Space, and there is a LOT of it.


People talk of how approaching seven billion, or already exceeded it in 2011 of the world population. If you are vegan it is estimate about one acer per person. If you prefer the hunter/gather method. More like ten acres per person. So I am going to take a harder science at that and figured that with technology and more micro-climate awareness etc, it should come out to roughly five acres per person. How? Not all plants need to grow on the surface of earth. Multi-level farming is a fairly new method in terms of how much of it is being done on a large scale. Multi-level has been done for centuries in small gardens around the world. But tackling it for large scale populace is a different methodology.  Right now, most of it in the United States is being done around large cities to decrease the amount of time, effort, and packing it takes to get food to the table. The closer you get, the better the food. Fully ripen food is better and more nutrious than partly ripe, under green, and hard like a baseball!

So for a planet that growing in human population (but many of the animals and needed bugs are not as of now, doing as well. Bees anyone?)

Besides the growing of things to eat, we also need room to take care of our waste, make drinking water (we are way past being able to drink from a stream. Even in the Himalayas tip top mountains there are pollutants! So many who believe that the only way to save the earth is not to have children. Well there is a problem with THAT. Most of those who chose not to have children tend to be well educated and are power brokers. Some use the reasoning that there are too many people to begin with. My argument is this, we are adapting. We are tackling the problem of how to live on a heavily populated world. I for one am  optimistic that we will adapt well because we are survivors first. Co-creators is something that also comes naturally to our speices. Rather than being overly worried about our population numbers, I would be more concern about the man-men (and they do tend to be male) who chose a life of crime and terror control of where ever they live. Drug Lords, Mini Kings, and Zealots of the worst kind (I mean that in a multi-national way btw). What is really pushing the space issue is not so much the number of humanity, but how we share. There is a tremendous desire to OWN things first, share when there is only when there is plenty.

Bit by bit some cultures are changing in seeing that sharing is actually more profitable than keeping the best for yourself, in the long run. For example, multi-level farming (This video site DOES have Captions but they are a bit haphazard to read. If anyone knows a better site with similar information, LMK). Can you imagine a skyscraper being turned into a farming that can feed thousands of people? This site talks just about that. There are amazing benefits when used the right way.

Then there is a more argumentative suggestion too. Start Colonizing other planets. It is a natural progression for us. Something that will take a couple hundred years for us to be fluent in how we do this. There will be casualties as well, any actions to work in non-native soil tends to require the acceptance that death is part of the learning curve. That does not argue that we should not do it. Some might find it odd that a Catholic would argue for us to go to the moon and beyond. After all, don’t I believe that Jesus Christ is coming back one day? Would he gather the people on Mars, the Moon, or Jupiter and other places? Yes he will. What we really need to understand, is that we will be carrying home with us. So how can I argue for us to spend so much resources going off planet when we should take care of what we have right now and right here? It is this, going off planet is very much like having children. It is, in my mind, our birthright to explore. The main thing is to take what we have learned here as humans, and apply it as our best selves, out there as well as at home. Space Travel has had a profound impact on our understanding of who and whom we are. It is not a thing to be feared in that in pricing the blackness we will become less. In fact I have every faith we will find more and greater Glory to God than we can perceive right now. If only because we see it from a new window on to life.

Nancy Louise

The Hesitant Hand


I live in America, I feel safe. Or rather, I used to. Perhaps it is because I read the postings of too many electronic news now, concerned only with those of the latest hour. Anything over seven hours is considered stale to me, unless I am doing something investigative. As I sat to have a bite to eat and drink a lovely chi, I said a small prayer and prepared to cross myself as I came to the end of it. Nothing showy, just my usual quiet prayer. I hesitated. Images of someone coming and departing my head from my body suddenly filled my mind, screams of how dare I bluntly show my religion in secular surroundings. I made a very soft cross, a cross between what might be seen as shooing away a fly or sloppy cross. My head bowed a bit more in shame. What ever had come over me. The day was beautiful, I live in an area if different faiths. There was no real fear here. Yet I had wonder, how much longer will this freedom last? When will we become invaded? If Israel falls, will we be next? Is the fall of Christianity in the Middle East meaning the fall of Christianity and Judaism everywhere?

IMG_0031
Do you think my fears extreme? I ask you, would you have thought the bombing in the twin towers garage would lead to the Jets of 9-11? We must not hide, we must not be shy. It is time for us to be bold and kind, and proclaim in action who we are. We will not stand for terrorism. We must help our neighbors, and know them. They also need to know US. Don’t hide, get to know people, their faith, their beliefs. War makes beastly animals of everyone. Peace is made by making humans of one another. Let us fight our own beastly natures and bring out our humane best.

In Christ our Lord, Amen.
Nancy Louise

Patriots of every stripe.


I consider myself a Patriotic American. Most hear that phrase think of conservative, white, middle class or upper class, most likely Republican and age 60 and older, aging Boomers or if Libertarian, then maybe in their 20’s. These are extremely broad stroked generalities and irony is finding a group of people who really fit the profile like that can be difficult, unless you happen to have a rally for a photo shoot and forget to ask questions of them and why they are there.

You wouldn’t find me at such a Rally though. For one thing my patriotism has what some would call a liberal streak a mile wide. I always thought what I had was a compassionate streak. We can all agree to disagree on labels for the moment and lets move on the the meat of what I am really trying to get at here.

 

Patriots, Privacy, and the Possible Riot act of 2013. I find it interesting that the word Patriots includes the word Riots in it and Pat in front. So Patriots Pat Riots? Maybe they do, maybe they go around patting little riot makers on the head, or the behind. At least it seems like that what they do most of the time. I see a lot of noise, but not a lot of sense. Examples.

A). If no one likes having their privacy invaded. Well then, turn off the dang thing that being invaded as a group. Do it as a big enough group for a span of say six months? Serious money could be lost and well, I would say that would be a very “pat riot” right there.

B). If you have something that making you unwell, you don’t go to the doctor and say, ” I really like to keep my leg, but I love to kick people all day, can you make then stop kicking me back so I don’t get bruised?”

You either learn to fight better, or fight differently. The doctor isn’t going to be able to help you, except maybe to take Vitamin B to help your veins bruise a little less… Or better yet, change your stratagem. Bigger point is to figure out whom you really need help from. Point is, complaining about the Patriot Act or NSA or any of this is just as ineffective. If you don’t like it, then make an agreement with your friends or what not to do one of two things or don’t.

1. Stop using the electronic devices that are allegedly being used to spy on you. Seek alternate devices or services that resist such efforts of allowing their customers to be spied on.

2. Figured its a price to pay for have global access and act accordingly to make sure your behavior is proper, kind of like not yelling “Hi Jack!” in an airport.

I for one am not the believer in “if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear” mentality. It is just too easy for bits and pieces of data to be strung together to make a legal noose around anyone’s neck to hang them with. Stray phrases, odd searches on line (trust me as a writer I have done a lot of those), connections with people that might be tied to terrorist organization (I live in one of the most diverse Cities in the world, you figure it out, who doesn’t look suspicious here to someone living in a hidey hole in DC? Someone eating Sushi with salsa is going to look suspicious. BTW California Roll with Salsa is really delicious.)

Like it or not, statements can get you in hot water. As I walked out a store the other night, I realized I said on camera the following statement.

“The reason women don’t murder as much as men, is because we have Chocolate!” I was making a joke. I also saw a look of fear in the young merchants eye and a flicker towards the camera. Even my son was trying to make it more silly by adding men have video games. To which I added, “Bah, games, sc-names, Chocolate, much better!” as I walked out though I did have to wonder, will the FBI be on my tail if someone I am associated with, dies? Looking over my shoulders now…

Nancy Louise

chocolate
chocolate

One Warm Day


50% of all deaf women are reported to be sexually assaulted as children…

There is no sticking date for this day, I was four, a baby brother brother recently born, the sun was in the afternoon mode in the west. My vocabulary was delayed by being deaf and taught speech only, but not “discovered” as no one in authority wanted to label me as such, yet. (not for another two and half years would this happened). The days were getting longer already, but as an observant child, I already knew it was past noon time. I stayed near the screen of the door so Mama could see me. She get so mad when I went off chasing butterflies or what ever caught my attention in those days. What happened next comes jumbled and traumatic and hard to piece together.

This is what my Parents remember. I was gone. I was right there in my muddied dress, playing happy with my mud pies in my “kitchen” my made for me from wooden milk crates. Satisfied I was put for the moment, she looked down at her slippery infant son in his bath and then looked backed up. Her heart stopped, I was gone. She screamed my name, wrapped her baby suds and all and dashed out the front door. She looked all over the yards front and back of that half acre we had. She finally called my Dad at the State Park Museum and frantically said I gone missing again. Dad came home and he also looked all over the house (all 1000 square feet of it), under the house in the crawlies, down by the river the garage and every other place they could possibly think of. Nothing. Time to call in the troops. This time the State Park closed the museum and radio out to the Park Rangers all over Coloma, missing McCormick child and gave the address. Every spot on the half acer and beyond was checked including the hwy I liked to walked on sometimes. After several hours, they decided they have to dredge the river. Just as they were about to do that however, I suddenly show up on the front porch where I had gone missing from several hours ago. My Mother was convinced I was taken for one main reason. I was perfectly clean and smelled of laundry and bath soap. The last time she saw me I was splashed in mud and she had thought how she would have a second child to bathe that night.

My own memories are more jumbled. In part because they are mixed in with memories of things that happened to me before we moved “across the river” as the saying was when one moved from one side of the American River to the other. My overwhelming memory is one of terror, loud sounds like gun shots, and scrambling to get under the bed or any tiny space to get away from the men, and failing. Of screaming till my throat hurt and being slapped for it. I learn quickly to be quiet, because no one came when I screamed anyway. My vagina would hurt afterwards and I would always be so tired. Also, I hated sleeping at night, day time was OK, no one could sneak up on me in the day, because I could see their shadows. I always slept with my back to the wall if I could help it. If I wanted to change sides, instead of turning over, I flip from one end of the bed to the other. Something that drove my parents nuts as they could not see why I kept changing the head of the bed. I told them, “its headaches, the bed crooked”. As it turned out the bed was off a bit… I was not raped repeatedly so much, but when I was, it was very traumatic and 50 years later, small events can bring it all up again. A drunk man on the streets recently, I did not have my alert dog with me that day as I had a lot to do and I was concern he would be too stressed out. So I was not alerted when a drunk man came up behind me, and got really close. Started talking and all my protected actions failed. Come at me from the front and the side and I am ready for you. But I was at my car and he came to my back side. I froze. My body and my voice. I have never been able to trust my voice will bring help and I have a LOUD voice. He kept talking I kept signing and finally he gave me a kiss on the cheek. What really froze me was he reeked of old and current alcohol. Just like the men who used to have me. All he did was kiss me on the cheek, but for weeks after I would be in tears, shakes and want to vomit every time I had to go by that spot where I had business to attend to. He was finally taken in by Police and Medical Attendants for a completely different reason, but a milestone around my soul was cut off that day. At least ONE guy was caught. The men who did what they did to me 50 years ago, I can find no record of them ever being caught or where they are located now. I am looking though, when I do find where they are, I will make my report. Why? Because I heard that one of them is still playing “Grandpa”. It is too late for me, but not too late for other little ones.

Nancy Louise

The Loud and The Soft Of It.


What do I know about Guns?

I know the difference between a BB gun and a glock

I watch CSI, NCSI, Bones (you get the drift)

I read/watch/social media the News in all forms

and I just spent the last hour reading up on the topic on the internet. In other words, squat. I am however, going ahead to write my thoughts. Here is where I stand, my peace loving Sister has turned into a Rabid Pro-gun Amendment 2 supporter (ok, from where I stand in California, she looks Rabid to me, OK?). This is my younger Pip Squeak of a sister who I forget is WAY past the pigtail stage, a breast cancer survivor, Ranch Owner (in other words, they ain’t got 911 where they live, so they NEED guns), and a tough old broad with a leathery smile from her times working in the sun. Yep, WAY past the pigtail squeak I knew eons ago. So this side of her coming at me after Newtown Conn gave me a big pause. I had to start looking into stuff. This is where I got to so far.

Legal Gunsmith Shops? Leave them well enough alone. We need them to take care of the guns that are out there, teach those that need to learn the use of them, and keep things on an even keel. No laws we need to change there, so leave them alone.

Gun Runners are those who sell guns ILLEGALLY. Arms Dealers are those who sell to military groups (or what ever you might call a gang of ruffians wanting to take over something). Those, we need to do something about. What to get guns off the street, that is one area we need to focus on. I can easily guess that all those drive by shootings, and guns being pulled our of pants and under jackets are rarely if ever brought from your local gunsmith shop. So, what about the Conn. Situation? ahandgunThose guns were brought legally and the Mom even did the training to make sure her kids knew how to properly handle the hardware. Its possible she never saw the capacity for violence in her son, or denied it? We will never really know. Here what we can know however. Lets say by some law of humanity, all guns could be removed from all mentally ill people. So what happened would have never happened, right?

Wrong.

Combustable material lays all around us. You can not make those things disappear. We depend on all kinds of combustion to make things go and work in our lives, so they will always be around us.

Think it be hard for him to hurt a lot of people? A simple pipe bomb under a parked car where the families gather to drop off or get their kids would have hurt the same or more. Don’t believe me, read up on all the terror hitting the middle East these days and how its done. Plus getting the stuff for that is cheaper than getting a gun which are hundreds even thousands of dollars (legally) in cost. There are knives, poisons, any number of things that could be done to cause deadly mayhem. The only reason I am mentioning any of those is because I read about them, and as a professional book reviewer and fiction writer, I write about them in my stories. No I have NO intention of doling any of those things. Someone else however, can, and sadly will.

So do we lock up all the people who are on Rx head stuff? Again, no. Because you would be locking up your local grandparents, the nice baker down the street, the lovely fantastic teacher in math, and many other productive people who are productive because they take medications. We can’t wrap the world in safety clouds. Believe me as a Mother I often desperately wish it were so. My children leave home everyday, and I say a prayer every time and breathe a sigh of relief when they get home. What we need, is a change in laws towards how the mentally ill are treated. Not to take away our rights, but to find a legal and safe method by where a person can be stabilized enough to become rationalized. Should that person chose not to stay on that medication, we the society are left to deal with the repercussions of their actions. So, who should bear the burden of those infractions? How far are we to make sure that person has their rights, while they infringe on other’s rights to safe passage on a sidewalk? Who gets to make the judgement? This is where we have become stuck and Mental Illness has become to a standstill and many children who need, and should be, I dare say it, required treatment, will not get it.

Who has the greater right? The child who must face the chemical consequences of taking medication which may help but also harm in the long run? Or the family / social network that must try and deal with the illness often to the point of becoming injured or in extreme cases, disabled or killed?

Nancy Louise


Newtown: Pictures
This photo of Newtown is courtesy of TripAdvisor

The year is 2024 Tommy Jones is twenty two years of age, Susie his younger sister is seventeen. It is a beautiful day and both are going about looking for Christmas gifts for their folks and stopping for a simple lunch together, enjoying each others company as Susie misses her brother who been away at college. Suddenly a lanky young man dressed all in black and a bulge in his jacket, and anger on his face is coming down the street,  car goes by and backfires. Susie dives for the sidewalk screaming, Tommy ducks down. Both realized it was a car, there is no gun. Even the young man was on the street, his girlfriend coming out of somewhere, yelling “I am sorry!” they hug and make up. For Tommy and Susie, the beautiful day is shattered. They entered the diner, order and try to eat. Tommy who was not at Sandy Hook but at another school while shaken is recovering slowly. Susie however, is a survivor from the school twelve years before. In a flash, 12 years of work to put distance between her and that day have been whipped and shattered. Her right eye twitches involuntarily, she is shaking. As the day and week goes by, she feels exhausted, jumpy, raw and hyper-viligent as she keeps an eye out for danger.

The above scenario is of course fiction, but not impossible. The day before the horror of that Friday, on Thursday I was accosted by an aggressive panhandler who was very drunk. I was not harmed and while shaken was able to walk away from it unscathed, mostly. Unfortunately it also brought back ferociously a trauma, a serious deep one over 40 years of age, that forever shaped my young brain as these young children in Newtown Conn. have had theirs shaped by the gunman last week. Depending on their personalities, life adaptions, support systems and a great deal of other things, will determined how well they recover from the trauma the survivors recover from. For these children, it is very possible some of them will have PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), and maybe for life if the stress is not managed and taken care of properly. I hope not. Having PTSD for life is very disorganizing and disruptive in one’s life and can be quite disabling. I would hate to see any one of the surviving children who came out of this alive, also have a life of health, killed off, because of what they survived. Pray for them too, that in some measure, they can get back some of the small town they loved.

Peace,

Nancy Louise


Sammy the task worker.

One of the advantages of being a writer/artist or as I like to say, a POET. Personal Observational and Evaluation Technician. I take what I see, know, experience and turn it into something others can do the same with. The none tangible and make it objective or objectified so one can work more to get a head, heart, and heat around it. So when someone told me a Mark Twain quote “the two more important days in your life, are when you were born, and when you figured out why.” I felt surprised. Doesn’t everyone know why? I mean sure when you are a kid you don’t know, but you figure it out pretty soon, right? Apparently for some people, it can remain a life long mystery. Mysteries are something I have about people, not purpose. How can people miss what is right in front of them? Your purpose, should you accept it (ok so I loved Mission Impossible, confession said!), is who do you love now? That is your reason for being born. You were born to love people. Your greater reason, is to push beyond those whom you love easily because they are there for you. To love those who are not so easy to love, and that includes yourself. Then there is the simple fact of, what are you to do with yourself, what are your skills? You need to ask yourself, besides the obvious “make myself oblivious with __________” you really need to know, what takes your breath away, anything? What makes you smile? Jesus was a really good story teller, from that, he taught. He was not a senator, computer programer, engineer or some other fancy name business man. He told stories that taught about life. Maybe you tell stories when you draw, or when you tell anecdotes about the game you just watched, maybe it from putting together a simple program to help make the garage door open and turn on the lights to the steps in the house too? What you do, is another way to love. That is the purpose of being here, to love. Love yourself, love others, love what you do, and most of all, love God. Yes, its that simple. So, realized that down to the toes you have and the end of the strand of every hair you own. Begin to realized that today, just like any day, is indeed the most important day of your life, because you love someone, just simply because you are alive.