizziness for some unknown reason.

Having four legs should be some advantage. Instead, he looks like a drunken sailor times two. When he tries to go forward and to the left, his back end lists to the right. Lots of falling, picking up, and spitting up from the associated nausea. The vet says he may get over this in a few days, learn to compensate, or this may be the end.

I don’t really know what to think. Or what to hope for.  Except I hope my husband’s bite doesn’t get infected. And I hope Schatzie stops acting like a drunken sailor and starts to “shape up or ship out.” That’s not an Alabama expression as far as I know but something my Mom use to say when as kids my brother and I weren’t doing what she expected. I just wish she were here to deal with her old dog and tell us what she would have done.

Just a Couple of Guys and a Gal

The following is a short story, “flash fiction” if you will, I wrote last summer at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. Hope it’s a brief diversion on a cold winter’s day.

 

John, a tidy man in his 40’s, is sipping wine while chopping veggies for dinner at the kitchen island.  Jake, a straggled, over-heated man in his early thirties, sits across from John on a stool, drinking a beer.

 

John:

Jake, you know we agreed we’d use that money for the wine and cooking classes tour of Italy.

 

Jake:

Yeah, but…

 

John:

I hate it when you ‘Yeah, but’, me.

 

Jake:

Lately you seem to hate everything I do. I think you hate HER.

 

John:

I do not. It’s just time to let her go.

 

Jake:

Let her go? Let her go?

 

John:

Stop repeating yourself. You know how I hate that.

 

Jake:

I can’t say anything any more without you saying you hate it. Or her.

 

John:

I don’t hate her. She’s had a very good life. She was very beautiful. But she’s become a black hole--sucking your time and our money.

 

 

 

 

Jake:

She has not. You know I love her. And I don’t mind the time or money.

 

John:

You should be spending more of your time with me.

 

Jake:

I do spend time with you.

 

John:

Not like you used to. Every night it’s the same old thing. You sneak off…

 

Jake:

I do not sneak. You know where I’m going.

 

John:

You sneak. And you lie.

 

Jake:

That’s really unfair.

 

John:

You say you’ll only be a few minutes. An hour at most. Then hours later come crawling back home, all sweaty. And smelling of her.

 

Jake:

Well, I enjoy my time with her. And the time gets away from me.

 

John:

But the real thing is the money. That $10,000 is for our wine and cooking tour. You KNOW that.

 

Jake:

That's just what you’ve always said. I never agreed.

 

John:

Yes—you did.

 

Jake:

I did not. And besides, after the new carburetor and rods and rear end, you know—you’ll enjoy riding in her as much as I do.

 

 

Not Dead Yet

Schatzie, our fourteen-year-old sheltie, had been looking and acting like he was on death’s doors for the last several days, or maybe it’s been weeks. Sometimes it’s hard to know how long something has been happening when you are in the midst of it.

But he now has rallied. For at least a year he has needed help most of the time just to stand. His walks have gotten to be just the short half block to the park, not the half mile he use to walk. The four steps into and out of the house have become a major barrier. One that requires assistance from one of both of his human companions.

We were thinking the end was near. What with his recent loss of appetite, struggles to stand after we help him up, and apparent disinterest in most of life.

And he may still be a short-timer. But two days ago we woke to find him curled up next to our bed, with his head comfortably tucked under the dust cover. You ask why that is peculiar. Mainly because our bedroom is up a long flight of stairs that he has not even tried to climb in months. Yet somehow two nights ago he had climbed noiselessly on his withered old back legs all the way to the second floor.  And the following day he made it around the whole half mile track, though at a snail’s pace most of the way. And then he actually bounced twice as he barked upon sighting a squirrel and his “nemesis”, a boxer who chews his iron fence whenever he sees Schatzie.

I had been wishing I could know what Schatzie is trying to say about his condition. My latest guess is he is saying, reminiscent of the scene from a Monty Python movie, “I’m not dead yet.”

A Dog's Life

My dog is near his end. Most of the time he can’t stand without help. He can’t walk up or down stairs without his human companions supporting him. And he has dementia. Some days he doesn’t seem to know us, doesn't want to eat. But other days he has the joy of life in his eyes. And he often has the joy of smell, his one sense that seems to still be working well. 

Helping to lift him is not helping my old spine and painful arm. But at least there are options for me. Not so much for Schatzie and his multiple problems. We've changed up his meds,  and consulted with the good dog doctors. We talk about quality of life, whether he is in pain. And what to do about him if he manages to live until Christmas and we take our Christmas trip.

The real problem is I hate having the power, or is it the responsibility, of deciding when he’s had enough.

In every previous case with a beloved dog when we made the final decision I knew in retrospect I probably had waited too long. But how to know that when you are making the decision eludes me. I wish I really could channel Schatzie's voice now and know what he is thinking.

An Update

As you may have noticed Dear Readers, if any of you are still out there, I’ve not written much since rotator cuff surgery in September. Seems as my shoulder has improved, my right arm has continued to hurt worse. Eventually I had an MRI of my neck. The good news is twofold. First, the MRI and my symptoms are consistent: extensive spinal arthritis is causing the pain. (Anyone who knows me knows I like to be consistent.) Second, I have way too much arthritis in my spine to think about having surgery.

I know--that sounds a little crazy to count as good news. But such is life as one gets older.

They are referring me to a pain clinic to try to deal with the arm pain.  I think that means they’re going to suggest injections in my spine like I had some years ago before I had a previous spinal surgery. I just don’t want the injection that includes the fungus cocktail. As one gets older the humor gets darker. Or maybe my humor has always been dark.

The bottom line is I can’t type much without making my symptoms worse. I’m working on dictating instead of typing. But a lot of this is posture related to sitting in front of a computer, not just the use of my hands. So we’ll see how well my life as a “dictator” works out.

A Modest Proposal

Another shooting incident. An enraged, delusional or just angry spouse killing his wife and her co-workers and other innocent bystanders. It just happened this past week. But that does not make for an unusual week.

Meanwhile we have male candidates for the United States Senate who state they will outlaw abortion even in the case of rape. Either because pregnancy does not result from rape because of miraculous female powers. Or because the pregnancy is “God’s will.”

 The latest bozo to make this type of proclamation, Murdoch in Indiana, says he has struggled to come to this conclusion about God’s will.  I suppose his thinking process has been a struggle. But I don’t imagine he has struggled as much or in the same way as a woman pregnant from rape has struggled.

I have no problem with Murdoch or Todd Aiken, the Missouri candidate who believes in miraculous sperm-killing vaginas, having their own opinions. Or their religious beliefs of any kind. So long as their beliefs do not impact other folks who do not have the same beliefs. I do have a problem with them trying to impose their non-science-based opinions on the rest of us.

Meanwhile, men have been running the United States for its entire history. And men have overwhelmingly been in control of most governments around the world since men began to write history. I know, that’s why it’s called “his story.”

Think about the facts. Helen of Troy notwithstanding, men start wars. Gun violence in this country overwhelming is propagated by males. Most violent crimes, rape, murder and mayhem, included, are perpetrated by men.

Men are about ten times more likely than women to commit murder. According to Bureau of Justice Statistics homicide trends (1976-2005), the vast majority of murders (felony, 93.2%: sex related,93.6%; drug related, 95.5%; workplace 91.3%; gun homicides, 91.%; multiple victims, 91.5%; multiple offenders, 91.6%) are committed by men. Rapes, violent robberies, assaults and mayhem overwhelmingly are committed by men.

When is the last time you read or heard of a disgruntled 58 year old “loner” female who decides to go on a gun shooting spree? Or a 20 year old schizophrenic woman shooting up a mosque, a movie theater or a market filled with families?

Occasionally a new mother with post-partum depression goes off the deep end and tries to kill herself. Maybe even her child. But she doesn’t try to take out the whole neighborhood. And violent women of any stripe are still an anomaly.  Despite some claims of a phenomenon of increasing numbers of “mean girls,” factual analysis demonstrates crime and violence among girls has plummeted. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/02/opinion/02males.html?_r=1

And also consider this factoid:  men are no longer necessary to the continuation of the human species.  Greg Hampikian, a professor of biology, and, incidentally, also of criminal justice, asks, “...does ‘mankind’ really need men?” His answer to that question is a resounding “no.” However, without women our species would be a goner. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/25/opinion/men-who-needs-them.html As the author points out, women not only are “necessary but sufficient for reproduction, and men are neither.”

So why are men making most of the decisions for the entire human population? Why are they toting the guns, deciding whom to bomb, and when and how to go to war?

Not for any rational reason. Women would be much more judicious in their use of force if statistical and past behavior is any predictor. Women also are more likely to look out for the family, the community, the rest of our species.

Consider a few examples. Women who are given control of family finances put their families, not their self interest first.  For example, in third world countries where families are living in extreme poverty, it’s not uncommon for many of the men to squander the little money they have on alcohol or drugs rather than food and education for their families.

I doubt Nicholas Kristof ever  advocated giving loaded guns to women. Nevertheless, he has written of a number of cases in which a family’s prospects turn around when women, given micro-loans or participate in micro-savings, are suddenly in charge of the family’s finances.

In an example he gives from Pakistan, a woman, whose husband had spent the family savings on narcotics and regularly beat her, started a number of businesses, one of which employed her husband. She then bought a home, and “put some of her children through high school — and a son, the brightest student, through college. She has just paid $5,800 for a permit for him to move to London to take a health sector job.” http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/14/opinion/14kristof.html

In a Kenya slum, where some estimate one third of the men spend what would feed and finance their children’s schooling, instead get drunk every night, a mother forced into prostitution by the husband who took a younger wife, turned her family’s prospects around by starting a sewing business. She then bought her family a small home and kept her two daughters and son in school where they excelled. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/15/opinion/kristof-sewing-her-way-out-of-poverty.html

You may think these are just anecdotes. But science supports that women’s responses to stress are not the same “fight or flight” often attributed to our species. Women’s responses instead appear to be “tend and befriend.”  And that difference is based in female vs. male biology.

http://www.nytimes.com/2000/05/19/us/scientists-find-a-particularly-female-response-to-stress.html

Women are inherently more concerned, both through body function and hormones (oxytocin creates bonding) with the greater good, protection of the family, the community and the species.

As the scientists found:

“…oxytocin, one of a cascade of hormones released in response to stress, appeared to play a central role in females’ response. Studies have linked oxytocin, which is produced during childbirth and nursing, both with maternal behavior and with social affiliation. And animals and people with high oxytocin levels, researchers have found are calmer, more social and less anxious.”

So why should women allow men to continue to call the shots, literally and figuratively? My modest proposal is that all weapons and decisions on dangerous armaments be handed over to the “fairer” sex around the world.

No, I’m not advocating women shoot all the men. Or that all women have guns. Rather my proposal is that women collectively take over control of weaponry. Together they can delegate gun toting and other weapons control and decisions to calm, trained peace officers. All of whom will be female.

The next time a man beats his wife, rapes a woman, or tries to start a war, a woman will be in control of the weapons, whether that means holding the  gun to bring the offender to justice or having their finger on the red button as the peace is negotiated.

I know this sounds a tad like an early “Star Trek” episode. The one where William Shatner is surrounded by beautiful Amazon women who have locked away most of the men and turned them into helpless slaves kept for the she-leader’s amusement and sexual gratification.

Locking away the men is not what I’m proposing.  The men in charge currently have done a good enough job of that to a disproportionate number of their own kind. I’m just suggesting men no longer be in control of weaponry. They have amply demonstrated many of them are not suited to the responsibility.

So next time weapons are to be wielded who do you want doing the wielding, someone with testosterone, the hormone often associated with aggression, coursing though his bloodstream in response to stress? Or a woman who is more likely to have oxytocin predominating in response to stress?

By the way, we may need biometric controls on the weaponry so that only females or persons with a preponderance of oxytocin are able fire that weapon.

NOTE: The author would not choose a world without men. She has many wonderful men in her life, including a loving husband of so many years she has lost count, two beautiful, strong and intelligent grown sons, a handsome and talented grandson (not to mention a beautiful and smart granddaughter) and also an amazing brother whom she is proud to call a best friend. I haven’t asked them, but I suspect they all would be happy to turn over any gun-toting obligations to responsible women.