TerryWalstrom

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Posts by TerryWalstrom

• 
  20

  Another Hollywood Memory

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  another hollywood memory____________________“thanks for the pink chablis, marta.

  who’s that singing?

  sounds familiar.”.

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  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  Pete Zahut--you found more than I found!
  I can't really identify Marta from the fuzzy photo above and my familiarity with her work is pretty much confined to very few things hanging on her wall that evening in 1981.
  
  I have uncovered no details about her death--I'd love to get a link from you.
  Thank you!
• 
  20

  Another Hollywood Memory

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  another hollywood memory____________________“thanks for the pink chablis, marta.

  who’s that singing?

  sounds familiar.”.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  ANOTHER HOLLYWOOD MEMORY
  ____________________
  
  “Thanks for the pink Chablis, Marta. Who’s that singing? Sounds familiar.”

  
  “Michael Franks. Have you ever heard Antonio’s Song?”
  
  We’re both standing in the living room area of her apartment. The light from a dozen candles is dancing with shadows and a faint scent of cinnamon tickles my senses.

  
  “Wait--the background arrangement--I recognize the style, the contour and colors. I’d bet anything it’s Claus Ogermann.”

  
  

  Marta gives me “a look” and fetches the album cover from atop her turntable lid. Her eyes move side to side and a slow smile lifts the corners of her mouth.
  
  “You always manage to impress me, Terry. How do you know these things?”
  
  I sip the Chablis and become aware of a certain something in the timbre of her remarks.

  The tone of voice is rather warm. Maybe that warmth is simply the wine?
  
  “I’m too modest and unassuming to answer such an indelicate question.”
  I feign a modest turn of the head and lower my eyelids with a flutter.
  
  Marta Boutel laughs vigorously. She snorts Chablis from her nostrils.
  Now I’m laughing, too.
  
  Uh-oh--we’re having a…”moment.”
  I don’t want to have a moment with Marta Boutel--she’s my frickin’ co-worker. She’s the manager of the Art Gallery where I work as an Art Sales Consultant.
  
  

  “Actually, I’m an autodidact. That’s a----”

  “-- a person who self-teaches--I know, Terry, I’m a genius too…”
  (Only slightly peevish. )
  
  “Well, nobody should ever sell you short--that’s obvious. Is this artwork yours--I mean BY you, as we say in the swamp.”
  
  

  Marta frowns speculatively for a millisecond and then grins with discovery.
  
  “I find you to be charming and always entertaining, Terry.”
  
  Her eyes have caught the candlelight just right. But--I don’t want the candles bouncing off her dark eyes--she’s my frickin’ coworker and...well--I explained that already. Were you paying attention?
  
  Marta is a sophisticated person. She’s cultured in a way which never suggests elitism nor a show for effect. Bright? Yep. Her mind shoots sparks. I don’t ever have to dumb it down--I should remember that.
  Marta Boutel invited me up to her apartment to riposte in a high voltage bit of repartee. We’re both starved for it. “It” meaning banter, you’re getting way ahead of this story, aren’t you?
  
  Now Ms. Boutel is poised next to a large shadow box frame made of acrylic-- inside, a remarkable pencil drawing in Prismacolor is suspended and mounted on a textured linen matte. The quality of whimsy and imagination is striking! There is something penciled in around the yellow birds turned this way and that in the composition, “Canary? Canary? Where’s My Canary?”
  
  She’s quite proud of it. I’m grateful I don’t have to pretend to admire her exquisite touch. I am truly impressed and I tell her so.
  
  “Wow. Like you, Marta--this is completely original and impossible to ignore. Where’d the idea originate?”
  
  The color in her cheeks is, as George Costanza would say, becoming a pinkish hue--identical to the shade of Chablis I just drained from the crystal wine glass.
  
  Her gaze is intense as she locks eyes. She soaked up my sincere compliment thirstily.
  
  “Allow me to refresh your adult beverage, Terry. Oh, wait! I have something even better on the palette! Hold on just a minute while I find it.
  
  My first thought is, “Oh shit”.
  I hope it isn’t typical Hollywood hospitality. I don’t do Pot or sniff anything white and powdery and I despise having to make excuses politely and beg off without offending my hostess…
  
  Thankfully, Marta reappeared with a decanter of Courvoisier cognac.
  “Can you grab two snifters from that top shelf above the sink. You're so tall and won’t need the step stool.”
  I complied, enjoying the relief and anticipating the cognac. I do like cognac.
  
  “Just how tall are you, Terry?”
  “Standing or lying down?” It’s my typical nonsensical answer to such questions--but--I instantly regret it. I shouldn’t have said, “...lying down…” because it could be misconstrued as suggestive of intimacy.
  
  “I’m going to guess about six-four--am I right?”
  
  “Yes, you are accurate. You display as much perspicacity as the Sundance Kid.”
  Her smile crinkles and she shakes her head as if to rid herself of every last vestige of restraint.
  “Come over here. I want to show you something.”
  (Uh-oh)
  “My Mom told me to run when strangers say that to me.”
  She ignores this and enters a doorway which my squint informs me is a--GASP!--bedroom!
  Gulp!
  Every square inch of her apartment is superbly decorated with incredible taste; all the rich colors, antiques, figurines, a Bruno Bruni copper figure of Teresa. Breathtaking it is.
  She saunters breezily across the hardwood groove and peg flooring and gestures toward another piece of artwork.
  I quickly scan my surroundings surreptitiously for a hasty exit, if necessary. An open window isn’t quite manageable--we’re on the third floor. It’s Los Angeles and the evenings are chilly even in summertime. I can hear an ambulance or fire truck way off in the distance--possibly an omen of things to come?
  
  Marta is feeding me details about the artwork and her words are bouncing off my brain like machine gun bullets off Superman’s chest. The cognac went straight to my head! I should have had supper hours ago. I can see her studying me the way a moose hunter peers through binoculars from a blind. Now she’s admiring my antlers…
  
  “What made you decide to run an Art gallery instead of promoting your obviously remarkable work and promoting yourself, Marta?”
  
  She is sniffing the inside of the snifter with enthusiastic abandon and when she gazes up a multicolored array of twinkles are swimming in her black pupils. I twist my head to look behind and catch sight of the light source--a three-dimensional chessboard arrayed in colored Xmas style lights is winking on the opposite wall. Funny I hadn't noticed immediately.
  
  A slight shrug of her shoulder laced with a feint of melancholy preceded her words.
  “Oh, I’ve tried all the major studios. My heart’s desire is to be a set decorator. My dream job! As it is with all things Hollywood--you have to KNOW somebody to get a foothold. I came up empty-handed.”
  
  A sudden inner gust of inspiration swept up through my center core and I blurted,
  “No, but I do.”
  
  For the next fifteen minutes, we sat across from each other at her glass top dining table in the kitchen as I unfolded an improvised plan for her dream job to become a possible reality.
  
  “Marta, I’m good friends with two set decorators at MGM Studios. Mel Johnson and Joseph Kroesser. I can ask them to help spirit you into a Producer’s office and you can show what you’ve got to offer.”
  
  “You mean, my tits?”
  “Huh?”
  
  She burst out laughing.
  “The casting couch! Don’t you get it? Oh sorry--you're being serious now--I shouldn’t have said that.”
  I grapple with my embarrassment for a moment and continued.
  “Do you have a portfolio to showcase your--”
  “Terry--of course I have a portfolio, silly man! I’ve been in every studio schlepping for the last six months but I couldn’t get past the front desk. If you think your friends might help me...well..that would be amazing.” She stopped suddenly.
  “I’m a little drunk--we need to eat something.”
  And we did.
  Off we teetered straight into an Italian restaurant, Anna’s, my favorite--across from actor Victor Mature’s TV Repair shop on Ventura Blvd.
  
  All my insane worries vanished. We had a delightful evening. She was filled with the bright spirit of hope which can die so quickly in L.A.
  A month later, Marta was gone from Billy Hork Galleries in Westwood, hired as an artist at MGM. I lost track of her completely.
  
  So, why am I tell you this awkward remembrance this evening?
  I’ll splain.
  I was searching out her name on Google trying in vain to find her among credits for some movie or television show so I could feel good about myself this evening all alone in the kitchen with all my roommates gone.
  I was about to give up when I found her. Or should I say found her obituary?
  She died as we all must eventually. At that moment I was reminded--”Terry, you are a 70-year-old man--how old do you think she’d have to be--and how long do you expect your old friends to live?”
  So, to memorialize Marta Boutel the only way I know how--I thought I would recall this silly story and it will have to be her epitaph.
  She liked me. I liked her. She was incredibly bright and talented and she did achieve her dream job in Hollywood.
  I guess I should console myself I played a small part.
  I don’t have any cognac to sniff but I can play Michael Frank’s song Antonio so we

  who remain alive can savor something from a long, long time ago in a lifetime far away…
  __________
  Antonio lives life's Frevo

  Antonio prays for truth

  Antonio says our friendship

  Is a hundred-proof

  The vulture that circles Rio

  Hangs in this L. A. Sky

  The blankets they give the Indians

  Only make them die
  
  

  But sing the Song

  Forgotten for so long

  And let the Music flow

  Like Light into the Rainbow

  We know the Dance, we have

  We still have the chance

  To break these chains and flow

  Like Light into the Rainbow
  
  

  Antonio loves the desert

  Antonio prays for rain

  Antonio knows that Pleasure

  Is the child of Pain

  And lost in La Califusa

  When most of my hope was gone

  Antonio's samba led me

  To the Amazon
  
  

  We sing the Song

  Forgotten for so long

  And let the music flow

  Like Light into the Rainbow

  We know the Dance, we have

  We still have the chance

  To break these chains and flow

  Like Light into the Rainbow.
  ___________
  
  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Mo6heu6I8s
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  2

  You're Fired (Words I used to hear a lot)

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  as a jehovah's witness, i was fairly polite, considerate, and well-mannered.after 2 years in federal prison, when i got paroled, something was changing inside of me i did not quite understand.

  today, i realize i was an extremely angry person, but i had swallowed my anger.

  little by little, working at go-nowhere jobs, my anger and resentment were emerging.i thought i'd share two such stories._______________.

  1. 
  2. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  Thanks. I'm not proud of all this, mind you.
  I did have "issues" to work through dealing with Authority. The kind of Authority which forces people to waste their time and which gave no consideration to efficiency.
  
  I've often marveled at the sort of person who gets promoted without any talent.
  The easiest answer is that they do exactly as they're told without question--and in turn--expect the same of those who work under them.
  
  My idea of an excellent Manager is simple. A Manager gets obstacles out of the way so a job can be performed as close to effortlessly as feasible.
  Unfortunately, authoritarian personalities end up ruling over things and flexing self-importance.
  
  Kids, don't try my way. Find a nice middle ground. You'll last longer.
• 
  2

  You're Fired (Words I used to hear a lot)

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  as a jehovah's witness, i was fairly polite, considerate, and well-mannered.after 2 years in federal prison, when i got paroled, something was changing inside of me i did not quite understand.

  today, i realize i was an extremely angry person, but i had swallowed my anger.

  little by little, working at go-nowhere jobs, my anger and resentment were emerging.i thought i'd share two such stories._______________.

  1. 
  2. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  As a Jehovah's Witness, I was fairly polite, considerate, and well-mannered.
  After 2 years in Federal Prison, when I got paroled, something was changing inside of me I did not quite understand. Today, I realize I was an extremely ANGRY person, but I had swallowed my anger. Little by little, working at go-nowhere jobs, my anger and resentment were emerging.
  I thought I'd share two such stories.
  _______________
  

  YOU'RE FIRED!! A true story.
  ________________

  I was in MacDonalds this morning listening to a young shift worker as he was being questioned by a Supervisor who ended up terminating his employment.
  A flood of memories avalanched upon me!
  I'll share this one with you now...
  _____
  I was hired by Montgomery Ward Data Processing back in 1969-70, right after being released from Federal Prison. I was mentally unwilling to take anymore bullshit in my life. I had had two years worth already.

  I was earning $2.38 an hour! (I know you're impressed.)
  Everybody liked me. Hell, they loved me. I was a lot of fun and made everyone laugh. Lots of Nerd-types worked there and I managed to help them find their sense of humor.

  One of my duties was to pack up reports for the shuttle truck which went out at 2 PM once each Wednesday.
  I'd wrap the print-out in brown paper and use a Marks-a-lot to print the name of the Admin person on the other end.

  Her name was BIRDIE BARKER.
  As a wee joke, I drew a cartoon bird with a thought balloon above which said, "Woof Woof!"
  ____
  Pretty innocent, huh?
  No. No no no. Not at all! As you'll soon see, this was going to be interpreted by a Vice President in charge of self-importance, as a firing offense!
  ____

  It was about 4 pm when my phone rang in the processing center where I performed my duties.

  "Hello, Terry Walstrom, Burster and Decollator. How may I assist you?"
  A cold, clinical, deep voice came through.

  "Are you some kind of Smart Ass?" The voice could have been anybody.

  "Why yes--now that you ask. I would have to reply affirmatively to your query. I've been told repeatedly how intelligent my ass is. Thanks for asking." And I hung up.
  ____
  Count to five (1 Mississippi, 2Mississippi...)
  RINGGGGGG.
  "Good Afternoon, Mule barn--mule speaking."

  "Are you the idiot who just hung up on me?"

  "Why, No. Of course not."

  "Well, who hung up on me?"

  "That was me--but--I must correct your misperception. I'm not an idiot. According to Psychology studies, an "idiot" has an Intelligence Quotient of 0-25. Mine is, thankfully, above that."

  "Listen up--listen to me--do you know who you're talking to? Do you have any idea who you hung up on? I'm the Vice-President of-----"

  "Excuse me just a minute Mr. Vice President--I have a call coming in on the other line. Hold on--or, better still--I'll return your call when I'm through doing my job." CLICK!
  _____

  (1 Mississippi, 2Mississippi...)
  RINGGGGGG.
  "Hello, Embalming Clinic, our customers are dying to come here. How may I help you"

  "(Much swearing, vile name-calling, screaming...)"

  "I'm sorry, I can't make out what you're saying. Try calling back later; we've obviously got a bad connection." CLICK!

  (1 Mississippi, 2Mississippi...)
  RINGGGGGG.

  "Hi there! I'm not in at the moment. Please leave a message at the sound of the fart...(raspberry sound)..."

  Before I could hang up----a loud, pleading voice rattled the phone.

  "STOP IT! STOP THIS and TALK TO ME Godammit!"

  "Why hello, is this the Vice-President in charge of --? Say, who are you anyway and why do you keep interrupting my work?"

  "Aren't you hired to send reports to our catalog store? And did you draw a picture of a bird with the words "Woof Woof" on that report?"

  "Guilty as charged, Your Honor."

  "Have you got nothing better to do than waste the company's time and money on utter nonsense?"

  "I'm glad you asked that question, Sir. Follow along with me as we reason together...First, I make $2.38 an hour. Second, that figures to be .04 cents a minute. Third, it takes me half a minute to draw the bird and write 'Woof Woof!' which breaks down to .02 cents of wasted time. Finally, at 52 weeks per year--you are correct--I have nothing better to do than waste ONE DOLLAR and FOUR PENNIES a YEAR making Birdie Barker smile! I imagine you make a bit more than two-thirty eight an hour--WHAT'S YOUR excuse?"
  ______

  Can you believe this guy actually fired me for all that?

  True Story.
  ______
  

  Here's another "YOU'RE FIRED" saga from my sordid past.
  _____

  For about a year, I was Custom Framing Manager in a Crafts and Hobbies store similar to Hobby Lobby or Michael's called ZAK'S.
  The owner was Don Mechanic. He was a jerk.

  I was hired to manage one of the brand new stores in a killer location close to Six Flags Over Texas theme park.

  Hobby stores are highly competitive. In fact, a war broke out between ALL these stores and 50% OFF on Custom Framing was catnip, for hordes of customers.

  ZAK'S stores developed procedures managers were required to follow. In my opinion, incredibly inefficient.
  The system worked as long as there was no stress (i.e. coupon sales) placed on this system. With great demand, everything broke down to a standstill.

  When first hired, in order to 'get my feet wet' I was placed in ZAK'S busiest Dallas store in the middle of a 50% coupon sale!

  Everything that could go wrong DID.
  Customers were kept waiting and promised due dates which could not be met.
  I mentally noted the bottlenecks and wrong-headed procedures.

  ______
  A sales contest was proposed by the District Manager, Richard Gomez, a knucklehead. Richard was brimming over with a strong sense of authority but lacked know-how, imagination, and resourcefulness.
  Other than that, he was okay. (i.e. insufferable.)

  Richard announced, "There's a $50 bonus for the first employee in our stores who can sell our most expensive frame to a customer."
  He was referencing a god awful gold monstrosity manufactured in Guadalajara for brain-dead Elvis-on-black-velvet sorts of customers with perhaps more money than brains or taste.

  "You may as well reach into your billfold and hand over that $50 right now, Richard because I'll sell one of those butt-ugly bad boys before the day is over."

  I only said that to irk the man. I confess.
  You see, he was way too over-confident as a person. He thought too much of himself. I wanted to give him a dose of his own laxative.

  "Nobody has ever sold one of those frames. What makes you so sure you can do it?"

  "I'm persuasive."

  "So what?"

  "So, if you are confident I can't and won't sell one today--make it $100 bonus. Put your money where your mouth is."

  "It's not MY money--it's company money--don't be ridiculous."

  "I won't if you won't."

  He did a slow burn. Instead of saying anything, he turned on his heel and walked off.

  Later that afternoon, a customer walked up to the counter with one of the ugliest oil paintings I had ever seen in my life.

  "I'd like to get this framed."

  "Why?"

  "Huh?"

  "Why would you want a custom frame for something so unremarkable?"

  The man gave me a truly puzzled reaction and then broke out laughing.

  "My wife's mother painted it. I thought I'd get on the good side of that women. A woman without a good side, I might add. So, I complimented her and praised this crime against humanity.

  I thought my wife would appreciate it, too. Let me tell you something--no good deed ever goes unpunished in my house! My mother-in-law decided to GIFT us with this pile of shit.

  My wife hated the painting as much as I did. So, next time her mother came over, the Old Bag sniffs indignant-like and put her hands on her hips and announced out loud: "I guess you were just lyin' yer ass off about lovin' my painting since you didn't bother yer sorry ass to put a frame on it."

  I laughed. This guy was funny!

  "My wife assured her I was going to frame it very soon. So, I went to the flea market to pick up a cheap-ass Mexican frame but this thing isn't a standard size. So, here I am."

  A light bulb went off over my head. This poor man was the answer to my prayers.

  "I have just the sort of frame which is certain not only to please your mother-in-law but convince her you respect her work as a brilliant artist. Once she sees the frame I'm about to show you, you'll endear yourself to the Old Bat. She'll never say it is CHEAP!"

  By the time the man left, I had become the 1st employee of ZAK'S to sell the most expensive frame!

  I wasted no time searching for Richard before he left our store.
  I walked up to him and placed my hand out palm up.

  "You can lay that $50 bucks right here. I just sold that frame. The customer paid up front and the money is in the register."

  What happened next is typical of a man of this sort. He backed out of the deal claiming he was kidding. He was snide and prickly and totally chickenshit about it.

  What could I do? I had to let him slide.
  _______
  Fast forward...
  _______
  About six months later...
  When my new store was being laid out--I took charge of carpenters and finishers and changed up the officially approved plans for the layout.
  I was General Patton preparing for the Battle of the Bulge.

  Long story short--my custom framing department quickly proved itself to be the #1 department for efficiency, sales, and customer satisfaction!

  Richard was sent over to check out why ONLY my store wasn't in trouble. Immediately he saw I had changed everything--the layout and all his procedures!
  He was purple with rage.

  "Why did you take it upon yourself to make all these changes?:
  I shrugged and told him the truth.
  "I figured you had come up with the procedures based on your best judgment and I immediately realized what an awful idea it would be not to change it. Simple. My system works and yours doesn't."
  "You're fired."
  
  "Hey--where're my $50 bucks?"
• 
  18

  Calling Out Jehovah's Witness Leaders for a violation of NEUTRALITY

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. watchtower
  2. beliefs

  _______________by the time 1967 arrived, my religious leaders in the kingdom hall had taken me aside and given me the straight dope.the vietnam war and the draft created existential problems for young jehovah's witness males.

  the governing body was unusually silent (in public) about issues of this nature except to pontificate in print in the most general terms.

  jw's didn't fight in wars because we were neutral.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  I need to point out something, too. NOBODY in my Kingdom Hall ever sent me a postcard or letter with a word of encouragement!
  Nobody in my congregation ever requested to be added to my visitation list.
  Now that I look back on it--I cringe at what is demonstrated by such inaction and unconcern.
  Oh, and one more thing--when I received parole and returned to my congregation for the first time, it was like nothing of any consequence had happened to me at all as far as the level of greeting I received. For one thing, nobody asked me how it was in there or how the brothers still inside were doing.
  I was deeply hurt by this. I still am.
  The closest anyone came to demonstrating any interest was a JW I worked with in a mobile home building factory--he asked me, "Well, how was college?" In other words, he saw it as a golden opportunity for me to study the Society's publications for a couple of years.
  That one actually pissed me off.
  "I was in prison and you came to visit me ... I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:36, 40
  
• 
  18

  Calling Out Jehovah's Witness Leaders for a violation of NEUTRALITY

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. watchtower
  2. beliefs

  _______________by the time 1967 arrived, my religious leaders in the kingdom hall had taken me aside and given me the straight dope.the vietnam war and the draft created existential problems for young jehovah's witness males.

  the governing body was unusually silent (in public) about issues of this nature except to pontificate in print in the most general terms.

  jw's didn't fight in wars because we were neutral.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  Yes. There is a double standard to JW advice and duplicity is their calling card.
  We are required to swallow our betrayal and show submission when these revelations emerge.
  It is the taste of betrayal which never really goes away and the idea that they'll never admit anything is wrong with it makes it doubly difficult to bear.
• 
  17

  Everything is Up for Grabs! So, who gets to decide?

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  everything really is up for grabs.. our sense of "absolutes" is always under fire.

  we are taught to invest all of our belief in the very idea of something being true and absolute and constant.but--is that illusory?.

  examine how this works: jesus was tortured and murdered by hanging him on a cross.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  http://politics.blog.ajc.com/2017/08/15/abrams-calls-for-removal-of-confederate-faces-off-stone-mountain/
  https://www.economist.com/news/middle-east-and-africa/21645749-jihadists-are-attacking-more-regions-people-destroying-historys

  Democratic gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams called for the removal of the giant carving that depicts three Confederate war leaders on the face of state-owned Stone Mountain, saying it “remains a blight on our state and should be removed.”

  “We must never celebrate those who defended slavery and tried to destroy the union,” Abrams said in a series of tweets posted early Tuesday, a response to the deadly violence sparked by white supremacist groups in Charlottesville, Va.

  Removing the faces of Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson would take a monster of a sandblaster and require a change in state law. The Georgia code has a clear mandate for the memorial, saying it should be “preserved and protected for all time as a tribute to the bravery and heroism of the citizens of this state who suffered and died in their cause.”

  
  
• 
  17

  Everything is Up for Grabs! So, who gets to decide?

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  everything really is up for grabs.. our sense of "absolutes" is always under fire.

  we are taught to invest all of our belief in the very idea of something being true and absolute and constant.but--is that illusory?.

  examine how this works: jesus was tortured and murdered by hanging him on a cross.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  What happens today is real. What happened before today was real. Choices are made and alternatives were chosen. Each of us weighs choices and decisions based on alternatives. So what? So, erasing the history of alternatives destroys the LESSONS to be learned by bad choices made by others.
  
  

  What we don't know doesn't hurt us.

  We see an ad on TV for abandoned pets, starving children, and hungry homeless folk as we open our electric bill. Whose NEED shall we serve?

  We don't change the world by our FEELINGS--only our ACTIONS.
  We slumber in a bed of nightmares.

  So, back to sleep?

  This sad old world is a vast pond on which we float like a random leaf.
  One tiny pebble tossed at the far shore makes its wave into our space and as we bob up and down--oh woe!
  Oh, Woe!
  What shall we do? What shall we "don't"?
  Here are two roads:
  ACT or go back to bed.
  The rest is only the shriek of nightmares.
• 
  17

  Everything is Up for Grabs! So, who gets to decide?

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  everything really is up for grabs.. our sense of "absolutes" is always under fire.

  we are taught to invest all of our belief in the very idea of something being true and absolute and constant.but--is that illusory?.

  examine how this works: jesus was tortured and murdered by hanging him on a cross.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  The statue had a clear dedication: The pillar is engraved, "In memory of the boys who wore gray."
  
  Not to slavery. Not to war itself. To the boys in uniform.
• 
  17

  Everything is Up for Grabs! So, who gets to decide?

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  everything really is up for grabs.. our sense of "absolutes" is always under fire.

  we are taught to invest all of our belief in the very idea of something being true and absolute and constant.but--is that illusory?.

  examine how this works: jesus was tortured and murdered by hanging him on a cross.

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  TerryWalstrom

  redvip2000
  if you live in Italy, and you want to have a statue of Mussolini in your living room, well then....great go ahead. Everybody should respect that.

  But what if you want to put it in the local square? Should the rest of your village be fine with it because you think he was a great man? Moreover, should everybody pay taxes to maintain it? I doubt anyone reasonable would agree.
  _________
  
  In Texas, we have a "shrine" called the Alamo.
  Do Mexicans think of it the same way non-Hispanic Texans do?
  Whose ox was gored by whom?
  

  The Confederate statues being destroyed constitute vandalism under the guise of something else political. Either we are lawful people are we are that "other" kind: anarchist.
  
  I don't think many citizens of Iraq complained when Saddam's statue was toppled spontaneously.
  Saddam and Mussolini were two of a kind.
  Confederate Generals were surely not in the same category, were they?
  _____
  

  Protesters pulled the rope and erupted in cheers as the statue toppled onto the ground. Several people ran up to the mangled statue, kicking it and spitting on it.

  The statue, dedicated in 1924, depicts a soldier holding a gun on top of a concrete pillar. The pillar is engraved, "In memory of the boys who wore gray."