Jan. 21, 2002 - 17:17 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

Ain't So

Checking my navel and trying to rid it of accumulated lint tonight. I started surfing the web some number of months, about a year and found forums I liked and liked to make comments to. I cyber met people who I want to meet and greet someday.

I began this diary because there was something inside me that had to be let out. Still is too. That, plus the fact that my kids wanted me to write about how it was for me growing up not too long after World War One. They wanted to know how things were, how I saw things through my eyes as I came along.

My Diary is private, but open only to anyone who cares to look over my shoulder and y'all are more than welcome.

I read the papers and rant about what disturbs me, and there is plenty of that around. I write my diary to exercise my citizens right to speak out about my feelings. I write about what is in my mind at the moment. The past is with me all the time and surfaces as things float to the top and I write about it in my diary.

No one tells me what to say, although Heather has been the inspiration for many of my entries. To me life is neither all white or all black, but a mixture of many colors including rainbows.

Guess I was too old to carry and official Hippy card but many of their ideas I "groked." "Make love, not war," and so on. So many of their thoughts and philosophies made super sense to me. Communal living was tried and there might still be a band or two of Hippies in that mode. There were drugs, alcohol and "loose living" but that was not only Hippies who bought into that lifestyle but many of our mainstream people then and some still do -- they just lived where they could shower and put on clean clothes -- but they thought Hippy thoughts nevertheless. The openness, willingness to love each other and to welcome strangers into their groups was frowned on by most of society.

I guess the thing that made me different was the fact I worked, wanted to work, wanted to raise my family the right way. My heart bled for some of the children of Hippies who knew not their fathers and weren't sure about their mothers.

My adventurous voyage in search of self seems to me to be bearing fruit, so to speak. So, being old, crippled with a dicy ticker still I can think, I can feel, I can love -- and I do.

I try to make past understandable to those younger than myself and enjoy the memories evoked. Many of my memories are long ago and far away for some young folks. I pray that our, "Recession," doesn't become another Great Depression, I wouldn't want that to happen to our country.

Every time I read about the refugees walking out of hell into another kind of hell, I envision myself, tired, thirsty, hungry carrying a young one not able to walk right now. It has been happening in too damn many countries, Africa, the once Yugoslavia, the murdering goes on in Ireland, there is rebellion and fighting in Mexico. The pictures strike to my very heart almost too much to bear.

I have heard that old Doug lives in the past, that is a bit off the mark, I am here now so that idea Just Ain't So . . . . . . .

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