Awake to Being Woke

These days, the word “woke” is the most misunderstood and most incorrectly used word in our twenty-four-hour news and bombastic social media world. It’s everywhere. Its misuse is both infuriating and pathetic.

First let’s look at definitions: Woke is an adjective derived from African American Vernacular English meaning “alert to racial prejudice and discrimination.”  Alert means watchful, quick to perceive, aware. That’s what it means and that’s all it means.

But it’s been turned all around, used for something entirely different depending on which political side you are on. For the more liberal it’s what is stated above. For the more conservative it means to be overly politically correct, wanting to police the words of others.  From there conservatives have taken it to an extreme, accusing the woke of doing or wanting awful things. 

For example, it’s said the woke crowd wants critical race theory taught to children in school. By the way, critical race theory is just that, a theory over forty years old taught in law school. Again, it’s a theory not a curriculum. It’s never been taught to children in schools. And there are no plans to do so.  

The woke are also accused of being pedophiles who are grooming children and exposing them to drag. It’s said the woke want to put dirty books (read: books about acceptance of all) into our school libraries and want to teach basic health education so children can learn to become gay.

The woke are said to want white people feeling guilty about slavery. This led to conservative moves to stop teaching certain topics deemed unnecessary to fully understand our history. Spanish philosopher George Santayana is credited with the aphorism, “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Apparently many really want to do just that.  

Being woke includes anyone who thinks in a democracy it’s okay to honor and respect our differences. One political figure insists his state is where woke goes to die. Hard to understand what that really means; but I know I sure don’t want to live there. A recent poll shows most Americans aren’t comfortable with the aggressive anti-woke language. So, it will probably fade as other shame-based and cancel culture messages do in time.   

I read the news and think critically before forming an opinion. I watch many and various programs to stay informed. I denounce fringe ideas that come from all sides of the political spectrum but believe there should be realistic regulation on many things. I care about the future and strength of our country. And by the way, I’m just fine being woke.

Time For a Drink

Let’s face it. We all have a drinking history. For some it’s never drinking; for others it’s over the top. Then there are those somewhere in-between. And so, it was for me.

Being from Wisconsin where it’s all beer and where we have the highest consumption of brandy in the whole country, my drinking life began right on schedule. My policeman dad caught me buying beer for an underage friend (age for beer drinking was eighteen back then); he severely warned me: you get caught don’t expect any help from me.

Then I went to college in the 60s where drinking was as common as eating breakfast. I fondly recall my group of friends going on what we lovingly called the two-dollar tour. Pooling our money, we had one beer in each of Oshkosh’s  townie bars located along the river where college students seldom ventured. The price of beer was a quarter, sometimes a dime, so the tour could go on for hours.

My friends and I hitchhiked to bars since our two favorite beer bars were located on the outskirts of town. Last time I was there, I saw The Rail was still open but was now an upscale restaurant instead of a dance hall. The Loft (it was an old barn) had become an AA meeting place; oh, the irony. After an evening of drinking and dancing we’d bum a ride home with who knows who. I shudder to think how lucky I was to make it out of that safely. It was a different time.

After the hazy days of college, I settled down to become what might be called a light, social drinker. A cocktail with dinner. A house party with friends or a cook-out where I had one or two. But then there were those summer vacations in Door County. During those two weeks I did more shopping and drinking than I did the rest of the entire year.

I especially recall one night we went to Taco Night at the C&C in Fish Creek. Fifty cent tacos were the main draw. When someone suggested shots, we were all in. Tequila with salt and a wedge of lime.

My friend Betty says she was worried I’d get alcohol poisoning when I just kept accepting one after another. After the third shot we made a game of keeping score. That’s why I know I had either eight or ten shots of tequila that night.

The house we rented was two short blocks up the street and I know I walked home without assistance. Biggest surprise, the next day I didn’t even have a hangover. It was like it never happened.  

Then came my trip to New York City. It was a largely unscheduled tour advertised by a senior center. I booked it alone and the travel agent was the only person I knew. Her friend Phyllis was on the trip and since she’d been to New York City many times she was a perfect companion.  

Phyllis and I spent lots of time together. We went to the Guggenheim, Radio City Music Hall, a Broadway play and numerous other places. It became our little joke. We’d be finishing a tour and a look would pass between us. One or the other would say, we should stop for a drink. And we did.

The same thing happened when we went on a mystery tour together. We stopped for lunch at a lovely Italian restaurant in Evanston, Illinois. Phyllis says it was my idea; I’m not so sure but I’ll take the credit. I repeated our New York City refrain: we should have a drink. All it took was that suggestion and the whole table ordered. Our rationale: we were on a bus so why not take advantage of our designated driver.

Today I’m still a casual drinker and my best time is occasionally enjoying just one while watching TV in the evening. I know drinking is looked down on but to me it’s enjoyable, adds to celebrations and if done in moderation is one of life’s little pleasures.

Perhaps my drinking behavior was tempered by an experience in the early days of my social work career. I worked as a counselor for two years in an inpatient thirty-day treatment program; it followed the Alcoholics Anonymous Twelve Step model. I saw the physical, mental and emotional destruction alcohol and other drugs caused in the lives of our patients. Philip Chard, psychotherapist/columnist insists: alcohol is not your friend. I agree with him, having witnessed that first-hand.  

I was the only staff who was non-recovering and recall going out to dinner with a fellow counselor. As I always did when with a recovering person, I asked if it was okay if I ordered a drink and she said yes. I noticed how she kept a close eye on my glass all through dinner. As we got up to leave, she marveled that I was able to leave a few sips behind. If she started, she’d be unable to stop, she lamented. 

I feel fortunate to have survived the drinking adventures of my past. But what I’m most thankful for is not being one of those long-ago treatment patients whose failures and sufferings are forever etched in my memory. How fortunate I am that I can enjoy it but I don’t need it. How great that I can stop. Now, I’ll have that Brandy Manhattan with an olive please.

Make Time Stop

What a life it has been  
Heartbreaks healed
Disappointments deferred
Accomplishments accrued

Instead of future goals
Wondering what’s ahead
It’s now a downward dynamic
Age         advancing
Health           hedging
Walks      waning
Naps             narrowing
Energy    ebbing  

Now, life is good
All in order
Things just right
Make time stop

The Sun is Always Shining

Sitting in an airplane waiting for take-off
Excitement muted by looking
out the window, gray skies and rain

Each day I wish for the sun
Where is it, when will I see it
Dreary days drag, bring me down

The plane takes off, rises above the clouds
There’s the sun, it’s been there all along
even if I don’t see it

Now when I look to cloudy skies, my mood lifts
knowing whether I see it or not, as Buddha says
The sun is always shining

To Pay or Not to Pay

Taxation is the price which civilized communities pay for the opportunity of remaining civilized.

….Albert Bushnell Hart

Death and taxes are long said to be the only two things that are for sure. But maybe that’s not true anymore. Death for sure; but taxes not so much. All the recent kerfuffle about the debt ceiling came to a head for me due to my reading.

First, was an article in my local newspaper explaining everything about the debt ceiling. What it was and how we got here. No mention of how to solve it, only how it could end. Then I read a New Yorker article about a disgruntled wealth manager for several Getty inheritors. Then I just got mad.

The newspaper article listed why the debt is higher now: the GOP backed tax cuts of 2017, a series of regular spending bills passed with bipartisan support, several large relief bills designed to ease covid’s impact, the bipartisan infrastructure bill and the Inflation Reduction Act.  

All these reasons, except the reduction in taxes, are important and necessary. We need road and bridge improvement. We needed covid assistance. We need to curb inflation. And who else can do that but the government?

The article noted six ways the debt ceiling battle could end. None of which offered a real solution. In fact, a “work-around” was suggested. Interesting, not one word about our responsibility to pay for the services we consume. That would be by paying taxes.

No mention of citizens paying more to cover the real expenses of running our country. No mention of having all the rich pay their fair share. It gives the impression it’s okay to expect more and more services and not have to pay for them. Watch the current news reports and you’ll see this is true.

Another small point is that raising the debt ceiling isn’t new spending. It’s simply giving approval to pay the bills on expenses the legislature has already approved. So, who’s deceiving who about this pretend crisis?

Then the New Yorker article told the story of a wealth manager who originally went into the business to help investors become socially responsible stakeholders. Until she almost accidentally became involved with the Gettys. 

Before she knew it, she was involved in a litany of methods and “tools in the toolbox” the super-rich use to avoid paying taxes. For example, the Getty heirs keep an office in California though they conduct no business there; it’s a State with lower or in some cases no taxes.

Once a year they all fly to California for their annual meeting. To avoid paying taxes. That’s only one example of how the wealthy avoid their obligation as citizens to pay their fair share.

I agree with Republicans we need to be fiscally responsible. I agree with Democrats we need to preserve the middle class. I agree with independents we need to find a middle of the road way to improve the lives of all Americans.

And taxes are only one thing in a long list of issues not being addressed in a long-term solution kind of way. Nothing is more upsetting than how politicians continually cut the budgets of essential government programs and then complain how ineffective they are. 

The World Happiness Report states those nations with the strongest financial safety nets and the least wealth inequality demonstrate the highest levels of life satisfaction. Something our capitalistic system, focused on profits and growth, deem less important. Or not important at all.

In my humble way of trying to resolve this mess, I’m getting my papers and forms together for my annual visit to the tax man. I’m okay paying my share. It’s what civilized citizens do in a civilized society.