The Native Iowan

Ahhhh, breath in, breath out, listen to the tinkling wind-chime, the children next door playing, the wind, the radio in the shed…

Fauna is not very vocal. A bit late in the day for the busy-birds. A bit early for the nocturnals.

I find myself thinking of one of my moost favourite words… prestidigitization. (it appears to have 2 spellings)

The easiest definition I know is – sleight of hand – but the best definition I have found to date is : prestidigitization is a transmutation cantrip available to bards, sorcerers, warlocks, and wizards. …

I think “cantrip” may become another favourite word.

The wind-chime I speak of  is an old, cheap affair. A onceuponatime green frog with a big smile is the wind-weight. A larger frog is part of the decorative assembly above the 5 small stainless tubes. I’ve had Mr. Frog for some 9 years. In two homes now. All the wood is weathered and paint peeled. The string has all been replaced with fishing-strength line and swivels. It’s no longer very attractive, but something that makes me smile daily. It tinkles merrily.

I made a fatal mistake today.

I discussed politics with my partner in crime for 35 years…

Above is a pict of Gracie on the farm. I am oft amazed by the fact that after all these years we are still kicking-ass together. Its been a long, long, groovy trip. We do get along well. And no doubt there is much yet to come…

And one of the reasons for our domestic longevity is that we don’t discuss religion, politics, or other problem-prone topics. We have family to share and our reasonably active lives, both singular and mutual, and travels to keep us occupied, to discuss and dissect.

I ride motorcycles, she visits the Holy Land. I go spend time on the water in the Solomons and she visits The Cook Islands. We recently traveled together to the US, then to Europe and onto Japan. I think a six-week trip with time in California, Iowa, UK, France, Switzerland, Italy, then Japan. The UK to Japan was by road + a long Bologne to Osaka flight. 3000 miles in 9 days. It was pretty tough, very cool and we both enjoyed the shit outta it.

But we didn’t talk politics. We got along real, real well. Had fun, enjoyed each others’ company. It was all groovy.

Because we stayed away from those problem-prone topics.

Today it was “The Wall”.

Upon being drawn into to listening I chose to comment such… “If you are talking about the “WALL” you are talking about the topic “THEY” want you to talk about.

Yes, that dark and sinister and inarticulate “THEY”.

Look over here. Talk and complain about this…

Prestidigitation, sleight of hand, uses age-old methods to distract ones attention from what is really happening. As I slip the rabbit out of my pocket you are looking at my hand with the red silk ‘kerchief.

As I have traveled and aged I spend more time watching than participating. It’s a bane or a gift of age. Make it what you wish. But as I sit longer; no longer labouring daily for my bread, no longer chasing the dollar, I have more time to be attentful to that which surrounds.

I belive I have always and all ways been “aware”. But in my “me decade” I am gaining knowledge, working and doing mainly for me. Doing what I want and what interests me.

I’m still developing this concept but I look back and see I have experienced a succession of decade-long apprenticeships. In the 60s I was a kid. I learned to work and communicate and participate. Basically stand in line without shitting in my pants. In the 70s I was a teen who worked and “did things” for pay, and learned a lot about a lot. Carpenter, mechanical work, farm work, excavation, concrete… I worked in many mediums. In the 80s I took off from the land of my birth and became a true “Journeyman”. No longer the apprentice I went out and parlayed the skills I had developed for my daily bread. I also started  family. The 90s were my nest-building days. I’d completed my Journeyman time but was far from a master of any kind so I built. I built for me, I built for others. I built a home, a business, a family, a life. I sold my skills. I learned new skills. Times were changing. The new century, 2000, brought a lot of change to my life… including civil war, financial stress and huge opportunity. I went from a 250k overdraft to a 10 million dollar bank debt. It was a risk filled heady world of hard work and hard play and huge rewards. By 2010 I was leaving it all. I needed to spend time figuring out who I was. I wanted a change and needed to figure our who I was if I wasn’t “that guy”.

When you retire you oft struggle with identity. If I am not “that guy”, who defuckamI?

2018 turns into 2019. 2020 on the horizon. Another decade.

I am now in my “me decade”. I have a pretty good idea who I am. I like who I am. I accept who I am… an old arthritic kid who groans and moans but still plays and has interests plethora.

Wait a minute… where are we… Why does this all get raised whilst discoursing on the price of eggs in china, you may ask? Why go off in this self-indulgent tangent…

I started this by confessing I transgressed today and got into a political discussion with Gracie.  To explain my transgression I must explain where and who I am these days… I am less and less prone to sit back and let folks spew drivel. Drivel, unformed opinion, repeated fallacy…  Fresh from CNN or Fox or – lord forbid MSNBC…

I learned about Bull-Shit when I was quite young. I learned to recognise it very early on…

I have written about being confused when young, after diligently paying attention to a matter, or trying to understand what is what I’d be met with impotent anger. I may have been slow, asked too many questions.

Ask enough questions and talk too much and you end up getting your nose broke. I know, my first nose break was after talking Father Lawrence into a rage…

I was maybe 9, reading the bible as home work, the story of Lazarus. Fr had stated we needed to take the bible literally. If we delved too deep or asked too many questions we’d miss the point. He was stressing that we had to believe in “miracles”. Take them as written.

I’d read somewhere that “Moses tied his ass to a tree”. I asked Fr Lawrence if that was a miracle too. I got my nose broke for my efforts.

So, after taking the bait offered by Gracie, I found myself looking for a backdoor. How to explain that

“The Wall” is a symbol.

What if we call it a fence? Or a barrier? Or a deterrent?

What if we call it “border security”.

I do get confused at times.

The second time I had my nose broke was by my sister. I was maybe 13 and she was 8.

My sisters are all tough gals. But thats all another story…

More later.

Big smiles…