July 4th

The young punks in the neighborhood are trying to shoot down the moon. The city sanctioned fireworks are done, barely standing out among the many private shows on all sides from my lofty deck. My own cheesy grocery store fireworks display is done, appreciated by my famly and the little tykes next door. The smell of smoke lingers long in the air. And as my family heads home, my brother and visiting cousin go to bed, I sit and reflect.

Being born on the 6th of July, I was pretty patriotic. Even though it wasn’t right on the 4th, I still had patriotic themed birthdays and fireworks right near my birthday. Flags flying and all that. I do love my country, but I lament the many problems with both the upper crust and the lower tiers of society. It’s interesting that I was born of the 6th of July, not the fourth. My patriotism may never have faded had I been born on the fourth. But I wasn’t. I was born on the 6th. I bought into the indoctrination of history class and homeroom recital of the Pledge of Allegiance. I liked the flag birthday cake my mom made one year. I even liked the all american birthday watermelon with red, white and blue candles they made me at the family reunion one year, even though I’m not a big fan of watermelon. But as I’ve gained more life experience and job experience, my patriotism has faded. We do many things so well in this country. We have cutting edge studies, new innovations in science and medicine, unique and world changing inventions, determination and a will to affect change in any situation.
But the more things change, the more they stay the same.

It’s interesting that a nation that has never known royalty, or a caste system, or an (official) religious state, has such trouble with the idea of class fairness and social justice. If you don’t agree that we have problems in those areas, then this isn’t the blog for you. How many innocent poor people are in jail? (Most of them are guilty. I’m not a “bleeding heart liberal”) But most of the white collar criminals are guilty, but are never convicted, and don’t do time even if convicted.

I guess the point I had in mind when I started this entry, is that we all have to contribute to society and government to make it work. It’s also the only way to break the gridlock of partisanship. When lawmakers are confronted with the uncomfortable fact that their constituents agree even when they don’t, that they might just have to work together. Sorry!

Untitled super short inspirational poem # 27983

In the aftermath of all that’s sure to get you,
You will find the rock that is your soul.

It is unbreakable, eternal.
It will bring you peace.

Mark Thomas Ritchey
7/1/14

Father’s Day

Yesterday was Father’s Day.  I had a lot of people tell me Happy Father’s’ Day if you’re a dad.  I’m not and they’d say enjoy your day anyway.  I sometimes wish I could have done the “normal life” thing, getting married and having kids.  Being gay doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t do that anymore, but I don’t think I could handle kids.  Having enough trouble handling myself.  The Bible says something to the effect that God won’t give you more than you can handle.  But then he made me responsible for myself.  A little joke I came up with.  Thought about using that for a t-shirt idea when I was starting my t-shirt web store.  (That’s done now. Another story.)

But enough about me.  I was looking for a card at, you guessed it, Family Dollar, and saw one that the front design really caught my eye.  As I read it, though, it didn’t fit.  It said thanks for all the advice and guidance you gave me.  My dad never did that.  I used to feel bitter about that when I was younger and looking for that annual card.  Also on his birthday.  I felt like he didn’t do anything to help me, and didn’t spend a lot of time with us (1 brother, 1 sister) doing the dad stuff like playing catch, or fishing, and the like.  I love board games and would try to get a family game going.  He usually abstained.

As I got older, particularly in my 20’s, I began to see my parents for the human beings they are.  We all have faults, and strengths and weaknesses.  I think around that age, you start to turn into your parents and gain understanding about them.  My dad just didn’t have it in him.  He lacked energy and vivacity for doing things, not just for us, but for himself.  He did play with us when we were real little, giving us “horsey” rides, despite his weak back.  Also, piggy back rides, or putting us on our shoulders when we were at a fair or fireworks or something.  I understand that lack of energy and enthusiasm for life.  It’s called depression.  I do have a great enthusiasm for life, but sometimes have no interest in anything.  I’m glad I have bipolar and not just plain depression.

As for the advice giving, well, he’s just not an insightful person.  He learns things the hard way himself, so it can’t really be expected that he would be proactive in imparting wisdom ahead of new experiences and challenges that I arrived upon.  He could have used some advice himself from others on things, but nobody wants to help the misfits.  They hold back their knowledge and experience, perhaps to feel better about themselves while they shake their heads at someone else.  It would have been nice to receive guidance throughout the growing up years, but it is what it is.  I love my dad.

I can’t leave this post without pointing out some good stuff about my dad.  He’s very generous and considerate.  He has no guile or hidden agendas in his dealings with others outside the family or within.  He likes to joke around and is very warm and loving.  I admit I felt emotionally neglected at times through the years, but I never had to doubt for one second that he loves me.  I’m thankful for a stable home with both parents there.  I can’t imagine having divorced parents living seperately.  My parents’ 47th anniversary is coming up in a couple weeks.  I hope to have my dad with us for their 50th.  He’s 82 now, and doing well.  But he had quadruple bypass about 10 years ago.  He married a younger woman (gotta give him credit on that one). My mom is 73.  An interesting side note: they met on a blind date, set up by friends.