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Living in COVID Time

Scamp wasn’t happy with the grooming process, but he did enjoy the treats I bribed him with to be good. — Photo by Pat Bean 

Headstrong is just a word that others call you when you don’t do what they want. – Jennifer Donnelly   

My canine companion Scamp does not have a mean bone in his body. But he is a headstrong rascal who needs a groomer just as headstrong. I had one. She handled Scamp beautifully. Then along came the coronavirus. My groomer was an older woman who wisely is staying at home.

After waiting almost a month to get a grooming appointment for Scamp this past week, he was then sent home without being groomed.

“He’s just too hard to handle,” the young woman groomer said. I had noticed on checking him in that she appeared to be way overbooked and a bit bitchy. I think he was an easy choice to make her day, as an inexperienced groomer, go better

OK, I’m not happy about Scamp flunking grooming class, and she rejected my dog, so I’m probably the one who is being bitchy.

Maggie was easier to groom than Scamp. I used to plug my clippers into the outside outlet and sit on the step of my RV to groom her. I groomed Scamp on my living room floor yesterday. Did I mention that my vacumn cleaner is now plugged up? — Photo by Pat Bean

I have groomed a couple of my dogs in the past, primarily Maggie, the spoiled cocker spaniel who traveled around the country in a small RV with me for eight years. And since I’m pretty headstrong myself, I tackled Scamp with the grooming clippers yesterday.

It was not fun, and it is not finished. The first error I made was forgetting to put the length guard on my clippers and taking a good swipe down Scamp’s back. That committed me to doing the same for his entire body.

I actually like him with the shorter haircut because his bottom coat is silver while his topcoat is black. But the shorter look means every mistake shows. And, trust me, there are many mistakes.

Today, I need to tackle the toenails. So far, I’ve managed to trim three. My goal is to spend 15 minutes a day on the grooming process until it is finished. I suspect it might become an unending daily task,

No wonder I had a coronavirus nightmare last night.

Bean Pat: To Coursea, which offers free online college classes. One of the more popular classes during COVID Time is the one on psychological first aid for people with depression, anxiety, or emotional distress.

You can read more about Maggie and our adventures in Travels with Maggie, available on Amazon.

Today’s Silver Lining: While grooming Scamp is a pain in the behind for this old broad, I’m saving a good bit of money by doing it myself.

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Grand Canyon Memories

Digging through my scrapbooks, I found the story I did about flying in a KC-135 tanker over the Grand Canyon, a National Guard event to entice women to join the service.

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” – Mark Twain

I was having a virtual Jack and Coke Zoom night with my good friend Kim Monday when we started talking about celebrations for her approaching 60th birthday. She and I have been observing birthdays together now for just about half our lives.

My friend Kim and I right before we jumped out of an airplane to celebrate my 70th birthday.

Recalling the fantastic time 11 years ago when we had celebrated my 70th birthday by jumping out of an airplane, she wanted to do something just as memorable

Among other things, we had earlier talked about a cruise and visit to Iceland, both of which are off the radar now because of the coronavirus.

“You know I haven’t visited the Grand Canyon,” she interjected into the conversation. “But I think I’m past the time when I can hike down to its bottom.”

That brought a laugh from me, and the comment that I was way past that time. “I gave up my annual birthday hike to the top of Angel’s Landing in Zion some years back now.”

“Perhaps a helicopter ride over the canyon. I could handle that,” Kim said.

Her words brought up a couple of memories for me. I’ve visited the Grand Canyon many times, including twice spending 16 days paddling through it on the Colorado River, and once flying over it in a KC-135 Tanker as it refueled three B-1 Bombers and a fighter jet. I was along for the ride as a reporter covering the outing, which had been planned to show women the sky was the limit if they joined the National Guard.

Kim during one of our outings to Zion National Pak to celebrate one of my birthdays.

Both the Grand Canyon rafting and over-flying experiences rank among the top 10 experiences of my life. As a rafter, I disdained the helicopters flying overhead the canyon, but my view of the canyon from the glass bottom at the rear of the KC-135, where the boom operator lay for the refueling process, made me rethink my attitude. While not exactly environmentally correct, I wanted everyone to have such an experience. Sometimes we have to stop thinking about life and just live it – especially if, like me, we’ve survived to become old broads.

And so, I told my friend Kim that if she wanted to do a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon to count me in. Kim, by the way, celebrates her birthday the same day as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, which is September 22.

Bean Pat: To my granddaughter Keri, who posted “I Love You” on Facebook, noting that if people can hate for no reason, she can love for no reason. I am so proud of her.

Bean Pat Silver Lining: To Wing, a drone company, and a Virginian librarian, who will be joining forces to drop library books to kids. This is such a great idea, as are any others that encourage children to read. A home with children and no books is, to my way of thinking, child abuse. https://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/drones-will-drop-library-books-for-kids-in-virginia/

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

 

“You can’t escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.” – Abraham Lincoln.

A small bit of protection for monarch butterflies is my silver lining for today. If I’m going to face reality, I will also need to find a bit of good in the world to keep me sane.

If not wearing a mask while carrying an American flag in a crowd of Black Lives Matter protesters, and then purposely coughing on one of the peaceful protesters, is considered patriotic, then I am living in the wrong country.

The above incident actually happened here in Tucson. What has this world evolved into?

When did so many Americans become so hateful? As a person who is always looking for a silver lining, will I be able to find one among the current cacophony of hateful voices? These are questions I’m asking myself this morning.

I’m also asking myself what can I do as an 81-year-old former journalist to halt the hateful acts I see going on around me. Since beginning this blog 11 years ago, I have written nearly 2,000 posts. With rare exceptions, they have all been upbeat and positive.

Perhaps it’s time I lost my Pollyanna persona, which truly is the majority portion of my being, and dipped into the part of myself that writes about the darker side of life that goes on around me – the side I didn’t ignore as a working journalist,

Perhaps I should now take this blog to the political side.

But I am not going to blame Trump for the actions of the American people. I don’t believe in the blame game. While our president often makes me cringe because of his behavior, and even ashamed to belong to the same human race as he, the woman who coughed on another person in these days of the coronavirus virus, is the only one responsible for her bullying, despiteful, hateful act.

But you can bet your life on it, I will not be voting for Trump.

Bean’s Silver-Lining Pat: A partnership of 45 companies and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has been formed to reduce the loss of monarch butterfly habitat in North America. Perhaps a drop in the bucket to the loss of other wildlife protections these days, but any step forward is one that I consider a silver lining.

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

 

 

 

To be outdoors and walking during Arizona sunrises and sunsets makes one feel good to be alive. — Photo by Pat Bean

          ‘The wisdom of age: Don’t stop walking.” – Mason Cooley

A Daily Ritual

            After retiring in 2004, selling my home, and taking to the road in a small motor home, I began a daily ritual that continues to this day. I walk my dog,

Mourning doves are almost a daily sight as Scamp and I take our morning walks. — Photo by Pat Bean

First, there was Maggie, a spoiled cocker spaniel who didn’t wake up until 9 a.m. and who didn’t like to get her feet wet. She was my home-on-wheels companion for eight of the nine years I lived in it.

Pepper, a sweet, gently Scottie-mix who never wanted to get out of my sight, came next and traveled with me for my final unrooted year before we began life in a third-floor walkup apartment, a choice I made because I like being on top and having a view. Six a.m. was Pepper’s wake-up time but she could be persuaded to sleep in for another hour before I had to get up and walk her.

Scamp, a Siberian Husky-Shih Tzu mix who is perfectly named and who has now been with me for a year, demands a 5 a.m. walk, and bullies me until I get up and take him for it. Thankfully I’m a morning person and am usually just as eager for the walk as he. But occasionally, especially when I get to bed late or spend most of the night reading, I get a bit grumpy about the early start to my day.

Living in a third-floor apartment without a yard of my own means these early walks are not optional. I call them my fool-proof exercise program. This is especially true since four more walks are required during the day as well.

But since its summer, and Scamp and I live in the desert where it’s currently hot as heck, our morning walks are the

Cactus is plentiful around my apartment complex, and one or another is usually in bloom. — Photo by Pat Bean

only ones of much duration. And these have been shortened in recent years because of the physical limitations that come with becoming an old broad. The long walks I used to have with my other canines is one of the few things I truly miss.

Even so, I find that if I’m observant, each shorter walk these days contains a special moment. Perhaps it’s the sight of a Cheshire moon grinning back at me between the trees as I walk down the steps. This morning, it was one of our resident great horned owls sitting on the pool fence and screeching a hiss at us as we passed it by.

Scamp was intrigued and stopped to watch until I finally pulled him forward. At 40 pounds, Scamp doesn’t much interest the owl, but my downstairs neighbor picks up her four-pound chihuahua whenever she knows this bird of prey is around.

Right now, the saguaros are beginning to bloom, and I have two large ones picked out to watch their day by day progress. Where I live is half city landscape and half undeveloped desert ridges and washes. Morning sights have included a bobcat, roadrunners, Gambel’s quail, and javelinas

Most months, it’s still dark at 5 a.m., but currently, the sun is just beginning to makes its appearance at this hour. Today was a bit overcast but the sky was full of lavender-tinted clouds. Scamp led us to the small dog park here in the apartment complex, and while he ran free for a few minutes, I watched a pair of mourning doves as they sat side-by-side on a high utility wire.

A cool breeze, like a gentle lover’s touch, ruffled my hair. It felt good to be alive – and have a dog that must be walked.

You can read more about Maggie and our morning walks in Travels with Maggie, available on Amazon.

Bean Pat: Listen to a great horned owl hoot, coo, screech and hiss. https://www.birdnote.org/show/voices-and-vocabularies-great-horned-owls

            Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

 

Morning Chat

Technology: Aaaccchhh!

While I might not be able to live without my internet, getting out among nature’s wonders and birdwatching are what keep me sane. — Photo by Pat Bean

          “The march of science and technology does not imply growing intellectual complexity in the lives of most people. It often means the opposite.”—Thomas Sowell

Internet Service

          Never mind that our family didn’t get a television until I was 14 years old, and today I don’t even own one, I can’t live without the internet. I go a bit crazy when it doesn’t work, which is exactly what happened about a month ago.

Can I have a bone? I’ll sit in your lap to chew it — and petting me will calm you down. Translation by Pat Bean

It started with interruptions to my service and a message that no internet service was available. About five minutes later, my internet would magically be working again,

After a couple of days of this annoyance, I decided to report the problem, which turned out to be a difficult task that took almost two hours. I waited, I talked to people on the phone, I chatted online and was transferred back and forth between staffers numerous times before someone finally said the problem was most likely my modem and a new one would be sent to me, and that when it arrived, I should return the old one.

After three more days of intermittent internet service the new one, or so I thought, arrived via UPS. I immediately switched the two modems out – and found myself with NO internet service.

So it was that I found myself back on the phone for another two-hour session of waiting and trying to communicate with idiots who kept transferring me around from one to another before I was finally told the problem evidently wasn’t a modem issue and a repairman would have to be sent out to investigate.

Here I got a break. While I was envisioning several days more without internet service before that could happen, I was told a repairman was available that afternoon. About four hours later a congenial guy with a modem in hand knocked on my door.

“I checked all the lines so it has to be your modem,” he said. On investigation, he discovered, and told me, that the “old” modem, which I had originally been sent in February of this year, was out of date, and the “new” modem sent me was even older than that.

          He then hooked up the truly new modem and within a few minutes I had perfect, fast-speed internet service. He then took both the old modems with him.

You think that would be the end of it. Oh! No!

Yesterday I got an email informing me that if I didn’t mail back my old modem, I would be charged $150, My patience, if I ever actually had any, was at an end. I looked down at my canine companion Scamp, who was getting concerned about my state of mind and yelled. They want me to pay $150 for a modem that doesn’t work!  I translated his response as Can I have a bone?

Finally, I settled down and called them once again, but never got through to anyone. I then went to online chat and wasted another hour before the idiot chatting with me said I would have to wait until the charge was actually billed until they could remove it.

As I said: Aaaccchhh!

          Bean Pat: To the repairmen, all of them, who continue to work through the coronavirus crisis, to keep technology working for those of us who can’t live without it. Thank you.

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

 

Ten years ago I took this photo of Mount St. Helens from a ridge six miles away that was directly in the blast zone. — Photo by Pat Bean

          “If you are too focused on the end result, you may miss the rewarding journey that will ultimately get you there.” – Anil Kuma Sinhar

          Ten years ago, I was still living and traveling full time in my small RV with my canine companion Maggie. This was the year that I visited Mount St Helens.

Looking out at the gaping mouth of Mount St. Helens from a point six miles away once known as Coldwater Ridge triggered goose pimples on my arms. I knew that David Johnston, the first to report the volcano’s eruption, had been standing on this same ridge, a spot that stood directly in the volcano’s blast zone. The 30-year-old Johnston had been one of 57 people who lost their lives to the angry mountain.

As I noted the 40th anniversary of that tragic event as I drank my coffee and caught up on world news this morning, images of my visit to that once again sleeping volcano dug their way to the surface of my thoughts.

What I remembered, and confirmed by the photos that I had taken at the time, was that life was returning to the blast area. Grasses and trees were reestablishing themselves, and flowers were blooming.

And grasses and Indian Paintbrush were growing around a tree stump left by the blast.

Life changes but it goes on, as it has for millions of years. As it will after the coronavirus is conquered. Not all of us will make it. Whether the virus gets us, a truck runs over us in the middle of the street, a crazed madman shoots us at a MacDonald’s, or we simply run out of the days allotted to us, we’re not going to get out of this world alive.

Focusing on when that final day will be is not something I’m going to do. Instead, I’m going to simply treasure every minute I have left on this planet, and just keep going until my tomorrows run out.

I’m glad today for the memory of looking out on Mount St. Helens as it returned to life and the reminder that view offered me to savor every moment because tomorrow may not come. Everyone dies – but not everyone lives.

Bean Pat: To all those on the front row helping others survive the coronavirus.

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Searching for Joy

“If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has the power to move you, if the simple things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive.” – Eleonora Duse

Joy was hugging my oldest great-grandchild a few years ago.

Appreciating the Little Things in Life

I developed a habit over the years for the times when I would, for one reason or another, begin to feel sorry for myself. I would ask how many people in the world would trade lives with me?

Since I’ve always had a roof over my head, enough food to eat, adequate clothing, and when I worked a job I loved, I immediately knew there would be millions clamoring to take my place.

Joy is painting a watercolor and actually liking it.

That recognition quickly shut down what I came to call my Pity-Pat-ing minutes.

The past two months of social distancing, which have been hard for the extrovert side of this old broad, has found me adopting a new habit: Looking for, and appropriately appreciating, the little things in life. Toward this goal, I created what I call a Joy Is list. The following are a few things that have made it there.

Joy is books, and always having a stack of them to read.

Joy is getting up in the morning and putting on Helen Reddy’s “I am Woman, Hear Me Roar,” and loudly, off key, singing along with her

Joy is finally finishing a difficult jigsaw puzzle and not having a missing piece.

Joy is a virtual Jack and Coke night via Zoom with my best friend, or a Zoom night with three adult granddaughters.

Joy is a hot bath in a deep tub, hot enough to turn the skin pink and send warmth and ease all the way down to my bones

Joy is that time just before dawn when I lay in bed and listen to the birds waking up and twittering their own joy for a new day.

Joy is solving and fixing a computer glitch all by myself — after an unsuccessful hour on the phone with a computer expert.

          Joy is watching a sliver of moon shining down like the Cheshire Cat on Scamp and me as we take our last walk of the day.

What would make your Joy Is list?

available on Amazon

Bean Pat: Joy is taking a virtual bird walk in Celery Bog with Dave https://pinolaphoto.com/2020/05/17/the-canada-warbler-at-the-celery-bog/#like-15836

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

I didn’t get my Texas bluebonnet fix this year. The isolation curfew kept me home here in Tucson. But at least I have my memories. This photo was shot on Goose Island State Park a few years ago. — Photo by Pat Bean.

“I dearly love the state of Texas, but I consider that a harmless perversion on my part and discuss it only with consenting adults.” – Molly Ivins

But My Soul Requires Mountains

I’m a transplanted Texan, but the Lone Star State has a grip on my heart, even after half a century of living elsewhere.

My old Texas roots wink at me from a hoopoe-pecking oil rig sitting in a meadow full of bluebonnets when I go home to visit family once or twice a year; they wave at me when I pass a field full of cotton ready to be harvested, jogging my memory of the story my mother told about her father picking cotton during the Great Depression so she could have a prom dress.

A drive to the top of Mount Lemmon on Sky Island Parkway is just minutes away. I think I will break the isolation curfew and drive it this weekend. It will make up for missing Texas’ bluebonnets. — Photo by Pat Bean

The sight of a mockingbird brazenly flashing the white on its gray wings takes me back to the apricot tree that sat in my grandmother’s large garden. Almost every piece of ripened fruit I picked had first been tasted by one of these noisy Texas state birds.

My memory then morphs from mockingbirds to me as a little girl sitting on the tall back steps of my grandmother’s home eating her freshly baked pralines until I made myself sick.

I sat on those same steps often each afternoon as I waited for the silver Texas Zephyr to roar past on the railroad tracks beyond the vacant field behind the house. I always waved at the engineer and imagined that the whistle, blown as the train neared the crossing, was sounded just for me.

Perhaps I did inherit my grandfather’s wanderlust, as my mother told me, but I think that Texas Zephyr might have roared its ways into my veins as well.    Where had it been? Where was it going? I wanted to go, too – and over the years I did.

My grandmother, whom I adored, was a Texan through and through. She said if a person wasn’t born in Texas than they didn’t deserve to be. It’s an attitude difficult for non-Texans to understand. It also an attitude not likely to earn friends – yet I have it.

But while I truly feel Texan through and through, I’ve chosen to live the latter and longest portion of my life among the mountains, first living and working next to the Wasatch Range in Utah, then visiting as many mountains as I could, and now nesting next to the Santa Catalina Range in Arizona.

My life doesn’t feel right if I can’t watch the daily changing moods of a mountain, and feel the comfort of its sturdiness as the years of my life race by.

How does this flatlander Texan — the person who goes back home and almost weeps with delight as truck drivers tip their hats at me as I pass them on one back road or another — feel about this dichotomy?

It’s mind-boggling. All I can think is that while my roots are planted in Texas soil, I’m thankful the dirt has been rich enough to let me flourish wherever my feet have taken me.

Bean Pat: One of my favorite Texas bloggers. https://pitsfritztow nnews.wordpress.com/2020/05/15/mama-with-twins/

available on Amazon

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Mrs. Pollifax

Mrs. Polifax is quite fond of flowered hats.

“She drew herself up to her full height—it was a little difficult on a donkey—and said primly, ‘I have found that in painful situations it is a sensible idea to take each hour as it comes and not to anticipate beyond. But oh how I wish I could have a bath!’” – Words spoken by Dorothy Gilman’s fictional Emily Pollifax, a white-haired senior citizen who decided she wanted to be a spy.

A Series Quite Worth Rereading Today            

I discovered Dorothy Gilman’s Mrs. Pollifax books back in the 1970s, which marked some major turning points in my life. I was influenced by the character’s upbeat, adventurous and realistic attitude, and her efforts to make her life more meaningful than garden club meetings. I was, in a different way, trying to do the same.

Angela Lansbury played Mrs. Pollifax in a 1999 CBS TV Movie. And Rosalind Russell played her in a 1971 movie. Angela fit the role much better than Rosalind.

Gilman’s The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax was the first book in the series, written in 1966, and Mrs. Pollifax Unveiled, published in 2000, was the 14th. On discovering the books, I quickly read all that had been written at the time and eagerly awaited the next to come out.

Given that I have been a bit out of sorts with the current coronavirus and world situation, and my decision to stay isolated, I decided I would reread the Pollifax books. I finished the first of the 14 in the series at 2 a.m. this morning, and am eager to go on to the next.

Perhaps you would like to join me. Here are a few Emily Pollifax quotes so you can judge for yourself.

“Tragedies don’t interest me, tragedies and heartbreaks are all alike, what matters is how a person meets them, how they survive them.”

“It’s terribly important for everyone, at any age, to live to his full potential. Otherwise a kind of dry rot sets in, a rust, a disintegration of personality.”

“Everything is a matter of choice, and when we choose are we not gambling on the unknown and its being a wise choice? And isn’t it free choice that makes individuals of us? … I believe myself that life is quite comparable to a map … a constant choice of direction and route.”

“I have a flexible mind—I believe it’s one of the advantages of growing old. I find youth quite rigid at times.”

Dorothy Gilman

“Because lately I’ve had the feeling we rush toward something-some kind of Armageddon-set into motion long ago. There are so many people in the world, and so much destructiveness. I was astonished when I first heard that a night-blooming cereus blooms only once a year, and always at midnight. It implies such intelligence somewhere.”

Gilman was born in 1923 and died in 2012 at the age of 88. Her Pollifax series was begun at a time when women in mystery meant Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, and international espionage meant young government men like Ian Fleming’s James Bond. Emily Pollifax became a spy in the 1960s’ and may be the only spy in literature to belong simultaneously to the CIA and her local garden club, according to Wikipedia.

Bean Pat: A tribute to Dorothy Gilman for the many, many hours of pleasure and contemplation she has given me for nearly half a century, and to the hundreds of other writers who have done the same

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

Morning Coffee Rant

Blue Herons on a cold morning at Farmington Bay in Utah. Nature is what helps keep my blood pressure in check during these days of isolation, even if it’s just remembering past moments spent in the outdoors. — Photo by Pat Bean

“The survival of democracy depends on the ability of large numbers of people to make realistic choices in the light of adequate information.” – Aldous Huxley

From a Moderate Independent

I’m sick and tired of the blame game, politicians’ personal and hateful attacks on their opponents, and no one standing up and taking responsibility for their own acts when they’ve made a mistake.

I don’t expect the leaders of this country to be perfect, but I do think they should put what’s best for all of this country’s people ahead of their own welfare and personal agendas.

And I want to hear exactly what today’s candidates for office would do to improve things if they do gain leadership power, not just that they think their opponent is a slug, or whatever else name-calling they decide will get them elected.

As a former journalist who believed that it was not my duty to change the world but to inform the world, I’m sickened by those in the media today who distort facts, repeat lies, and take sides. These tactics weaken the real media’s role as a government watchdog, a role which some journalists still take seriously.

I’m also quite sick of slogans that mean absolutely nothing but are just words that sound good or patriotic.

To quote a well-known rant, I’m mad as hell and not going to take it anymore — even if all this old broad can do at this point in her life is to speak out against hate and lies and in favor of justice and kindness.

Anyone else out their want to join me?

Bean Pat: Isolation is getting to me. This blog, which looks to nature as a resource for these days, inspired me. https://windbreakhouse.wordpress.com/2020/04/16/spring-in-the-time-of-coronavirus/

 

available on Amazon

Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.