My Father, the Axe Murderer

Buzzard Billy has asked us to share our critter stories. Growing up in the country, I had plenty of stories about critters. There was the time my brother caught the biggest bullfrog I've ever seen. Our hop toad family (Hoppy, Mrs. Hoppy, and the baby Hoppies...we were creative children) that lived under the back step. And the deer that wore a blaze orange vest all through hunting season. Since then I've blogged about Saddam the crawdaddy and the tomato-eating turtle.

But this one is the one that I will never forget.

I was about 10 or 12. Our dog Fido had gotten the worse end of the fight with a critter the night before. Though Fido was a small dog, he never backed down.

The next night, we heard Fido out back cutting up a shine. (That means barking like the Devil himself was creeping around for the hillbilly-impaired readers.) Dad ran, looked out the back window, and then ran back to his bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm going to kill me a possum," he answered. (In hillbilly, the dative case is still used.)

OK, dad's going to kill the possum that's messing with Fido. Makes sense. Except...

Dad didn't hunt and didn't own a gun. Possums, unlike the reputation they get with their "playing possum" reputation, are nasty critters with teeth and attitudes. Think of a double-sized rat whose mother you've just insulted, and you've got the picture. How in the world is Dad going to kill him without a gun?

This I had to see. I ran to the back window, where I saw my dad with his axe raised high over his head. That's when I realized that a gun wasn't necessary. I figured that I would be explaining this in therapy some years hence, so I turned away.

THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

That was the end of the possum. And I don't blame him for it one bit. That possum had attacked our dog, a member of our family. What if next time it was me or my brother?

New Scripts

THUD.

That's the sound that woke me up about 6:30 this morning. I knew instantly that there had been a car wreck, right in front of my house from the sound of it.

The American phrase "car crash" doesn't really fit the event. Trust me. I've been around many of them. The English get it a little better with their term "smash-up," but it's still a THUD. A large one, but a THUD nonetheless.

When I grew up, my house was on the main highway, between two rather dangerous curves. When we heard a crash, we knew just what to do. We'd go out, see if anyone was hurt, and offer to call the emergency car if they needed. We lived in the country, with neighbors that weren't all that close. If we didn't do it, who would?

So my first impulse was to get up, throw on some clothes, and see if anyone needed help. But this flower isn't in the country any more. And everyone these days has cell phones, so they probably wouldn't need someone to call the police. And at 6 a.m., tempers were likely to be a bit hot, and ever since I've moved here I've had "safety" pounded into my head. This town is known for violence, especially gun violence. Should I go and help? Or should I just stay inside? I looked outside again. Two people were standing next to the wreck, each talking on cell phones. Nah, they probably didn't need me.

By the time these thoughts went through my head (hey, I'm not at my best when awakened early in the morning from a dead sleep), I heard sirens: police, ambulance, and fire. Everything was all right, and I was off the hook.

But then I got to thinking. Sleep was out of the question, with all the sirens and voices, so the only thing I could do was to think. Am I becoming callous? Is Kitty Genovese syndrome hitting me? And if so, is it a good thing that I'm looking out for myself first? Or am I losing a bit of my compassion and humanity?

I've not worked that out yet. Any of your thoughts are welcome.

The problem that I'm facing now is new scripts. Scripts are patterns in which we behave in a social setting. When you are in a store, you stand in line. That's a script in the US. You hold open the door for someone directly behind you. And when you are the one behind, you thank the person who held the door for you. But there are some scripts that change. I've adopted a few new scripts, but I'm not sure if I have them all yet, which is one of the reasons that this is an exciting new adventure.

Laurel, transplanted

This post will be quick, but I think I need to tell you what's going on. I've been a bit out of touch, and I'd like to thank all of you who commented to ask if everything was OK. It wasn't, but I think it's getting to be OK now.

To make a long story short, I've moved to Charm City, the land of the crab and Old Bay. Yepper, the city on the bay. I'm living right in town, in a row house if you can believe that! But I've still got my little tiny yard, and flowers are blooming brightly there.

In the next few days I'll have some views on as an Appalachian exile. Things look a bit different here than they do in the last places I've lived. I'm going to review Buzzard Billy's series "Hillbilly like me" to see what commonalities I've had in my experience.

to those who are still reading after all this time, thanks for hanging in there. I'm glad to be back, and I"m looking forward to hearing from you!

What if it had been you?

Almost everyone has heard of the incident in which Henry Louis Gates, Jr., was arrested after someone called the police to investigate his breaking into his home. If you don't know the details, read this editorial from The Charleston Gazette. But let's put this into perspective. What if YOU broke into your house?

I know we've all done it. The door's been hard to open, or we've forgotten our keys, and we need to break in. Heck, Mother did it so often that my brother and I had a drill. Climb the picnic table into the bathroom window, walk around and let the others in. No big deal.

So if it had been me, a blond, blue-eyed Caucasian woman, I would have broken into my house. Sure! IF someone had called the police, they would have come in, asked me what was going on, I would have told them. Maybe they would have asked for ID, which I would have produced. They would have apologized, and I would have thanked them for doing their job and watching out for us. Don't believe me? Read Buzzard Billy's account of what DID happen when she, another Caucasian, refused to let a police officer into her home in the middle of the night. True story.

This is not what happened to Dr. Gates. OK, steps 1-4 would have been the same. Right up till Dr. Gates produced his ID. See, he's a black man. Never mind that he's a respected, graying professor and looks every inch the part. He's still a black man. Instead of an apology, he was given an arrest and put in handcuffs. The police said he was "agitated." Would I have been agitated? Oh, haell yes! Especially after I had produced ID and was still being questioned. Agitated wouldn't have begun to cover it. Sounds to me like he was restrained by my standards, according to both the police and his own reports.

Wrong is wrong. And racism is not dead in this country. Heck, it's not even close to terminal.

Stirrers

The Chez has perfectly expressed one of my pet peeves. She says it better than I could.

I'm The Chez & You're The Macaroni: Mind Your Manners Monday!

Dedicated to the naysayers out there

This article lists 15 Failed Predictions about the Future. So the next time someone says you can't do this, or that isn't practical, remember that Margaret Thatcher never thought there would be a female prime minister in her lifetime.

Also, don't be afraid to eat your words. I prefer mine with Worcestershire sauce and a hint of garlic.

WOW!! My own award!!

WOO HOO!!! I got an award! Who'd'a thunk it, especially since my blogging lately has been sporadic, oh heck, let's call a dog a dog, nonexistant lately. I've been hit with a setback and it's been throwing me for a loop, hence, no mental energy for blogging, and precious little for anything else. But now, now, I'm starting to emerge from the fog and getting back to it. So, the first order of business is to thank the wise, learned, hysterical, and occasionally gross BuzzardBilly for this award. The second order of business is to thank the always interesting Muze Euterpe for it. Can you believe it? Two blog awards!! And during my hiatus. Maybe I should go on hiatus more often.....



Pretty spiffy, huh? But, as with all blog awards, there are rules....

The Bella Rules:

1) Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link.
2) Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you've newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

So here goes..... in no order whatsoever....

1. I'm giving it back to Buzzardbilly as, well, she deserves it. She's a bright observer of human behavior, and a student of Appalachia and Appalachian behavior. Plus, she's damn funny.
   
2. And right back at Muze as well. Muze and I disagree on pretty much everything. We can both get very intense about our (opposite) politics, but we are able to discuss mostly rationally and always respectfully. That is so rare these days.
   
3. Next up has to be Maura at Maura's Bliss Adventures. She was my first friend in this town and is a terrific person with fascinating insights on lots of topics. Recently she had a beautiful baby girl. So, in essence, this blog has everything you need: lovely thoughts and baby pictures. What more could you want from a blog?
   
4. Sarah at The Putnam Scoop. She doesn't post often, but when she does it's either beautiful, profound, or something that really makes you feel good. Often all three.
5. Evil Twin's Wife, who is probably rolling in these awards by now. She's a faithful blogger in this area, and just a terrific person. Oh, and if you get her and the previous three together, you're guaranteed a good time.
   
6. The Neurotic Attorney. Interestingly, she is from my part of the state but now lives here. And she has a myriad of correct opinions (correct meaning, of course, that she agrees with me).
   
7. And, lest you think I'm a sexist blogger, The Film Geek. Film reviews, Jacknuts, local commentary, and reflection. Plus, Saturday morning cartoon memories!
8. Sagacious Hillbilly. He is both, certainly. Left-leaning politics, a healthy measure of common sense, and a dash of righteous outrage. Add gardening and you've got SH. He's on hiatus now but he certainly deserves this.
9. MadDaddy at daddyBstrong. A counselor, thinker, and poet from Atlanta that's transplanted to the Twin Cities, his series on blues and poets you should read soothe the soul.
   
10. Kit is on hiatus, but never mind. Go back and read her "Hard Rocks" series. And she predicted this current financial mess for a good year before it hit. And was scarily accurate.
    

I gave 10, but there are so many more than I could give. But the laundry is almost done, and I 've got other things to do. If you didn't get one, then you were probably number 11, 12, 13, 14, or 15.

And if you don't want to play along, no problem. I just want you all to know how much you are appreciated.

The economic case against Mountaintop Removal coal mining

This article from West Virginia Blue is a must-read. It brings together (and backs with data) a lot of the arguments that I have had against mountain top removal. I am not anti-coal, nor do I have any intention to live in a cave, as some pro-MTR folks have suggested.

MTR is a blight upon the earth. Literally. We need to be aware of the facts, not just the propaganda by both sides, and this article does a great job of making an argument backed by facts, not emotion, which is sorely lacking in today's debate.

Hey Kids, Take Your Vitamins!!

I just love this Quote of the Day from Larry Messina's Lincoln Walks at Midnight blog, focused on political news from West Virginia:

"(I)f people are consuming lower numbers of fish, that number in the fish tissue can be a little bit higher because they’re not taking as much in.”

-- Mike Arcuri, an analyst with Department of Environmental Protection, explaining to Public Broadcasting why his agency believes that West Virginia should allow more mercury in its waters than what federal standards recommend.

Because we have to make sure that we have our Recommended Daily Allowance of Mercury, and if we're not getting enough, well, by golly, let's let more mercury into the water so that we can catch up.

It boggles the mind.

UPDATE: Ken Ward Jr., arguably the best investigative journalist in the state, at Sustained Outrage continues with the story on mercury and fish in WV waters.

A lesson

One of the things that I love about blogging is the ability for a do-over. First I'll tell you what happened.

My honey and I were at a local business on Sunday, standing in the checkout line. The checker asked the gentleman in front of us if he had served in the military. When he answered "yes," she gave him a white carnation from a vase set aside for that purpose. "How nice," I thought. "Even though it's Memorial Day instead of Veteran's Day, it's a great gesture."

I moved up to pay for my purchase. She asked my honey if he had served. Then she took my money and gave me my purchase.

Notice anything missing? That's right, she didn't ask the "girl" if she had served. Now, I look young, but not under 18!

Here's what should have happened: I should have said, "aren't you going to ask me if I served?" She would have asked, then I would have said, "No, but my best friend served for 20 years. And if it had been her instead of me in your line, she'd have ripped you a new one. Women have been serving in the military since World War II. I have a feeling that they'll not be pleased to have this service ignored."

What do you think? Should I have said it, or should I have just kept silent and let the female vet who wasn't asked tear her up?