It Was a Different Time

Her: "He kissed me, felt me up."  Him: "It was a different time." What is a different time? How do we measure the "time" when things are not different, from say today? Look at the Earth, the Earth is believed or measured to be four and half billion years old, and the universe is said to be fourteen billion years old, there about. Humans have been around for four hundred thousand years. Not sure how the Beings told on each other before speech came into usage, but between 200,000 to 50,000 years ago. Since then, people have been able to tell on those doing them wrong, you think? Not really I guess. Women were property, ethnic people were not worthy to have a voice and so many other things. So now when someone does speak up, there should be someone to listen, right? It was a different time, is actually still that time.

The voice of people is not equal, not even close. Your voice carries weight, or at least it should. Voices are not heard and weighted/measured all the same. So if a woman shares her voice on a matter, she should be be given 'benefit of doubt.' Sadly, not everyone gets the benefit. This time it will be different. 

Fuck it. I have been so stressed out lately. I am struggling with my rage, my anger, my frustration, my sadness, my hopelessness, my despair and my outlook on life. I can see the pain happening in the world, by way of social media sites. The people in the world are in trouble. Their voices have no weight. The weight of their collective voice should be listened to. That is not the case. This is not a different time. 

Been watching a lot of videos on social media and all the many voices out there. We are in a time where people are voicing about colonialism and the affects. People have much more avenues to share their voice, and there are many who voice. One voice says we are more aware of the "wider world" than ever before, and that awareness is harder on us. Ignorance was bliss at one time. The old saying of "I didn't know," was sweet. Yes, it was a different time. 

Now you know. 

Are You Comfortable Being a Villain

 My sister is sick, and has been for sometime now. She lives in our parents old house on the Reserve. After my Dad died, I let her stay there because she was looking after her grandkids. So she has been living there about 12 or 11 years. My Dad was in the local care home before he died. He had cancer, lived alone and had dementia. My parents had given me the Reserve House. They believed youngest son was to get things from them, but I believe it was because I was their favorite. My siblings will all say they were the favorite. My sister has had her struggles. I won't bother with the details. We all have issues and struggles. 

The reason I am a villain is because of my actions. I have told my sister she has to leave the house. Her daughter is upset with me and I know it is hard for them. I have my reasons for kicking them out. They have not moved out yet. So a battle is going on between me and niece. She is hurt and angry with me. 

My Mom and Dad have, had a beautiful home. It is on the south side of the Winnipeg River, which runs through our Reserve. We spent lot of time swimming in the River as kids. We did a lot of fishing and what a view from the house. Mom, especially, had a welcoming way to our home. She would make tea right away for visitors and would sit at the kitchen table. A patio door was in the kitchen, so a great view of the river. Mom's children and mom's grandchildren were all happily received at the house. So when we think of the home, we think of Mom and Dad. Dad sitting at his spot with a coffee in the morning and tea all day long. 

That is not the way it is at the house anymore. Far gone is the welcome feeling at the home. Far gone is the well keep yard. Far gone is the well keep house. I go there and get a dreadful feeling. The welcoming Spirit of my parents doesn't exist in the house. Far gone is the welcoming arms of Granny to her small grandkids. Far gone is the good feelings of a home filled with blessings. 

I am a villain. I kick my oldest sister in her time of need out of the home. My sister's grandchildren have many issues; mental health, physical disabilities, social ills. My sister's children (not all) are struggling with addictions issues. The issues spread throughout the household. 

Do I feel good doing it, no. I have made a decision after years of repeating issues, activities and incidents. If being a villain is what I have to be, then it is so. I have been villain in cases before. It's not a good place to find yourself, but villains are part of life. I am comfortable being a villain. 

Shed built in 1965 by Dad & Mishoom 

Was It a Blessing and Not a Tragic Event?

 August 25 is coming up. This year will 19 years since my Boy hung himself in his mother's closet.  I live with the memory, the aftermath and the situations leading to his killing himself. I think about the day he was found and remember his life as a small child. My son was 20 when he took his life. He had been struggling with a drug addiction. It was CRACK. It was difficult for him and for us as well. I was working in Vancouver, British Columbia. I had gotten him to come stay with me, hoping he would get work and climb out of the addiction. Addiction is a vicious creature, with an appetite that can't be satisfied.  So I think about how his future might have turned out had he not made the choice that he did.

A friend of mine has Parkinson's disease. He used to make documentaries when he lived in Japan. He and his wife moved to Canada as she went to work as a professor at the University. Tadashi is/was a very good person. The disease hit him very quickly. I haven't seen him for a number of years now. I spoke to him on the phone this winter. He lives in a Care facility and is very limited at what he can do. I speak to his wife every once in a while. The odds of a partner having Parkinson's is astronomical. Turns out she has Parkinson's. Unreal. She still lives in an apartment with their grown child. I spoke to her a few weeks ago, but had to cut the visit quick as I was driving in the car with grandkids. She was hoping that she could call along with her husband. He has lucid moments for a short period in the mornings. I remember when he used to exercise and try to get ahead of the disease. I think of the famous actor, Michael J. Fox and how long he has been fighting Parkinson's. I wonder what the difference is between my friend and the actor, and how the actor seems to fairing better than my friend? 

My Sister-in-Law posted a note the other day, Her brother died. No details, just a note saying she will cherish his memory. My wife told me, he might have sought MAID, Medical Assisted In Dying. I don't know the details of what he suffered from. There was to be no service. I believe in MAID. I also believe in Suicide Prevention. A contradiction, I know. On the one finger I am supporting killing yourself, but in the other finger, I don't want anyone to kill themselves. It doesn't add up to two fingers does it? 

An uncle of mine had ALS, Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. From what is written about ALS, it is no doubt a horrible disease with no cure. Your body becomes a coffin with your mind knowing what's going on. I cannot imagine the madness which comes with the disease. I took my Dad to go visit Uncle and it was too much for my Dad, he didn't every want to go back. He spoke to Uncle in Ojibwe and we left. I don't know how long Uncle lasted in a state of not being able to move, to speak, to communicate in any way. Can't imagine how it was for him, my Aunt and his kids. 

I was in a situation where I had control over the last moments of my Dad's life. He was suffering from dementia and cancer. I signed the papers for no medical treatment on my Dad. It was a hard decision but the alternative was to let him continue to live not knowing what was going on and living in pain. So when I think about my Boy, I wonder about his suffering. Could he or would he have been able to win over the addiction? Or would it have gotten worse with the surge of Meth in society? My Boy was suffering and so were people who loved him. His addiction made him do things he could not live with. 

I am wondering if it is selfish of me to think maybe, just maybe it was the right choice for him? The other selfish part of me wants him to be here. If he was here at least he would be breathing, perhaps enjoying a good life. I don't know. Or maybe he would be sharing needles, living and walking the streets, being avoided by all those who love him? Maybe he would get seriously sick from the life of an addict. I don't know. So maybe it was a blessing he doesn't suffer today? Or maybe it is still the most devastating thing to happen in our life? 

So that's the thing isn't it, can we see a Blessing where we feel misery?