It Can Be Done

It Can Be Done

He opened his hands slowly. Knowing that the power within takes time to appear. His mind cleared as he focused on the task at hand. 

The world was in a jumble. There was no sense of calm. There was no sense of logic. Everyone was out for themself. Empathy had been lost. Compassion was non-existent. Guidance was needed, but the powers that be would not work together. 

There was no right or wrong. It could be defined as a simultaneous monologue. Would someone please listen?

He knew what was happening all around him. He tried to understand what was going through people’s minds. But it was complicated: too many thoughts, too much disparity, too little time.

As his mind began to focus, he could feel the energy flowing through his body towards his hands. 

A normal person would shake and shiver, but he stood firm. And at the appropriate time, he released that energy into the world. The world stopped. 

People stopped in their tracks. Rain falling from the sky froze in mid-air. Birds stopped chirping, and the wind ceased. The world went dark no matter what time zone you were in, whether daytime or nighttime, all went completely dark. 

Then came the words that formed the question. They were simple words that needed no explanation but were simultaneously heard in everyone’s mind. “Reflect…Is this what you want?”

Silence reigned, and everyone reflected. I’m unsure if he guided those reflections or if everyone came upon them independently. But they all thought about a time when they had worked together, a time when they did listen, a time when they were happy. For some, it was a single instance; for others, it was an extended time period. But they reflected.

Again, the silence was broken in their minds with one thought, “It can be done. It’s up to you.”

He opened his eyes and closed his hands. As he did so, the world turned again. People moved, the rain fell, the birds chirped, and the wind gently blew. 

What happened next is unknown. For you see, I wasn’t there. I only heard about it as a story from long ago. I would like to think that it all worked out. 

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A Tale of Fashion

A Tale of Fashion

“Did you hear about the latest fashion?” she said.

“Let me guess,” he said, “Could it be a tuxedo?”

“Wow,” she said, “how intuitive you are. Of course, it’s not a tuxedo. Everyone wears those.”

“It’s our native costume,” he replied.

“That is why it’s not a new fashion. This has to do with your feet.”

“What about our feet? We don’t wear anything on our feet.” 

“That’s true, but don’t your feet always get cold?” she said.

“A…We walk on ice.” was his reply.

“That’s true, but what if you could put something on your feet so they wouldn’t be cold?”

“And how would we do that? We don’t have any hands.”

“These slip on, you just put your feet into them,” she said, getting a bit frustrated. “What do our kids do when they get cold?”

“They put their cold feet on top of ours?” he replied questioningly. Their feet stay warm, and ours get cold on top and bottom.”

“Their feet do stay warm. So what if you could have something warm to put your feet on?”

“I guess that would work, but where would you find something like that?”

She replied, “It just so happens that I found an open crate by the place where all the ships come in filled with these foot warmers. Everybody’s wearing them now.”

“Seriously,” he said, “and the people there don’t mind.”

“It doesn’t seem so. They all laugh and take pictures of us.”

“They always do that. Why are they laughing?”

She said, “There is a problem with wearing these foot warmers.”

“And that would be?” he questioned

“They are very slippery when we walk. Oh yeah…they tend to slip off when we dive to get supper. I think that’s why they laugh.”

“I think I’ll pass on the ‘slippers,’ if you know what I mean.”

“You’re so old-fashioned,” she said. “Get with the times. You’re only a penguin once you know.”

“I know, and I like uniformity, not fashion. A penguin is what a penguin is. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Suit yourself,” she said.

“ I will. There’s nothing wrong with a tuxedo,” he replied, “look around and you’ll see.”

 

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Life without technology

Your life without a computer: what does it look like?

I wrote about this topic in 2017 https://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=778.

Here’s an excerpt from my piece

 

Suppose there was some solar storm, worldwide blackout, super lightning strike or something like that, that shorted out computer power supplies. And to make this interesting, your tablets and phones, once the battery drained, couldn’t be recharged, so no longer worked. What would happen?

The biggest implication would not be whether or not you could handle the lack of computers, but the worldwide implication of what computers do to run our lives. Think of national defense, traffic control (both on the ground and in the air), many of our appliances, communication, as well as our electronic health records (which are mandated by law) use computer technology. These are issues that would be catastrophic. Our own little problems of having no computers would not be the problem, true survival might be the bigger issue.

So let’s scale back on our computer shutdown issue. Suppose all of the global things do work, it is only our personal devices that are affected. Could you live without them, and if so, for how long.

I have an advantage over the large population. I’m old enough to have lived quite a long time prior to all of these things being invented. I got my first computer (Apple //e) in 1983. I was 33 years old. So I have been able to survive without computers through some of my adulthood years. Things like writing and research and reading books, I would be able to do without much difficulty. I would definitely miss the speed and amount of information that I can retrieve and of not being able to have the books and writing I’ve done always at hand. I would probably take more walks outside and put more energy into things like writing and storytelling. Unfortunately most of my life I have been around televisions so I would still watch TV unless that was gone too. In that case, I might suffer a bit more withdrawal. But I think I could do it.

One could ask, that if I thought I could do it, would I be willing to go cold turkey for a length of time, such as a week to prove it. The answer would be, “No”. I have no need to prove myself.

What about the rest of you?  A large number of you have only known life with computers and technology. Your lives are built around its use. Unless you are living in some Amish country or anti-tech commune, your experiences without technology are very limited. What would you replace your gizmo’s with? How would you spend your time? Could you do it, for any length of time?

What’s interesting is that I’m not the only person to think about this topic. I googled the question, “ What would life be like without computers?” This is the number of hits Google got in 0.69 seconds: About 124,000,000 results.  Try it yourself.

And what if computers had never been invented, where would we be all today? Your guess is as good as mine.

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What the…?

What the…?

I awoke to the sound of screeching tires outside my bedroom window, which was odd. Following the tire sound, flashing lights poured through my window, like those of an emergency rescue vehicle. That was also odd. 

You see, I live alone in a cabin in a forest. There are no roads that go by my cabin. I must cut through the woods to get to anything resembling a road or path. I prefer living that way. The nearest pathway a vehicle can take is over 2 miles from where I reside. 

So, where were these sights and sounds coming from?

I got up slowly and made my way to the back window. It was still too dark to see anything. I quickly put on some clothes and went to the front door. As I opened it, I realized I was not where I thought I should be. Looking out from the door, about 50 yards from it, was what appeared to be a well-paved road where there should have been just trees. Situated on that road was some sort of vehicle. It had wheels, which would have explained the screeching noise; however, its shape was no car, truck, or van I had ever seen. 

Hovering over the vehicle was some sort of flying saucer, with lights flashing of many different colors. 

Walking towards my cabin was a tall figure. It appeared to be human-shaped, except for being over 8 feet tall, and, in the reflected light from the hovering ship, was certainly not a shade of color native to my world. 

As this creature approached me, I felt like a deer in headlights. I couldn’t move. At first, I thought it was only due to awe of what I was seeing or maybe just fright. Then I realized that I really couldn’t move. 

Somewhere in my head, I heard lots of sounds, which seemed to be emanating from the creature approaching me. The sounds seemed like words and kept changing in pitch, pace, and content. It was like someone trying to speak to me in multiple languages simultaneously. I tried to focus on what those sounds meant when the sounds morphed in my head into English, a language I could speak and understand. 

“What are you doing here?” were the first words I comprehended.

Before I could reply, everything went black. 

 

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The Box

The Box

It was an ornate box, just sitting there. Charles knew that it must have belonged to someone. But there was no one around. Who leaves an ornate box in the middle of a forest, sitting on a well-traveled path? 

Charles wasn’t quite sure what to do. The box itself had a look of oriental design. The sides of the box were covered with beautifully crafted dragons or serpents. The lid, was coated in gold leaf, or was it true gold? It had one keyhole, which Charles assumed would need a key to unlock the box to see what was inside. There was no key to be found. 

Charles reached down and picked up the box. It wasn’t heavy, though he could tell something in the side moved as he tilted the box. Whatever was inside the box was not alive, but it did roll around. 

Curiosity did get the best of him. With no one else on the path at that moment, he decided to take the box and bring it home. 

“Where did you get that box? What is it? What are we supposed to do with it?” His wife asked many questions, most of which Charles couldn’t answer. 

But a beautiful treasure like that is hard to ignore. 

Most people would hang a flyer or post online, asking if anyone had lost the box. They decided they needed to determine what was in it before posting anything. 

They needed a way to open it. A locksmith would be the best choice, but who could they trust?

It turned out that they didn’t need anyone. Charles lifted up the box to put it on a table, his hand covered the keyhole. Whether it was the warmth of his hand or a hidden switch that Charles accidentally tripped, there was a resounding click sound, and the lid popped open.

Charles and his wife were speechless as they peered at what was in the box—inside, there was a rather large egg. This was no chicken, duck, or goose egg. This egg was five times bigger than any egg they had ever seen.

Its color was different from store-bought or farmstand eggs. At first, it looked like pure gold, but as the sunlight’s rays shone through the window and reflected on the egg’s surface, the eggshell’s color reflected a myriad of colors, more colors than are seen in a rainbow. 

If they had trouble deciding what to do with the box, what to do with the egg was even harder. 

“Let’s keep it,” Charles said. “The box alone will bring us great fortune.”

His wife nodded her head in agreement.

They decided to remove the egg, close the box, and put the box in a hall closet, hidden behind some shoes. They hid the egg separately under a stack of blankets in their linen closet. 

Charles and his wife stayed up late that night, watching the local news for any mention of the lost box or its contents. They heard nothing. They went to sleep with lots of questions still forming in their heads.

They awoke the next day to a strange cracking and squealing coming from their linen closet.  

Charles slowly opened the door to the closet, not knowing what to expect. His wife stood behind him, holding a broom over her head. 

The cracking sound ceased; however, the squealing sound did not. 

At first, they saw nothing but could discern the noise was coming from under the blankets. Whatever was under the blankets started moving in their direction. 

The head showed itself. It was golden, with nubs of horns sprouting from its top, a long snout with flaring nostrils, and bright emerald green expressive eyes that seemed to sparkle as it surveyed the surroundings. Its emerging body was covered with metallic scales reflecting the same light the eggshell had. A tail tipped in a small, fragile-looking spade almost completed the picture. 

Before Charles or his wife could say or do anything, this baby dragon spread its velvety wings as far as it could, gazed directly into Charles’ eyes, let out a triumphant chirp, and imprinted itself onto Charles. 

Neither Charles nor his wife expected that. 

 

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An Apple a Day Keeps the …

An Apple a Day Keeps the…

Criminal Court is called to order. In front of us, we have the class action suit of People vs. Apple producers and distributors. The charges are as follows.

  • Willing production of a product that is meant to encourage breaking rules
  • Use of said produce as a potentially deadly object
  • Unlawful transportation of said product over state lines without a permit
  • False Advertising of said product as a miracle cure. 

Judge: The prosecution may begin:

“We call to the stand Mr. Adam and Ms. Eve.

A strange pair of individuals take the stand dressed in naught but fig leaves. After some hesitancy, they do agree to take the oath.

Prosecutor: Is it true that the two of you were living in what could best be defined as paradise? 

Eve: Yes, we were.

Adam: But we didn’t know it at the time. 

Prosecutor: What changed?

Eve: We were given an apple to eat and share, which was forbidden at the time by our employer. 

Prosecutor: And what followed?

Adam: Our employer banished us from our living quarters, forcing us to abandon our lives and never return.   

Prosecutor: Did you know of the consequences before partaking of said fruit?

Eve and Adam: No.

Prosecutor: So because of an apple, you were evicted from your home and forced to survive on your own with nothing but whatever knowledge you could gain.

Adam and Eve: Yes.

 

Judge: The defense may cross-examine.

Defense: No questions.

 

Judge: Prosecution, your next witness.

“We call to the stand, Mr. William Tell.”

Prosecution: Can you explain to the court the situation you found yourself in, which involved an apple?

William Tell: I refused to bow down to the bailiff in my village and was forced to shoot an Apple off of the head of my son’s head or be executed. 

Prosecution: And what happened next?

 William Tell: I was successful. Had I not been, I prepared a second arrow to kill the bailiff, which I did anyway later.

Prosecution: So because of the apple, you were forced to kill your son potentially but actually committed an act of murder anyway.

William Tell: I guess so. 

 

Judge: The defense may cross-examine.

Defense: No questions.

 

Judge: Prosecution, your next witness

“We call Ms. Snow White to the stand.”

Prosecution: We understand you resided at a house as the caretaker to seven miners.

Snow White: Yes, I did.

Prosecution: Can you describe what happened to you as a result of eating an apple?

Snow White: While my charges were at work I was encouraged to eat this apple by a kindly old woman, my stepmother, the Queen. 

Prosecution: And what was the result?

Snow White: I was poisoned by the apple, fell into a coma, and luckily revived by a prince. 

Prosecution: So the apple was used purposefully with malice aforethought. 

Snow White: Yes.

 

Judge: The defense may cross-examine.

Defense: No questions.

 

Prosecution: Before we rest our case, we would like to submit statements by Mr. John Chapman attesting to taking seeds from apples and transporting them across state lines without the proper permits and planting this invasive species without required authority. 

Also, we would like to add as evidence the rampant prescription given by numerous unqualified non-medical personnel: “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” This has been scientifically proven not to have the medicinal benefits so stated. 

The prosecution rests. 

 

The defense can call its witness:

“We call Mr. Steve Jobs, founder of Apple Computer.” 

Defense: Mr. Jobs, can you tell us the importance of having Apples in your home and the benefits of Apple-manufactured goods on the public and environment?

Prosecution: OBJECTION. This testimony is irrelevant to this suit. We are talking Apples to Apples here, not Apples to Computers. 

 

Judge: Objection sustained. I will turn the verdict over to the jury if there are no further witnesses or testimonies in this case.

 

Prosecution and Defense: No further testimonies.

 

Judge: “Jury, that would be you reading or listening to this transcript. Do you find the growers and distributors of apples guilty or not guilty of utilizing their product for potential harm to others and for use in illegal enterprises? Remember that you are all under oath and must rely only on the evidence provided in this case, not your own opinions. This court stands adjourned.”

 

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Healing Sounds

Healing Sounds

A chord is played as the music begins. My eyes begin to close. A tune arises in my head, and my body sets itself into a relaxing, mindfulness mode. I begin to heal.

The music calls to me. It takes me back to memories of the past. Remember when? IT could be a summer Philharmonic concert in the park. It could be a song I sang with my students while teaching. Recent conversations with my friend, Jeff, brought back a number of those instances. Maybe it’s a song I wrote.

Sometimes, I can create the chords and songs myself. I take my guitar and begin to sing some of those songs I sang or sit at the piano and try to play songs I remember.  

If no one is home, I can sing it as if I’m performing. My internal visions bring the memories of those audiences to the forefront. Their joined voices enable my white blood cells, antibodies, or guardian health fairies to join in, enhancing the healing effects of the music. 

Sometimes, the tunes that my dreams produce call out to me to give them words so they can be shared. In those instances, I have to wake up to record the tunes before they are forgotten, and I can comply with my tunes’ demands when I wake up the next day. Once done they are stored in my healing bank for future use. 

Sometimes, I write the lyrics first, maybe from a writing prompt or something in my head that says, “This needs music to go with it.”

In all these cases, the music is soft and sweet. It’s not rock and roll, jazz, or new wave discordant notes. It’s my inner self saying, listen to something nice, something that flows, something that moves you and calms you, something you enjoy.

It’s my inner self saying it’s time for me to heal. And that is what I do. I mean, who can argue with a body that says I want to heal, play me some music. 

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What My Eyes Saw

What My Eyes Saw

In the last two weeks, I’ve had many of out-of-body experiences. Some were real, as surgeons took things out of my body and stitched or glued them back into other parts of my body. I was totally unaware of such happenings as I was asleep throughout this event. (Thank you, anesthesiologist.)  This is always a good plan, especially if it involves opening your chest up and stopping your heart. 

Coming out of anesthesia, things may happen that you see but don’t necessarily remember. When I saw my doctor the day following surgery, I thought it was for the first time since the surgery. However, the doctor and my wife said we spoke right after the surgery, and I even answered questions. 

I remember some things that went on in my head that I saw during the surgery, even though I was out cold. I remember the whiteboard in my ICU room with different messages written on it. Someone had written the words “5 HOURS” on the board. In my head, I saw the whiteboard clearly with that text and other changes over time; however, I only remember the “5 HOURS” writing part. NO SUCH WRITING WAS ON THE BOARD when I woke up in my room. My surgery did take 6 hours. 

In recovery, before I came to wakefulness, my wife was told that she could go in and talk to me. I don’t recall her being there or what she said. For some reason, I remember making a fist and bending it forward and back several times.  

The next day, when my wife told me about being in the room, she said she was reassuring me that she was there and that everything went well. She mentioned my fist movement. I realized what I must have been doing was signing the word “yes.” Even though I couldn’t see her or speak, I was communicating with her, and she understood that I was agreeing with her.

Now, back in my post-operation rooms and until I was discharged, my eyes got a little weird, and I began seeing things. When I closed my eyes, I would see different patterns of woven cloth from underneath the material that kept changing. I had never seen those images before; they were fascinating patterns to watch. I guess my brain was giving me something nice to help relax me. I haven’t been able to duplicate that vision.

Then came the gnats. They weren’t real gnats, but when I would stare through the windows of my daylight room, the air inside my room was filled with little black dots flying all around it. No one else saw them. And not a few of them, thousands of them. My rational mind attributed them to floaters in my eyes’ fluid. I’ve seen some floaters before, but not this many or this small. My storytelling/folktale mind chose to believe that they were fairy spirits that had been sent to watch over me in my recovery, to keep me safe and help me repair. I’m guessing they were all sent there through all the thoughts and prayers of those who wished me well. I never saw them at night nor when I left the hospital to go home. So, thank you, all to those that shared that gift with me. I haven’t been able to duplicate those, either. 

If I ever have to go for something like this again, would you please add to the requirement that at least some of the spirits know how to cook when they watch over me? Or at least send some of your thoughts to the hospital kitchens. It would improve everyone’s recovery. 

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Keep Your Eye on That Kid!

Keep Your Eye on That Kid!

 

When I was young, my mother always took me shopping for food. My parents didn’t drive, so we always walked. One place we always shopped was the butcher shop. It was about two and a half blocks from our house, crossing local streets. It’s where we purchased most of our meats, dairy, and fruits. The owner of the butcher shop was Jack. He was very friendly. I used to wrangle a free banana off of him by doing impersonations. A popular singer at that time was Eddie Fisher. One of the impersonations I did was of Eddie Fisher singing the song Oh My Papa. Jack would ask me to stand on one of his milk cartons and sing that song. At that young age, I wasn’t very inhibited. As a reward, I got the banana. I always enjoyed going to the butcher with my mom.

This story took place when I was four, a few blocks up the road from Jack’s. It started at a supermarket called Daitch, located on Riverdale Avenue, the same boulevard where my fire alarm incident would happen a year later when I was one year older. Daitch, unlike the Chemical Bank, was on the south side of the street, so one didn’t have to cross Riverdale Avenue to get to it.

My mother, with no one home, took me with her to shop. We had been shopping at Daitch for a while when my mother looked down and discovered I was missing. She looked for me all over the store. She was frantic. She pleaded with the store manager to help, but I was nowhere to be found. She decided to leave the store and see if I was outside. She looked all along Riverdale Avenue and in the neighboring stores for me. I can only imagine what was going on in her head.

As a last resort, she started walking home, hoping that I, as a four-year-old, had decided to walk home alone. It was a 6-block walk back to our apartment building. My mother chose to reverse the route we had just used to get to the supermarket. She couldn’t believe I would have attempted to cross a street alone. After about two and a half blocks, she passed Jack the Butcher’s shop. She saw me inside, sitting on a milk crate, calmly eating a banana.

She came into the store both relieved and furious. Before she could speak, I said, “What happened to you? Did you get lost?” It left her speechless.

Time has a way of making a terrifying incident a humorous one. She shared that story throughout my growing years, telling everyone what a handful I was.

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To Be or Bot to Be

To Be or Bot To Be?

For many people, as they get older, their heart can’t keep pace with what it used to do. There are many causes. For some, it might be a faulty heart valve that needs replacing or repairing, or the heart is not working properly and requires a transplant. For others like me, poor eating habits and not paying attention to my diet well enough caused my cholesterol and triglyceride numbers to increase, resulting in calcification/blockage of the arteries leading to my heart. In most cases, the solution to these problems involves open heart surgery. This is where doctors have to open your chest up, move your ribs out of the way, and work directly with your heart to make the repairs. 

The success rate of these operations, through modern medical advances, is very high compared to the same procedures (if they even existed) when I was born. 

In the case of a bypass operation, which I am having, I like the idea that doctors can take something useful from another part of my body (a vein in my leg, perhaps) and use it to work around the weak pathway to my heart to repair the issue which should prevent possible heart attacks in the future. 

The recovery time can be lengthy. These are not outpatient procedures. 

When I signed up to be older, this was not what I planned to have happen, but due to circumstances that I didn’t control, it did. 

I hoped to wait a little longer until the technology to resolve these heart problems was less…intrusive.

I think that in the future when such heart dilemmas occur, the solution to these types of health issues will involve nanobots. 

Specialized microscopic heart bots trained to seek out and repair. Once injected into your bloodstream, they find their way to the obstructions and faulty parts of your heart. Then, clean out the blockages in your arteries (like Roto-Rooter does for clogged pipes) and repair/regenerate the sections of the artery or heart that need improvement. Once completed, the doctors would extract the bots or the bots would dissolve naturally, as some stitches do nowadays. (No one wants rogue bots traveling throughout one’s body looking for things to do when they get bored having done their job.)

But alas, we are not there yet. Waiting until someone creates these bots is not an option for me. My doctors tell me I have a strong heart despite my numerous obstructions. Hopefully, that will improve my odds, so should the need arise again, I can take advantage of that newer, modern technology. 

At least, that’s my plan. 

See you all next time. :{)

 

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