life

The Honesty of Childhood: Lessons from a Four-Year-Old

/ Joe Broadmeadow / Leave a comment

It’s so simple, just ask a four-year-old.

The innocence of children, a common theme, is a misnomer. The innocence implies they had some capability to surrender it. They do not until we teach them how.

What children are is honest, uninhibited by the artificial constraints of a “polite” society. We tell them, do not lie. But when we ask them if they like the food offered, we expect them to be polite and say “yes, thank you,” and eat every morsel. Even things as abominable, unpalatable, and disgusting as Brussels sprouts (sometimes incorrectly known as Brussel Sprouts).

An honest person would recoil at the sight of these things and say “no, I do not.” But we train away their natural honesty and replace it with a false politeness.

Kids have a way of looking at life that time often erodes. And that is unfortunate.

The other day, my grandson, Levi, asked to go to a local playground, despite the temperature hovering in the low 20s and a windchill factor making it feel like Siberia.

Since I often encourage any activity that avoids the use of digital apparatus, and not to appear hypocritical, I agreed to a brief visit.

It is during these often-unplanned events that some of the most profound and deep philosophical thoughts arise from these uninhibited beings.

Placing him on the only swing not coated with ice, he began swinging away. I would push him hard to get him moving, then jam my hands back in the pocket of the outer vest, which was over an inner vest and two sweatshirts. I would silently curse the invisible force of gravity requiring me to remove my hand from the warmth of the pocket and repower the momentum.

He seemed impervious to the cold as children often are. I was not, but I was committed to my principles.

And, of course, the conversation was non-stop. His face sometimes clouded with the warm-breath mist accompanying his words.

This is a small but memorable part of that conversation.

Levi: “I remember the first time I tried a swing.”
JB: “You do?”
“Levi: “Yup, I remember all my memories.”

“I remember all my memories.”

The words stuck with me the whole rest of the day and were waiting to replay in my mind first thing this morning.

I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to retain that ability to hold fast to all your memories. It would remind us to learn from the memories of our mistakes, appreciate the memories of all those who have influenced our lives, and embrace the simple memories of a conversation with a wise four-year-old philosopher whose turn of phrase can enlighten a world.

Remember all your memories!

A Happy “New” Year

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 2 Comments

“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?”
Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1

Once again, we face the changing of the numbers, assigning an artificial appellation to the passage of time.

2026. Two thousand and twenty-six years marking the passage of time, for the US-European centric world at least, since an event that may or may not have occurred in an obscure town, in a distant area of the Roman Empire, in a time before mass communication or widespread literacy.

Yet here we are adjusting all our calendars to show the change to this new 365-day cycle.

Depending on the number you use, some 80-90 generations have been born since the start of the Common Era (C.E., formerly known as Anno Domini, Year of our Lord, when the church ruled the world), with most, but the last 4 or 5, long since deceased.

Now my generation, born in the 1950s, passes into another stage of life. Since our arrival, three more generations have arrived, and we are hurtling towards what will likely be the last arrival of a generation in our lifetime.

And that is the way of the universe.

We are made of the atoms forged in the nuclear fires of the first stars and will, in our time, return to that form. We, all of us and the things we are made of, have existed for billions of years and will continue to exist long after this current form disintegrates.

This is nothing to fear, nothing to dread. Not that one should look forward to it. There are so many things to experience in this life before it returns us to our original form. But it is an inevitability we all share.

These numbers are meaningless when seen against the timelessness of the universe. Most of us live to about 80 to 100 years, and that should be enough if one remembers to “always look on the bright side of life,” as Monty Python put it.

Shakespeare, of course, found a way to define the human lifespan. A bitter-sweet telling of the seven stages of man.

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything
— William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII

Since much of my time is (joyfully) occupied by entertaining two energetic members of the latest generation, I’ve morphed into the childishness of the last stage but still hold fast to my teeth, my eyes, my taste, and everything else this life offers.

I came into this world amazed at the wonder of it all and will leave, in my time (decades from now, I hope), with the same sense of wonder. If you think about it, getting to journey among the stars and galaxies of this universe has an attraction to it. To return to be among everything that came before us and all that will follow seems fitting.

A reward for a life well lived.

Happy New Year, and however many years you get to number, may they all be filled with a sense of wonder.

See you in the stars.

Joe Broadmeadow
July 25, 1956-TBD

A Childish Miscreant and Menace in the Oval Office

/ Joe Broadmeadow / Leave a comment

We live in a time of chaos with a President whose behavior mirrors that of a petulant child rather than a statesman. The Oval Office, once a symbol of dignity and deliberation, becomes a stage for tantrums, impulsive decisions, and self-serving theatrics. The “childish miscreant” is not merely immature; they are dangerous in their recklessness, wielding power without restraint or reflection.

Want to make America great again? Then recognize that the single greatest threat to the success of that goal is sitting in the White House like Jabba the Hut.

If you agree with his policies (why and how do you even articulate his T.A.C.O. gyrations), then find someone with a modicum of civility and put them in the position. This poisoned tongue, inarticulate, uncouth, uncivil, unkempt, unkind, uncaring, unrefined, unsophisticated, unintelligent, unworldly, inept shell of a human is an embarrassment to this country, to the world, and to humanity.

The terms idiot, imbecile, moron, and their derivatives were formerly used as technical descriptors in medical, educational, and regulatory contexts. They have fallen out of favor, but I think we need to resurrect them to accurately describe the individual currently occupying the Oval Office.

There is something seriously deranged with that man, and more consequently, with any individual who can, with a straight face, ignore, tolerate, or justify the unmitigated idiocy of the verbal projectile vomit expelled from his mouth.

This poisoned tongue, inarticulate, uncouth, uncivil, unkempt, unkind, uncaring, unrefined, unsophisticated, unintelligent, unworldly, inept shell of a human is an embarrassment to this country, to the world, and to humanity.

Joe Broadmeadow

That anyone, A N Y O N E, in this country can stand silent in the face of him calling their fellow human beings retarded, piggy, stupid, or any other epithets is abhorrent. There is no justification, no rationalizing, no mitigating the damage this causes.

That anyone voted for this man after he openly and publicly mocked a handicapped individual is disgusting. And for those evangelicals out there who find it convenient to embrace this man because he echoes (but doesn’t practice) what you want to hear, I hope, should your belief turn out to be true, that you’re working on your defense for when your God asks you to explain your tolerance of this most unchristian behavior.

Those who either laugh it off as Trump being Trump or think it harmless are enablers. Those who are shocked by it but remain silent are cowards. Those who embrace it are the lowest form of life in the universe.

Suppose a high school freshman were to call someone retarded, or piggy, or stupid in front of the entire school, or mock a handicapped person. In that case, they’d be suspended in a heartbeat. But if you’re the President of the United States, using these terms against those who disagree or challenge him is somehow acceptable.

Until everyone in this country recognizes this boorish and uncivilized behavior for what it is and challenges it, this country will never be great again.

Dear Mr. President…

/ Joe Broadmeadow / Leave a comment

There is no nice way to say this, so I am just going to say it, much as it grieves me to do so.

Mr. President, you are an idiot.

I do not say this lightly, but I do say it sincerely.

You complain about DEI being a scourge of mankind, yet you foster your own version,

Denigrate, enrage, instigate.

What makes me say such a thing? Statements like this by you..

When asked to call for calm in the country after the killing of Mr. Kirk, this was your response,

“The radicals on the right are radical because they don’t want to see crime … The radicals on the left are the problem – and they are vicious and horrible and politically savvy. They want men in women’s sports, they want transgender for everyone, they want open borders. The worst thing that happened to this country.”

I think I can speak for the overwhelming majority of rational Americans and refute all of your contentions.

We do not want men in women’s sports, Beach volleyball would suffer greaty.

We do not want to “transgender” everyone. I thank the universe each day that I have no memory of circumcision. And if someone chooses to follow medical advice and have an add-a-dicktomy or dickectomy procedure (sound them out), who cares? It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my bones.

And we do not want open borders, but we do want opportunity for a continued flow of immigrants who have immeasurably added to the quality of the American way of life.

And here’s a little secret, it is impossible for someone to send their daughter/son to school and have them return “transgendered” as you have often alluded to. It cannot happen even in Trumpianville. What is possible is that they may send them to school where they could get shot, but we know your thoughts and prayers will be with them. Or would you like us to bear these as acceptable losses?

How about practicing some of that Christian faith you are so enamored with, and consider this. If you turn your Bible so it is not upside down and, here’s where the magic happens, open it, the instructions are right there. It might suggest something for you to consider, like the following idea.

If someone came here seeking opportunity, albeit unlawfully, then spent the next twenty years working, paying taxes, and raising a family without ever committing any other crime, shouldn’t we give them a pass? Consider it a completion of probation? Give them a get out of jail free card? A presidential pardon, perhaps? Goodness knows your standards for such things are pretty low.

I mean, if you can pardon good ole boys and gals who held that spontaneous renovation at the Capitol with a little bit of insurrection and overturning an election thrown in for good measure, I think the guy or gal cleaning bathrooms at McDonald’s (your favorite fine dining establishment) deserves some consideration.

Come on, the J6 guys assaulted cops, the guy at McDonald’s just emptied trash, and didn’t finish some paperwork. Seems comparable to me.

Let me restate my original point in simpler terms. Wait, there are no simpler terms. There is no way to say it any plainer. Mr. President, you are an idiot. And I mean idiot in the sense of Webster’s original definition (which they caution is dated and offensive but I will use since I know you hate this “woke” nonsense). You are this kind of idiot,

a person affected with extreme intellectual disability

And here is another reason why I believe the moniker of idiot is appropriate.

When presented with an opportunity to encourage peaceful dialogue, perhaps like a future Nobel Peace Prize laureate might do, and tone down the potential for more political violence, you fumbled like a third-string half-back with bone spurs.

What you did was feed fuel onto the fire of a false narrative. Pandering to the worst of human nature. Some people will see that as a clarion call to take action. Where does it end? Once a bullet leaves the barrel, it has no loyalty. It cares not for what it hits. Violence begets violence until someone has the courage to stand up and say enough!

You could have been that guy. You could’ve been a contender.

But, Mr. President, you are in fact an idiot…though frankly, no one should be shocked. It’s not as if it was an overnight transition.


Tilting at Windmills

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“When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!”
Miquel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

Let me state the obvious. Anyone who has already decided which candidate to vote for in the upcoming election will not be persuaded differently by the debate.

Despite the reluctant consensus that the Vice President was poised, composed, and articulate (according to a significant number of Republican pundits) compared to the unhinged rants by the ex-President rehashing long debunked complaints of election fraud, Haitian family meals involving domestic pets, and millions of lunatics and criminals personally invited to cross the border by the Biden-Harris (or, as some would prefer the Harris-Biden) administration, no one will change their already-made-up minds.

What I find most interesting is the almost fanatical desperation for an explanation of Trump’s poor performance, other than that Vice President Harris was the clear winner based on her innate abilities.

It had to be favoritism by ABC.

It had to be that she had Miracle-Ear technology feeding her answers.

It had to be that she had the questions beforehand. (author’s note: Everyone with any intelligence knew the questions beforehand. For the VP, she’d be asked about immigration, the economy, and shifting positions on fracking and guns. For the former President, he’d be asked about election denial, race-baiting, pandemic performance, health plan replacing ACA, Project 2025, and abortion rights.)

She couldn’t possibly be better, brighter, and more competent.

None of this matters, and nothing I can say here will change the mind of anyone who supports Mr. Trump. Still, I bet it will spark some outrageous responses and criticisms, mostly of childish insults rather than rational arguments over policies.

But consider this. If you think so little of the Vice President’s abilities despite her being able to rattle the former President on a political debate stage, you should be terrified of the prospect of another Trump administration dealing with the likes of China, Russia, and Iran. They won’t just eat his lunch; they’ll steal his pocket money and use it against us.

I’ve been asking for months for someone to present sound arguments about why someone should support Mr. Trump. All I’ve ever seen is a bunch of yeah-but-what-about malarky. If anyone is willing to take up the challenge and write a piece listing President Trump’s qualifications, accomplishments, and policies, and why voters should support them, I will gladly post it here without comment.

But I would like to make this observation by borrowing a line from P.G. Wodehouse. Mr. Trump, during and after the debate,

“…had the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom.”

It is far from over, but it is closer to a satisfying end of this bizarre American history chapter.

JEBWizard Publishing (www.jebwizardpublishing.com) is a hybrid publishing company focusing on new and emerging authors. We offer a full range of customized publishing services. Everyone has a story to tell, let us help make your publishing dreams a reality.

Alabama Defeats IVF

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Author’s Note

(I used a title to help United States Senator Tommy Tuberville—who prefers the title “Coach” to Senator—understand the issue (https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/sen-tommy-tuberville-struggles-answer-questions-alabamas-ivf-ruling-rcna140073)

For now, I will ignore the issue of who the people of Alabama selected to represent them in the United States Senate, although it is hard to do so. Let’s call it a fumble on the 1-yard line with 5 seconds on the clock, down by five points in the Championship game.

The Alabama Supreme Court in SC- 2022-0515 Lepage, et. Al. V. Center for Reproductive Medicine on an appeal from Mobile Circuit Court (CV-21-901607) issued a troubling opinion.

Alabama DecisionDownload

The gist of the decision ruled that an embryo—in this case, several fertilized and viable cryogenically frozen embryos harvested for In vitro fertilization (IVF) which were destroyed— is a child under Alabama law and subject to all protections offered under criminal and civil statutes.

The effect was to shut down the availability of IVF treatment in the State of Alabama.

(I encourage you to read Tuberville’s response to the decision; it would be almost comical if not so tragically idiotic. Were he still a football player, his academic standing—if there ever was such a thing—would be in jeopardy.)

Aside from the ramifications of the actual decision, the accompanying concurring opinion written by the Chief Justice of the Court, Tom Parker, troubles me the most.

In it, Judge Parker extensively references the Bible and other Christian writings to justify the ruling. He made much of the definition of the word, sanctity, as used in the Alabama Constitution regarding the “sanctity of unborn life.”

Now, being guided by one’s religious beliefs is one thing, but using religious texts and writings as legal justifications in secular matters is an entirely different thing. In arguing cases or rendering decisions, using established law, constitutional standards, precedents, and prior cases is how our appellate system—the ultimate being the Supreme Court—should work.

These elements are an actual and verifiable basis on which to render decisions. One can read the prior cases, look at the Constitution, and review the law independently with confidence in their actual existence.

When the Judge brings in Biblical texts—considering that there are thousands of versions translated from numerous languages and the subject of ongoing and inconclusive debate about their origin—it removes the separation of church and state enshrined in the Establishment Clause.

The Judge is also guilty, as many adherents of religious doctrines are, of cherry-picking the bible quotes and definitions of keywords.

In defining the word sanctity on which the Judge places much of the justification of the decision, he focuses on a relatively modern interpretation. Here’s the definition as the Judge writes,

“sanctity ” was defined as: “1. holiness of life and character: GODLINESS; 2 a: the quality or state of being holy or sacred: INVIOLABILITY b pl: sacred objects, obligations, or rights. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary 1100 (11th ed.2003). (see decision at page 29)

He makes much of the root of sanctity in the English common law and equates this sanctity with a Christian foundation. But the word Sanctity has a much older origin than even the Christian epoch.

Derived from the Latin sancitatem (nominative sanctitas),  meaning holiness and sacredness, the concept of the word existed long before the Christian adaptation of the word. Judge Parker would have us accept the word and its meaning as a solely Christian concept, thus binding on the law in Alabama.

What does it matter, one might ask, if the meaning is the same? It matters because Judge Parker is using a secular chamber to render a decision justified by Christian religious doctrine that affects millions of Alabama citizens, not all of whom are Christian.

The most troubling aspect is the conclusion, where Judge Parker goes beyond using specific Christian arguments to support the decision. In the last few paragraphs, Judge Parker invokes words from one of the versions of the Bible (NKJV 1982) as if it supports the decision without further debate.

“The People of Alabama have declared the public policy of this State to be that unborn human life is sacred. We believe that each human being, from the moment of conception, is made in the image of God, created by Him to reflect His likeness.

It is as if the People of Alabama took what was spoken of by the prophet Jeremiah and applied it to every unborn person in this state: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, Before you were born I sanctified you.” Jeremiah 1:5 (NKJV 1982).

All three branches of government are subject to a constitutional mandate to treat each unborn human life with reverence. Carving out an exception for the people in this case, small as they were, would be unacceptable to the People of this State, who have required us to treat every human being in accordance with the fear of a holy God who made them in His image. For these reasons, and for the reasons stated in the main opinion, I concur.”

Judge Parker would have every citizen of Alabama—with the potential for such court decisions to have national ramifications—adhere to the law as determined by a Christian version of a god regardless of their religious faith.

This is precisely why the founders wrote the Establishment Clause: to prevent the government from establishing an official religion. All one must do is read the news and listen to the rallying cry of the Evangelicals and Christian Fundamentalists about this country being a Christian nation needing to return to this as the foundation of law to see the dangerous storm on the horizon.

Judge Parker’s decision should be a clarion call for rationality to rise up and fight against the insidious nature of religious doctrine as guiding principles in secular matters.

JEBWizard Publishing (www.jebwizardpublishing.com) is a hybrid publishing company focusing on new and emerging authors. We offer a full range of customized publishing services. Everyone has a story to tell, let us help you share it with the world. We turn publishing dreams into reality.

Christmas 2023: It Really Is the Thought That Counts

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(Link to the beginning) 

PLEASE SHARE! Make the Story Travel Around the world!

Jebidiah stared at the scene before him. A collection of the apparitions he’d gathered over the years hovered around Mrs. Claus as she told stories of the glories of Christmases long, long ago…

Oh great, he thought, now I’ve got that song stuck in my head. He watched for a few more minutes, and then one of his apparitions turned back into an elf. Then another, then another. Time to put a stop to this.

“Enough with your stories!” he said. “None of this matters anymore.”

“Oh, but it does, dear. Even more than ever. Your friends here all have forgotten what Christmas is all about. They let their disappointments over getting things they didn’t want to hide the true spirit of giving. I’m just reminding them.

“Oh, it’s nice when we get the things we desire: toy trucks, bicycles, and all the other things a child might want. But over time, those gifts will no longer be with us, yet the memories of sharing those moments with those we love will.

“It is not the gift, but the act of giving that is the true spirit of Christmas.”

Mrs. Claus stood up and walked to face Jebidiah. “You’ve forgotten that as well. So let me remind you of the true spirit of Christmas.” She waved her hands, and scenes from around the world flashed on the walls. The news about the Heart of Darkness stealing all the Christmas presents was on everyone’s mind, but it didn’t matter.

Carolers were singing, people were replacing decorations, and family and friends were gathering, all as if nothing had changed.

Jebidiah stared in disbelief. “What are they celebrating? They’ll have no presents on Christmas.”

Mrs. Claus smiled. “And that’s where you’re wrong. Christmas will come, and families and friends will make the most of it.”

“But how can they? I have all the things they want.”

“You have all the things but you don’t have the spirit that makes it all worthwhile. Remember, whatever happens this year, Christmas will always be with us because of this one truth. Something that we all must remember.

“Those who celebrate Christmas best are those who celebrate it in the simplest ways. Gathering with friends and family to share the memories of those no longer with us and those yet to come. It is all about hope, love, and thankfulness for the people in our lives. Everything else is just decorations.”

For a moment, Jane and Levi thought they saw a tear fall from Jebidiah’s eye, but it was quickly replaced by a face full of rage.

“So none of this matters? No one cares about all these presents sitting right there? We’ll see about that.” He spun on his heels to face the remaining apparitions. “Take them back to the dungeon and take all those traitors with them. If they want to return to being elves, let them pay the price for their disloyalty.”

Mrs. Claus stood defiant against the force of the apparitions. “What are you going to do, Jebidiah?”

The grin that came across his face, one amplifying his anger and rage, was something they would never forget.

“I’m gonna take all these presents, drag them to the top of this hill, and have the biggest bonfire the world has ever seen. Then we’ll see how much the Spirit of Christmas matters to the world, won’t we?”

“No,” Jane yelled, breaking away and charging at Jebidiah. Levi took the cue and charged right along with her. Their sudden attack caught him off-guard, but he recovered quickly. Trapping them with his magic, he tossed them into the sleigh with all the presents.

“Fine, you want a front seat to the show? You got it. You’ll be so close you’ll feel the burn. Bring her too,” he pointed at Mrs. Claus. “We’ll have a family roast to celebrate the end of Christmas.”

And with that, they all disappeared.

Tomorrow: A Moment of Truth

Do They Dream What I Did?

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Way back in 1972 one of my best friends, Tony Afonso, introduced me to the music of Neil Diamond, in particular the song “Brooklyn Roads.”

This was accomplished by the incredibly technical act of placing a vinyl album on a turntable then carefully placing the needle arm on the particular cut, in this case the fifth one.

Why we didn’t listen to the ones before that song may have been a criticism of the quality of those earlier tunes, but the truth is lost to time.

Since then, along with a myriad of other Diamond tunes, at least the ones before Forever in Blue Jeans, I’ve listened to this song hundreds of times. Whenever I have my older grandson (the newest one is still a bit too young) to myself in the car, and thus full command of the music selection—after the Sesame Street Playlist of course—I introduce him to quality music.

Everything from Gregorian Chant (something I got his mother to embrace), Led Zeppelin, Blood, Sweat, & Tears, Chicago, Simon & Garfunkel (both solo and together) to Bach, Holst, and Mozart.

So the other day was Neil Diamond. And Brooklyn Roads came on first. As we listened, the lyrics jumped out at me. Diamond sang of a different time in America when families tended to be less scattered to the wind. When young kids used just their imaginations more than technology for entertainment. When, it seemed, times were a bit simpler.

The reality of some of this is the ameliorating effect of nostalgia, but there are several lines which resonate with me to this day as I have many memories of doing the same thing.

I built me a castle with dragons and kings
And I'd ride off with them
As I stood by my window
And looked out on those Brooklyn roads

Diamond’s view was of a city, mine was the sky above Cumberland, Rhode Island and the woods surrounding us. Different views, similar imaginations.

In the last verse, Diamond sings of a different world. He, like I, long gone from that first home.

Does some other young boy come home to my room?
Does he dream what I did
As he stands by my window
And looks out on those Brooklyn roads?

I hope several more generations of young people will look out their windows and “dream what I did.”

I hope we have not lost our ability to imagine, surrendering to the lure of technology. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, in the end if I can look back and see the gift of imagination still living in my daughter and grandchildren it will be a life well lived.

Brooklyn Roads by Neil Diamond

If I close my eyes, I can almost hear my mother
Callin’, “Neil, go find your brother
Daddy’s home and it’s time for supper, hurry on”
And I see two boys racin’ up two flights of staircase
Squirmin’ into Papa’s embrace
And his whiskers warm on their face, where’s it gone?
Oh, where’s it gone?

Two floors above the butcher
First door on the right
And life filled to the brim as I stood by my window
And looked out on those Brooklyn roads

I can still recall the smells of cookin’ in the hallways
Rubbers drying in the doorways
And report cards I was always afraid to show
Mama’d come to school and as I sit there softly crying
Teacher’d say, “He’s just not trying
Got a good head if he’d apply it, but you know yourself
It’s always somewhere else”

I built me a castle with dragons and kings
And I’d ride off with them
As I stood by my window
And looked out on those Brooklyn roads

Thought of going back
But all I’d see are strangers’ faces
And all the scars that love erases
But as my mind walks through those places
I’m wonderin’ what’s come of them?

Does some other young boy come home to my room?
Does he dream what I did
As he stands by my window
And looks out on those Brooklyn roads?

Another Open Letter to Joe Biden

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Dear President Joe Biden,

I’ve written to you in the past in this form of an open letter. (Promise Me, Joe) and I am compelled to write once more.

The time has come for a new generation to rise to the occasion. You have said this yourself as I will remind you in this piece. Now is the time to put those words into actions.

Now is the time, Mr. President, now is the time.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap that which is planted;

Pete Seeger, Turn, Turn, Turn! (or Ecclesiastes 3-1 if you prefer)

But first, let me say this.

Thank you. Thank you for restoring sensibilities in government. Thank you for rebuilding America’s standing in the world. Thank you for leading the world coalition supporting the Ukraine.

Thank you for leading the country out of the disaster of the pandemic. And thank you for putting an end to our presence in Afghanistan. Anyone who understands the reality of that commitment knows it was the right thing to do no matter how ugly it may have appeared.

Thank you for what you have done for this country. I only wish your opportunity had come sooner.

But there is what we want and what we have and that reality is what we deal with.

I heard you speak once after the release of your book, Promise Me, Dad. One thing you said, that brought to mind the Camelot of the Kennedy years, was it is time for a new generation to assume the mantle. 

You were right.

Yet when circumstances arose, with no one stepping up, you did. Again.

You were there in our time of desperate need for a return to stability. And while the danger has not fully passed, time has.

Now is the moment for you to make your mark as one of our greatest Presidents. One who rose to the occasion as history demanded then recognized the limitations of that commitment.

Go out, find that new blood, and push them to meet destiny as you have.

Turn your words into more than a speech. Encourage this new generation, following your example, to set a new course with a new leader at the helm.

Don’t let the country merely vote against the disaster from our past, give them a choice with a limitless future.

Do this, and there is no doubt that future historians will mark this moment as another example of true American courage.

Sincerely,

Joe Broadmeadow

Embracing the Comfort of Familiarity

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Here in Arizona, the birds seem to ignore the usual pattern of laying and hatching their young in the spring. While it is still the busiest of seasons for nesting, I recently noticed several fledglings preparing to leave the nest here in the “dry” heat of summer.

Or should I say, being encouraged, persuaded, and bribed to go? The fledglings themselves were a recalcitrant bunch.

What first drew my attention was a bit of an odd-looking sparrow. Hopping about on several branches, it first appeared to be shaped like a young duckling. Being in the middle of the desert, miles from any meaningful lake, river, or even a significant puddle, this, of course, drew my eye and surprised me.

Once it hopped into a more well illuminated area, I could see it was not a duckling but a young, Brown-crested flycatcher. He, or she, was holding fast the familiar area of the nest.

Nearby, two adults were trying to lure the youngster away with food. She was having none of it. Screeching for them to deliver the food as it had been done all her life.

She was comfortable with the familiar.

As are we all.

Despite the reality of life being a series of changes, of comings and goings, of beginnings and endings, we cling to that which is familiar and resist change.

As infants, we crave the embrace of our parents, taking solace in the comfort it brings. Then, there comes the time when our parents pick us up for the last time. This brings a mixed feeling of newfound independence and a bit of a sense of loss for what we thought would last forever.

All our lives we grow comfortable with our daily lives only to have some unknown element arrive that changes everything. Like the fledgling bird, we are pushed and prodded to leave the nest.

Our fear of the unknown competing against the excitement of new experiences.

Psychiatrist R. D Laing, who delved into existential philosophy, postulated there are three common fears shared by most humans,

Death, new people, and being alone with your thoughts.

Each of these are examples of new things happening.

Meeting new people can pose a challenge. Over time, experience teaches us that first impressions are as often wrong as they are right, thus the reticence of bringing new people into the fold. Yet, without meeting someone new, we’d never have friends and lovers, shared experiences, or memories, and that would be a greater loss.

Being alone with one’s thoughts I found particularly intriguing. As a writer, I spend a great deal of time living inside my head thinking about things to write. And it is often the experiences of new things or people that plant the seed for an idea or story.

Death, along with birth, the only two experiences shared by every human, is the most difficult to accept and is the ultimate change. No one knows with any certainty what lies after the experience. There are hopes, suppositions, and speculations, but little else.

I find it odd how something we cannot avoid no matter how hard we try causes so much anxiety in most people. All the time one spends worrying about, preparing for, or praying to augment what happens after you die is time wasted when you could devote it to living.

As I watched that young bird’s tentative, but hesitant, first “steps” into a life away from the nest, I couldn’t help but wonder if hanging on to things that comfort us is the cushion absorbing the shock of new things. Its grip is not so powerful as to prevent us from living life and the experiences that come with it.

We are the better for it.

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