True Story, or as Close as I Can Get

When we tell a true story, especially one in which tempers flared, the tendency is always to make oneself the good guy in the retelling. I’m going to do my best to relate the story of an interaction I had yesterday in a Publix grocery store as rationally and objectively as I can. Wish me luck.

I’d had a beautifully relaxing facial on Thursday morning, and was driving home to Doright Manor when I remembered that we needed a few items from the grocery store. Since I was just a mile or so from a Publix store I changed my route slightly and headed there.

First I went to the beauty aisle to pick up some shampoo for Studly Doright. He’s the most manly of men, yet he likes what I call, “Froo Froo” scented shampoos. Lots of florals or fruit essences. Sometimes I sneak in a more neutral scented shampoo, but I always end up having to use it because he won’t.

Then I shopped the produce section, searching for apples, oranges, strawberries, bananas and pineapple to satisfy our juicing habit. Studly really enjoys making juice every evening, and I try to keep fresh fruits on hand to encourage this new habit. Better fruit scented juice than fruit scented hair, I always say.

Finally I went to pick out a steak or two for him. I seldom eat meat anymore, but Studly does. I pulled my cart up parallel to the meat case, leaving a couple of feet between the cart and the case so others could peruse the section, as well.

I picked up one package of meat, placed it in a plastic bag inside my cart and turned to get another one. At the same time this big bruiser of a woman pulled her cart between mine and the case, moving me out of the way. I politely waited, thinking she’d be through soon, but she pulled out her phone and made a non-food related call.

“Excuse me,” J said. “Are you going to be awhile?”

“As long as it takes, lady.”

“Do you think perhaps I could have some room to get to the steaks?”

“When I’m done,” she said.

Okay, here I was wearing my peace sign t-shirt, feeling my blood pressure spike. This woman was almost my height, maybe an inch less than my 5’8″, but outweighed me by a good 50 lbs.

I indicated my cart, and said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I parked my cart to allow others to shop as well. Not for you to block me out.”

“Tough!”

“Listen, lady, I’m going to look at the steaks whether you move or not.” I proceeded then to put my hip into her cart and push. Whew. Not smart, but damn. She had my dander up.

That’s when she threatened to knock the shit out of me. Her exact words.

Now, I should explain here that I did take a step back, but at the same time I said, “Bring it, bitch.”

My brain was screaming at me to shut up. There’s no way I wanted to fight, and I have no idea what I’d have done if she had taken a swing at me. Thankfully I didn’t have to find out. She turned her back, allowed me to find my steaks, and then I went to the checkout counter.

I’m sure she’s telling somebody about the mean hippie chick who threatened her at the Publix today. I still can’t believe I let her get to me like that. The steaks would’ve been there if I’d walked away for five minutes and come back to shop at my leisure. I’m so not proud of myself.

To top it off, I ruined the good vibes I had going from my facial. Damn.

Peace!!!! People.

Closure

The righteous will say,

No closure for the wicked

No rest for the hordes

Rail on for justice,

For resolution’s balance

For a sign of peace

Dove’s wings are tangled

Within the hawk’s taloned fists

Your closure, his claws

I began writing about one kind of closure, but my words wandered into a different place.

Peace, people.

Peace, People

When I’m on the ball, I sign off on my posts with the phrase, “Peace, people.” Occasionally I’ll add to the phrase something pertinent to the post, but usually I stick to the simple sentiment that came to me out of the blue when I first started writing this blog.

During most of the sixties I was a child, too young to be a part of the hippie generation, but old enough to throw the peace sign around like a true member of the love generation. The idea of peace seemed radical then, and even more so now.

I’ve come to cynically believe that we will never have peace because it just isn’t profitable. Politicians love to feed the hungry mouth that is the military industrial complex, so young women and men will continue to march off to war. We will be told that it is the patriotic thing to do, so we will cheer them as they depart and mourn those who do not return except in flag draped coffins.

Peace continues to be worth striving for, though. I still pray for peace every single night, and I vote for those I hope will prevail against the hungry, hungry war hippo.

I found this T-shirt design at a Target store in Tallahassee a couple of years ago and bought it immediately. It became my favorite due to its message and its extreme softness. Then, I lost it. I have a feeling I left it in a hotel room on one of my cross country jaunts. Miraculously, I found it again at a different Target in Davenport, Iowa. Yay!

Yesterday I wore my peace T-shirt as I ran errands around Tallahassee, and for the first time since buying it I was rewarded with at least half a dozen responses, all of them positive and encouraging. One young man asked me where I’d gotten it because he wanted to get one for his girlfriend. Several people of varying ages flashed the peace sign at me and smiled. I felt light-hearted for the first time in ages.

I’m tired of young people dying in old men’s wars. Maybe others are, too. And just maybe it’s time for the peace sign to make a comeback in a big way. I’ll do my part.

Peace, people.

Snapshot #201

Usually my snapshot blog posts are of pretty things: flowers, pajamas, winged insects, etc. Today’s offering, though, is just gross.

See that mucus-y blob on my rear view mirror? I’m calling this one, “Look! A Loogie!”

The great glob of spit wasn’t there when I locked my car and went into a Walmart in Tallahassee, but it was gleaming at me when I returned with my purchases. I’m fairly certain the culprit was the man who was parked next to me and gave me a withering look that was perhaps prompted by my T-shirt:

I guess he’s just not ready to give peace a chance.

Peace, people.

Let It Be

I find myself singing this throughout these terrifying days. It breaks my heart to know that many of my friends who once sang along are now under Trump’s influence. Greed and an adherence to false religiosity have turned their hearts and minds away from the tenets of peace and love.

https://youtu.be/cKolD582AVI
Lyrics

When I find myself in times of trouble. Mother Mary comes to meSpeaking words of wisdom, let it be.

And in my hour of darkness.                     She is standing right in front of me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Chorus:

Let it be, let it be.                                           Let it be, let it be.                                 Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the broken hearted people Living in the world agree,                      There will be an answer, let it be.

And though they may be parted there is Still a chance that they will see            There will be an answer, let it be.

Chorus

And though the night is cloudy,            There is still a light that shines on me, Shine until tomorrow, let it be.

O, will I make up to the sound of music Mother Mary comes to me              Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Chorus

Photograph #44

This one moved me. Let’s call it “My Reason Returned.”

“…raised my eyes toward heaven and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High and praised and honored Him who lives forever; For His dominion is an everlasting dominion, And His kingdom endures from generation to generation.” Daniel 4:34

Meditation Song

I am the tuning fork, a shimmering frisson of vibration calling the heart to harmony

I am also the rock, though, throwing ripples concentrically across once calmed waters

Peace and chaos vie for my soul, my meditation song pulled from the place of light

Spilling haphardly across the courtyard where I tend tightly ordered rows of flowers

Regimental form forced on blood red roses contrary to their petals’ better nature,

Never certain which will win the day, tranquility or turmoil, I toil with hope and a smidgen of fear.