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RECLAIMING MY TIME

Do you know what I discovered this week?  #1.  Trump is here to stay for a very, very, very long time (no matter how much I try and wish him away)—he ain’t never gonna change, and his supporters’ support for him ain’t never gonna change.  #2.  Trump does and will occupy our media cycles 24/7 until he leaves office, probably through 2024.  #3. No matter how much I try to remain vigilant against what columnist Ruth Marcus calls this “one-man assailant against the rule of law,” I still can’t get through to the people I know who are supporting Trump, because they think I’m—at best—a purveyor of “fake news”—at worst—a spawn of the anti-Christ.

I sure do miss President Obama because you really don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Missing Obama sign seen in DC

Recent sign pasted to street post in Washington, DC

Everyday there is some stupidity visited upon us by “President” Trump, and as I spend hours upon hours trying to decipher what this all means in the scheme of things—the end of the world as we know it—I am made painfully aware that his reign could outlast my life, and then what good would all that worry and fretting get me except an early admittance ticket to the grave.

This was brought to my attention by my ophthalmologist just the other day.  I am 69 years old and have to get my eyes checked every six months to see if I have glaucoma (an inevitable rite of passage for someone with African/Cherokee Indian heritage roller blading through old age).   Apropos to nothing, my sanguine 45 year old eye doctor started spewing his views about aging.

DOC:   You know, I don’t want to live past 75.

ME:  Oh, why not?

DOC:  Because nothing good really happens to your body after 75—like nothing good happens after midnight, so you might as well leave the club, go home, and get some sleep.  Most of my patients are 65 and older.  The ones up to 75 seem to be treading the water of life very well, but the ones between 75 – 80 start disintegrating on all sorts of levels.  They wake up one day and suddenly they need a hip replacement here, a knee replacement there, or a quadruple bi-pass here, maybe a prostrate extraction there, a cataract surgery here or macular degeneration therapy there, not to forget a touch of dementia here or full-blown Alzheimer’s there . . .  It is not a pretty sight.  Generally, my patients tell me that by the time a person turns 85—95, their best friends are usually their doctors because they are the people the octogenarians/nonagenarians see on a regular basis, since most of their social connections are usually dead by the time they are in their late eighties.  Obviously, there are exceptions to the rule, given one’s DNA and all.

ME:  You know I’m 69 right, and you’re telling me this scary shit?  You don’t know my life.

DOC:  How long did your mother live?

ME:  Mom died at 70 and her sister died at 75.  So what are you saying to me?

DOC:  Hum . . .  I’m not a fortune teller, but if I were you, I wouldn’t waste your life because it is probably going to be shorter than you think.

Shakespeare Wasted time

By the time I left the eye doctor’s (eyes so dilated from five different drops in my pupils I could barely drive home), I felt like I had been in an underwater episode of Scrooge with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come as my spirit guide of things yet to behold.  It really made me think:  If it is true that I probably have only six good, strong years ahead of me before body parts go spinning off in different directions like the wheels of a poorly made go-cart (I’ve already lost a uterus), I better start changing my ways—no more wasting time.

So I started making a list of things that are time sucks in my everyday routine:

#1.  Scary news about Donald Trump 24/7

#2.  Abscessing about scary news about Donald Trump 24/7

#3. . . .

Just as I was about to type in my third example of a Trump time suck, my cable system imploded.  I promptly got on the phone, waited 20 minutes for someone to answer at my local cable company, told them my problem (“My internet is down for the 20th time since the beginning of the new year when one of your incompetent installers didn’t put in the most up-to-date modem”), at which the operator on the other end promptly replied:  “Yeah, he was an independent contractor—not one of our ‘real employees.’  You’re going to need our new super-duper, panoramic WiFi system which is guaranteed to solve all of your internet needs.  A ‘real’ technician is scheduled to arrive sometime between 8:00 – 10:00 a.m.  If the tech doesn’t arrive within that time frame, we will reimburse you $20.00.”

Waiting for Cable Man

My local cable company arrived thirty minutes late.  “J,” originally from Barbados, was very nice and fed me the script that I learned must be part of the cable company handbook:  “I will definitely get everything running—not going to leave before I do.”  After two hours, “J” had installed a new fancy-dancy WiFi system and made sure I understood that when I got the survey about his work performance that I gave him all “10’s” because anything less was considered a failing grade in the company.

When husband returned that night, he discovered that his computer could no longer receive WiFi, both TVs could no longer access Netflix, and, although the company would send us a technician the next day (between 10:00 – 12:00), we could not get our $20.00 late-show fee because we needed to phone it in at a certain time which happened to NOT be the time we were phoning it in.

The next day, the technician “R” from Mexico arrived 30 minutes late.  I could speak better Spanish than he could speak English, AND I CAN’T SPEAK SPANISH!  He could say the prerequisite:  “I will definitely get eberything runnin’—not goinna leave befo’ I do,” but little else.  It was his first day on the job.  After much hemming and hawing, he announced:

“Oder tech not do good job.  Ju need (how ju say it?) a stender and two new ebrything.”

“Is that going to cost me any more money?  I’m already paying extra for upgraded Wifi.”

“Asck billin’—I jes tech.”

Tech stayed all day, then finally fled five hours later in complete frustration, promising to return with his supervisor to finish the job, but had to get to next jobs or he’d get fired for not completing his tech log that day.   I skipped three errands, cancelled one appointment, researched nothin for my next book, never meditated, and almost blew a gasket from frustration.

The cable tech never returned.

Somewhere between the entry into Cable Company Hell and the fourth level of Dante’s Inferno, a cheery customer service person called:

Good afternoon, Mrs. Tomczyk.  This is your local cable company calling to see how our service was today.  Did everything get completed to your satisfaction?  You know, service is our game, and excellence is our aim!”

“ARE YOU SHITTIN’ ME!?!”

Cable Company Screwng Me

Husband returned home that evening expecting everything to be in tip-top shape and made the mistake of asking me how my day had gone.  I assaulted him with a stream of dragon fire, turned the cable company files over to him, and before abdicating my position as Internet Project Manager, I informed him that “R’s” manager (“M”) would arrive between 6:00 – 8:00 that night to fix the debacle his “first-day-on-the-job-non-English-speaking-employee” had left behind.

Sometime during dinner, “M” from Virginia by way of Morocco showed up and Hubbie and I threw up our agitated, frustrated word salad all over him which basically came down to the meaning of four words:  “FIX IT, CABLE DUDE!”

“Absolutely, Mr. and Mrs. Tomczyk.  I am the supervisor of 15 techs.  If I can’t fix it, no one can.  I will definitely get everything up and running—not going to leave before I do!”

Two hours later and two cold dinners left uneaten, after “M” extracted a promise that we’d give him all “10s” because “anything less is a failing grade,” he left the scene of the crime.  Ten minutes after he’d gone, I discovered that the phones (land lines), which run through the cable system, didn’t work.   After staying on hold for thirty minutes (thank God for cell phones), Hubbie was told by the cable company, not to worry about our phones, it was an outage in the area (not our specific problem) that would be corrected by them in a couple hours.

They lied.  None of our neighbors’ phones were dead.  Only ours.  AAUUUGH!

Dead Cable Guy

The next day, “A” from Russia, by way of California arrived and said that all the rest of the techs had screwed up the repair job.  He was a senior technician and announced that the cable company should never have sent a novice employee—the job was extremely complicated.  The entire system was not getting enough signal, parts that had been added had to be removed, and parts that should have been included were added.  Hours later and several drilled holes into my newly painted house siding previously not there, the Russian tech left after pleading that we’d give him all 10s because anything less would mean a failing job.  He then added:

“The survey’s first question will be what you think about my cable company.  Although you’ll be tempted to give them a zero rating after the experience you’ve had over the past several days, PLEASE, PLEASE give them a 10, because even though I wasn’t the tech that caused your previous problems, they will give me a failing mark for not convincing you to give the company a stellar grade.”

Two hours after the tech left, I noticed my back-up laptop couldn’t receive a wireless signal.

Recalling all the previous machinations I’d observed from each of the cable techs over the last several days and unwilling to waste any more of my precious time, I fixed it myself!

Cable company laughs

ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA” MOMENT) ABOUT WASTING TIME

I am discovering that I have a new heroine:  Maxine Waters, The International Finance System Committee’s ranking Democrat.  She’s Black, she’s old (78), and she suffers no fools.  Recently when Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin was testifying before the committee about why he had not responded to a letter from her regarding Trump’s financial ties to Russia, he tried to “play” her and not answer her questions by slathering her with platitudes and compliments, apparently trying to run out the clock since each committee member only gets a strict amount of time for questions.  Girlfriend was having none of that bullshit.  She kept repeating— ad nauseam —“reclaiming my time, reclaiming, my time, reclaiming my time . . .” Auntie Maxine Waters kept repeating her declarative statement until the committee chairman silenced Mnuchin.

Maxine Waters Reclaiming My Time

Congresswoman, Maxine Waters “Reclaiming her time!”

I am reclaiming my time from all things that are wasting it—especially from things that I can’t control.  I have become a slave to the 24/7 news updates as I comb the Internet for any indication that Trump is going down in flames and that his supporters finally “got woke,” as the kids say, and are abandoning him—relieving us from this national nightmare that this cartoon of a President has thrust upon us.  I realized the other day that none of this may happen anytime soon—if ever.  I have no doubt that Trump will go down in history as the worst president we’ve ever had, but even when his supporters are completely scandalized and demoralized by him, the majority of them will never admit they were wrong because their identity is so tied up in his success.   In the meantime, my life is rapidly moving toward the exit door.

I will continue to pray and fight the good fight, BUT, I have put reading, viewing, and listening to the news on appointment:  a couple hours in the a.m. while I exercise and then shutdown.  No responding to pinging news updates on my phone or bedtime news updates that rob me of my sleep.

As to my local cable company’s time sucking enterprise, the next time my Internet implodes, I’ll go sit in one of the bucolic areas of my house or deck and read a wonderful book—knowing that my local cable company is incompetent and will be here for days, so I might as well chill and reclaim the time by improving my mind.

Wasting Time I

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES ABOUT WASTING TIME

“If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be the greatest prodigality.”—Benjamin Franklin

“There’s no good way to waste your time. Wasting time is just wasting time.”—Helen Mirren

“I’m not a big sleeper. It just feels like wasting time. If I wake up, and it’s after 5 A.M., I stay up.”—Margherita Missoni

“Ditto, Margherita Missoni!”—Eleanor Tomczyk

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THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK:  “The Fetus Chronicles:  Podcasts From my Miseducated Fetus Self” is on sale now at Amazon!

THE AUTHOR’S LATEST MAINSTREAM ARTICLES:

“What Humans Need to Know Before Being Born”

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

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Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 
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Posted by on August 6, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

Do you know what I discovered this week that drove me to take up meditation? 

Donald Trump, Jr. did something nasty with the Russians and he’s lying through his teeth about it

The John Birch Society (that racist, uber-conservative, far-right group of old) is on the rise again

Trump threatening to harm millions out of pure spite by sabotaging healthcare markets

The 81% of White Evangelicals who voted for Trump say he’s the Chosen One

Game of Thrones is back—winter is here, and the war is coming

Game of Thrones

Fan made Game of Throne Posters/www.ablogofthrones.com

I’m a HUGE “Game of Thrones” fan!  Not that I can keep all the names of the characters straight, but I do know who the bad guys are versus the good guys.  I also know that the characters in the show specialize in betrayal, lying, cruelty, corruption, arrogance, intimidation, and violence.  Kind of like our 45th president and his cronies—especially “Putty” the Vlad Putin.

While I was watching the first episode of the 7th Season of GOT, it increasingly dawned on me that we Americans are living in our own “game of thrones.”  81% of White Evangelical Right-Wing Christians voted for Trump, are not swayed by any of his misdoings (they think the negative stories about him are fake news), and they make up a solid core of the 36% that will stick with Trump even if he does shoot someone in the middle of 5th Avenue as he once promised.  When I heard those stats, I knew eternal winter had come to America.

Trump's base Rick McKee The Augusta Chronicle

Cartoon used by permission: Rick McKee, The August Chronicle

Since the election, I’ve been holding out in hope for courageous men and women to stand up against our “game of thrones” leader and expose the emperor with no clothes.  But when I obtained solid confirmation that the family values voters planned to stick with Trump until the bitter end because they believe he was “raised up by God to be the 45th president,” I knew that the long proclaimed culture war was coming, and much as I suspect will happen in Game of Thrones, it will be long and brutal, and there will be no happy ending.

After a bunch of very clueless ministers encircled Trump last week, and prayed for him with the “laying on of hands” (Greek: cheirotonia – χειροτονία, literally, “laying-on of hands” is both a symbolic and formal method of invoking the Holy Spirit primarily during baptisms and confirmations, healing services, blessings, and ordination of priests, ministers, elders, deacons, and other church officers, along with a variety of other church sacraments and holy ceremonies—Wikipedia), I knew I was either going to become a drug addict and stay stoned for the rest of my life just to keep from going insane, or I was going to have to figure out a non-narcotic type of sedation no matter what happens to my beloved America.

So I took up meditation.

Green Tea Truth Theory

Thus far it has been a struggle.  I practice my breathing, I’ve got my mantra (“save us from DT, deliver us from DT, oh God, OMMMMM-MM-MMM…”), I can even get one of my fat-assed thighs into a half lotus position for five minutes until the leg falls completely asleep and I fall over onto my right side.

I used to watch the news as soon as I woke up (Morning Joe)—usually around 6:00 a.m.—and by 8:00 a.m. I would be so agitated and depressed that I could barely function.  The day I realized that the poison of Trump and family was going to go on for a very, very long time—possibly with irreparable damage, like the march of the hordes of the undead in Game of Thrones that was the moment I knew I had to do something to save my sanity.  For the last three days, I’ve been going onto the deck and doing my meditative exercises, and they seemed to be calming me down and giving me a more peaceful day until… my mind started messing with me.  Like this morning… when Angelica and Deviloneous showed up.

Simpson Devil and Angel on Shoulder meme

Homer Simpson Meme, Devil vs Angel

ANGELICA:  That’s my girl, you can hold that pose… easy, steady—now breathe! Start your mantra…

DEVILONEOUS:   Damn, Girl, ain’t your ass on fire, right about now?  You know you’re too old for this shit.  You’d be better off gettin’ a cup of coffee and eatin’ that leftover apple turnover in the fridge.

ME:   Saveusfromdonaldtrump,ohgod,deliverusfromdonaldtrump,ohgod,OMMMMMMMMM…

DEVILONEOUS:   Morning Joe is on now, Cutie.  Ain’t you jes a bit curious ‘bout what’s goin’ down out there in the real world?  I mean how can you get through the day unless you know what stupidity 45 is up to?  What if he does somethin’ really bad, and you’re not there to see it unfold on the TV?  How you gonna take control?

ANGELICA:  Stop it, Dev.  You know, she’s only human and this mess is out of her control.  Best she can do is “self-manage” and pray.  God has to fix this mess.

DEVILONEOUS:  Oh really, so where is yo’ God? Pray? Pray what?  From where I’m perched looks like everybody is chatterin’ at God.  You got yo’ folks like chubby-ass here prayin’ for God to deliver America from Trump’s evil, then you have Trump’s Christian supporters prayin’ he will destroy people like her because he’s like Neo—The One!  The GOP and the Conservative Evangelicals love 45!  They just adore his chubbie ass.

Emperor no clothes II Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star Tribune

ANGELICA:   Devi, I hate to be rude, but you need to shut your trap.

DEVILONEOUS:  Psst… hey ET, you know what I heard on the news last night while you were tossin’ and turnin’ in yo’ sleep?  The Trump administration is already underminin’ the healthcare market so that Obamacare will fail and leave millions without insurance.  They pulled help from 18 cities that had set up computer centers in libraries, businesses, and strip malls to help people sign up for insurance who don’t have access to the internet.  That should kill off an easy million or two bottom feeders thinkin’ they deserve to have medical care just ‘cause they alive.

ANGELICA:  Devi, I swear to God, I am going to smack you up side your head.  You need to leave her in peace.  Let her be.

DEVILONEOUS:  Seriously?  Why?  She needs to know that the political party she used to belong to—inspired by the Right-wing Christian churches—are 100% behind this Prez repealin’ Obamacare which will leave 32 million people without insurance.  I love death by mass destruction, don’t you?  Remember the bubonic plague?  That outta worry her to death.

ANGELICA:  ET, don’t listen to him.  Devi, how does losing her mind help save 32 million people from losing insurance?  She has a family to stay healthy for and a few good years of life to enjoy.  She needs to remain calm.  Leave her alone, Devi!

ME:  SaveusohGod,deliverusohGod…OMMMM—MMMMM.

The Death Dealer Milt Priggee www miltpriggee com

Cartoon used by permission: Milt Priggee, http://www.miltpriggee.com

DEVILONEOUS:  Okay, okay, okay.  I’ll leave after I tell her this one last news tidbit.  Hey, ET, yo’ peeps…

ANGELICA:  Her former peeps…

DEVILONEOUS:  Yo’ former peeps, are never, ever gonna see the light about Trump. You know why?  They believe that he is a modern-day King Cyrus—Cyrus the Great (c. 600 or 576 – 530 BC).  You know, the dude from the Old Testament of the Bible who supposedly freed the Jews from the Babylonians and restored their Jewish kingdom by letting them rebuild Jerusalem.  You see, those peeps that you used to break bread with take the Bible “literally,” and they believe that Donald J. Trump is Cyrus the Great incarnated.  Ain’t that somethin’?  Angels and demons alike are crackin’ up ova this latest Christian stupidity.

ANGELICA:  Our girl does not believe that nonsense, and you know it.  She takes the Bible “seriously,” but not “literally.”  She has not fallen under the spell of Trump, but nothing she says seems to wake up her ex-friends who have.  She’s tried, but they only listen to Fox News or Conservative Talk Radio all day long.  She has to just keep calm and carry on, because, whether you believe it or not, Devi, only God can save America from this wolf in sheep’s clothing.

ME:  SAVEUSFROMTRUMPOHGOD,DELIVERUSFROMTRUMPOHGOD… OMMMMMMMMM

DEVILONEOUS:  Well, I’m bored!  So, I’m gonna make like a banana and split.  But before I do, I thought I’d read you a couple of Facebook quotes, prayers, and Tweets from some of the White Right-Wing Evangelicals who think God is on their side and who are gonna ride the wave with Trumpee, no matter what.  Kind of like the Civil War.  Preachers prayed that God keep slavery intact and help the South slaughter the North, while the North prayed the South would be burned to the ground.  Wonder whose prayers will get heard this go round?

Religious Right and Trump Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Pat Bagley, Salt Lake Tribune

DEVILONEOUS:  Check these out…

Pastor Rodney Howard-Browne wrote on Instagram: “Highlight after all these years of fighting for America – standing in the Oval Office with @realdonaldtrump and @vp and @paulamichellewhite and other leaders – listening to our great President talk about America – Great Job Mr. President- Great Job.”

Pastor Howard-Browne wrote on his Facebook that he was asked by Paula White to pray over Trump and the pastor asked God for “supernatural wisdom, guidance and protection.” “Wow — we are going to see another great spiritual awakening.”

How about this one by Mark Collins who is a John Bircher/pastor at a Baptist church…

“God has sent America a new, powerful leader. He’s a good man, a moral man. God has delivered Donald J. Trump to save the United States of America.”

Deviloneous:  And you gonna love this ET—it will set your hair on fire…

The Donald, who once confessed to be a non-reader said this in March as he compared himself to King Cyrus of the Bible:  “Cyrus the Great, a leader of the ancient Persian Empire, famously said that ‘freedom, dignity, and wealth together constitute the greatest happiness of humanity. If you bequeath all three to your people, their love for you will never die.’”

ANGELICA:  I wonder who fed Trump that convenient bit of “history?”  Yep, America is fucked!

DEVILONEOUS:  Ooooh, Angie, you gonna get in so much trouble for swearin’!  Hey, what happened to ET?  She fell over on her right side.  Dang, looks like she’s asleep.  Oh well, guess my work is done.

Meditative Stillness meme

I am discovering that we are truly screwed as a country with 45 as our leader.  This situation is going to last a lot longer than any of the resisters and anti-Trump folks ever thought, and it is going to take years to recover from the damage that will have been done to the country by Trump and his right-wing, misquided, delusional zealots.  Save us, Oh God, deliver us, Oh God…have mercy on us, oh God!

Russia Bear Biting Trump's Butt

Cartoon used by permission: CagleCartoons.com

SCARY QUOTE

“Many Evangelicals who voted for Trump continue to have an abiding faith in his presidency. Just as Cyrus returned the Jews to Jerusalem, and restored their wealth, so Trump, they fervently believe, will restore a lost world of personal safety, psychological security and material prosperity.”—James S. Gordon, The Guardian, “Does the ‘Cyrus prophecy’ help explain evangelical support for Donald Trump?”

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WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

BOOKS WRITTEN BY AUTHOR AVAILABLE ON AMAZON

The Fetus Chronicles: Podcasts from My Miseducated Self

Fleeing Oz

Monsters’ Throwdown

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

*****

REFERENCES

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/mar/23/cyrus-prophecy-evangelical-support-donald-trump

http://www.rightwingwatch.org/post/leader-of-trump-cabinet-bible-study-god-only-hears-prayers-of-righteous-christians/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/once-again-the-silence-of-the-republicans-has-been-profound/2017/07/12/1b158ca6-6742-11e7-a1d7-9a32c91c6f40_story.html?hpid=hp_no-name_opinion-card-d%3Ahomepage%2Fstory

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/get-off-the-trump-train-before-it-crashes/2017/07/12/6e0959e2-673d-11e7-9928-22d00a47778f_story.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/under-trump-us-has-lost-its-moral-authority-down-under/2017/07/14/00dae05c-680a-11e7-8eb5-cbccc2e7bfbf_story.html?hpid=hp_no-name_opinion-card-d%3Ahomepage%2Fstory

http://www.cnn.com/2017/07/12/politics/trump-prayer-photo/index.html

http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2017/07/16/the-john-birch-society-is-alive-and-well-in-the-lone-star-state-215377

http://www.theamericanconservative.com/dreher/christians-tempted-by-trump-idolatry/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/as-pat-robertsons-former-executive-producer-nothing-about-his-interview-with-trump-surprises-me_us_5967b182e4b0d6341fe75c51?section=us_contributor

 

 
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Posted by on July 20, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMERICA!

 (Story repurposed and updated from a similar post from 2014)

Do you know what I discovered about American teenagers regarding Independence Day? I ran across a survey where some of them thought it was a really cool movie (okay, I guess I can see that, given the charisma and popularity of Will Smith and all). But in another survey, when gently nudged towards the topic “History,” 14% of them said that July 4th was the day we declared our independence from. . .wait for it. . . wait for it: FRANCE! And according to a dude named Colin Campbell, head of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 5 million teenagers didn’t have a clue as to the meaning of why we celebrate July 4th. (Parents, you got some splainin’ to do!)

Happy 4th Beeler Cagle Cartoons

Cartoon used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

Egads!  Our founding fathers must be rolling over in their graves. Of course, I can’t be too hard on our teenagers when the adults aren’t representing the true meaning of Independence Day well with the state of our partisan politics these days.  We have a seventy-year-old man-baby, chronic liar as president who probably has never read the constitution (or at least acts like he hasn’t), who I am convinced is trying to destroy at least the First Amendment*—especially the fourth estate (the press) when it doesn’t agree with him, and will eventually wipe out the preamble to the constitution by the time his reign of terror is over:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Truth vs Trump Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Cartoon used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

I actually can’t completely blame these knuckleheads for their misinterpretations and stupid declarations of political terrorism. Do you want to know who I blame? I blame our founding fathers. Although I love my country very much, and I truly appreciate all their hard work and sacrifice, I don’t think we’d be in this place today if they had made several unorthodox (for their time) changes when they declared our independence in 1776 and wrote the Constitution some 11 years later in 1787.  What, you say? They were already laying their lives on the line—what more could we have asked of them? (Hmmmm, because they were all white, male, landowners who couldn’t see past their own aristocratic noses to include other people and gender groups to give them a broader perspective.)

I’ve always fantasized about becoming a time traveler and going back in time to influence history. Can you imagine the heart-attack scenario if I had the ability to pop into the Founding Fathers’ midst in Philadelphia on July 1, 1776?  (Yep, you read it correctly: the Declaration of Independence wasn’t signed on July 4th. Twelve of the thirteen colonies voted on the declaration on July 2, 1776, and then they spent the next two days massaging the language.  In fact, most of the delegates didn’t sign the document that kept us from having British accents until August 2nd).

constitution-jeff-parker-florida-today-and-the-fort-myers-news-press

Cartoon used by permission: Jeff Parker, Florida Today and the Fort Myers News

Can you imagine a sweltering, hot room full of sweaty White men in Philadelphia with all the windows closed and shutters latched (due to the treasonous nature of their activities) as they tried to function in woolen clothing and wigs—most of them scared shitless at what they were about to engage in?  And “poof,” out pops my chubby-21st-Century-ass into the middle of the room.

Original Intent Christopher Weyant The Hill

Cartoon used by permission: Christopher Weyant, The Hill

SCENE ONE

ET, THE TIME TRAVELER:  Yo, yo, yo FFs—how’s it hanging?

(Several of the Founding Fathers faint dead away, but the rest remain stupefied.)

ET: Robert Livingston and John Jay of New York would you please administer smelling salts to Edward Rutledge of South Carolina and Richard Henry Lee from Virginia, and make sure they are awake and listening? I don’t have much time, and I have a lot to say. Besides Livingston and Jay, you aren’t going to have the gonads to sign this document: I know it and you know it, so you might as well make yourselves useful by resuscitating your comrades. No judgment here—just the historical facts.

Gentlemen, I am from the future: 2017 to be exact. My name is Eleanor Tomczyk and I am a writer and a blogger. I just published a book called The Fetus Chronicles: Podcasts from My Miseducated Self (a mostly true memoir).   You’ll never get to read it, but you should know that even though you didn’t insure my unalienable rights as a descendant of a slave/a Cherokee Indian/a woman—I am free, I am educated, I am intelligent, I’m actually married to a white man… Who just fainted this time?  Livingston, was that you?

Anyway, slavery ends in 1865, and I pontificate on everything from soup to nutty politicians on something called the World Wide Web that the entire world has access to.  All this communicative power is mine because you will provide me freedom of speech in the Bill of Rights that you’re going to pass on August 21, 1789. Thanks FFs—I am forever in your debt because of that.

Fourth of July Bill Day Cagle Cartoons

Cartoon used by permission: Bill Day, Cagle Cartoons

ET:  But I just wanted to let you in on a secret that unless you pull in some women, some Black folks, some Native American peeps, and some new kinds of immigrants with Spanish accents, before you write the Constitution, you’re going to set up our beloved country for a world of hurt in the future. Lots of things are going to change by the time 2017 rolls around. Actually, you can go on and pass this declaration thingie because it is the Constitution in eleven years that you’re going to really need to expand your horizons on that really needs inclusion of the aforementioned groups.

Right now that foolish 2nd Amendment is causing all sorts of mayhem. It needs to be changed because you didn’t think it through well enough. When you pass that in the Bill of Rights, please note that thousands of precious children will be murdered in the future, and scores of foolish men and women will demand to open/carry their guns in our “marketplaces” just because they think that is what you meant by their “unalienable rights” and the “rights of individuals to bear arms.” What you meant then and the nutty shit we’re doing with guns now would cause you to weep. Also, can you add a little note that the Constitution was not written by God, America is not the New Jerusalem, and you could be wrong on at least a couple of things in the Constitution (ahem: slavery and a woman’s right to vote)?

guns-target-steve-sack-the-minneapolis-star-tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune

ET:  Franklin, Adams, Jefferson, and Hamilton (you can catch George Washington up to speed once he takes a break from the war), there is a line that you’ll put in the Constitution that bears fleshing out, if you ask me—if you really want to know:

“WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS TO BE SELF-EVIDENT” (so far so good), “THAT ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL” (should read “that all men AND WOMEN—no matter what their color or position in life—are created equal”) “THAT THEY ARE ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR” (should read “whomever you deem your creator to be”—leaving this open to interpretation will cause the lack of freedom of religion you fought so hard for because hardcore Christians will demand it to be their God, and the Materialists, the Deists, and the Atheists who most of you declared yourselves to be, will have Hell to pay) “WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS, THAT AMONG THESE ARE LIFE, LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS” (should read “no matter what your gender, color, race, or social status in life”).

 ET:  My time is up—wish I could stay longer. Just one more thing: we elected a Black president in 2008 for two terms. Half the country didn’t make his reign as President an easy one, but he’ll probably go down in history as one of our greatest.  He certainly puts the petulant man-baby that followed him in the White House to shame.   I want you to know, I prayed daily that one of those 2nd Amendment right-wing nuts wouldn’t assassinate President Obama when he was in office (believe me, they tried). I breathed a sigh of relief when he left. Your 2nd Amendment has been grossly misinterpreted. It took on a religious fever against our first Black president with talks of revolution to overthrow him and his political party. Once you pass the Bill of Rights, by 2017 there will be more than 20 attempts to kill sitting and former presidents; 4 sitting presidents will be assassinated, 2 sitting presidents will have attempted assassinations on their lives, and every president from John F. Kennedy on will be threatened with assassination.  Surely, my dear Founding Fathers, that is not what you intended when you dreamed up our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution.

LET US CELEBRATE-parker-florida-today

Cartoon used by permission: Parker, Florida Today

ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA”) MOMENT ABOUT OUR COUNTRY’S WELL-BEING

I am discovering that our independence is a lot more fragile than we ever imagined.  Since Trump was voted into office and set up a Leninist—Steve Bannon—as his consigliere, while being carried in on a golden carriage by the religious right, I have been rereading every dystopian novel I can get my hands on. It seems as if every move Trump makes, every tweet he states is eroding our precious democracy and could destroy the very framework that our Founding Fathers laid their lives on the line for.  I am currently reading The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood.  In the introduction (written about her time in West Berlin five years before the Berlin Wall fell), she visited several countries behind the Iron Curtain and experienced the wariness and fear the citizens portrayed living under a totalitarian system, the author wrote:

“Having been born in 1939 and come to consciousness during World War II, I knew that established orders could vanish overnight.  Change could also be as fast as lightning.  It can’t happen here could not be depended on: anything could happen anywhere, given the circumstances.”

This Fourth of July, I will celebrate with a stronger sense of urgency the wonderment of the incredible independence I have been given.  I, along with millions of other Americans, made the mistake in thinking that we’d always keep building on that marvelous Declaration of Independence and its sister, The Constitution.  We never once imagined that there would ever be circumstances that would pull the rug out from under our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  I always thought our constitutional foundation was strong—something that could always be improved upon for all its citizens, but still strong.  That it would never be destroyed, because it couldn’t possibly happen here . . . until one day a loathsome, misogynistic, constitutionally ignorant, man-baby crawled out of the sewer with a tweeter feed and became our 45th President.

Our Founding Fathers are rolling over in their graves.

Offal Office Pat Bagley Salt Lake Tribune

Pat Bagley, Salt Lake Tribune

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTES

“The assertion that ‘all men are created equal’ was of no practical use in effecting our separation from Great Britain and it was placed in the Declaration not for that, but for future use.”Abraham Lincoln

“The legitimate powers of government extend to such acts only as are injurious to others. It does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no god. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.” Thomas Jefferson

“You can protect your liberties in this world only by protecting the other man’s freedom. You can be free only if I am free.”Clarence Darrow

“When the public’s right to know is threatened, and when the rights of free speech and free press are at risk, all of the other liberties we hold dear are endangered.”Christopher Dodd

Independence Day End FB Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMERICA!

REFERENCES

*http://talkingpointsmemo.com/edblog/priebus-trump-considering-amending-or-abolishing-1st-amendment 

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

Eleanor Tomczyk is the author of Monsters’ Throwdown, Fleeing Oz, and her latest memoir—The Fetus Chronicles: Podcasts from My Miseducated Self (a mostly true memoir)

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on June 29, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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PLEASE BLOW SMOKE UP MY KEISTER

Do you know what I discovered?  Trump taught me something recently.  (I know!  Aren’t you amazed!)  He taught me how a person can get people to blow smoke up his or her behind, and it can sometimes be a good thing.  I’m sure you all saw it or read about it.  He called his first cabinet meeting and after touting his royal greatness, he had his cabinet sound off one-by-one about what a fabulous job he’s been doing and what an incredible leader he is.

Trump Cabinet Steve Sack The Minneapolis Star Tribune

Cartoon used by permission: Steve Sack, The Minneapolis Star-Tribune

BINGO, I thought.  This is sheer genius!  Trumpee has taught me something I can use.  Why don’t I apply this methodology to getting reviews for my new book, I thought?  You see, I just learned from my publicist that if I can get 50 reviews from people who have read my new book, The Fetus Chronicles: Podcasts from my Miseducated Self, Amazon will list my book in its newsletters and other promotions.  Isn’t that cool?

BMProof-FetusChronicles

“The Fetus Chronicles” Book Mark Proof: Su from Earthly Charms

 

I bet you’re saying to yourself, “I’d love to write a review for you Eleanor, but if the truth be known, the thought of typing something into Amazon cares me to death.  How do I go about it, and what if I get tongue tied, or in this case, finger tied?”  Don’t be afraid.  It is quite simple.  You don’t have to be Hemingway; you can say as little as, “I liked this book,” and all you have to do is follow these very simple instructions:

How to Write a Review

In the meantime, while you are thinking about how to “blow smoke up my ass” on Amazon (if you hate my book, remember that my name is “Smeegle Klondonovich”), please enjoy a redo of my first published writing that started it all.  I got beaten by the writing bug, so to speak, after I wrote this.  This story will hopefully remind you what a “brilliant, talented, outstanding, deeply profound writer I am”—don’t you agree?

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WILL HIGH SCHOOL EVER END?

(Repurposed post from 2013)

Why is it in real life, as in high school, we exert so much energy trying to impress people we don’t know, won’t ever see again after our season of random internment, and who have no financial or emotional investment in our future?

I have beautiful, White girlfriends who won’t go to a swimming pool while on vacation because they don’t have the figures they had in college anymore, and the strangers across the pool from them, who they don’t know and couldn’t care a rat’s ass about, might become scornful of their cellulite or less than perky boobs. When in reality, they should be embracing Joy Behar’s classic observation of things that shouldn’t matter one iota:  “So what – who cares?”

All my baby boomer girlfriends have better bodies than I, but even though I’m at least 50 pounds heavier (when I’m telling the truth), I have a black woman’s sensibility about this issue: accent the positive, suck in the negative, and skirt the thunderous. Then bedazzle the shit out of your goddess self with a rhinestone cover-up and rhinestone flip-flops, and “drop it like it’s hot, baby”!

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Author Doing Her Bedazzled Thing: Photo Credit–J. Tomczyk

Not too long ago, my husband and I took an extended cruise in the Mediterranean.  It was the trip of a lifetime. Everything was better than we had fantasized: the weather was picture perfect, the people were warm and accepting, the 3,000 passenger ship was outstanding, the food was superb, and we were like newlyweds reveling in each other’s company. The only thing that seemed to cause just a tiny bit of consternation was the very aggressive touring itinerary (4 days of excursions, 1 day at sea, 3 days of excursion, 1 day at sea, 2 days of excursion, 1 day at sea) that we had been given. But I wasn’t overly concerned because even though I’m a “fat-bottom girl,” it doesn’t mean I’m not in good health. I’m a daily exerciser and had trained for this trip for 8 months.  I added strenuous hills to my daily, treadmill workout, climbed the stairs at work in the afternoons, and special ordered shoes a triathlon athlete would use.

What I didn’t expect and what my research never revealed was that all of our 10 touring sites were perched on the top of ancient hills or mountains with steep inclines to protect the antiquity inhabitants from marauders.  Most accesses were like scaling a wall.

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Port of Malta: Photo Credit–E. Tomczyk

Every evening we were given an overview of the activities for the next day.  In between the instructions for the cake decorating class and the marzipan demonstrations was listed the information the cruise director felt we needed in order to survive our shore excursions.

Ship Brochure: It takes 600 steps to reach the top of your fabulous destination.  There is a cable car if you prefer or you can employ a donkey to transport you up and down the ancient stone stairs.  Wear comfortable shoes. Cost: $100 – $400/person. The ship departs at 5:30 – if you miss the departure, you will have to make your own way to the next port to meet the ship.

Translation: The 600 steps are straight up the face of a mountain; the cable car often has a two-hour wait, and you will miss your ship utilizing that mode of transportation. The stairs are shared by donkeys that slip constantly on the descent and leave slippery “pooh” all over the staircase from Hell. No manner of footwear is capable of keeping you upright once you lose your footing going down – you might as well kiss your sorry ass goodbye. Before you leave this beautiful island, the tour guide will make sure she dumps you in the shopping area that has only one way in and out to the stairs or the unreliable, overly-crowded cable car system. The shopkeepers will try to help you by relieving you of as many Benjamins as possible to lighten the load of your descent. Trying to balance yourself on a donkey while your hands are stuffed with chotzkies however will be proof-positive that you have lost your ever-loving mind – once and for all. Good luck, silly over-weight Americans!

DAY THREE TOUR:  On day three, my husband (the Energizer Bunny), a gay couple (the extremely handsome, not-one-ounce-of-fat-on-their-bones Neil Patrick Harris and his partner David Burtka look-alikes), a lesbian couple (50’ish with similar body frames as mine whose bodies had each born children in their former lives), an octogenarian grandmother from Iowa sporting a recent double-knee replacement, and an old dude of an age somewhere between 90 and Methuselah began our shore excursion.

Because I temporarily lost consciousness, I can’t remember at what point I lost my mind and reverted back to high school.  I do remember approaching a sky-high escalator in a museum with hundreds of other people in sweltering heat and watching the escalator break down right before my group got on.  Because there was a wall of people behind us, we were forced to go forward and mount a circular ramp that seemed like twenty flights of stairs that shot straight up to the heavens. The lesbian mothers, the grandmother from Iowa, the Methuselah dude, and I stared at each other in total horror! Hadn’t we just climbed 300 steps the day before and 200 steps the day before that, as well as an unexpected 100 steps in a museum that wasn’t listed?  Didn’t the brochure assure us there would be no more steps to climb on this tour? I could have sworn someone said we’d catch a break today.

Carnival Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

All I know is that my husband, who has the ability to walk faster than most people can run, took off up the ramp to find the tour guide who was nowhere to be seen.  As the rest of our group began to ascend the inevitable, the gay boys began telling us about a rather large, fat-bottomed woman (whose ass was the size of Cleveland) who couldn’t make it up the last ramp in the previous city, and they just couldn’t understand why people didn’t read the ship instructions about the strenuous nature of the excursions.

(Had they seen my ass, I wondered?  Was this a veiled hint about moi?)

“I mean, really now, why can’t these people ‘just say no’ if they’re too fat to complete the course without looking like they’re going to die,” said our Neil Patrick Harris look-alike cruise mate. “Personally, I feel like making an announcement tonight at dinner over the PA system.  ‘Really people – know your limitations; because you need to cut the rest of us some freakin’ slack!  We’re having heart attacks here just wondering if you’re gonna have a heart attack right in front of us’”!

The lesbian couple, the grandmother, the tremulous old man, and I gingerly laughed along with the boys, but we silently heard the “Rocky theme song” roaring in our ears (or was it the blood rushing to our heads before the onset of major strokes as we secretly wondered if they were ridiculing us?).  We took off up the incline like thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby trying to match the gait of the Adonis boys, leaning almost at a 45 degree angle to balance our bodies on the slope. As I passed the old man at my road-runner pace, his eyes widened in terror as his lips mouthed, “What the fuck?” but my team and I had to leave him in the dust.  Keeping up with the Adonis-looking critics was all that mattered, even if it meant moving at the speed of light and losing a soldier along the way.  These bodies had born children and nursed babies, goddamnit! The fat on our asses, our low-hanging breasts, and puff-n-stuff stomachs were badges of honor.  Maybe the gay boys had children, but they sure as hell hadn’t “had” children!

The octogenarian dropped out about two-thirds of the way (clutching her side) and gasping for air. My lesbian sisters and I made it to the top without dying, but I had a Charlie-horse in my ass that wouldn’t quit. As the girls and I high-fived each other (sisters, hangin’ tough!), I could see (being the chubbiest in the bunch) that I had impressed the boys. What they didn’t know was that I couldn’t say more than two words without gasping for air or I would keel over and die.  I didn’t dare speak without great measure.  I knew if I tried to articulate more than one five-word sentence without pausing, I’d be the gay boys’ prophecy come true: one fat-bottom woman careening into their perfectly fit, athletic bodies and knocking them back down the slope like a giant chocolate snowball from on high.  So I took out my Blackberry (remember those?), nonchalantly leaned against the museum wall, and pretended to check messages as if I were some high-muckety-muck at a Fortune 500 company and the business couldn’t live without me.

Uphills Meme

Runner Meme: Courtesy of @ Cook in Canuck

“Some hike, huh?” said one of the gorgeous boys.

 “Uh, huh. . . .” I whispered, while trying not to lose consciousness as my heart almost exploded in my chest from over-exertion.

“Great ship, isn’t it? said the other Adonis boy. “What’s on your agenda tomorrow?  We’re going rock climbing.  Isn’t that exciting?!”

 “G-r-e-a-t!” (tap) “Me doing” (tap) “pool” (tap) “water volley-ball tournament” (tap) “against a bunch of twenty-somethings” (tap)—”gonna make them eat my” (tap) “dust.”

“Excellent!  You go, girl with your bad self!”

Clearly, I had impressed the boys.

The next day found the quivering old man with both hands glued to a walker while arduously climbing into the hot tub (he was still there at dinner time with a smile on his face).  The lesbian couple, the grandmother, and I met up at the spa first, and then we subsequently waddled to our separate “quiet” corners around the adult pool (cellulite, thunderous thighs, and saggy tits on full display).  We spent the afternoon sipping rum punches and napping the day away in rockin’ bathing suits while our mental health applauded our goal-setting activity of just being ourselves and being proud of the hard-earned battles won by giving and sustaining life with our amazing bodies.

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ELEANOR’S SELAH (“AHA”) MOMENT

I’ve discovered that if my girlfriends (old and new) and I ever want to shake the specter of high school, we need to finally travel at the beat of our own drummers in our old age, because it’s the condition in which we arrive at the final destination, not the opinions of others, that really matters.  Joy Behar really is an oracle whose mantra we should adopt when the high school spirit tries to tear us down and make us forget the amazing women that we have become in our mature years: So what – who cares!

Write a Review FB

Writer’s Meme: Courtesy of LianaBrooks.com

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR?  Check out her website at www.eleanortomczyk.com

HAVEN’T YET READ ANY OF THE AUTHOR’S DISCOVERY SERIES?  CHECK OUT HER AUTHOR’S PAGE ON AMAZON!

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on June 20, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

WHEN ELLIE MET JACKIE

Do you know what I discovered this week? This weekend I will be celebrating my 38th wedding anniversary and my sixty-ninth birthday. (When I say “weekend,” that is not a slip of the tongue—I plan to party for three days straight!) I am so thrilled to have something else to think about other than Donald Trump.  He is turning out to be such a consummate liar, grand manipulator, and narcissistic, racist muckraker that I can barely breathe.  I am convinced he is a very mentally unstable person, and I can’t help wondering if God has quit his day job because the more King Trump/Bannon reigns the more I feel as if we’re slip-sliding into Hell as a country.  One of the things I’m going to do during my birthday weekend is see Wonder Woman, and boy would I love to be her for just one day, and be left alone with Trump.  Me and my truth-telling lasso would do some serious damage against Herr Trump.

Wonder Woman RJ Matson Roll Call

Cartoon used by permission: RJ Matson Roll Call

Of all the things that Trump has done that upsets me the most is how he has been like a pied piper to the racist elements in our culture.  I was feeling pretty sad this week about that until I ran across the most amazing article in the NY Times by Sheryll Cashin about how “interracial love is saving America.”* WHAT?  She has this premise that even though it looks as if our country is sinking into a racist quagmire, interracial couples are “chipping away at White supremacy” in a way that makes you want to stand up and cheer.  Cashin cites how Thomas Jefferson stressed with great emphasis that interracial sex and marriage should never be allowed because it would “stain” the White race since he considered the Negro to be “inferior in mind and form.”  (I have two words for you Thomas Jefferson—you hypocritical dog, you:  Sally Hemings—slave and mother of six of your children.)  Ms. Chashin states that it was love that overturned the miscegenation laws in America in 1967 (Loving vs. Virginia), and now at least “one quarter of Americans have a close relative in an interracial marriage,” and when polled, “91% of respondents said that interracial marriage was a change for the better or didn’t matter at all.”  Boy, we’ve come a long way, Baby, from our forefathers’ days!

INTERRACIAL COUPLE HOLDING HANDS ofcommonsense dot me

Interracial Hands: http://www.ofcommonsense.me

Suddenly it dawned on me: I am part of the “salvation” of our nation—me and my man (WW—“White and Wonderful”)!  Hot damn!  And since our 38th anniversary is coming up this weekend, I thought I’d meditate on our love story and share the hope I feel with my readers that no matter how things look now—the killing of innocent Blacks, Muslims, Hindis, Latinos, and Asians—we are never going back to the days of our ignorant forefathers.  Interracial love and understanding is here to stay, and it is growing.

Below is a snippet of our love story of hope.  Enjoy!

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“Ellie and Jackie”/Photo Credit: William Clarke

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WHEN ELLIE MET JACKIE

(A Story of Interracial Love)

Forty-five years ago, a Black girl from the inner city of Cleveland and a White boy from the sheltered suburb of a New England town bumped into each other in a hippie commune in the early 70’s.  Those were heady times and full of experimentation, but just because their paths crossed didn’t mean they should have been attracted to each other.   Most of the White people the girl had known (except for an occasional student in college and a couple of teachers along the way) were ones she feared or hated because of their cruel and horrid treatment to her.  In fact, the girl was often heard to say to anyone who would listen about her views on interracial dating that:  “There ain’t nothin’ no White man can do for me, Chil’!”  The boy grew up in an all-White neighborhood, and even though there were a couple of Black kids in his school, the only Black person who ever came to his house was the mailman, which the family dog continuously chased and tried to bite because the dog “didn’t like Black people,” or so the story goes.  (The dog never chased anybody else—just the poor Black postman.)

The girl belonged to a theater club in her hippie commune, and one day she snuck into the dark hallway of the balcony of the theater during auditions.  She wasn’t in a position to see the actors who were auditioning but she could hear their voices.  When a booming voice that sounded like the voice of God and resonated like James Earl Jones filled the auditorium, the girl’s heart skipped a beat.  She had never heard such a mellifluous voice.  The girl instantly knew that only a Black man could have a voice like that, and in a community that had no Black men but scores of White men, she scurried as fast as she could to see what fine Black male specimen encased that heavenly voice.

our skin color doesn't define us

Stock Photo: Google

The boy’s white skin wasn’t the only thing to surprise the girl.  When she introduced herself to him, she discovered that his name was “Jackie.”

“What kind of name is that?” she said.

“It’s a New England nickname for John,” he said.  The girl looked into his gorgeous blue eyes and almost lost her breath when he spoke to her.

“Well, my name is Eleanor although some people call me ‘Ellie’ which I really don’t like because REALLY—do I look like an ‘Ellie ‘cause seriously would anyone have called Eleanor Roosevelt ‘Ellie’ to her face and that is really who I’m named after at least that is what I’ve been told but then again my mother was crazy and my name could be Diana for all I know…” she said in one breathless run-on sentence.  (The girl was blushing but since she was a golden mocha color, the boy did not notice.  I don’t think the boy ever figured out when the girl was blushing.)

The boy laughed—a deep ground-swell of a laugh that the girl remembered thinking was of a timbre that Santa Claus would kill for.

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“Ellie and Jackie”/Photo Credit: E. Tomczyk

The boy won the audition into the theater club, but the girl was too petrified to talk to him after their initial meeting.  So she had her girlfriend invite him to a dinner party in which the girl would be present as well.

The girl thought the boy was arrogant as Hell.

The boy thought the girl was argumentative and pushy.

The girl said, “I hope we see each other again.”

The boy said, “Sure, I’ll give you a call.”

Weeks went by, but the boy never called the girl.

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“Ellie and Jackie”–14th Anniversary/Photo Credit: E. Tomczyk

The more the boy ignored the girl, the more she pined for him.

“I can’t believe he said he’d call, but I haven’t even heard a peep,” the girl said to her girlfriends one day.

“Do you like him?” asked one of the girlfriends.

“I don’t know… I just thought there was a spark there,” the girl mournfully replied.

“Then why don’t you call him and ask him out on a date.  This is the 70s, Girl!  You don’t have to wait for him.”

That is what the girl did.  She called the boy.  It turned out that his car was broken down and he had no money.  All he had was a beat-up company truck. He wanted to arrange a date where he picked her up in style and took her to a fancy restaurant.

The girl said, she didn’t give a damn about riding in a truck just so long as it didn’t leave them stranded on the road, and as to a fancy meal, if he could boil water, he could invite her over for dinner for a couple boiled eggs.

He made “Shrimp Wiggle.”  (Can of shrimp, can of Campbell’s mushroom soup, and a can of peas on toast.) All the girl could think was, “Oh, Lord Jesus, if this is how White people eat, then no wonder they don’t have any rhythm!”

The girl ate the Shrimp Wiggle and loved it because that night they talked for twelve straight hours.  As the girl’s roommates wondered whether they should file a missing person’s report, the boy and the girl spoke about their fears, their abuses, their rejections, their pain, their scars, their ambitions, their likes, their dreams, and their goals.  They looked into each other’s souls and they loved what they saw.

The next morning when the boy took the girl back to her apartment, they both knew they had met the love of their lives and that one day they would spend the rest of their lives together.  The End.

Anniversary Couple

“Ellie and Jackie”: Happily Married for 38 Years

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ELEANOR’S “SELAH” (“AHA”) MOMENT

I am discovering that my man and I are pushing back bigotry and racism one interracial love at a time.  There once was a time when neither of us could have imagined our life together.  Now that we have lived the reality, we know that “perfect love casts out all fears.”

Oh, and Happy Birthday to me.  (The girl and the boy married on the girl’s birthday in 1979.)  I gave myself the greatest birthday gift a girl could ever get:  the love of a very, very good man!

***

               QUOTES TO CHEW ON

“I have never had the least apprehension that I or my friends would marry Negroes if there was no law to keep them from it, but as Judge Douglas and his friends seem to be in great apprehension that they might, if there were no law to keep them from it, I give him the most solemn pledge that I will to the very last stand by the law of this State, which forbids the marrying of white people with Negroes.”Abraham Lincoln, The so-called “Great Emancipator” (1858)

“Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, Malay, and red, and placed them on separate continents, and but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend the races to mix.”—Virginia trial court Judge Leon Bazile, who heard the case of Richard and Mildred Loving in 1965 and ruled against their interracial marriage.

“Marriage is one of the ‘basic civil rights of man,’ fundamental to our very existence and survival…. To deny this fundamental freedom on so unsupportable a basis as the racial classifications embodied in these statutes, classifications so directly subversive of the principle of equality at the heart of the Fourteenth Amendment, is surely to deprive all the State’s citizens of liberty without due process of law. The Fourteenth Amendment requires that the freedom of choice to marry not be restricted by invidious racial discriminations. Under our Constitution, the freedom to marry, or not to marry, a person of another race resides with the individual and cannot be infringed by the State.”—The 1967 Supreme Court ruled unanimously in Loving v. Virginia

“The secret to a happy marriage is if you can be at peace with someone within four walls, if you are content because the one you love is near to you, either upstairs or downstairs, or in the same room, and you feel that warmth that you don’t find very often, then that is what love is all about.”—Bruce Forsyth

***

WANT TO READ MORE ABOUT “ELLIE AND JACKIE”?  CHECK OUT THE AUTHOR’S LATEST BOOK:  “THE FETUS CHRONICLES: PODCASTS FROM MY MISEDUCATED SELF” ON AMAZON!

WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR? CHECK OUT THE WEBSITE: www.eleanortomczyk.com

Birthday Anniversary Celebration 

REFERENCES

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/03/opinion/sunday/how-interracial-love-is-saving-america.html?mabReward=ACTM_TC4&recp=7&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&region=CColumn&module=Recommendation&src=rechp&WT.nav=RecEngine *

http://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2017/05/18/528939766/five-fold-increase-in-interracial-marriages-50-years-after-they-became-legal

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
8 Comments

Posted by on June 8, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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TRUMP AND HIS CHRISTIAN FOOLS

Do you know what I discovered this week?  There are moles in the White House who are leaking pertinent information.  I know because they contacted me.  No, that’s not entirely accurate.  The White House moles contacted the Tomczyk moles who live in my lawn (of which there are scores), and gave them the straight poop on all the crazy shenanigans that #45 has been up to.  They say this president is going down! These moles can hear everything, because they are everywhere under the White House grounds, and they assured my mole peeps that Trump did “tape” Comey on several occasions. How’s that for a “deep state” scoop? Fox News thinks that Obama government hold-overs are the leakers in the White House, but it is actually insectivores.

TRUMP COMEY DINNER John Darkow Columbia Daily Tribune Missouri

Cartoon used by permission: John Darkow, Columbia Daily-Tribune, Missouri

The White House moles are true patriots and are Trump supporters (they tend to support whichever president occupies the White House), but they have become very concerned at the volatility of this particular president and the damage he is causing our democracy.  Several of the moles keeled over and fainted dead away when they heard him leak secret information to our enemies the Russians that had been told to our CIA in confidence by the Israelis.  (First of all, the White House Moles couldn’t believe that the Russians were invited into the Oval.  There are a large group of moles that have served under several presidents, and they had never, ever seen such egregious flaunting of security and boastful mishandling of top secret information.)

Trump spills the Beans Dave Granlund Politicalcartoons com

Cartoon used by permission: Dave Granlund, Politicalcartoons.com

Then there was the pulling together of that bogus letter to fire Comey.  The White House moles heard it all!  Things whispered in the dark and secretly taped… They weren’t fans of Comey’s, but they had heard the inside scoop between #45 and his body guard who later delivered the pink slip to the FBI.  When the news broke about Comey, the White House moles were deeply concerned, but when the White House spokespeople blatantly lied about why Comey was fired, the moles wondered whether they should speak up.

Muzzling Comey Marian Kamensky Austria

Cartoon used by permission: Marian Kamensky, Austria

Then the White House moles overheard a private conversation in the Oval between Trump and one of his loyal Evangelical supporters that greatly alarmed them.  The Evangelist was pledging his undying loyalty to Trump along with all his followers, and encouraging Trump to fight on—to never give up—because God was on his side.  The Evangelist said that any and all critics were the Anti-Christ and Trump was to ignore them.

The moles determined that a message needed to be leaked on social media to warn the country about what was going on in the White House and the crazed, religious bent of many of #45’s supporters, so they chose “Eleanor the Blogger” because of her long-standing, on-again-off-again relationship with the Virginia moles and the fact that she used to be one of those goose-stepping Christians (horrors!) to sound the alarm.  She wasn’t necessarily a fan of moles, but they knew her to be fair.  Below is what transpired.

***

This morning, when I went out to pick up the morning newspaper, I noticed a giant pile of leaves and debris on my front lawn.  “Goddamnit,” I said to myself.  “Those moles have been up to it again!”  When I began to stomp down on their tunnel, I noticed that a grungy manila envelope (marked:  From the White House Moles) lay just beneath the surface.  Upon opening the envelope, I found an old-fashioned tape recording and the picture of the Evangelist Jim Bakker—looking like Gollum with a white beard and a cross on a blue cap.  (Remember him of the Jim and Tammy Show [she with the runny mascara from crying all the time], and [he the convicted felon accused of raping a woman, paying her hush money, and misappropriating funds from his Christian village/theme park])?  He was convicted for 45 years and sent to prison, but got out after five years on a technicality.  At first he appeared to be a humbled and changed man.  Even wrote a book about how he was wrong about shaking down gullible people for his self-centered, greedy purposes.  But given what I heard from the tape delivered by the moles, he’s back and worse than ever.   Below is a transcript of the tape between Jim Bakker and President Trump that was delivered to my lawn by the White House Moles.

Jim BAKKER

Jim Bakker, convicted felon/evangelist/doomsday huckster

TRUMP:  Welcome, oh squirrely one.  Who are you that dares enter my presence unannounced?

BAKKER:  It’s me, your Royalness.  One of your poorly educated that you said you loved so much on the campaign trail.  I hail from Branson, Missouri.

TRUMP:  Oh, yeah!  Are you one of my Christians or one of my Heathens?

BAKKER:  Your Highness, I’m one of your best Bible-believing Christians.  In fact that is why I’m here.  God sent me here to tell you not to get discouraged.  You won this election because of all the good Christians who prayed and fasted for you, and then voted for you in droves.  God heard our prayers and put you in office.  If Hillary had won, God told me that it would mean He was judging the world for immature leadership.  In fact, I came here to specifically tell you that you should pay no never mind to your critics.  They are just haters from Hell.  *It seems like there is a hatred among peoples and this is satanic. This (hatred) is the White Horse of the Apocalypse. The White Horse of the Apocalypse is the first horse. It’s a horse of speech. It’s a horse of spirit. And the spirit of Antichrist is out now. This is what you’re seeing. You want to know what the Antichrist spirit looks like. That’s what’s going on in America. These people mocking the president. The words they use. The speech they use. That’s the spirit of Antichrist. That’s the spirit of hatred.*

TRUMP:  Oooooh, I knew my haters were bad.  Agents of the Devil, you say?  Part of the Apocalypse?  Epic!  God’s on my side?  Wait. I thought I was God.  Are you betraying me, my little uneducated one?

BAKKER:  Oh, no Master.  You are the one who will usher in the return of Jesus.  No matter who criticizes you, the Christians who voted for you will never, ever believe their lies.  We will never turn against you! We will fight for you until the end.

Poorly Educated Arts and politics from the armpit of America

TRUMP:  Can you believe how they treat me?  **No politician in history, and I say this with great surety, has been treated worse or more unfairly. * And did you hear that a special prosecutor has been appointed to mess with me?  They didn’t even consult me—they just up and did it.  Announced it to me thirty minutes before announcing it to the world. ***With all of the illegal acts that took place in the Clinton campaign & Obama Administration, there was never a special councel [sic] appointed! This is the single greatest witch hunt of a politician in American history!”*** This is America.  I should be able to do what I want—meet with the Russians, fire somebody, and grab women by their va-jay-jays.  I’m the President!

President Cartman RJ Matson Roll Call

Cartoon used by permission: RJ Matson, Roll Call

BAKKER:  Yes, your Holiness?

TRUMP:  So what do you do for a living, my loyal subject?

BAKKER:  I’m a leader in the “Prepper Movement.”  You remember, I sent you all my pamphlets.  I help the right kind of Christians (ones that think like me) prepare for the Apocalypse.  I have a show on TV (via DirecTV, Roku, Apple TV), and I sell food and goods for the End Times.  The end is fast approaching, my King.  You’ve got your tsunamis, your earthquakes, your financial meltdowns, your Zika virus, and most of all, you’ve got your ISIS and your homosexuals—all point to the End Times.  Obama was the Anti-Christ, as you know.  But don’t you be afraid because you’ll be saved in the Rapture, and you’ve been made President of the United States to hold back God’s wrath for a few years.  That’s where I come in.  It will be seven years of turmoil and then Jesus will take all the real Christians—including you, Oh Anointed One—right up to Heaven.  But you’ve got to stay alive until then.  That’s where I come in.   I sell enough goods through my TV show to keep you hanging out in your bunker until Jesus returns to rescue us.  (This is why Global Warming is a crock of shit—no need to worry about the Earth because Jesus is going to destroy it in seven years anyway, after we’re gone.)

Anyway, to keep you staying alive, I’ll sell you 14 totes full of black bean burger mix for $3,000; what I call Bakker’s Dozen Extreme Canteen Kit, including 13 packs of ponchos, thermal blankets, glow stick and whistles for $500; and my Survival Food Brick Monthly Club with 90 servings of food for $50 per month.  I’ll also sell you a solar-powered, “fuel-less” generator for $1,784, and a variety of mid-tech water bottles and hand-cranked ham radios for extra security.

Jim Bakker Survivalist Food

Snapshot of Jim Bakker’s Prepper Food++

TRUMP:  I only eat McDonald’s burgers, fries and Kentucky Fried chicken.  Got any of that freeze-dried in your seven year plan?

BAKKER:  No.  But you’ll love what we do have.  As you so famously say, “believe me!”  It is sooooooooo good!++  My advertising slogan is: “Imagine — the world is dying and you’re having a breakfast for kings!”

TRUMP:  Excellent!  As I’ve always said, the beauty of me is that I’m very rich, so I can afford your end-timey food.  By the way, how much for the snake oil?

***

INSPIRATIONAL “SELAH” (“AHA” MOMENT) ON “CHRISTIANS FOR TRUMP”

I am discovering that you can’t make this shit up.  There are no such things as undercover garden moles leaking me White House secrets, but there is a mad king in the White House and nutty Evangelicals supporting Trump’s every move.  In fact, they, along with their science-fiction fears, helped him gain the White House. The exact quotes of Trump and Bakker have been indicated by asterisks in my blog, and are tagged into the source material under “references” below.   One of the reasons the supporters of Trump will never believe the truth or stop following him (no matter how terrible he becomes) is because, for many of them, voting for him was a holy cause, and to admit that this president is the worst leader we’ve had since Andrew Johnson means that they were wrong, wrong, wrong in voting for him, and it would shake the very core of their faith in God and their literal interpretation of the Bible.  It would destroy them to the core.

++JUICY TIDBIT:  EVANGELIST’S JIM BAKKER’S FOOD WAS REVIEWED BY CASEY CHAN OF SPLOID AND CHEF GREG LAURO FROM BROOKLYN, NY WHICH CHEF LAURO PURCHASED AND PREPARED: “The food—which basically only requires the addition of hot water to cook—ends up being like beige slop and red vomit and liquid sludge. (Chef Greg) Lauro described the taste as ‘paper mache’ and ‘a bathroom at a bar at the end of the night in a college town’and ‘one of the worst things I’ve ever eaten in my life’ to describe the taste and smell of the food.”

***

LATEST BOOK BY AUTHOR:  The Fetus Chronicles: Podcasts from My Miseducated Self

AVAILABLE ON AMAZON NOW!

***

Witch Hunt David Fitzsimmons The Arizona Star

Cartoon used by permission: David Fitzsimmons, The Arizona Star

REFERENCES

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/15/opinion/trump-classified-data.html?action=click&pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=opinion-c-col-right-region&region=opinion-c-col-right-region&WT.nav=opinion-c-col-right-region

*http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/jim-bakker-antichrist_us_59195cfbe4b0031e737ebff7

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2017/05/16/trump-officials-on-comey-memo-dont-see-how-trump-isnt-completely-fcked

*http://www.newsweek.com/2016/04/08/televangelist-jim-bakker-back-440991.html

++http://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2015/12/03/456677535/apocalypse-chow-we-tried-televangelist-jim-bakkers-survival-food

*http://www.patheos.com/blogs/friendlyatheist/2017/01/25/televangelist-jim-bakker-donald-trumps-critics-even-the-republicans-look-demon-possessed/

***https://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line/wp/2017/05/18/trump-is-totally-delusional-about-whats-happening-to-him-right-now/?hpid=hp_no-name_opinion-card-b%3Ahomepage%2Fstory

**https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2017/live-updates/trump-white-house/trump-comey-and-russia-how-key-washington-players-are-reacting/trump-says-no-president-has-been-treated-more-unfairly/

 
5 Comments

Posted by on May 18, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

MOTHER’S DAY: “OY TO THE VEY!”

(RETOOLED FROM A MOTHER’S DAY POST PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR IN 2013, PREVIOUSLY ENTITLED: “MY CRAZY-ASS MOTHER”)

Do you know what I’ve discovered?   I could really do without Mother’s Day.  In fact, I pretty much hate the celebration.  It is not my fault—it’s God’s.  He could have arranged for me to be born as Michelle Obama and have her delightful mother and her life, or God could have delayed my birth and let me be one of Michelle and Barack’s kids.  I’d be so cute, rich, and smart right now—and man, my upper arms would be on the road to becoming spectacular like Michelle’s instead of flapping in the breeze like the morning wash hung out to dry. But noooooo!  God had to let me be born to a crazy woman who thought if she, ever so sweetly, ignored me (except when she was trying to kill me), that maybe somehow my sister and I would disappear before anybody noticed we belonged to her.

Mothers Day Favorite Peter Broelman Australia

Cartoon used by permission: Peter Broelman, Australia

I suspect my mother was paranoid-schizophrenic long before I was born, but she kept it well hidden until the hormones of menopausal, illegitimate pregnancies produced offspring who demanded to have a mother.  Children are self-centered like that.  They don’t give a shit what is going on in your life.  If you’re their mother, then you better damn well show up and do your job and being crazy is no excuse:

“Feed me, change me, hold me, love me, discipline me—goddamnit—or I’m going down to the nearest ne’er-do-well office and fill out an application to become the local (fill in the blank____________) thief, drug-addict, ‘ho, gangsta, self-centered brat—you name it.  Forewarned is forearmed, Mommie Dearest.”

There is an old adage that women end up emulating their mothers which scared the bejesus out of my sister, Pee-wee, and me.   We were always looking over our shoulders to see if the crazies were going to catch up with us.  We’re both in our sixties now and we’ve managed not to go insane (knock on wood), but we did so by tip-toeing past the graveyard of Mother’s Days lost and putting each other through a sanity check once or twice a year.

Turning into my mother Dan Piraro www bizzaro com

Cartoon used by permission: Dan Piraro, http://www.bizzaro.com

My sister and I would take each other’s mental temperature with questions about scenarios that once plagued our mother’s daily existence:

Are you talking to the wall, yet?”  (No, only to myself, but I try not to answer me or to talk to myself more than once a day!)

“Are you sewing extraneous pockets inside your sweaters and coats and stuffing them with stolen Saltine crackers, sugar packets, salt and pepper shakers, and anything not nailed down at the lunch counter of the Woolworths Five and Dime to prepare for Armageddon?” (No, but I must confess that I take home the little bottles of shampoo and conditioner from fancy hotels.  Does that count?)

“Do you make up conspiracy theories about the Russians trying to take control of your mind through radio waves?”  (No, although I must admit that I am starting to believe a conspiracy theory that since Trump got elected, I’ve been kidnapped by aliens, and I’m living in an alternate universe with alternate truths and an alternate reality.)

“Do you fantasize about killing your children in order to protect them from the “Russians” and white people”?  (No, but I did have copious dreams for years about me killing our mother after that time I invited her to the Girls’ Ensemble concert I was conducting at a church.)

The Girls’ Ensemble concert in 1976 was my last ditch effort to reestablish a relationship with my mother after having cut her out of my life for years.   Mommie Dearest hadn’t been in the concert for more than fifteen minutes before she got “agitated from being surrounded by too many white people” she said, and decided to accompany the Negro spiritual I was conducting [“God’s Gonna Rain Down Fire”] with her personal pyrotechnics.  She couldn’t understand why I didn’t understand that she was aiding God and me with the lighted matches she was throwing with trance-like abandonment into the audience’s hair.  I can still hear the curses of those poor white folks as they scattered like roaches swatting their heads while Security tried to subdue my crazy-ass mother.  I kept conducting the choir as if nothing crazy was happening—as if I didn’t know that woman.  I was too horrified to turn around and face the audience.  All I could do was sob like a hot mess while never missing a beat with my baton, hope the audience thought the crazy woman was related to the only other black person in the choir, and beg God to open up the ground and yank my mother down into the deepest hole in Hell.

 

Crazy Mother FB MEME

Every year, my sister and I have passed our own litmus tests, and we didn’t become paranoid-schizophrenic like our mother—thank God.   But one doesn’t rub elbows with that type of mother and come out unscathed.  Children of alcoholics, drug addicts, and mentally ill people either become like their parents or become the polar opposite. With all due respect, my sister Pee-wee is a control-freak and never had children. I overcompensated for my mother’s mental and physical abandonment by trying to be the perfect mom who was always up in my children’s grill, which almost drove my kids and me insane.  All children make mistakes and have to find their own way in life, no matter how inept or how great the mother.  Every stumble, every rebellion, and every mistake my children made I took as a personal rejection of my “shoddy” parenting, and I would just try harder.   My kids weren’t allowed to fuck up in life and that is a pressure no child can withstand, even if their hearts are in the right place to do the right thing. They love me dearly, and I them, but I’ve always felt that I could have done better by them by providing more clear-thinking advice about the pitfalls of life.  I have nightmares about the things I never had a chance to teach them before they flew the coop.  My secret horror is that they will be confronted with something in life and not have the life skills with which to overcome, and that lack, in turn, will fling them into the insanity of their grandmother.  When asked what keeps me awake at night about motherhood—this is it.

Good Mother FB

ELEANOR’S “SELAH” (“AHA”) MOMENT

I am discovering that I am cautiously falling in love with the memory of my crazy-ass mother and coming to the adult realization that she did the best she could, given her circumstances.   Mama has been dead for thirty-seven years now (died in her sleep on an Easter morning after singing in the church choir), and I’m just beginning to see her through the prism of a life destroyed by intrinsic racism, sexual abuse, and poverty.  As I interview people from my past to chronicle my mother’s all-consuming insanity for my memoirs, I am beginning to see a woman who was not too different from me in her aspirations, dreams, and talents.  The difference in my sanity and my mother’s insanity is that I found the true love of a man (she was summarily abandoned by my father and left to perish in poverty with two babies); the winds of history blew open the doors at just the right time for my intelligent mind to be educated and my talent to be cultivated beyond the aspirations of scrubbing White folks’ toilets (Mama was never allowed to go past high school and spent much of her life as a maid rather than an opera singer which was her dream).   I have traveled the world and lived extremely well (wasting more money on Broadway shows, travel, and gourmet meals than my mother made in her entire life as a servant).

Am I sane today in spite of my mother because I escaped ignorance and want?   Can I “get over” in life because I don’t have to live under an apartheid system as my mother did in the US?  Were my babies safe from my potential descent into madness because I had hope for tomorrow and didn’t have to worry about my children’s next meal?  Only God knows.  But one thing is for sure—I no longer judge my mother for the pain I endured as a child.  Besides, it has made me who I am and given me a riotous sense of humor.  I am truly coming to love and understand the woman who gave me life.   From the conversations I’ve had recently with my grown children, it seems as if they are affording me the same grace.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MAMA!

Mom Dysfunction

INSPIRATIONAL QUOTE ABOUT MOTHERHOOD

“Mothers are all slightly insane.”—J. D. Salinger

“Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we’ve ever met.”― Marguerite Duras

“When your mother asks, ‘Do you want a piece of advice?’ it’s a mere formality. It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no. You’re going to get it anyway.”― Erma Bombeck

“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did—that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that—a parent’s heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”― Debra Ginsberg

Mothers Day IV Nate Beeler The Columbus Dispatch

Cartoon used by permission: Nate Beeler, The Columbus Dispatch

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BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR ON SALE NOW AT AMAZON!

THE FETUS CHRONICLES: PODCASTS FROM MY MISEDUCATED SELF

“Eleanor Tomczyk’s latest book shares deep insights and absurdly hilarious moments Tomczyk has collected from her life. She presents her unique humor and perspective through a fantastic conceit: podcasts to her unborn self.

“Tomczyk’s voice and cutting commentary travel back through the decades and into the womb. She’s here to tell her baby self all the things she should know about the world and all the lessons she will learn.

“Eleanor L. Tomczyk advises her fetus self on everything from the dangers of douching to the use of words as deadly weapons. Special podcast guest stars range from Tomczyk’s Aunt Lily—“Church Lady Extraordinaire”—to her own eyes and other body parts. When her children follow the “Little Barbarian Manifesto,” and her own organs start reminding her about the passing of time, all the reader can do is laugh out loud.”

MONSTERS’ THROWDOWN

FLEEING OZ

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Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Eleanor Tomczyk and “How the Hell Did I End Up Here?” with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 9, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,