Mac Tonnies 3 of 3 Evolutionary catalsysts

Mac Tonnies - 'Alien Hypotheses' Coast to Coast AM Interview (Part 3 of 3) Evolutionary catalysts?

Author, blogger and Fortean researcher Mac Tonnies argued that the ET hypothesis (that aliens are visiting our world from other star systems) is somewhat of an outmoded concept, and the truth may be stranger than we can imagine, involving a myriad of overlapping explanations. The notion of parallel worlds has gained credence in the scientific world, and the aliens could represent a kind of symbiosis with beings from another dimension, he noted. The so-called ETs could be a species of intelligent non-humans, or "Cryptoterrestrials" who covertly share our planet with us. Because aliens are typically described as a bipedal and human-like species, it suggests to him they have developed here on Earth.




Yet, the prototypical alien-- the spindly, big headed 'grey,' has the physique to be an ideal astronaut with few physical requirements-- perhaps they were designed for space travel, Tonnies commented. Cultural associations also influence how the aliens are perceived. In Zimbabwe for instance, entities wearing silvery suits associated with metallic craft have been described as the "ghosts of ancestors," he detailed. Regarding the alien's reported hybridization program, we could be dealing with something beyond the understanding of our neurological hard-wiring, he said.



Tonnies sees humans themselves in a kind of transitional state, eventually merging with technology and becoming more evolved and compassionate. He also talked about how some of the artifacts on Mars, such as at Cydonia, are a genuine scientific mystery. While not yet definitive proof of ET presence, they merit serious study, he said

The Song of the Soul Shammai

http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-15a.html#








The Song of the Soul

Chapter 1, Mishna 15(a)



By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"Shammai said: Make your Torah study fixed, say little and do much, and receive everyone with a cheerful countenance."



This mishna was authored by Shammai, the colleague of Hillel, author of the previous three mishnas (see earlier, Mishna 12). As we will see G-d willing in two weeks, Shammai is presented in the Talmud as a very different personality type from his colleague Hillel (Shabbos 31a), and many disputes arose between the students of these two great sages (see Talmud Sotah 47b). Even so, the Talmud attests that there was nothing but affection and camaraderie between the two camps (Yevamos 14b). In spite of their many differences, both in content and style, both camps realized the other was simply attempting to understand G-d's will to the best of its ability, and both teachers and students had nothing but respect and admiration for one another.



Shammai's first words of advice are that we make our Torah study "fixed". There are two closely-related explanations to this found in the commentators. Rashi (in one interpretation) explains that we must set aside fixed times daily for Torah study. Our study should not be when we "get around to it." We will learn later: "Do not say when I have free time I will learn, lest you not become free" (2:5).



In addition, our study should ideally not be at different times every day, whenever we can work it into our schedules. It should be "fixed", the given around which all other activities and obligations revolve. Regardless of how busy and sought-after you are the rest of your day, make at least some time every day fixed and interruption-free. Turn off your cell-phone, don't check your e-mail, and don't let the kids bother you. Chances are, you'll come to enjoy and look forward to your spiritual refuge from your otherwise hectic day. In reality, there are very few things in life which really cannot wait. (And, of course, for a *true* emergency everything else -- including Torah study -- does get pushed aside. Even so, the Talmud recommends that when this does occur, one make up the time later (see Eiruvin 65a).)



Lastly, the ideal time to set aside should be first thing in the morning, immediately after morning prayers (or breakfast) and before one gets caught up, mentally and emotionally, in his daily affairs (see Mishna Berura, 155:2).



Other commentators (Maimonides, Rabbeinu Yonah) understand "fixed" in a more conceptual sense. One should view his Torah study as the mainstay of his day, his most steady and permanent activity. All other obligations -- including earning a livelihood -- should be "happenstance" by comparison. They are performed only when necessary.



The Talmud tells us that the scholar Hillel used to work enough to earn a half-coin daily. Half of this he would use to support his family and the remaining half he would pay as entrance fee to the study hall (Yoma 35b). A single half-coin was all that was required for a man with Hillel's degree of faith. His family lived humbly, on rationed quantities, but they survived. (I imagine if a kid wanted an iPod or a pair of roller blades for his birthday, Hillel would have to chop a few extra logs. Or more likely they did without -- yet another lesson our generation would be wise to learn.) Regardless, Hillel's workday was not ongoing. He did not work -- nor earn -- as much as he could. He did the minimum required -- and he knew just how much that was. His work was limited and finite. His Torah study, however -- in more ways than one -- was infinite.



(Of course, measured labor would not get us as far nowadays with our home mortgages, utilities, school tuition, auto insurance, etc. Life is just not as simple as it once was. However, 9-5 does not have to mean every waking moment. Our Torah study can be fixed in its primacy if not its quantity.)



There is an important practical side to this. On the one hand we must study in order to know how to fulfill. (For this reason it is recommended that a person of limited time and/or ability concentrate on the study of the basic and the most critical: practical Jewish law (Mishna Berura 155:9)). We likewise begin our day with Torah study in order to dedicate our first efforts to G-d, putting all our remaining activities in their proper perspective. Torah study on this level may be viewed as a means -- a way of spiritually preparing ourselves for the daily tasks ahead.



It is important to recognize, however, that there is an entirely higher aspect to our obligation to study Torah, which we might call the inspirational. In the beginning of the Book of Joshua, when G-d instructs Joshua to enter and conquer the Land of Israel, He warns him before all to be diligent in Torah study: "You shall delve into it day and night" (1:8). This was not just a practical commandment -- to set aside a fixed period every morning, to learn in order to know how to do. This was a command to "delve" into the Torah -- to study, to examine, and to plumb its depths, and to do so day and night, without respite or concern for the hour.



Thus, on one level the Torah can be viewed simply as a how-to guide, as a practical means for living properly and rewardingly in this world. But in truth it is so much more. It is equally a means of leaving this world, of transcending the mundane in order to achieve an understanding of and a closeness to G-d. The Torah is G-d's wisdom. It is a work of the eternal and infinite, through which one is able to fathom G-d's knowledge and G-d Himself. We study when we are inspired to truly understand and connect to our G-d. And there is no "schedule" for inspiration. Torah study of this sort is not a "fixed" obligation. It is an ongoing challenge. Day, night, hot, cold, comfort, want, poverty: Nothing truly matters to the one who is searching -- who is searching for G-d. For he breaks free of the shackles of the finite -- the world of day and night -- in his endless quest for the truth. (Based in part on a lecture heard from R. Yitzchak Berkovits of Jerusalem.)



(This is reminiscent of the popular (if recent) custom to stay up all night studying Torah the eve of the holiday of Shavous (Pentecost), which commemorates our receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. At times we go beyond all sense of normality and rationality in our search for the truth. The overwhelming excitement of receiving G-d's Torah inspires us to truly seek G-d, forgetting ourselves and everything around us in the process. At least one day a year we reawaken ourselves to this ideal.)



Thus, "inspirational" study is far loftier than the routine, daily study in which all of us are obligated. It is the stuff of which greatness is formed. It's interesting to note that yeshivas (rabbinical colleges) even today reflect to some degree this ideal. Torah there is generally not studied in the organized, curriculum-based fashion we are familiar with from other institutions of higher learning. Students are generally not given set study plans, nor are they graded based on an orderly series of examinations. They are given the freedom to apply their own ingenuity and creativity to the Talmud. They seek to understand G-d's word for themselves -- not to memorize information handed to them in order to pass a test or receive a diploma. (Needless to say, for actual rabbinic ordination -- authorizing a student to decide matters of Jewish law -- the student must in fact pass specific exams demonstrating his mastery of the material.) The students are given the tools to achieve their own unique understanding of the Torah -- and their own personal connection with G-d.



And in the process they become energized, infused with a vitality not found in students of any other discipline. Those of us who have experienced or observed Torah study in a yeshiva know that it involves loud, energetic debates, in which students are consumed with a passion for knowledge and the word of G-d.



(Years back when I was at my parents during an intercession from Ner Israel Rabbinical College, Baltimore, MD, I was studying with a neighbor and co-student. While studying a certain section of the Talmud, we became involved in a heated debate which I imagine lasted a good couple of minutes. (I couldn't possibly tell you today for how long or what it was about 25 years later -- we had such little flare-ups all the time, my dear friend and I.) After my friend left, my mother, who had heard the raised voices and loud back-and-forth, became very concerned. She kind of assumed I had just lost a close friend: "Did you get into an argument? Did your friend leave mad?"))



One other fascinating thought we'll touch upon briefly. When people are inspired, something happens to them: they sing. When you touch deep enough inside your soul, it sings out. It cries out its exhilaration in being able to sense and express itself, something it cannot often do beneath so many layers of flesh and earthiness. R. Noach Weinberg of Yeshiva Aish HaTorah has observed that when people study Torah, they often find themselves breaking out in spontaneous song -- something which has never happened to me reading a geometry book.



Further, each person has his own unique song. Every soul wants to express its own innermost praise and emotions, to one time in its existence sing its song. The entire nation of Israel burst out in spontaneous song and harmony at the Red Sea, and we will all do so again when the final redemption arrives. When that day comes, our souls will instinctively know their tune; all mankind will sing in unison -- in a harmony the likes of which has never before been heard on earth. At that time each of our songs will emerge -- and will unite into the final Song of Man. But until then, we achieve the faintest glimmer of this inspiration, this song of our souls, when we touch ourselves with the study of Torah.



Finally we conclude with our mishna -- which at last comes along to take the wind out of our ever-expanding sails. Regardless of the inspiration Torah study evokes -- and you can be certain Shammai knew of it far better than we -- Shammai reminds us of the "lower" obligation of Torah study. Torah study must be a "fixed" and daily obligation -- regardless of the inspiration we are or are not feeling at any given moment. We cannot only live for -- and wait for -- inspiration. Torah study is not only for our own exhilaration. It is also our obligation towards the Almighty. And only through both means will our souls truly be able to sing their song of both ecstasy and fulfillment.
____________________________________________________________
High Stakes Life



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Chapter 2, Mishna 5(c)



"Hillel said, do not separate from the community, do not trust yourself till the day you die, do not judge your fellow until you reach his place, do not make a statement which cannot be understood which will [only] later be understood, and do not say when I have free time I will learn, lest you not have free time."



Last week we discussed Hillel's second principle -- that we not trust ourselves till the day we die. As we explained, one should never feel so smug and holy in his accomplishments that he will never again slip. Not only will old challenges always return to haunt him, but he will have to grapple with the Talmud's principle that the greater a person is, the stronger his "evil inclination" becomes (Sukkah 52a).



Last week we spent some time discussing and illustrating this concept. The greater a person is, the more strongly he will feel about his beliefs. And the more a person is convinced he is right, the more fanatically he will pursue his course of action. Such people can accomplish far more than the rest of us. They are believers, they are committed, and they are prepared to make sacrifices for what they hold sacred. If, however, their beliefs become ever so slightly corrupted, they become capable of the most awesome and terrible evil. When a man convinces himself he is acting in the name of G-d, anything goes. He can justify the most wicked and irreligious behavior because he is certain of his own sincerity and that this is just what G-d wants.



It's been said that the greatest crimes against humanity have been committed in the name of religion. Now there are certainly many who hide manifest wickedness behind the banner of religion, but many of us do precisely the same in a far more subtle manner. Say I dislike someone. For most of us it would probably just simmer in our hearts and end with that. If, however, I convince myself that *G-d* does not like him -- that he is not pious enough and he has all sorts of religious faults and heretical beliefs, then it's a mitzvah (good deed) to hate him -- and he's fair game. The higher our own religious standards, the easier (and more tempting) it will be to find fault with others not so righteous. The more religious and sure of ourselves we are, the more we will justify -- and will be forced to justify -- our behavior and convince ourselves of our sincerity. Trouble really begins when people know they are right.



Last week we illustrated this principle with the fact that according to our tradition, some of the exceptions to the rule that "All Israel has a share in the World to Come" (Mishna Sanhedrin 10:1) were the greatest Torah scholars of all time -- men such as King Jeroboam, Achitofel (a co-conspirator with Absalom in his rebellion against David), and Do'eg, chief adviser to King Saul. Precisely because of their greatness, they believed in themselves and their sincerity so totally that nothing would stand in their way. They, with all their great potential, brought about their own destruction.



There is a fascinating corollary to all of this which I'd like to touch on before concluding this topic. The Talmud tells us regarding many of the most wicked people in history, such as Sennacherib and Haman, that their descendants converted to Judaism and taught Torah in Israel (Sanhedrin 96b). The idea behind this is really the same as above. Most of us are admittedly average. We serve G-d to the best of our abilities, neither accomplishing so mightily nor falling too precipitously. We would have never wiped out the Priestly city of Nov, as did Do'eg, but neither are we likely to reach anywhere near Do'eg's scholarship or passion for truth. For mediocrity never goes very far -- neither towards the good nor the wicked.



But such men as Sennacherib and Haman -- great in their wickedness -- were different. Only a person of the most intense and passionate commitment could have threatened Israel or destroyed the Temple (and the Gentiles of the time knew just how spiritual an edifice it was). Such people were wholly wicked, to be sure. They earned no share in the World to Come -- unlike we who will hopefully one day receive our modest shares. But they were hardly simple good-for-nothings. They possessed enormous potential -- which they of course misused to the greatest degree possible. But G-d, so to speak, was interested in that kind of potential. We want to use potential, not simply destroy it. These men must have had some redeeming quality, some slight spark of goodness which G-d allowed to glow and be preserved. Eventually they had descendants who were ready and worthy to sublimate that same potential and bring it into Israel and the service of G-d.



Thus, our lesson: Great people have enormous potential. And sometimes the slightest alteration in course can turn it into awe-inspiring good or devastating evil.



And this is a lesson we must all carry with us. We all have just a little bit of greatness within us, certain special and unique talents G-d has blessed us with, with which we can make our own unique contribution to mankind. And those are the talents we must preserve and treasure. It is so easy and tempting to corrupt it all -- to take whatever we are good at and look down upon others or selfishly use what we've got for our own benefit or pleasure. Or perhaps worst of all: we will attempt to deny it, losing ourselves in the crowd. The greater we are, the more we will want to misuse or deny it all. But these are the special gifts G-d has bequeathed to us, our own potential for greatness. And they must be nurtured and treasured till the day we die.



We finally move on to Hillel's final words of advice, which we will cover quickly. Not judging your fellow until you reach his place implies we should basically never judge our fellow. No two people are truly alike -- neither in background nor in disposition. We never really know what our fellow is going through or what contributed to his poor life-decisions. We must attempt to help and guide others, but we must never condemn them simply because *we* would have never acted that way. (And, of course, recall what we just learned -- that sometimes a person's very greatness compels him to misuse or deny that greatness.)



"Do not make a statement which cannot be understood which will [only] later be understood:" This statement is cryptic, and different explanations are offered by the commentators. Maimonides understands this to be a warning that teachers do not teach in an unclear manner, so that their words are understood only later, after careful analysis. Rashi and Rabbeinu Yonah explain it to mean one should never divulge secrets. As King Solomon wrote, "...for a bird of the skies will carry the voice" (Koheles (Ecclesiastes) 10:20). As we all know, words, rumors, secrets all spread. There is virtually no such thing as telling "just one person" while keeping it a secret.



"Do not say when I have free time I will learn, lest you not have free time:" We discussed a similar statement earlier -- Ch. 1, Mishna 15. Please see our discussion there (www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-15a.html).

MAC TONNIES DANGEROUS IDEAS, Alien hypotheses 2of3

ufos-as-agents-of-deconstruction

http://www.ufomystic.com/2009/10/07/ufos-as-agents-of-deconstruction/

In the Archaeus Project’s 1989 journal Cyberbiological Studies of the Imaginal Component In The UFO Contact Experience Carl Raschke wrote an essay entitled “UFOs: Ultraterrestrial Agents of Cultural Deconstruction.” Raschke offered the idea that the search for meaning behind the UFO enigma was caught up in cultural ideas about aliens coming from other planets in structured craft. He also proposed that whatever was behind the UFO problem was acting as a catalyst for change in cultural ideas about what was possible and even acceptable.




Raschke noted that,”…the UFO puzzle for both investigators and the public unfolds along a trajectory that Jacques Vallee terms that of ‘recursive unsolvability.’ In mathematics a recursive function is one in which the solution cannot be reached by a simple set of successive, linear operations, but is gained only by successive, partial tallies, each of which incrementally redefines the problem itself.”



The UFO debate appears to surround a concept that is continually redefined by a set of partial answers that redefine the question. The end result is that the solution bears less relevance to the original query.



Most can agree that the UFO question has not been solved conclusively by anyone, and the introduction of new concepts like the abduction engima, FOIA document searches and the recent rise of the disclosure movement have changed the focus and character of UFO study over the last 20-30 years. In the 1950s and ’60s, “occupant” cases were dismissed by the mainstream research community as embarrassing and a distraction to the important issue of popularizing the idea that sightings of UFOs were enough to make the subject worthy of respectability and serious study.



With the 1967 publication of Flying Saucer Occupants by Coral and Jim Lorenzen, the idea of “piloted” UFOs was taken more seriously. The idea of abductions was virtually ignored from 1966 (when Interrupted Journey told the strange story of Betty and Barney Hill) until 1981, when Budd Hopkins’ Missing Time was published, and got a real boost in 1987 with Whitley Strieber’s Communion.



Each time a new concept was introduced, the UFO question was redefined. Are we are simply discovering heretofore unrecognized aspects of the phenomenon, or does some symbiosis of reported observations occur, working subrosa in concert with expectations? I would argue that since we are dealing with something that is not amenable to controlled testing and repeatability at will, that expectations very likely play a role in defining the questions and any ultimate answer.



If there is an intelligence or intelligences behind the phenomenon, what it has been doing (probably for millenia) either looks like nonsense or some inscrutable attempt to change human thinking and perception. The very exposure to a UFO or occupant sighting is enough to rearrange one’s concepts of what is real, or even acceptable to our minds and senses. The issue of lasting physical or psychological changes was addressed by Jacques Vallee in his anomalies classification matrix published in his 1990 Book Confrontations.



An article by Benedict Carey from the New York Times reports on research into seemingly nonsensical events and how they are useful in deconstructing our endless search for structure and meaning, injecting helpful doses of depatterning. Participants in a study were asked to read an absurdist short story by Franz Kafka and then given a test that analyzed their ability to find hidden patterns in strings of letters:



The test is a standard measure of what researchers call implicit learning: knowledge gained without awareness. The students had no idea what patterns their brain was sensing or how well they were performing.



But perform they did. They chose about 30 percent more of the letter strings, and were almost twice as accurate in their choices, than a comparison group of 20 students who had read a different short story, a coherent one.



What this may indicate is that UFOs may exist as a mega-experiment in deconstructing our ideas of what is possible, our place in the universe, our ways of accepting what is real and even our methods of cataloging sensory input. The question remains as to who is conducting the experiment, and how much we are either subjects, equal partners, or almost wholly responsible for the experiments and the results.



Ostensibly, the UFO question is whether a non-human source is causing sightings, abductions, radar returns and flying saucer religions, but the intricacies of the problem impinge on so many other areas that we redefine them as well. Examples include reported physics of UFO movement, the question of cultural antecedents and perhaps how our society decides what is acceptable as serious study. That last one may be the most deconstructive effect of all. Changes in our mindset, and not any so-called “answers” may be the real reason behind the whole thing, or at least the most meaningful. There may indeed be “knowledge gained without awareness.”



In the end, this may all be a metaphor for something so inscrutable as to be inexplicable in language or thoughts of which we are currently capable.

Alan Watts On Jesus

Alan Watts On Jesus

The House on The Hill

http://www.publicbookshelf.com/romance/house-hill/

http://www.amazon.com/The-House-Hill-ebook/dp/B003VS0IOQ/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1342281063&sr=1-2&keywords=The+House+On+The+Hill#_

Enjoy learning how romantic backgrounds can combine with history. After a visit with an old childhood haunt - the house on the hill - things would never be the same. Follow Jenna on her quest to save the old house and bring two lost loves together.
Contents

by Linda M Bartash-Dawley

Chapter# / Title
Dedication
Note From The Author
1: The Bright Womens Dictionary of Thought
To my parents, Richard and Joanne, who inspired my love of history through many visits to historic sites during my childhood;






— To Carol Anne, who is both my sister and best friend, and to her husband Bill and their son Matthew;





— To my brother, Paul, whose happy smile and laughter reminds me to enjoy the humor of life. And, that there is no such thing as disabilities —they are abilities in disguise;





— And to all my online computer buddies, friends, and relatives, who encouraged me throughout this process.





— To all those who support historic preservation, and with special mention to the Genesee Lighthouse and its dedicated volunteers in Rochester, N.Y., and for which I have volunteered as a tower guide for 10 years.





This book is in memory of Lily, who was the rabbit version of Jenna's cat, Lucy. In their own way, pets provide support to us, just as people do.





And Lily was my first.





























Note from the Author





I feel fortunate to be able to say it was my dad who taught me to read. However, I believe God inspired me with the talent and imagination to be able to write.

As children, my sister and I were forever making up stories, living through mysteries and adventures in our own special world. Our imaginations were bright and focused on fun. As adults, we unfortunately lose much of that spontaneity. Still, sometimes it seems to come alive through fiction. I just needed inspiration, and as fate would have it, my sister was the one who got me going again— unintentionally, actually.

One day a few months ago I began thinking about those things that single people—particularly young women—face in today's fast-paced world. Soon I began to create characters in my mind who lived through similar circumstances. A few days later, in a flurry of inspiration, I wrote forty pages, mostly about a character named Jenna, and her best friend, Colleen.

As once advised by a writing mentor, I simply allowed my character do her own thing. And that she did—very nicely. Suddenly, before I knew it, I found her working to save an old house —one of my own passions, but something I have yet to accomplish. And I began to admire her for it, almost as if she were a real person in my life.

It seems that more and more historic buildings are lost every day. Either they burn, they are torn down, or they otherwise succumb to some cruel act of fate. Six years ago, one phone call led me to visit an old historic house. When I arrived, I discovered a demolition crew already hard at work. They didn't seem to mind the extra attention as I watched two men taking apart a beautiful entranceway, which otherwise would have been destroyed. Afterwards, they went to work trying to save some fancy molding around the doors, perhaps with the idea of re-using it in their own homes. I began to wonder, Can someone demolish — yet still save — a house? So it seemed—at least, that day.

As sunlight glimmered throughout the old house, making even some of its now-dingy features seem still impressive, I noticed that the molding around the doors imitated columns. The knotty wood floor took on a warm, reddish glow, and the swirls etched into the wood along the staircase seemed most impressive in a shadowy picture where the sun's glow failed to wash out the many details of this soon-to-be-gone home.



For days afterwards, this haunted me —like a scar that wouldn't heal. I just could not put that last image of this old house out of my memory. And I felt guilty, primarily for not knowing what I could do about it. I could think of no way to save this piece of history. Fate had again been cruel.

As a child, I remember seeing many homes like this one—pieces of history that would eventually be lost. The place where my parents held their wedding reception has long since been demolished. And the last stop on the long-remembered trolley line would soon disappear too, as would the town hall in which I attended meetings for years.

Naturally, every reader will not be able to relate to a single, 20-something young woman, such as my main character, Jenna. But I trust that everyone will be able to empathize with some facets of Jenna's life and dreams. And most of all, I hope readers will be inspired the next time they see some historic site, at least to appreciate it more.

Although I have not yet saved anything historic, perhaps someday I will be able to do so, much as Jenna sets about to accomplish in the following pages. May you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.





















~ 1 ~

The Bright Women's Dictionary of Thought





Sometimes I think perhaps life would be a lot easier for us all if we were born with instruction manuals. These manuals would not include tips on accomplishing the routine and mundane tasks, such as changing diapers and giving baths, but would instead lend us some assistance with understanding how we think. What exactly goes through our minds? And why? Why don't we all think alike? Why do we become angry at situations that are seemingly invisible to others? What are the real definitions of the words we utter? Of course, it's not always what we say that is so important, but how we say it.

Members of the other gender will never understand. It seems to be tradition: men cannot understand women, and women cannot understand men. In our own funny way, we try so hard to understand them, and then, in frustration, we simply give up and call them crazy. Or, as ladies, we tell the men they are from the planet Mars, which is a long way to travel without asking for directions.

But those instruction manuals were just not included. Naturally, there would be a mad rush to the bookstore if there were such a thing. And that would mean less stopping for advice—although I must admit I do enjoy stepping in occasionally to listen to people who need some. It makes me feel good to remember that no one is perfect and I feel less lonely in my quest for answers.

Every so often, my brother decides he needs to understand the opposite sex a little better. Of course, these moments are rare. Sometimes he seems to be fairly good at this skill of understanding us ladies, but at other times, he simply overlooks the obvious. This morning, he stopped by the insurance agency where I work, which is not a usual thing for him to do. I saw his face by the doorway before he noticed me, and his expression reminded me of a little puppy pouting. Something was wrong, and I imagined I could guess what it was.

"Wife problems?" I asked, smiling warmly. Being his sister, I always believed I was an authority on him, having grown up with this handsome, fun-loving, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy, who is now at least five inches taller than I am. This should be a piece of cake, I thought, as I said, "Take a seat."

My chair is nothing exceptional. It is a straight-backed, stationary, black plastic body holder — nothing more. There are only two extra chairs in the entire office. One is usually pushed securely against the wall, partly because the back part of the chair is ready to fall off. Of course, as my boss so often reminds me, there just aren't lots of funds for nice amenities such as new chairs. The insurance company where I work is staffed by just the agent and me—and from what I have been able gather during the nearly twelve months I have worked here, it doesn't seem do a lot of business—just enough to get by. Still, all in all, the place has a somewhat cheery feel to it, and the customers who come here seem very loyal. Apparently they think of their agent as a friend. And I feel privileged to be part of a business where we get to see pictures of our customers’ babies and hear of their family trips to Orlando, Florida and to the Adirondacks. This almost makes up for the awful chairs—well, almost.

Our second stand-by chair has wheels, which is the best part about it. It usually sits behind a vacant desk—the third one in the office, used mainly for storage and for customers to sign paperwork. When no one is looking, I sometimes sit in it, and cheerfully roll along, stopping at the copier, the bulk rate postage meter machine, and the microwave, which is perched haphazardly on top of a short file cabinet. The worst part about this chair is that it's made of hard, fake leather, which has several rips in it that electrical tape cannot seem to tame. Consequently, the thing pokes at my pantyhose and seems to scratch most everything with which it comes in contact.

My evaluation was that both chairs needed to be put to sleep, permanently. Where do sick chairs go, anyway? Must they wait curbside for their ride to destruction? Surely they must have been good chairs at one time. I often rationalize that perhaps my boss keeps them for sentimental reasons—certainly he doesn't keep them for their looks.

My brother, Ben, picked the chair with wheels. After rolling over to my desk, he began, "I don't know why she's mad—but she is!"

It saddened me to admit this, but Ben seldom visits me unless he wants a favor. And today it is obviously a little marriage counseling, which of course I should be great at, since I am nowhere near being married.

Putting his feet up on my desk, he knocked over a messy stack of mail that needed to have been sent yesterday. I laughed, and put my feet up, too. No one was around to mind my casualness. It occurred to me that I had spent more time staring blankly at the row of sunflowers growing in front of the cornfield across the street, than with customers. Of course, the fact there are cornfields right across from us says it all anyway: cheap rent, lots of parking, and no people in town. I often laugh to myself, thinking this must be the easiest job in the world.

"I was going to go out with the guys —got Buffalo Bills tickets and everything," Ben continued. "Then she got mad because it was on our anniversary. I thought our anniversary was the day after," he confessed.

I have to laugh at men. They seem to keep no recollection of birthdays or anniversaries, or people in general. My father asked my mother once why she was buying a big sheet cake. She responded, "It's for Jenna's birthday."

To that, he replied, "Jenna? Ohhhhhhh—Jenna. Is her birthday coming up?"

"Don't you remember me pushing you aside to drive to the hospital, because I thought you weren't going fast enough," asked my mother, who was beginning to get annoyed.

The mention of the drive finally brought back his memory. "Oh, that eighty-five-mile ride! Yes, I remember that!"

Car stuff; of course, men will remember that. Talk about anything else, they act as if they've just met you.

"So, I asked her what she wanted me to do about it," my brother continued, "and she says, 'Oh, nothing'. So that means I'm off the hook, right? — maybe? Please say that's right."

I realized that this was what Ben wanted to believe — that she had let him off the hook. He just looked at me, waiting for some affirmation that what he hoped was true.

"Ummmm, let me see. What is the definition of nothing? Should I look it up in the dictionary of Bright Women's Thoughts?" I replied. This is my little-sister attitude. I suppose it's not my best feature. I am just annoyed that my brother, being five years older than me, still needs explanations for some things that he should have figured out by now. I brought my face a little closer to his. I couldn't believe I had to explain this to him. "Nothing means that she would like to turn you upside-down and shake you. Maybe at least a few twenty dollar bills would fall out—or maybe your wallet, which would be even better. Nothing means that when you come home, your pillow and blanket will be in the garage."

I reached across, shaking him a little for effect, but more just to tease him. After all, isn't that what little sisters are for?

"So, what do I do?" he asked, obviously ready for any advice.

This was finally my cue, where I could step in and help. I didn't hesitate. "You have to skip the game, of course. Sorry. I know how much you like football, but this is more important. Go shopping. Yeah, I know you hate it. Most guys do. You have to do the typical stuff—some flowers, candy. Take her out to dinner. Spoil her," I said, feeling a little like an advice columnist. But I couldn't resist adding, "Then she'll move the pillow and blanket out of the garage. Well, probably..."

Then I stopped talking and grinned. Being a sister was way too much fun.

"Okay," he replied, acting as if a chore had been handed to him. Of course, I really think he knew in his heart what he should have done, even before he came to me.

I tried to add a nice gem of conversation I had heard —I thought from him —to soften him up. "Didn't you tell me once that you loved Rachel so much that you hoped you would never make her unhappy?"

"Well..." he said, thoughtfully.

I thought a little myself, and then realized it wasn't Ben who had said that. It was one of my male buddies from high school, whom I had seen when I stopped in at the supermarket around midnight the other night—the one night I didn't want to see anyone. I had gone to the store looking as if I had just gotten out of bed—probably because I had just gotten out of bed. I was looking for some over-the-counter pills that might knock out a hard-hitting headache that refused to go away. Imagine my surprise at running into someone I knew at that odd hour. And, of course, it was in a moment where I was totally deprived of makeup. Oh, well. He didn't scream or anything, or run for cover, so maybe my face had some saving features.

The conversation seemed to make my brother feel some better. At least now he had a mission. Was it really that impossible a task? I knew deep down that he and his wife were inseparable—or as they say in the movies: MFEO (made for each other).

I also hoped he had thought of talking to me because he missed his little sister. As we both rose, he hugged me and said, "Thanks, sis. You're the best! What can I ever do to repay you?"

"Well, if I ever get married, you know I'm coming to you for man advice, and you better be able to give good advice," I said, with a laugh.

Affectionately, he rubbed his big hands on my head, in an effort to mess up my long blonde hair.

"Well, get back to work!" he said, saluting before closing the door behind him.

I returned the salute, finally remembering that I was still at work.

















~2~


Neighbors





Work almost always goes well. The question is, will it be as good when I get home?

I live in a 1940's apartment complex that was recently permanent-sided in a dull gray color. There are twenty identical buildings in a circle, and rarely ever enough parking. The newest resident is a commercial trucker, who tends to bring his big 18-wheeler in and park across a whole line of spaces, apparently just to say "hi" to his family and get a nice send-off and some food before he goes on his way to and from work.

Ten people live in my building. They are a mix of retired and early 20-somethings. Even though, at 25, I am a mid-twenty-something, I don't feel as if I fit into any particular category.

I like the older people better. The twenty-somethings, at least the ones in my building, seem to be very much into drinking and loud music, and whatever else they feel is dangerous. So, of course that often means seeing the flashing red lights of police cars outside the building. Sometimes I secretly wish to myself that the police would do what I've always hoped for—take them away. At this point I really don't care where they go. But the bars where they belong should be vertical and not horizontal, like the places where drinks can be purchased.

Three nights ago —early morning actually, at 3:15 a.m. — one of my twenty-something neighbors rang my doorbell. Eleven times. I'm not joking. It woke me from a good, solid, dreamless sleep. My first thought was, "The building is on fire!" as I pulled on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, grabbed my cat, which was the only one of us truly awake at that time, and ran to the front door.

"Hi there," greeted the young neighbor, with such a slurred voice that I was surprised he could even stand. But his stance was crooked, anyway. "I bet I can break your heart," he stated matter-of-factly.

In spite of being tired and barely conscious myself, I quickly replied, "Well, I bet I can break your legs —both of them! Want me to?"

My cat looked at me a little strange, squinting her eyes as if in disbelief. And then I realized what I had said. Do others ever have that problem? We say things, and then think to ourselves, well, I surely would never do that. And, then we wonder: where do these words come from? Mostly it's just my strange sense of humor (which I inherited from my father) that gets released from its cage once in a while and is aimed at unsuspecting people.

Anyway, for that moment, I was faced with a very drunk man whom I did not trust. Seeing that my apartment door and the main entrance were both open and vulnerable, I knew I was not going to let this man in, even though he did live in the same building. So I narrowed my eyes and said, "Did you hear what I said?"

He looked at me just as strangely as did my cat. And he sauntered off, apparently forgetting that he lived there.

Two days later I saw the guy limping back on crutches and with a black eye. I heard from another neighbor that our sweet 80-something neighbor, Betty, in the building next door, heard about a dozen rings on her doorbell. Then seeing him at her door, trying to flirt with her, she and her roommate, another 80-something lady named Viola, attacked him with canes and purses. I guess instead of threatening him, I should have warned him against the neighbors next door.



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2: Neighbors
3: Cordless Phones and Dumpsters
4: Three Times a Bridesmaid
5: Houses
6: The Haunted House on the Hill
7: Invisible
8: Caffeine Withdrawal
9: Adoption Days
10: Plain Jane
11: The Single Girls Guide to Kitchen Duties
12: Dating
13: High School Dares
14: Shoes
15: Pen Pals
16: The Right Reason to be Star Struck
17: Talking to Strangers
18: The Wrecking Ball
19: The Tool Belt
20: The Little Things
21: Doorbells
22: Rooftops
23: The Ring
24: That Look
25: Love
26: Boyfriends
27: The House
28: The Ring
More Links

Aldous Huxley Interview part 1