There were no hugs in my family when I was growing up, or contact of any kind. Mine was simply not a touching family (between my brother, three years older than I, and our mother; Mom having divorced our father when I was still in diapers). I don’t remember a single hug between any of us. There might have been one with my mom on the occasion of my graduation ceremony from high school, as was going on with others of my classmates and their families, but if so, I can’t recall.
And then there was the day when Mom sent my brother to go iive with our (virtually a stranger) father, out of anger and at her wit’s end, when she felt that she couldn’t control him any longer. Off he went. ‘Bye. And that was that.
The crowning occasion was one night when he had slipped her car out of the garage to go dating - this was in his high school daze - but couldn’t sneak it back in when, coming back from his cat’s night out (he was really into the ladies), he found that our mom’s boss’s car was blocking the driveway. (She was his mistress. Another story.) He slipped in the back door and into our bedroom - it was right next to the driveway and the garage, with Mom’s bedroom and the front room at the other side of the house - and woke me up to tell me the situation, and asked me what he should do. (Me?! As I say, I was three years younger than him; what was I supposed to know about such things?? I would never have gotten myself into such a predicament in the first place. And I was so clueless that I didn’t even know that he had been doing that.) From my worldly experience, I told him that he should go in and tell her. (In the front room. Where she and her boss simply had to be, ‘visiting,’ in my innocent mind. What was I to know about such things?) He thought that choice open to him over for a moment, and then did just that. Whereupon she kicked him out, to go up north and live with our v-s father. I wasn’t even around when he was, simply, gone. No hug; no ‘good luck in life’. Just - gone.
I wonder now, in my sunset years, if this lack of touching in my childhood could explain why I am not moved by the Democrats’ and Deep State’s cynical use of children at the southern border, in their attempts to bankrupt this country - via the Cloward-Piven Strategy - and use that as the Crisis in which to give them the Opportunity to take ti over, and establish their totalitarian New World Order on its ruins, where there will be no more ‘niceties’ of civilization as free speech, and from there, no more free thought, even; a la Orwell’s clear warning about such things.
I don’t think so, I would like to think that I can simply see through their malevolent machinations. (To use children in this appalling manner - disgusting stuff.) But if I can see this obvious charade -
why can’t so many other Americans?
Is there something wrong with them??
And if so - why???
As to why they capitulate so easily at the least tactical application of the labels of 'racist' or 'white supremacist' or 'hate speech' or whatever...
More disgusting stuff.
P.S. For the record; My brother and I met again in life a few years later, when I was in high school, and our father kicked him out of his house because he couldn't handle him, either, and back he came, with nowhere else to go. But he was under strict house rules: No more fooling around. Get an education, in the local City College, and make something of yourself. Promises made; promises not made, as he - a born entrepreneur - secretly stopped going to school and worked on a cockamamie scheme to sell records to radio disc jockeys. When Mom found out that he had dropped out of school, that was it. He ended up going into the Air Force.
A poor choice: He got easily airsick. Every time he went up, it came out. But they found him a job on the ground, and it suited his natural inclinations: He got involved in making training films. Which led to our meeting again in life many years later, when I finished my own (Draft) time in the service, and, wanting to make a film that would help to change the world to the better place that I sensed we should be living in, I joined him in Hollywood, where he had ended up, after settling down in life (somewhat), with the ambition to make a film about The Book of Mormon (the Church that we had been born into, although neither of us got very involved in it in our younger days). There followed a time apart, when he got married, although still inspired with and working for his vision, and I went my way, getting a mundane job while I studied filmmaking. But a funny thing happened to me on the way to a (somewhat) normal life: I 'saw' - had a strong feeling come over me - how we could be living the way we should be living. It had to do with the money system that we were laboring under. It was in the way of that higher way of living that I sensed. And so, it had to go.
That I set out at that time to help my dream become a reality, and shortly afterwards, having gotten vary far out on a limb, needed a place to land, and ended up living with him and his (growing) family for many years, is all part of another story.
But it seemed to be the reason that we had incarnated the way that we had. Although very different in many ways, we had something in common. We each had a dream. And went for it.
And that has made all the difference.
As to why they capitulate so easily at the least tactical application of the labels of 'racist' or 'white supremacist' or 'hate speech' or whatever...
More disgusting stuff.
P.S. For the record; My brother and I met again in life a few years later, when I was in high school, and our father kicked him out of his house because he couldn't handle him, either, and back he came, with nowhere else to go. But he was under strict house rules: No more fooling around. Get an education, in the local City College, and make something of yourself. Promises made; promises not made, as he - a born entrepreneur - secretly stopped going to school and worked on a cockamamie scheme to sell records to radio disc jockeys. When Mom found out that he had dropped out of school, that was it. He ended up going into the Air Force.
A poor choice: He got easily airsick. Every time he went up, it came out. But they found him a job on the ground, and it suited his natural inclinations: He got involved in making training films. Which led to our meeting again in life many years later, when I finished my own (Draft) time in the service, and, wanting to make a film that would help to change the world to the better place that I sensed we should be living in, I joined him in Hollywood, where he had ended up, after settling down in life (somewhat), with the ambition to make a film about The Book of Mormon (the Church that we had been born into, although neither of us got very involved in it in our younger days). There followed a time apart, when he got married, although still inspired with and working for his vision, and I went my way, getting a mundane job while I studied filmmaking. But a funny thing happened to me on the way to a (somewhat) normal life: I 'saw' - had a strong feeling come over me - how we could be living the way we should be living. It had to do with the money system that we were laboring under. It was in the way of that higher way of living that I sensed. And so, it had to go.
That I set out at that time to help my dream become a reality, and shortly afterwards, having gotten vary far out on a limb, needed a place to land, and ended up living with him and his (growing) family for many years, is all part of another story.
But it seemed to be the reason that we had incarnated the way that we had. Although very different in many ways, we had something in common. We each had a dream. And went for it.
And that has made all the difference.
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