family

Honor

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I wrote most of this several years ago and saved it as a draft.  I just finished it off now.–

I worked at a theater a few years back that showed independent films, which attracted an older audience than the multiplexes. Most of the people were more polite and considerate too. I remember one incident when a patron was quite unintentionally inconsiderate. He had forgotten he was wearing a blue tooth ear piece that was flashing a blue light. It wasn’t very bright, except for the person directly in line with it a couple rows back.

After the other viewer alerted me to the mini-beacon going off in his face, I went in to ask the wearer of the light to turn it off. It turned out to be an Asian gentleman in his mid fifties, I think. When he realized his blue tooth was still on, he froze for a second, then quickly pulled it off.  In that split second before he moved, he looked absolutely mortified. Obviously, he felt very badly about his offense, even though it was completely unintended.

I don’t know if it’s still true, but a lot of Asian cultures (Japanese, Korean, Chinese, etc.), have always considered a sense of honor to be a vital part of society. It seems like they didn’t even have to think about it. It was just part of who they were. They deeply respected their elders, teachers, and religious and community leaders. And the objects of honor acted in a way that showed respect back to the other person and placed value in them.

I can’t speak for other places as I have not spent time abroad, but I think we’ve lost any sense of honor in America. I don’t mean that we’re all just no good, or that we necessarily act dishonorably. It’s more of a complete absence of concern for “honor”. We just don’t think about it. It’s not a term you hear much. You hear the word “integrity”, though not as much these days. I suppose integrity is pretty close to honor, and it’s certainly a good quality. A person with integrity does have honor, but I think the old time type of honor is something more. It’s not just a code of conduct, it’s a mindset, a way of life, and an almost spiritual discipline.

In my opinion, honor goes beyond just trying to act appropriately according to what you’ve been taught, or following social mores. Again, those are worthy endeavors. Honor just takes it to the next level. Integrity is doing the right thing and reflects good character. Honor is a sense of just-ness and regard for others with inclusiveness and non-judgmental view that is second nature.

I feel that I’ve gotten an old school sense of honor from both my parents. I also feel my dad’s presence in times of doubt and his ever steady quiet goodness and love. I’ve always striven to be honest and fair and unassuming like he was. Many people try to take advantage of that or try to bring you down just because they know deep down that they don’t have what you have, and never will.

It’s extremely difficult to not get caught up in their games and petty attacks, but a person of honor will stride past these folks and rise above on any given day.  Like the Good Book says, never weary in doing good.  God knows there are those who never tire of doing evil and trying to tear others down. We good people have to reach out to one another and encourage, affirm, and build each other up.

Be good. Be strong. Walk with honor.

The Climbing Bear

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I’d like to share a memory about my dad that was kind of painful for many years, but now I see it as just a human moment that I can understand from a whole different perspective as an adult. The five of us – my mom and dad, brother and sister, and I were at the Kutztown Folk festival. I think I was about 5 years old. Being a folk festival, there were naturally a lot of vendors selling crafts, toys and food.

After a while, we came across a stand that had wooden puzzles and toys. There was a toy that was a simple wooden cutout of a bear that had two strings running thought the legs on each side. By pulling on the rings at the bottom of the strings, one side then the other, you could make the bear climb the ropes.

I toggled the bear up the rope to the top and let it slide back down to go again. After a couple times, I decided I needed to take it home. It was an impulsive toddler gotta have it moment, but I guess my eagerness tugged at my mom’s heartstrings as well as the bear’s strings and she didn’t want me to go away empty handed, so she told my dad they should get it.

Even back then, in the ’70’s, items at festivals like that were pretty pricy compared to your mass produced retail store items. Of course, I was too young to realize that, and we were struggling to get by in those days. My dad had been a milk tester for years, going to farms to test samples of milk for fat content and other things which helped the farmers maintain their herds, weeding out the low producers and breeding the best producers. The testing was becoming more automated as farmers updated their milking and storage equipment. He transitioned from milk testing to working at Bangor Hardware, where he worked for many years. My mom was doing social work for Penn State Extension. Neither jobs paid much and both were on their way out. My mom worked at blouse mills after that.

So, at this transitional time when money was scarce, there was this climbing bear that was putting my dad in a tough spot. He understandably was annoyed at the inflated prices. I don’t remember exactly what he said to the vendor or what my mom said to him, but he voiced his anger at the vendor and criticized them for price gouging or whatever they called it back then. My mom was, in turn, upset with my dad for “making a scene” and I felt guilty for having insisted on getting the silly toy. The moment was totally ruined and I didn’t even want it anymore, but there it was in my hand as we all piled in the car to head home. My mom managed to smooth things over after a while so that I was ok with hanging the climbing bear in my room which I shared with my brother. We both played with it.

I have to admit, I resented my dad over that incident for many years, being just a kid. But I always remembered when that memory surfaced, that he also was very thoughtful in making sure we had enough to eat, or were comfortable. He would always insists that one of us kids take the last piece of cake or pie or a bigger portion of meat. He’d help us in the kitchen making a snack and he’d make sure I got my allergy medicines, sometimes with a spoonful of honey, or a glass of Strawberry Quick stirred into my special allergen free milk. He was always a good provider, but I think that day at the folk festival haunted him. I know as an adult that he had anxiety as I have at times, and he must have felt terribly guilty about blowing up at the seller in front of me and my siblings.

To this day, I enjoy perusing the artist markets and craft vendors at festivals. I’ve acquired many unique items at festivals over the years, many of which I still have. I’ve got some cool stuff from Mayfair, Musikfest, and many other smaller festivals and events. No Walmart for me. Ha ha!

So guess what, Dad? We won. Your hard work and mom’s and both your sons’ over the years brought us out of poverty. No, we never had a lot of money, but we got ahead just enough and we always had each other and our love and God’s love. You were a good provider and a loving dad. Miss you every day.

The Return

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I haven’t blogged in several years, but I’m going to start again. I became discouraged after my account was hacked and followers started saying they didn’t see my posts shared on social media. I also got fewer reads from people just searching me on WordPress. It was also getting hard to think of ideas to write about and life has a way of getting in the way of things.

When I last posted in the fall of 2018, I had been attending a new church and making friends there. I’m still a member of Metropolitan Community Church of the Lehigh Valley and still enjoy a few good friendships made there. Some people have moved on, but it’s still my church and spiritual center. I’m still glad I was brave enough to go to a gay friendly church and start being who I am.

A lot of things have happened since October 2018. I rebuilt my credit and got a new car, returned to the digital department at my work after a stint in microfilming. There was that whole pandemic thing. I had shoulder surgery in 2021 and a bunch of other health issues between fall 2020 and late 2021. I’ve taken lots of pictures, took a couple memorable vacations with my new friends, grew a lot of flowers and did some spiffing up in the house.

The most significant events were both bad ones, though. One is ongoing even now. The other, was the loss of my dad to cancer last year, on St. Patrick’s Day, early in the morning. It was my brother’s birthday that he lost consciousness as we administered home hospice care and my brother did most of it that night as my mom and I fell asleep since we had gotten almost no sleep the previous night. I will always feel bad for my brother to have that happen on his birthday and I’m grateful to my dad for hanging on until after midnight so it wouldn’t officially be my brother’s birthday that he died. And this just a few years after the start of the pandemic made it impossible for my brother to celebrate his 50th properly.

My dad was diagnosed at about that time as well, and had surgery to remove a very large tumor from his colon in June 2020. Somehow, it took about six months to diagnose, even though the tumor was quite sizable. He went through chemo like a champ and fought it for three years, until just a few weeks before his 91st birthday. No one could have done better and we will always be proud of him.

The other negative event is one that I’m going to post a lot about. I have been subjected to a form of relentless, brutal harassment known as gang stalking. There are many, many online forums about this and much misinformation by the creeps that do it, trying to discredit those who share their experience. It’s not just harassment. It’s assault. Years long, cruel and sadistic assault. It’s usually completely without provocation, as it is in my case. People are targeted for mostly political reasons, often at a young age. It’s a scheme to prevent people from succeeding at anything and becoming a force for progress in the world. It’s all done very subtly, which makes it impossible to prove or put an end to. The victim, or target, is left to face it alone because no one believes or understands what’s happening. It’s extremely insidious and cowardly and provokes many to rage. I believe this is the cause of much violence in this country including mass shootings.

It’s my mission to expose not just those doing it to me, but the whole network, which is nationwide, probably even worldwide. I also hope to explain what I think is the motivation behind this horrible practice and why I was targeted. The world would be a far, far better place without these extremists and those they recruit to help them in gang stalking. One thing I’ll address is that the participants are not all necessarily right wingers. The organizers are. They recruit people by slandering and falsely incriminating the targets and they are using us as guinea pigs to perfect their methods and weapons for a wide scale attack.

I’d say that’s enough for my return to blogging. I just want to say that I am doing just fine mental health wise and I have never experienced paranoia, nor do I have any tendency for it. I have only mild bipolar depression and have never had a manic episode. I have my father’s good heart and tenacity. I have persevered through five years of this already and I will make it through!