An Interesting Quote

August 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite quote?
View all responses

This isn’t my favorite quote since I don’t actually have one, but it’s something I read recently that hit a chord.

In the 1960s, psychologist Frank X. Barron set out to discover what made someone a creative thinker. He discovered that creative people seemed to have certain traits in common: independence; unconventionality; a vast inner life; a preference for complexity and ambiguity; a tolerance for disorder; the ability to extract order from chaos; and a willingness to take risks. He concluded:

“Thus the creative genius may be at once naive and knowledgeable, being at home equally to primitive symbolism and to rigorous logic. He is both more primitive and more cultured, more destructive and more constructive, occasionally crazier and yet adamantly saner, than the average person.”

What hit a chord with that quote is that I have many of those attributes while at the same time, I consider myself a rather average person, and certainly no creative genius or any kind of genius, for that matter. (In fact, a teacher once said to me: “I bet you think you have a high IQ, but you don’t. It’s average.” But she did admit I was creative, so there’s that.) I’m pretty much middle of the road in just about everything, and that’s because I can often see both ends to any spectrum, can often even feel both ends.

I consider myself to be logical, but then, there is that other part of me that is more mystical than logical. Both tend to keep me centered in the middle.

I’m not sure about primitive and cultured. I don’t consider myself either, so perhaps that’s another middle of the road thing?

And I am knowledgeable about many things, but unfortunately, I am also aware of huge blanks in my knowledge base where I know there are things to know but don’t know them.

Then there’s the “destructive” part of the quote — though I am constructive when it comes to gardening, for example, pampering my plants for the most part, I can also be extraordinarily destructive. Yesterday, I needed to prune an overgrown bush, but by the time I finished pruning it, there wasn’t much left but the bare trunks and branches that had been hidden in the middle of the foliage, so I destroyed the whole thing. Well, not completely, just chopped it way back so that it would be years before it grew unwieldy again. It certainly helped me get rid of my frustrations with all that’s going on in the world today.

I do think I’m sane, though during most of my younger years, I thought I was crazy. I can’t remember why, now — maybe because I was so different from people I knew, maybe because certain noises made me frantic, or maybe because my mental processes took me places I wasn’t comfortable with. I remember once being terrified of meeting a psychologist who was new to the family because I didn’t want her to be able to see my craziness. Luckily, I never met her, and now it wouldn’t be an issue. Age does wonders for an uncertain mind!

I’m just as glad not to be a creative genius, because being simply me is hard enough.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, culture, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 1 Comment »

Useful Folk

August 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I saw a video clip the other day that made me think, which I’m sure was not the fellow’s intention since he seems to hate old people and think they should all be done away with. Still, this fellow, with more hardware poked into his face than I have in my toolbox, said that some old guy came up to him, gave him twenty dollars, and suggested he remove the hardware. Rude? Probably? Uncalled for? Well, perhaps. But the question is, why would someone make himself into such a spectacle if he didn’t want to be noticed? Anyway, he ranted on and on about how useless “the boomers” are, without any real knowledge of what the boomer generation is. He said they just sat around and did nothing, which some older folks do, especially those older than the boomers. For the most part, the boomers I know are still working, taking care of grandchildren, volunteering, writing, gardening . . . any number of activities.

It seemed to me that he was not the sort of person to get involved with older folks who are strangers, such as those he’d meet if he were volunteering at a retirement home, so the only way he would know if “the boomers” did nothing but sit around all day was if he knew someone personally, someone perhaps who wouldn’t give him money when he asked. Which made his rant more personal than a sweeping generality, especially since he said he needed gas and the twenty dollars the old boomer gave him was necessary. Which completely negates his rant, because obviously, that old boomer had a particular use and wasn’t worthless to the ranter after all.

Apparently, a lot of the younger generations share his viewpoint about “the boomers” being useless and that they should all be put out of their misery (the misery the young people are feeling, that is, not the misery the old folks probably aren’t feeling). Some people see this attitude as the first step toward generational warfare, which is entirely possible. (Supposedly one of the reasons they hate older folks is they are supporting those “useless” people with their social security taxes, but that there are too few of them to support all of the old people and have money left for themselves. It would seem, then, as if the end — based solely on numbers — would favor the oldsters.) Even some of the self-proclaimed “elder millennial” commentators I used to listen to (emphasis on “used to”) turn out to have that same anti-boomer prejudice, which is funny because they hate being classified as part of the black monolith that’s supposed to be voting democratic, but they see “boomers” as just another faceless monolith.

All of that is preamble to what the hardware guy made me think: Who, actually, deserves to live? Who among us is so worthy of life that everyone else should be eliminated to make room for them? What makes a person worthy of living? What makes one person more useful than another? Is anyone useful, really?

Is a baby contributing to society? Is a kid going to school? What about a person who doesn’t work but manages to get enough handouts to live a life of leisure while pleading poverty? What about the rich folks who are funding the subversive movements in this country? What about the fraudsters? What about the teachers who propagandize rather than teach kids to think? What about the university bigwigs who take money from enemies of the United States to further propagandize the students? What about the scientists who develop drugs and other substances to keep people on a medical treadmill? What about the “experts” who make up the news — or slant it — rather than simply reporting it? What about the editors who decide what we are too stupid to understand? What about the commentators who spew innuendo with straight faces?

If we were to do away with all the worthless folk, the only ones left would be you and me, and I sometimes wonder about you.

[Sorry, I couldn’t resist. That’s something my dad would say to me when I was young: “All the world’s crazy but you and me, and I sometimes wonder about you.” He sure did think that was funny!]

Despite that last facetious remark, there is a tinge of truth to it. In my case, I might not still be working at a paying job, but I am working in my garden, which gives a lot of people pleasure —my neighbors, people walking by, people driving past on purpose to see what I am doing. When I do see people, I always have a smile or a kind word or a hug to give away. I might not be contributing much to the economy, but I leave behind barely perceptible footprints: I live on a miniscule income, drive as little as possible, don’t waste food or much of anything. I just try to live a quiet life of peace, which adds to the entire mantle of peace that perhaps protects us.

Who’s to say that’s not as important as . . . well, as anything that’s important, if there is anything that’s important.

So, to turn the tables on the ranter, perhaps by giving me something to think about, he actually turned out to be one of the useful folk.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, culture, dealing with old age, gardening, life, relationships. Tags: , , , . Leave a Comment »

No Feeling of Vindication

August 1, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I’ve been sitting here mechanically playing a game of solitaire and letting my mind make sense of what is going on with the Covid hearings without any input from my emotions or a mental push from my conscious mind.

It’s odd — I don’t feel any vindication at having known exactly what was going on back then. Hints of the “conspiracy” were running through threads of pandemic panic, and since those same conspiracies (not theories, real conspiracies) have always been in the background of any biological or chemical weapon development (especially since such research has been banned for decades), it was apparent to me what was happening. I also had the advantage of the years of research that formed the back story of my novel A Spark of Heavenly Fire, in addition to a well-developed sense of pattern recognition. (I originally wrote “over-developed,” which leads to a tendency to draw connections among events that might not have anything to do with one another, but in this case, I was right on target.)

More importantly, for me, I didn’t have anyone telling me I couldn’t see a grandbaby unless I got the shots, or any other such personal coercion, so I was able to deal with that whole horror on my own terms. As to why I never wrote about my suspicions back then — it was due to a rather feebly developed sense of self-preservation. (I say “feebly” because it’s obvious from some of my more recent politically leaning posts that the thin veneer of self-preservation is wearing off.) They scared me with all that talk of arresting people who didn’t have a certificate of vaccination, and apps to track people or to turn in people you knew who didn’t comply. Too much like the “big brother” in 1984, who turned out to be one’s fellow citizens. And they were silencing anyone — even doctors and nurses — who told a different story, and some of those people are still paying the price for telling the truth. So I kept my mouth shut, both online and off. Not that it would have mattered — no one cared what I thought.

I mostly feel sad for all the people who got caught up in the megalomania of this man and who were forever damaged by his policies. But despite what we are hearing about his diary, a betrayal of such enormity never comes from a single bureaucrat. He needed backers, protectors, accomplices, media people to keep the fear escalating, lawmakers to force into law edicts that people would otherwise not have gone along with, governments to coerce people into compliance, gatekeepers to cover up the truth, governors to create unnecessary mandates, and everyone to tout “the science” and ridicule the non-believers. If you’re wondering why he’s taking the fifth despite being pardoned for his crimes (and even though “taking the fifth doesn’t hold in such a case like this because he’s already protected), it’s that if he lists names, he’s a dead man. Literally. I have no doubt names of consequence are hiding behind his silence, but although I can guess at some, other names are lost in the utterly secret roster of the global elite that has always wanted to destroy this country (and now, apparently, most of the world, too). He was the face of the pandemic, and now he’s the sacrificial goat. Everyone else who was complicit will simply go on with their lives as if they don’t have blood on their hands.

I doubt I would have paid much attention to what is coming out in the hearings, even with his thunderous silence, but there’s so much else coming out now, things that have been kept secret for generations, things I’ve known from my research without knowing a lot of the specific details. And the details are appalling. And appallingly sad. The huge amounts of money — trainloads — that are moved out of the treasury with no accountability. The utterly corrupt career politicians. The creeping communism. The activist groups that keep free speech for themselves but gag everyone else for disagreeing. Proof that outside operators have almost always interfered with our government, paying off those who are supposed to be on our side.

All this might be shocking to people who are hearing about it for the first time (if, in fact, they are hearing about it since the alphabet media are generally silent on anything that doesn’t fit their leftist narrative), but it’s not shocking to me.

I do feel sad for myself, though in a more general way. A lifetime of trying to peek behind the scenes to get glimpses of the truth has led to . . . nothing, really. Well, it did lead me safely through the pandemic where, despite my fears (and, oh they were so good at playing on our fears!), I was able to stick to my convictions. But other than that?

Just sadness.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, history/myth, life. Tags: , , , , , . 3 Comments »

Blowing a Fuse

July 30, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Does anyone say “blew a fuse” anymore, either referring to an electric control box or losing one’s temper? Probably not. Well, except for me, and even my use isn’t strictly accurate.

Last night, I flipped a light switch. The bulb went out in a flash and blew a fuse. Or tripped a switch. Or broke the circuit. Or did whatever things do nowadays to make the electricity not work.

I checked the erstwhile fuse box that’s on the wall going down to the basement, but those switches still were in their proper position. It was raining heavily (yay for the rain!!), and dark, besides, so I couldn’t access the main breaker box. For some reason unknown to me (code requirement, maybe?), when the electricity in this 98-year-old house was modernized, the new main control box was set outside. The first insurance inspector I had said to put a lock on the box to prevent anyone messing with it, which I did. It only prevents casual passersby from accessing the box since a lock is so easily cut, but at least it makes me feel as if I am doing the right thing.

Since there was nothing I could do about the situation, and since I was too tired to worry, I went to sleep.

This morning, first thing, I changed the burnt-out bulb, which was no easy task. The screws holding up the globe light fixture hadn’t been touched in perhaps ten years, and I was balanced on a three-step stepstool, but I was careful and managed to get the cover off. Then I had to sort through my lightbulbs (another task that needed the stepstool) to find the proper one.

When those tasks were safely concluded, I found the keys to the control panel, went out and finally flipped the switch.

Such a simple and silly thing, and yet I feel as if I accomplished a monumental task, as if I were sorceress magically creating light, especially since I don’t remember ever having to change a lightbulb in an enclosed fixture. I must have at some point or other because it seemed familiar. But, whatever . . . now I have light!

 

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, home, house, life. Tags: , , , , . 2 Comments »

Dreams I Never Dreamed

July 28, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What’s your biggest dream?
View all responses

I don’t have any dreams, biggest or otherwise. Well, I do have the night kind, but I don’t have many of those either, at least not that I remember. Should we have dreams? I don’t know. I tried looking up dreams on Google, but no matter what my search terms, I always ended up with a list of sites pertaining to nighttime dreams. I even asked if we needed a dream, and what I got was a lecture on the importance of REM sleep.

So, I guess I’m on my own for a definition of this topic.

Do we need to have a dream? It seems to be the consensus (except for Google) that yes, we do. As Harper’s Bizarre once sang, “You gotta have a dream. If you don’t have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?

As far as I can recall, though, I never really had a dream, something I was passionate about that I wished would happen or that I could work toward happening. When I was young, I wanted to be an author, even quit a job to pursue the craft, and it came as a shock when I discovered I had no talent. Years later, long after any vestige of that ambition had disappeared, I learned how to write, even had some books published but never became a “real” author, one who makes a living by writing. Perhaps the closest I came to having a dream was after Jeff died when I considered walking the Pacific Crest Trail, or walking cross country, or doing some other epic walk. I called it an impossible dream in my many blog posts about pursuing that dream, and as it turned out, it was impossible, but still, it was something that consumed my attention for many years. I researched, tried to get in shape enough to carry a heavy pack, did so many things to try to achieve that “dream,” though was it a dream? I don’t know. Looking back, it seems less a dream and more of a mental escape or a way of coping with a life of uncertainty.

And my life was uncertain. After Jeff died, I moved a thousand miles from our home to go take care of my aged father, and then after he died . . . well, let’s just say I was untethered.

Still, back then, I did think a lot about trying to find a “dream,” a way of getting through the rest of my life as fully engaged as possible. I did a lot of things in pursuit of a dream, though in fact, I’d never even dreamed any of those dreams. Dancing on stage, for example. I’m not the lightest of folks, not much of one for music or rhythm or bendability or any of a dozen other things one thinks about when you think of a dancer. And yet I did learn to dance, even did several performances on stage before a live audience. Apparently, despite the Harper’s Bizarre song, you can have a dream come true even if you never had the dream.

It’s the same with my house. Until I decided to spend my last bit of savings on a house, I’d certainly never even entertained the idea of owning a piece of property. Once I had the idea, I dreamed the house into existence, and now I seem to be living a dream, one that I never really dreamed.

And my garden. It’s a dream of a garden, that’s for sure, but for sure one that I’d never dreamed. In fact, I distinctly remember thinking (and telling people) that I didn’t want a garden or any landscaping. I wanted a yard that would take care of itself, and yet here I am, with an aftermath of a dream I never had.

Although I still don’t have dreams, I continue to open to whatever comes my way. And who knows, one day I might find myself in another situation where a dream I never dreamed actually came true.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

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Promises

July 27, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What’s a promise you made to yourself that you’ve actually kept?
View all responses

I don’t really make promises to myself, at least not using those words. I do wake each day with the idea of trying to do better than I did the day before at taking care of myself, such as eating real food or doing stretching exercises if nothing else. I sometimes played around with New Year’s resolutions, though those resemble my daily betterment intentions rather than any resolution or promise to myself. Oddly, my unintentional resolution of daily blogging (I never decided to do it, never promised myself I would, just started doing it) is still in effect. 208 days and counting!

The closest I ever came to promising myself anything was after Jeff died and I became determined to be spontaneous. The only time in my life I was spontaneous was right after I met him. His very presence in the world made the world feel friendly, and I felt comfortable taking chances. Over the years, I settled back into my worrisome self. Our lives became constrained by his health, our finances, and various other matters beyond our control. He told me once it bothered him that our shared life had destroyed my spontaneity — but he never understood that he was the one responsible for whatever spontaneity I had developed to begin with.

I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life mourning, didn’t want to spend my life regretting that my shared life was ended, didn’t want to . . . well, I didn’t want to do a lot of things that I had to do, such as deal with the pain and go from there. Through it all, though, I kept that determination to be spontaneous as a way to honor him. And to honor myself.

I did many new things and took many chances — visiting museums, taking dance classes, hunting for wild poppy preserves, exploring the desert, hiking — though oddly, a lot of my spontaneity came with preparation and planning. For example, I couldn’t just start driving cross-country trip on a whim — I had to get both myself and my car into shape, stock up on the necessary emergency and camping equipment, notify people of my intentions in case they wanted me to stop by, and so many other niggling details. And yet, despite the planning, most of the trip was an exercise in spontaneity — driving how far I wanted each day, taking side trips when the signs beckoned me off the main road, accepting invitations from people I barely knew.

Even buying my house was as spontaneous as such a purchase can be. I got an unsolicited email from a real estate website saying that they had a house I might like. I did like it. And I bought it sight unseen. (Though I did have a realtor and two inspectors look at it for me.) Although my life has settled into a comfortable stay-at-homeness, and although I still have to live more or less according to a gardening schedule, my life is mostly unplanned. I do what I wish when I wish it, which most often means not doing much of anything, which I’m okay with, although oddly, yesterday I suddenly felt like cleaning house, so that was my big spontaneity of the day.

I suppose, in the end, I did make a promise to myself — that plan to be spontaneous — and I did keep it.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, blogging, home, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , , . 4 Comments »

Cooling Down

July 26, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Today is the hottest day of the year so far. Not of all years, just this year. I’ve survived hotter days than this — days when today’s high of 108 degrees was a cool-down — but still, it’s hot. Hot enough to have fried whatever energy I have. Hot enough to boil any ideas right out of my head.

So instead of writing anything of significance — assuming, of course, that I ever do — I thought I’d post photos of previous winters in the hopes that images of all that ice and snow will cool me down.

And if not that, then they will be a good reminder that although winter is officially five months away, winter weather could come as early as next month. Not that I think it will, just that it has. I remember snow in August. I also remember snow in June.

Just a reminder for people who aren’t paying attention: these are photos from previous winters. Not last year, because we had only a couple of real snowstorms, but previous years.

So are these images this cooling me off? Not particularly, but I must admit, seeing the photos is nice, especially since I don’t actually have to deal with the cold or the snow . . . yet.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, home, life. Tags: , , , . 2 Comments »

Rushing the Seasons

July 25, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I don’t like rushing the seasons. Instead, I try my best to get through the most trying days, even if only to remind myself that in just a few months, I’ll be complaining about the cold. But we’re in a sizzling hot spell, several days over 100 in a row, with the apex tomorrow at 109. Eek. It’s not that much of a problem, actually, since I do have a roof over my head and a way to keep the house — and me — cool, but still, those temperatures make even early morning chores a challenge. And, too, I can’t use open windows as a way to cool down the house in the evening because around here, at this time of year, it doesn’t cool down much until close to midnight.

I have to admit, that while I was hoping to bypass such temperatures this year since we had an early onslaught of summer (sometimes that’s an indication of an early cool down), stretches of more than 100 degrees are not at all uncommon. And anyway, although we’ve been in the 90s for weeks, we’ve only blipped into the 100s a couple of times. I do think this spate of sizzling weather is coming later this year than normal, but it’s hard to remember. Hot is hot.

For the next few days especially, I’ll do what I can to make my outside chores easier. It helps that so many of the summer flowers are through (or almost through) blooming. There are still a few lilies, a few echinacea, a few marigolds starting (which I don’t like particularly, but they love it here), and the petunias, of course, but for the most part, there’s not a lot to see out there except one heck of a lot of work I’m not doing.

One thing that is going strong enough to celebrate is my pumpkin vine. I just wanted the vine (ten feet long right now!) since I had a huge area to cover quickly, but still, a couple of the blossoms are turning into fruits. (Pumpkin is considered a fruit because it develops from the flowering part of the plant; it’s treated like a vegetable, but technically it’s a type of berry. Odd, that.)

Despite my claim of not liking to rush the seasons, I’d just as soon skip over the next week. Still, since there’s no choice, I’ll sweat it out (literally and figuratively), and hope that my grass, my flowers and I all survive the blast of heat.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, gardening, life. Tags: , , , , , . 2 Comments »

Outdated Technology

July 19, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Which outdated technology do you miss the most, and why?
View all responses

I’ve been thinking about this blog prompt for a couple of days now, and I can’t really think of anything. The one thing would be the simple internal combustion engine as well as a simple dashboard with no electronic beeps or flashing lights or voices telling me what to do, but I don’t have to miss all that. It’s what I have.

About ten years ago, I had the opportunity to buy a new car, but even the older models had way more gadgets than I wanted. A car with an instrument panel as complicated as an airplane? So many electronic components most older people don’t bother to even figure out how to use? It was just too much, but still I dithered.

My mechanic, of course, wanted me to sell my old car because he wanted it, but he was honest enough to tell me the truth. He also told me that if I bought a new car, in ten years I’d have a piece of junk, but if I kept my VW Bug, in ten years I’d have a gem. I still dithered, but another car guy about had a fit when he found out I was considering getting a new vehicle, and he used the exact words the mechanic did.

By that time, I’d test driven enough cars and paid enough attention to my friends’ cars to realize I didn’t want all that computer stuff. I also didn’t know what lifestyle I would end up with. If I were going to be nomad, I needed a vehicle with a back area I could go car camping in. If I had to move to a big city, I’d need a small car. All that indecision! In the end, I had my bug restored. (Now that I’m remembering, the insurance and license plates tags on a new car would have been out of my budget range, so that pretty much decided the issue.)

I’m glad I kept the car. It’s simple, it works, and it’s a conversation piece. The only problem is I can never get a new car. I’ve told that story so many times — that I bought the car new and never bought another one — that it seems ingrained in my psyche.

So I don’t need to miss having a car with older technology, since that’s my vehicle.

It still seems astonishing to me that a car I bought when I was young, one moreover that I thought was a lemon, is still running. Well, for that matter, it amazes me that I am still running. I mean that my body is still working. I don’t run, can’t run, actually. But luckily, my car does run, even if it is outdated technology.

Oh, wait!! I just thought of another outdated technology that I liked — VCRs. But like my car, I don’t have to miss the technology because I have one or two never-used VCRs so I can play the movie collection Jeff left behind, though to be honest, I haven’t played any of those tapes in years.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 5 Comments »

Technology in 2046

July 16, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What’s a piece of technology you’re convinced will exist in 20 years?
View all responses

I’m not convinced anything will exist in twenty years. In fact, I truly doubt I will exist in twenty years, so it won’t matter to me what, if any, technology will exist at that time. Chances are, technology will progress as it always has, with artificial intelligence becoming more and more prevalent and changing human lives in ways we can’t even imagine. Of course we can’t imagine — the changes will be coming from non-human intelligence, something so alien that it certainly doesn’t care about anything human. Any pretense at human emotion emanating from those ones and zeros will be just that — pretense.

Besides, we have no idea, really, when and if a cosmic catastrophe will happen. Over the billions of years the earth has existed, there have been many such events, events that seem to have changed the earth’s environment almost overnight. We all know of such events — the dinosaur extinction and the wooly mammoth extinction, to name two. The prevalence of flood myths, of the world standing still, of night becoming day all seem to reference other extinction events.

The truth is, despite all our vaunted science expertise, we really don’t have that much knowledge about how the sun — or any other cosmic body — affected the earth over those billions of years. Our human history is such a tiny fraction of the earth’s history. We live in a rather temperate and stable time, when we think the way the world is today is the way it always was and always will be. What else explains the prevalence of mobile home parks being set up in tornado alleys, towns being constructed on flood plains, and people building cabins in fire zones? When terrible things happen to people in these areas, it’s always a shock, though it shouldn’t be. What is, wasn’t always. A dry flood plain today wasn’t always dry, and it’s still subject to rare and not-so-rare floods.

And if the cosmos weren’t enough of an inimical neighborhood, we have the political situation, too. Here in this country, it used to be the goals were the same, the differences in political parties were due to differences in the means of achieving those goals. Now the goals are so widely divergent they hardly seem to be describing the same country. Most people want us to remain a constitutional republic, but a growing vocal and volatile group wants to tear the whole thing down, get rid of the constitution, the government, the entire criminal justice system, and let chaos and poverty take over. (Which I don’t understand. What do these people think is going to happen to them when they have destroyed this country? They will be living here, too. Or are they so stupid as to they think they will be the ones running things? Or so brainwashed as to believe the country will suddenly become a utopia with no crime and Kumbaya everywhere?)

Some people believe we’re headed toward a civil war. Others think we’re heading toward a world war, complete with nuclear weapons going off everywhere.

I don’t want to believe either of those scenarios, just as I don’t want to believe in a major cosmic event, but what I’ve learned during my many years is that the world does not run on my beliefs. If it did run on my beliefs, we would be living in a utopia because everyone would be spending a lot of time at home, working in a garden, reading, or writing rather tame blogs without a lot of emotion, and certainly no rage or outrage. Just kindness and smiles for everyone — well, almost everyone.

Still, let’s assume there are no major upheavals, civil or cosmic, and in twenty years, the world is more or less continuing on the same road to total technology as it is today. I still wouldn’t have an answer to the question because I’m not convinced of much of anything, though I’m pretty sure technology will have outpaced my need for it. To be honest, it already has.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, history/myth, internet, life, writing. Tags: , , , , , , , , , . 6 Comments »
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