Monthly Archives: August 2020

Civilization is at risk.

Civilization is a convention. An agreement by similar parties to exist in a peaceful manner, following rules agreed upon by most. Honorable people follow even rules they disagree with, at least until/unless they are personally morally or ethically unjust. Everything we do is a by convention, mostly on an honor system to follow laws and to get along. The reality is, the authorities are neither required, nor able, to make sure that every law or agreement in our societal convention is followed. This leads to an inherently dangerous condition called freedom.

I am not going to extrapolate further except to give you some very real truths.

Every rule is followed only by those who believe it is morally ethically right and just.

Your morals and ethical code are personal. Someone else sees them as a weakness and a way to exploit you. “Never ascribe your morals to someone else, at best, you’ll be disappointed, at worst, it will get you killed.” – My Dad

There are people, many of them, who find great joy in disrupting societal conventions, some for profit, most for the feeling of power it gives them.

When the convention breaks down, no one is coming to save you. You will have to save yourself, or you will die. Act accordingly.

Postcards Of My Life #14 #pcoml

Maker:0x4c,Date:2018-6-22,Ver:4,Lens:Kan03,Act:Lar01,E-Y,E-ver:20181102.5108589.002.000

I have not written much in the past year but found that I hit a trigger of old memories at Marc’s in Kent, OH yesterday.

Growing up, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents house that I posted about which is near Toronto, OH. My grandparents next door neighbor on the right were the Linderman’s. Mr. Linderman was disabled and I actually never met him. Mrs. Lindeman was a retired school teacher and my grandmother’s friend. We would occasionally walk over to see “Mrs. L” and she would always give me a little quiz, age appropriate, for which I was rewarded with spice drops from a bale jar of them she kept on her table.

I picked up a tub of them and was immediately reminded of those summer visits. When Mrs. L, went to the nursing home in Wintersville, OH, not much from a 3 bedroom home would fit in her new room. The jar of spice drops was there, though, and served from over many visits to her there. She is long dead, and the house has been through many owners since, but the memory of those simple spice drops will stay with me for life. She always saw the best in children.