Month: February 2010


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No not the recent Health Reform Summit.  No, for one brief shinning 7 or 8 hours, they all smiled for the camera, as “We the People” watched a re-run of redundancy.  However, I’m talking about this blond I just met.  Blonds are not usually my thing, but this little buddle of love, peace and harmony is too adorable to resist.  Her name is Zoe, and she is a tiny Tibetan something, resembling a miniature male lion, who tolerates my calling her “Simba.”  I know, but it’s all in how you say it.  You know like “step by step” really means, slow down so we can figure out a way to keep our friends in the shadows, deep in greenback pastures, even in a time of famine for the multitudes.  “Somebody’s crying Lord, Kumbaya.”

I wandered into the land of Zoe with my partner, the black monster, a true veteran of slipping in & out of protective shadows.  She’s a survivor, born with a bad leg & living on the streets for her first five weeks.  Only she and her mother made it.  Mom, crazy with fear, anger and loss, could neither be consoled, nor acclimate to the Change in the air, but her little creature of the night, still had glimpses of hope and love.  The keepers warned me she was too hot to handle, as they gloved up to open her cage.  She leapt out, pass the intruder, jumping to & running up my left arm, perching on my shoulder in sphinx position, and purred mission accomplished.  When we got home, I named her, “Soulmate.”  “Somebody’s laughing Lord, Kumbaya.”

Zoe’s terrain was the middle ground of a household which now, thanks to my adding the monster from the trash cans and cardboards, was shared by two cats who viewed each other as advisories, slashing and clawing their way over each other’s imagined displacement to get to the top of the heap, for the imaginary prize of pride.  As working together is not an option, there is perpetual jockeying for a superior position through repetitive talking points, I mean repeated hot air, or hissy fits.  Whenever the cats are in the same room, there is no play, for while the battlefield offers the great sliding door view of bird feeder guests, there is only one superior vantage point.  Whatever the original agenda for the day, the snarling intimidation and hissing saber rattling dominate the airways, in their constant attempts at securing the advantage by any means.  “Somebody’s singing Lord, Kumbaya.”

The drama is palpable and far superior to anything on television, so I mute the “start over” spin and watch the slinking antagonists in their posturing performance, revealing a mental state so out of balance.  Though war is neither necessary nor inevitable, it is practiced as the fine art of distraction and re-direction.  Just as I’m convinced to reach for the security blanket of a quick dousing from the water spray bottle, it is not needed, for there is yet at least one “Voice of Reason” in the room.  It is the peace keeper “Simba.”  Disguised as a Tibetan Spaniel, Zoe rises to the occasion, not only stepping between the two power hungry foes, but bravely walking back and forth between the partisans, offering licks of “can’t we agree, we’re closer than ever?”  Of course, for her Mother Teresa efforts, she often suffers the fury exuding from the small minded enemies of cooperation, enduring a sharp swat from both sides of the isle.  Yet some days her reaching out results in the offenders sleeking away from the battlefield, proving with the end of greedy territorial mussel flexing, it isn’t a battlefield after all, but rather a land of great potential for prosperity, for the good of all at home and around the world.  Alas, however, “lines” are learned and drawn in the sand and tans must be shown off for “lights, camera, action.”  “Somebody’s sleeping Lord, Kumbaya.”

I still Dream, “that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed…” and that it won’t be in incremental itsy bitsy step by step conservative procrastination.  Actions speak louder than “stop, start over, step by step” evasion of practicing “Charity Begins at Home.”  All must insure safety, health and security for All Americans, by insisting on a government that hears us crying out from the wilderness.  While All of us can and should applaud the tremendous generosity Americans have shown the people of Haiti (and will bestow upon Chile) in their time of need, I ask that each of us remember to see what’s right at our feet, in front of us.  Just as others have been forced to live in tents, so have millions of Americans every night, some even veterans who served us honorably.  Take more than a moment to ponder this truth, and then remember that in this severe winter of 2010, those overnight tents & cardboard boxes are in Feet of Snow.  Yes, Think globally, but PLEASE Act Locally.  Americans need America’s help too.  Perhaps you could visit  (434) 872-0200,  341 11th Street NW  Charlottesville, VA 22903.  In this time of many great causes for which to fight, let us share some of our financial attention as well, with those here at home, without homes.  “Somebody’s praying Lord, Kumbaya.”