August 23, 2020 - The Mill and My Brain

One of the ways I keep myself awake at night (not voluntarily) is by coming up with conspiracy theories. I'm not talking about the ridiculous yet popular ones, such as vaccines cause autism and mail-in voting will be rife with fraud. I'm talking about the ones that only exist in my head for the sole purpose of occupying my brain when it should be quieting down for the night.

My newest one involves the eyesore of an abandoned mill in my hometown. It has been unpopulated, unused, and unkempt for over forty years. The owner of the mill and the town have, at best, a contentious relationship, going back and forth trying to screw each other over, resulting in absolutely nothing happening with the property. My knowledge of the situation between the owner and the town is far from complete, but my understanding is that every time the town tries to go after the mill (not always in the fairest of ways), the owner retaliates in irritating ways (e.g., closing off a cut-through street or banning town buses from the property).

Every so often, though, the town comes alive with excitement and the rumor mill begins to churn. A couple times over the past few years, someone painted "DEMO" on the sides of the building. Something's happening! Let's plan a multi-use facility with shops, restaurants, and housing. Yay, tax revenue! Boo, overcrowded schools! The discussion boards light up with everyone's opinions, some polite and others not so much. Then nothing happens. Whoops, miscommunication. That shouldn't have been posted. And a week or two ago signs popped up for construction (destruction?) crews at one corner of the mill. Rumors are again swirling. They're going to tear down a quarter of the mill! Let the speculation of how to use the property begin anew! Let the boards reignite with the passions of the people in hopes this time will be different!

That's where my brain enters the picture. As I lie awake at night, at first dreaming of how the property might be used (no one seemed interested in my idea to convert it into a movie/ television studio similar to what Plymouth Rock Studios was supposed to be), my brain then starts to laugh at me and suggest the ridiculousness I know it all too capable of.

The owner is doing all of this on purpose. This is his grand revenge scheme on the town. It was his idea to paint "DEMO" on the building. It was his idea to hire a company to post signs and walk around the property. It was his idea to let the townsfolk figuratively eat each other alive on the best way to use the property. We'll get shops! The rats will be everywhere! The town will be pretty! We'll all get asbestos poisoning! The mill owner is Rod Serling, he's turning the town into Maple Street, and the monsters are here.

At least that's what my brain says at 1 A.M.

August 13, 2020 - Watch the Hamsters

These are trying times to say the least. Times that force many to resort to finding ways to cope. Times when some of us frequently find ourselves asking, often rhetorically, "Who needs a drink?" This becomes problematic for me as I'm not much of a drinker. A while back, when I'd go out with folks after work, instead of getting a drink, I'd order some chicken wings and waffle fries. Food became my equivalent to alcohol. Unfortunately, my belt only has so many notches, and I've had to find another way of coping with the challenges the world throws at me. That way is laughter.

A while back I found this video of two hamsters on a wheel. It's one of the funniest videos I've ever seen (don't worry; the hamsters are fine). Give it a watch; see what you think. Every time I watch it, I laugh. Even if it's several consecutive time, as it has been lately, it always cheers me up. I feel better. 

So now, when I read that a high school in Georgia sent students back for full, in-person classes, I watch the hamsters. When I find out that the school suspended the the girl who posted the pictures of mask-less students in overcrowded hallways (because yeah, she's the issue), I watch the hamsters. 

When I read that a Florida county sheriff has banned anyone - staff or civilian - from wearing masks in the sheriff's office, I watch the hamsters. When I find out that the mayor of that city vetoed a city council emergency mask order, I watch the hamsters.

When I read that a Georgia congressional district (Come on, Georgia, what's with you? We already have Florida) nominated a QAnon following, anti-Semitic, anti-Muslim, racist woman. I watch the hamsters. When I read that Trump called her a future star, I watch the hamsters. 

When I post a survey in my town's Facebook group asking who will get the COVID-19 vaccine when it becomes available, and ~40% say no, I watch the hamsters. 

When I watch Trump tell a reporter that Trump has done more for Black people than anyone else, I watch the hamsters. Sometimes, though, even the hamsters aren't enough. And that's okay. They don't need this kind of pressure. On occasion I give the hamsters a break, so when I see that Trump's comment about doing more for Black people than anyone is in response to a question about John Lewis (you know, the guy who had his skull cracked open when marching for civil rights), I give the hamsters the day off. And I look at the horse cookie.

August 3, 2020 - Where I Belong

I have always considered myself a spiritual, not religious, person. I never subscribed to the idea that I have to live a certain way because an unseen being commanded me to do so; I live the way I live because I think the decisions I make are the right decisions. They are for the benefit of the many, not so I can win an afterlife (#humblebrag not intended). I think most religions worship the same god, just under different names with a few minor differences in beliefs. And I've always been content to live my life on my own with my beliefs. 

Yesterday, though, my wife and I decided to attend an outdoor service at our local Unitarian church. From the moment we arrived, we felt a sense of community, despite the fact that there were a total of maybe fifteen people there, including the officiant and participants. We were there to celebrate the good and acknowledge the bad with others. Personally, I felt more connected when I found that members of the congregation had pets named Yoda and Anakin. The incoming sexton and I spoke briefly about the bands he's worked with in the past (I will say right now that I am more than envious). Three different people, including the pastor, came over to introduce themselves before the service began, and another congregant came over to talk with us after it was over. I know this happens in many houses of worship, but this time it felt more personal.

As for the service, the focus was not what we have to do to please a god; it was what we have to do to make the world a better place. It reminded of us of how we all connect with each other and with nature; we each received a heart of wildflower seeds (pictured above) to bring home and plant. The service had a section called "Stones of Joy & Concern", where attendees could share parts of their lives and receive support for the good and bad in their lives. There was mention of how they help those in the community who are having a difficult time. I felt more connected with the secular musical numbers ("Somewhere" from West Side Story, "Over the Rainbow", "Here Comes the Sun") than I ever did with "Ein Keloheinu" or "What a Friend We Have in Jesus". 

None of this is to dismiss or diminish anyone else's religious or spiritual beliefs (unless they promote harm to others; I can't get behind that). This is just to say that I think I might have found my place in the spiritual world. I can't commit, not yet. This was one outdoors service with a small fraction of the congregation. Once this pandemic passes, and we can get inside the church with everyone else, I might feel different. Or I might have these feelings intensified. All I can say is that for now, I think I've found where I belong.