Actions and their Consequences

 

We will always face the consequences of our actions.  I firmly believe this, even if it seems that there are some who seem to escape. 

This is not a moral judgment, although I could go in that direction.  No.  This is a simple observation of the Laws of Physics, cause and effect.

You trip over something or miss a step.  You can stumble and maybe catch yourself; if you are all of fifty-one pounds and seven years old, this is a good possibility. 

You can plant your face on the asphalt (I have done this, spectacularly!). If you are said seven year old, chances are you will jump up and keep on going, maybe with a skinned knee.  If you are ME, you will lie there for a while and then roll over to access the damage.

But, the primary point is that the fall-ee will face the consequences of the fall.

So it is that the life-long jogger approaching 70 will most likely be suffering with hip and knee joint problems.  Time for replacement surgery.

So it is that the old rock stars (Mick Jaggers and Steve Tyler) that have danced and contorted their bodies repeatedly probably hurt like heck in the morning when they roll out of their beds.

The current 'street dancers'?  By thirty, they will have hurt every joint they have.

The sunbathers who were bronzed to a fare-the-well back in pre-suntan-in-a-bottle days?  Dermatologists are busy treating skin cancer and unfortunately melanoma.  (Couldn't bring myself to show the sun-related skin diseases.)

To children and young people playing 

sports:  Think blowing out a joint or tearing a muscle, or even worse by the time one would be considering playing professionally. (I looked for photos on this, and some were beyond gruesome.)

 

Those heavy metal bands of the 80s?  Metallica?  I wonder if they are wearing hearing aids?

 

So, to this current generation who are always on the iPod or whatever with the ear bud thingies:  Think ‘hearing aids’ by age 40. 

To the Tweeters, Texters, and Twitters:  think ‘carpal tunnel 

 surgery’ by late 20s.  (Bloggers know this feeling!)

 

To the PStation and XBox players:  Think ‘arthritis’ in the thumb joint by the late 30s.

We all pay the consequences, eventually.

We can tell our own children about this

event in their futures. 

Where Home Once Was

 

Every October, the blog world is bedazzled by posts with autumn photos taken by the blogger her/himself.  It makes me hunger for and a little bit jealous of the world “back where” there is such a thing as autumn.

Here in Wildfire season in California, the fall colors don’t exist, except for a sweet gum tree that also sheds little spike balls. What I do have are photos taken in late October 2009 on a walk with my brother, Don.  The photos taken were put into an album to give as a Christmas present for my mother who was in fading and failing health.

So, here are some memories of Autumn and a small town, Pleasant Hill in Illinois in 2009:

An old house next to the bank

Mom's neighbor.  Mom could tell me who they are, who their parents were...

Small rental apartments next to the train track.  This

used to be a veterinarian office when I was young. 

A house near the local funeral home

After my father retired from farming, he visited with at the John Deere

store almost every day.  Sometimes he drove to another John Deere store to pick

up parts.  These was pre-computer ordering.

The Methodist Church (which is in the sidebar).  Young couples 

would meet on benches (out of sight) and talk/kiss.

This log house was saved and then moved to this site.  It dates back to 1820 

and across from Stark Nursery, where the first Delicious apples were

created by someone who brought up a "scion" from Kentucky which

was grafted and cross-pollinated.

This house was restored and is now occupied by some very hard working 

people whom my mom knew.  Yes, she could cite their lineage. We

stopped and peeked in the windows while it was still

under construction.  

 

Mom had no shame, and was friendly with everyone, who 

also knew her lineage.

Somewhere this road will come to an end, in Calhoun County

These are Autumn memories from a past shared by Mom, brother Don, and me. Our own roads roll on ahead, to some other place.

Chocolate on an Icy Day

Abuelita

Violin music scratched from Miss Violet Ramsey’s record player, volume turned up high, pouring music directly at her head. Her deaf ears scarcely heard even a note, which did not seem to be a problem.

By the window where Miss Violet sat, she stroked her calico kitten and sipped hot cocoa topped with melted marshmallow.  "How about we have another, Kitty?" as she set a fresh cup next to six empties. It had been a long cold day, and six cups were nothing.

Violet had barely taken a sip, when she cried out, “Oh, look, Kitty!  There’s another one!”  Even with her glasses steamed and fogged, Miss Violet did not miss a man  in a dark overcoat as he rushed by on Albany Lane, now a very slippery street.  

When he tumbled and cursed, Miss Violet giggled and marked another hash mark on her writing tablet. “That makes 13 today!” Marshmallow spittle splattered onto Kitty, who was not in the least bothered by it.  

Her joy was disturbing on so many levels.

This is a re-post from Nov. 29, 2012.  The italicized underlined words are from a Wednesday Word challenge, established by Delores, who stepped away from blogging. Delores handed the torch off to Elephant's Child and Drifting through Life.  New word challenges can be found at their sites.

Things happen

source

Things happen.  Things happen quickly.

In one second, a fraction of second,

one’s world changes,

 turns over.

Maybe it is a fall.  Or, maybe it is abrupt darkness or 

pain,

But then, things happen.

T is for Tree

Perhaps it is the old tree-climber in me that makes me stop and look.

I wonder, “Can I put my foot there, without hurting a muscle?”

Then “….Stretch my hand to that branch, without scraping my arm???”

And, if I haven’t fallen yet, “…if I pull and push at the same time, can my other foot make it to that notch way up there.

Some trees beg to be climbed, no, demand to be climbed.

Forget about the palm tree, all show and no character.  Snotty stuck up tree, not made for much here in Southern California, except for its fancy decorative looks and heavy maintenance.

Give me a knotty, branchy tree anytime.

Now, THIS is a TREE! Which up the street, and I am not sure what species it is.

Yup.  T is for Tree.

Wednesday Words from Delores

Violet loved to listen to music.

Violin music scratched from Violet Ramsey’s gramophone as the elaborate sound amplifier poured notes directly at her head. Her deaf ears scarcely heard even the sweetest notes.  

 By the window where Violet sat, she stroked the calico kitten and drank hot cocoa topped with melted marshmallow.  “Oh, look, kitty!  There’s another one!”  

She watched as a man in a dark overcoat rushed by on the slippery street.  When he fell, Violet laughed and marked another hash mark on her writing tablet. “That makes 13 today!” 

Joy of Words: 2

I don't know from where this photo came--Hopefully, I won't offend anyone's property.

That wild woman, Delores at “thefeatherednest”, has brought up a new idea.  Delores wondered if the blogging community would like to use a set of six words and create a piece of flash fiction sometime that week (50 words or less).  It could be coherent, thoughts leading from one to another.  Or, it could be random thoughts that stand alone.

This is my collection of six words:

Longing     Discover      Memories          Inhale       Past          Present

Hmmmm….what hits your fancy? 

Quick note:  I will be out of town this week.  My aunt lives in Missouri, and I haven’t seen her in over a year, so I am flying to the “Show Me!” state.  Hopefully, the leaf colors will be changing and the weather delightfully autumn-like.  So I won’t be checking in much.  Have a wonderful week!