So they're finally letting that poor woman die in peace. The pregnant one. The one who would've died weeks ago if not for the fact that she was pregnant and the pro-lifers all had a big ol' snit fit because THE BABY!!!
First of all 'the baby' was 14 weeks from being an egg and a cell at the time of the mother's collapse from an embolism. There's no way he/she would've survived outside the mother.
Now, at 23 weeks, tests have determined that the baby has grave deformities- lower extremities, heart, water on the brain...and would not survive to term.
This wasn't a case of the family hoping beyond hope that 'a miracle' would happen and Marlisse (the mother) would suddenly get better...from being brain dead. The family wanted her removed from life support weeks ago. The family had to hire an attorney to fight for their right to do what Marlisse and her husband had talked about if either one of them were in a state of non-viability- a death that's quick and dignified.
The Pro-Lifers decided they wanted none of that and denied the Munoz family any control over their own lives.
Here's my question to you, Pro-Lifers-
Ya'll are also generally very anti-government intrusion- you want to be left alone and FREE to make your own individual choices. Does something about this scenario not smack of the very opposite of that to you? Anything? Seriously?
Also- I have had actual conversations with pro-lifers and asked, "What if your daughter were pregnant and for whatever reason it was determined that unless her pregnancy were terminated she would DIE? Whose life would you choose?"
Without pause, they answer that they would pray about it with their daughter but they would LET GOD DECIDE.
Really.
Seems to me that God decided two months ago that Marlisse and her unborn baby should be in heaven.
And you assholes decided you knew better.
Shame on you. May your God have mercy on your souls.
Because I don't.
http://www.star-telegram.com/2014/01/25/5513457/hospital-discussing-future-of.html?storylink=addthis#.UuV0uU1FksU.facebook&rh=1
photo
photo by Sheri Dixon
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
What to Do When You Have the Flu
Oh, I know, I know all the 'drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest' routine, and I did that- I promise. Just ask my family. I turned into a complete slug for about three weeks.
But at the same time...I finished the next installment of "Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia". This one's total gun porn, ya'll. And I mean that in the best possible way. Would I ever lie to you?
Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia:
Book Four- Don't Forget the Bullet Lube
Prologue
Time seemed to stand still, just like in the movies.
He could hear the blood pounding in his own ears; imagined the never-ending coursing of the red fluid through his veins from one end of his body to the other, felt the pumping of his heart pushing it onward for another round, ever onward.
He wanted to remember this moment forever- the way the sunlight filtered and flashed through the leaves of the trees, turning everything in the forest into glitter and disco, simulated slow motion.
This was it.
All the years of training and practicing, thousands of rounds of ammo spent at the Range, and it all came down to this one shining moment.
A shadow fell over his thoughts just briefly, the very briefest of doubts…was this the right thing to do?
He shook his head in disgust with himself. This was not the time for thinking, and he was not a thinking man, no how.
He was Tig Carroll, born and raised right here in these woods, just like every generation before him were.
Short and wiry, lean and spare, Tig was the absolute spitting image of every other Carroll in the area, ever.
None of them had ever been accused of being big thinkers.
Good workers, hard drinkers, devout church-goers (They’d made a deal with the Almighty years ago- they’d attend church with their wimmen-folk on Sunday if He looked the other way the other days of the week. So far, so good), and all of them tits deep in the culture of the bible belt- the gun culture.
Tig felt the cool rough bark of the Loblolly pine against his cheek, his chest, his leg...steadying him for the shot.
He inhaled the good clean aroma of pine and sand, water and heat of the air that had filled his lungs for all of his 34 years- he’d never taken a breath outside of this county.
This was it.
He snugged the rifle butt even closer in than it already was, calming at the familiarity of it.
Out of all his collection, this was the one he’d chosen for today- because what other one would have been better for a stealth mission such as this?
Stealth was the name of the game with the BAR LongTrac Stalker.
This rugged and powerful auto-loading rifle was capable of delivering magnum-level power with pinpoint accuracy.
From its matte black alloy receiver and hammer-forged barrel to its multi-lug bolt, this BAR was ready to put rounds right on target over and over again, without pause.
The BAR LongTrac Stalker was the hunting rifle that set the bar for every other autoloader on the planet.
There was movement up ahead- his quarry came into sight, and Tig felt the pleasurable stirring in his loins that always preceded pulling the trigger.
That was only natural, right?
He pushed back the last shred of doubt and took a deep breath. This had to be done- the country was going to hell in a hand basket and this was the only thing that would fix it, no matter anyone’s personal feelings on the matter.
The President said so. The Preacher said so. God said so…according to the President and the Preacher.
He was a proud American and a good Christian and it was time.
This was it.
He sighted in on his prey, who just then turned his head and looked directly at him, without seeing him, and it registered just for a second that it was like looking into a mirror.
As he squeezed the trigger, Tig heard the voice of his old Sunday school teacher, Ms. Libby buzzing in his ear- lining up all the boys for a photograph and clucking, “You Carroll boys all look exactly alike, cut from the same cloth and all peas in a pod…”
.jpg)
Buy from my website now- from Kindle shortly http://www.sheri-dixon.com/wyrd1.html
But at the same time...I finished the next installment of "Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia". This one's total gun porn, ya'll. And I mean that in the best possible way. Would I ever lie to you?
Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia:
Book Four- Don't Forget the Bullet Lube
Prologue
Time seemed to stand still, just like in the movies.
He could hear the blood pounding in his own ears; imagined the never-ending coursing of the red fluid through his veins from one end of his body to the other, felt the pumping of his heart pushing it onward for another round, ever onward.
He wanted to remember this moment forever- the way the sunlight filtered and flashed through the leaves of the trees, turning everything in the forest into glitter and disco, simulated slow motion.
This was it.
All the years of training and practicing, thousands of rounds of ammo spent at the Range, and it all came down to this one shining moment.
A shadow fell over his thoughts just briefly, the very briefest of doubts…was this the right thing to do?
He shook his head in disgust with himself. This was not the time for thinking, and he was not a thinking man, no how.
He was Tig Carroll, born and raised right here in these woods, just like every generation before him were.
Short and wiry, lean and spare, Tig was the absolute spitting image of every other Carroll in the area, ever.
None of them had ever been accused of being big thinkers.
Good workers, hard drinkers, devout church-goers (They’d made a deal with the Almighty years ago- they’d attend church with their wimmen-folk on Sunday if He looked the other way the other days of the week. So far, so good), and all of them tits deep in the culture of the bible belt- the gun culture.
Tig felt the cool rough bark of the Loblolly pine against his cheek, his chest, his leg...steadying him for the shot.
He inhaled the good clean aroma of pine and sand, water and heat of the air that had filled his lungs for all of his 34 years- he’d never taken a breath outside of this county.
This was it.
He snugged the rifle butt even closer in than it already was, calming at the familiarity of it.
Out of all his collection, this was the one he’d chosen for today- because what other one would have been better for a stealth mission such as this?
Stealth was the name of the game with the BAR LongTrac Stalker.
This rugged and powerful auto-loading rifle was capable of delivering magnum-level power with pinpoint accuracy.
From its matte black alloy receiver and hammer-forged barrel to its multi-lug bolt, this BAR was ready to put rounds right on target over and over again, without pause.
The BAR LongTrac Stalker was the hunting rifle that set the bar for every other autoloader on the planet.
There was movement up ahead- his quarry came into sight, and Tig felt the pleasurable stirring in his loins that always preceded pulling the trigger.
That was only natural, right?
He pushed back the last shred of doubt and took a deep breath. This had to be done- the country was going to hell in a hand basket and this was the only thing that would fix it, no matter anyone’s personal feelings on the matter.
The President said so. The Preacher said so. God said so…according to the President and the Preacher.
He was a proud American and a good Christian and it was time.
This was it.
He sighted in on his prey, who just then turned his head and looked directly at him, without seeing him, and it registered just for a second that it was like looking into a mirror.
As he squeezed the trigger, Tig heard the voice of his old Sunday school teacher, Ms. Libby buzzing in his ear- lining up all the boys for a photograph and clucking, “You Carroll boys all look exactly alike, cut from the same cloth and all peas in a pod…”
.jpg)
Buy from my website now- from Kindle shortly http://www.sheri-dixon.com/wyrd1.html
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
If No Man is an Island, What're you Doing in a Bunker?
OK, Awesome Survivalist Preppers- Where do the following phrases come from? One ya'll live by, and one ya'll despise.
"God helps those who help themselves."
If you said, "the Bible" you are absolutely positively WRONG. According to Wikipedia-
"The phrase originated in ancient Greece and may originally have been proverbial. It is illustrated by two of Aesop's Fables and a similar sentiment is found in ancient Greek drama. Although it has been commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin, the modern English wording appears earlier in Algernon Sidney's work.
The phrase is often mistaken as scriptural, but it appears nowhere in the Bible. Some Christians have criticized the expression as being contrary to the Bible's message of God's grace. A variant of the phrase, however, can be found in the Quran (13:11)."
So there ya go- you're following something that originated with the ancient Greeks, and is not even in the bible, although it IS in the Q'uran. How awesome is that?
How about this one-
"From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs"
Easy, right? That's from that bastard destroyer of all things humanly good, Karl Marx.
Well, sort of. Although it is part of his writings and ideology, he didn't start it.
Even that known Middle Eastern Socialist Jesus Christ didn't start it. It starts in Old Testament Leviticus- the same place it says being gay is an abomination (along with eating shellfish, shaving your beard and getting a tattoo...even one that's a bible verse like this one)-
According to www.theologyofwork.org, this goes way way back to a little thing called "Jubilee", which pretty much leveled the playing field for everyone every so often, BY LAW.
"There is continuing debate about whether or not these community summaries advocate a certain economic system, with some commentators describing the practice of the community as “proto-communism” and others seeing a mandatory divestiture of goods. The text, however, does not suggest an attempt to change the structures beyond the Christian community. Indeed, it would be difficult to think of a small, marginalized, socially powerless group having designs on changing the imperial economic system. It is clear that the community did not fully opt out of the systems of economics within the empire. Likely, fishermen remained members of fishing cartels and artisans continued to do business in the market.[1] Paul, after all, continued making tents to support his missionary travels (Acts 18:3).
Rather, the text suggests something far more demanding. In the earliest church, people of means and power liquidated their goods for the sake of the less powerful “from time to time” (Acts 4:34) as anyone “had need” (Acts 2:45; 4.35). This describes a kind of radical availability as the normal status of each person’s possessions. That is, the resources—material, political, social, or practical—of any member of the community were put at the constant disposal of the Christian community, even while individual members continued to oversee their particular resources. Rather than systematically prescribing the distribution of wealth in such a way as to ensure flat equality, the earliest church accepted the reality of economic disequilibrium, but practiced a radical generosity whereby goods properly existed for the benefit of the whole, not the individual. This form of generosity is, in many ways, more challenging than a rigid system of rules. It calls for ongoing responsiveness, mutual involvement in the lives of community members, and a continual willingness to hold possessions loosely, valuing the relationships within the community more than the (false) security of possessions.[2]
It is highly likely that this system within a system was inspired by the economic ideals expressed in Israel’s law, climaxing with the practice of Jubilee—the once-in-50-years redistribution of land and wealth within Israel (Leviticus 25:1-55). Jubilee was designed by God to ensure that all people had access to the means of making a living, an ideal that appears never to have been widely practiced by God’s people. Jesus, however, introduces his ministry with a set of texts from Isaiah 61 and 58 that produce a great many Jubilee themes.
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. (Luke 4:18–19)
Jubilee ethic is further alluded to in Acts 4:34, where Luke tells us “there were no needy persons among them.” This appears to be a direct echo of Deuteronomy 15:4, where the practice of the Sabbath year (a mini-Jubilee occurring once every seven years) is designed to ensure that “there should be no poor among you.”
It is fitting that the Christian community would see this as a model for their economic life. But whereas in ancient Israel, the Sabbath year and the Jubilee were to be practiced only every seven and fifty years, respectively, radical availability marked the resources of the early Christian community. One can almost hear a Sermon on the Mount-like heightening of the Jubilee practice. “You have heard that it was said of old, ‘Give back your land to those who are landless once every fifty years,’ but I say to you, ‘Make your power and resources available any time you see the need.’” Radical generosity based on the needs of others becomes the basis of economic practice in the Christian community. We will explore this in depth through the incidents in the book of Acts.
The practices of the early churches challenge contemporary Christians to think imaginatively about models for radical generosity today. How could radical availability stand as a witness to the kingdom of God and form a plausible alternative way of structuring human life in a culture marked by the tenacious pursuit of personal wealth and security?"
How could modern day Americans, Christian or not, follow the admittedly awesome teachings of Jesus in regards to caring for people who are not...you or your immediate family?
Well, here in America we have a little thing called 'taxes'. Taxes are the price we pay to live in a civil society. Taxes pay for the schools most of the kids go to, the libraries we can use, the roads we all drive on, the police and firemen and even the meter readers. All the stuff that keeps a modern society running in a modern and mostly smooth manner.
In addition to that, we have the non-tangibles. The Social Safety Net. That place that is (or should be) there to catch us if something happens- accident, illness, homelessness, joblessness, old age...and will carry us through those hard times- not just to barely scrape by them with our fingernails on the edge of the Cliffs of Despair, but to offer dignity and support because whether we like to admit it or not, we're all human and shit can and will go wrong with every one of us.
It's that whole 'part of a civil society' thing.
Fine. So what's my damn point?
My damn point is this- There is a huge, growing and I'm afraid terminal divide between "Survivalist Preppers" and "Sustainable Preppers".
Survivalist Preppers are raring (almost Rapturishly eagerly) to go- they're ready. They've got their bunkers and their MRE's and their water purifiers and their guns...their massive supply of guns and ammo. They are ready for the end of the world because by GAWD they will make sure that their nuclear (pun intended) family will survive IN SPITE Of anyone else. They are driven by fear.
Don't give me any shit. You know you are, deep down inside- down below all the bluster and jokes about, "Gee Mr. Smith, you have 100 guns and 500,000 rounds of ammo- what are you so afraid of?" Answer- "Not a damn thing". Har. Har. Har. But you are- you are deathly afraid of being in a position of needing anyone else.
The problem is, you can't do it yourself. History shows that the people who work together survive, and not the sort of working together where as long as you 'are fit enough to help and have the resources to contribute to the community' you are welcome, but if you've got nothing to offer you're out in the cold.
The INclusive kind of community, not the EXclusive kind.
Sustainable Preppers see the same things coming you do. I promise you we do.
So why are we so stupid? Why do we fight and strive for the rights of people we don't even know and who could do nothing for us in return? People who probably don't 'deserve' anything because they're probably lazy and spoiled and would spit on us as soon as help us?
First of all, please don't be so hard on yourselves. Admitting your flaws is the first step to getting over them.
Second of all, because it's the right thing to do. To care for everyone, not just people like us or who have 'proven' themselves according to some imaginary measuring stick.
Because YOUR Jesus commands us to.
We share our knowledge and our food, knowing that the more people who know this stuff, the better off we'll ALL be.
Remember the Native Americans? Those guys you have plastered on your T-shirts and claim to revere? They knew that we are all intertwined and if one of us falls, it's bad energy for the rest. And they're not just talking about people here- every life on the planet depends on the others.
Nothing exists in a vacuum for very long- why the hell do you think you can close the hatch of your bunker and come out even remotely OK?
Which brings us back to this- In our society we have something called taxes.Our own "Jubilee" can be to willingly and joyfully pay taxes so that everyone has access to education, and food, and shelter, and health care. Everyone. That's our goal that ya'll fight us against tooth and nail- everyone who says this Nation was founded on Christian values. Think about that for a second.
Time is short. Big shit is going to happen. Not 'someday', but in our lifetimes.
Now is not the time to 'go to ground', it's the time to go to the streets, meet your neighbors, share knowledge and food, laughter and humanity. We're all in this together whether you like to think so or not.
Why are us Hippie Peacenik types so pissed off? Because you're wasting precious time being fucking selfish, that's why.
Because if shit goes down and you show up at my door hungry and homeless, chances are I'll let you in and feed you. Do not ever take that to mean I'm weak, or that you can just walk over my family to take our stuff and go on. Ever. Because you will make excellent compost, and I'm not kidding.
What if my family shows up at your door? Will we be dead before we can knock and you even know our intentions or what we may have to offer you? I thought so.
That's the mindset that will end civilization not even as we know it, but as it could be.
Stop being so damn afraid of living that the highest you can reach for is mere survival.
Back awhile Joe purchased some freeze dried food for storage. I was talking to his mom about it. His mom is 94 and lived through the Depression in rural Oklahoma. Serious poverty. She asked what kind of food he bought and I said among other things, there was a case of freeze dried brocolli.
Edna thought on that a few minutes and then said, "If it gets so bad that all we have to eat is freeze-dried brocolli, it's just time to die".
Amen, Edna. Amen.
"God helps those who help themselves."
If you said, "the Bible" you are absolutely positively WRONG. According to Wikipedia-
"The phrase originated in ancient Greece and may originally have been proverbial. It is illustrated by two of Aesop's Fables and a similar sentiment is found in ancient Greek drama. Although it has been commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin, the modern English wording appears earlier in Algernon Sidney's work.
The phrase is often mistaken as scriptural, but it appears nowhere in the Bible. Some Christians have criticized the expression as being contrary to the Bible's message of God's grace. A variant of the phrase, however, can be found in the Quran (13:11)."
So there ya go- you're following something that originated with the ancient Greeks, and is not even in the bible, although it IS in the Q'uran. How awesome is that?
How about this one-
"From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs"
Easy, right? That's from that bastard destroyer of all things humanly good, Karl Marx.
Well, sort of. Although it is part of his writings and ideology, he didn't start it.
Even that known Middle Eastern Socialist Jesus Christ didn't start it. It starts in Old Testament Leviticus- the same place it says being gay is an abomination (along with eating shellfish, shaving your beard and getting a tattoo...even one that's a bible verse like this one)-
According to www.theologyofwork.org, this goes way way back to a little thing called "Jubilee", which pretty much leveled the playing field for everyone every so often, BY LAW.
"There is continuing debate about whether or not these community summaries advocate a certain economic system, with some commentators describing the practice of the community as “proto-communism” and others seeing a mandatory divestiture of goods. The text, however, does not suggest an attempt to change the structures beyond the Christian community. Indeed, it would be difficult to think of a small, marginalized, socially powerless group having designs on changing the imperial economic system. It is clear that the community did not fully opt out of the systems of economics within the empire. Likely, fishermen remained members of fishing cartels and artisans continued to do business in the market.[1] Paul, after all, continued making tents to support his missionary travels (Acts 18:3).
Rather, the text suggests something far more demanding. In the earliest church, people of means and power liquidated their goods for the sake of the less powerful “from time to time” (Acts 4:34) as anyone “had need” (Acts 2:45; 4.35). This describes a kind of radical availability as the normal status of each person’s possessions. That is, the resources—material, political, social, or practical—of any member of the community were put at the constant disposal of the Christian community, even while individual members continued to oversee their particular resources. Rather than systematically prescribing the distribution of wealth in such a way as to ensure flat equality, the earliest church accepted the reality of economic disequilibrium, but practiced a radical generosity whereby goods properly existed for the benefit of the whole, not the individual. This form of generosity is, in many ways, more challenging than a rigid system of rules. It calls for ongoing responsiveness, mutual involvement in the lives of community members, and a continual willingness to hold possessions loosely, valuing the relationships within the community more than the (false) security of possessions.[2]
It is highly likely that this system within a system was inspired by the economic ideals expressed in Israel’s law, climaxing with the practice of Jubilee—the once-in-50-years redistribution of land and wealth within Israel (Leviticus 25:1-55). Jubilee was designed by God to ensure that all people had access to the means of making a living, an ideal that appears never to have been widely practiced by God’s people. Jesus, however, introduces his ministry with a set of texts from Isaiah 61 and 58 that produce a great many Jubilee themes.
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. (Luke 4:18–19)
Jubilee ethic is further alluded to in Acts 4:34, where Luke tells us “there were no needy persons among them.” This appears to be a direct echo of Deuteronomy 15:4, where the practice of the Sabbath year (a mini-Jubilee occurring once every seven years) is designed to ensure that “there should be no poor among you.”
It is fitting that the Christian community would see this as a model for their economic life. But whereas in ancient Israel, the Sabbath year and the Jubilee were to be practiced only every seven and fifty years, respectively, radical availability marked the resources of the early Christian community. One can almost hear a Sermon on the Mount-like heightening of the Jubilee practice. “You have heard that it was said of old, ‘Give back your land to those who are landless once every fifty years,’ but I say to you, ‘Make your power and resources available any time you see the need.’” Radical generosity based on the needs of others becomes the basis of economic practice in the Christian community. We will explore this in depth through the incidents in the book of Acts.
The practices of the early churches challenge contemporary Christians to think imaginatively about models for radical generosity today. How could radical availability stand as a witness to the kingdom of God and form a plausible alternative way of structuring human life in a culture marked by the tenacious pursuit of personal wealth and security?"
How could modern day Americans, Christian or not, follow the admittedly awesome teachings of Jesus in regards to caring for people who are not...you or your immediate family?
Well, here in America we have a little thing called 'taxes'. Taxes are the price we pay to live in a civil society. Taxes pay for the schools most of the kids go to, the libraries we can use, the roads we all drive on, the police and firemen and even the meter readers. All the stuff that keeps a modern society running in a modern and mostly smooth manner.
In addition to that, we have the non-tangibles. The Social Safety Net. That place that is (or should be) there to catch us if something happens- accident, illness, homelessness, joblessness, old age...and will carry us through those hard times- not just to barely scrape by them with our fingernails on the edge of the Cliffs of Despair, but to offer dignity and support because whether we like to admit it or not, we're all human and shit can and will go wrong with every one of us.
It's that whole 'part of a civil society' thing.
Fine. So what's my damn point?
My damn point is this- There is a huge, growing and I'm afraid terminal divide between "Survivalist Preppers" and "Sustainable Preppers".
Survivalist Preppers are raring (almost Rapturishly eagerly) to go- they're ready. They've got their bunkers and their MRE's and their water purifiers and their guns...their massive supply of guns and ammo. They are ready for the end of the world because by GAWD they will make sure that their nuclear (pun intended) family will survive IN SPITE Of anyone else. They are driven by fear.
Don't give me any shit. You know you are, deep down inside- down below all the bluster and jokes about, "Gee Mr. Smith, you have 100 guns and 500,000 rounds of ammo- what are you so afraid of?" Answer- "Not a damn thing". Har. Har. Har. But you are- you are deathly afraid of being in a position of needing anyone else.
The problem is, you can't do it yourself. History shows that the people who work together survive, and not the sort of working together where as long as you 'are fit enough to help and have the resources to contribute to the community' you are welcome, but if you've got nothing to offer you're out in the cold.
The INclusive kind of community, not the EXclusive kind.
Sustainable Preppers see the same things coming you do. I promise you we do.
So why are we so stupid? Why do we fight and strive for the rights of people we don't even know and who could do nothing for us in return? People who probably don't 'deserve' anything because they're probably lazy and spoiled and would spit on us as soon as help us?
First of all, please don't be so hard on yourselves. Admitting your flaws is the first step to getting over them.
Second of all, because it's the right thing to do. To care for everyone, not just people like us or who have 'proven' themselves according to some imaginary measuring stick.
Because YOUR Jesus commands us to.
We share our knowledge and our food, knowing that the more people who know this stuff, the better off we'll ALL be.
Remember the Native Americans? Those guys you have plastered on your T-shirts and claim to revere? They knew that we are all intertwined and if one of us falls, it's bad energy for the rest. And they're not just talking about people here- every life on the planet depends on the others.
Nothing exists in a vacuum for very long- why the hell do you think you can close the hatch of your bunker and come out even remotely OK?
Which brings us back to this- In our society we have something called taxes.Our own "Jubilee" can be to willingly and joyfully pay taxes so that everyone has access to education, and food, and shelter, and health care. Everyone. That's our goal that ya'll fight us against tooth and nail- everyone who says this Nation was founded on Christian values. Think about that for a second.
Time is short. Big shit is going to happen. Not 'someday', but in our lifetimes.
Now is not the time to 'go to ground', it's the time to go to the streets, meet your neighbors, share knowledge and food, laughter and humanity. We're all in this together whether you like to think so or not.
Why are us Hippie Peacenik types so pissed off? Because you're wasting precious time being fucking selfish, that's why.
Because if shit goes down and you show up at my door hungry and homeless, chances are I'll let you in and feed you. Do not ever take that to mean I'm weak, or that you can just walk over my family to take our stuff and go on. Ever. Because you will make excellent compost, and I'm not kidding.
What if my family shows up at your door? Will we be dead before we can knock and you even know our intentions or what we may have to offer you? I thought so.
That's the mindset that will end civilization not even as we know it, but as it could be.
Stop being so damn afraid of living that the highest you can reach for is mere survival.
Back awhile Joe purchased some freeze dried food for storage. I was talking to his mom about it. His mom is 94 and lived through the Depression in rural Oklahoma. Serious poverty. She asked what kind of food he bought and I said among other things, there was a case of freeze dried brocolli.
Edna thought on that a few minutes and then said, "If it gets so bad that all we have to eat is freeze-dried brocolli, it's just time to die".
Amen, Edna. Amen.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
It's Not the Flu. I Never Get the Flu.
Ten days ago, Edna and I were at lunch and I swallowed my Sprite wrong and coughed.
"You're coming down with something" Edna said.
"No- I just swallowed wrong- I'm fine" I smiled.
"No- you're coming down with something".
I brought Edna home and went on to work. Joe came in to take me to dinner about 6pm and I was feeling decidedly light-headed, but not sick. Because I never get the flu.
By the time I drove home at 9pm I was shivering, feverish, and everything hurt. Even my hair. I went directly to bed.
I totally lost Friday. I literally have no recollection of Friday. At all.
I do remember Saturday. It was miserable. I took Meloxicam for the body aches and Tylenol for the fever and headaches and Diphenatrop for the havoc the Meloxicam and Tylenol wreak on my intestines. Also as much Emergen-C as I could siphon into myself in between bouts of coma-like sleeping.
Sunday my fever broke but I still felt like I'd been hit by a truck. A big truck with snow tires on it.
By Tuesday I thought, "If Ward drives, I'm sure I am well enough that we can go to Pam's New Year's Eve Party in Denton tonight. We can drop Sparky off and just visit a few hours and then go to the hotel where I can sensibly go to bed early".
By the time we got to Denton I was over-the-top dizzy and I lasted all of 45 minutes at the party- 44 of them sitting miserably crouched in a corner away from everyone and doing my best not to exhale. I had 4 crackers and some cheese. They were delicious.
I remember briefly waking up when our friends dropped Sparky at the hotel room around 2am. I asked him to turn off the never-ending trucks on the interstate highway right outside the door.
We drove home New Year's Day and I went straight back to bed.
The 2nd I had Ward drive me to work for about an hour, plus a few other necessary errands- he was literally my wheels and feet for all of it, but just that little bit did me in. I think I'm fine and try to do stuff but quickly tire and get dizzy- especially if there is auto travel involved- and I freaking can't keep my eyes open. They actually close of their own accord after losing all focus and directional abilities.
I gave the hell up Thursday night. Decided I'm not going anywhere till Monday. I'm in bed or on the sofa no matter how much it rankles my over-achieving spirit.
And it rankles. Whatever the hell it is that's knocked me on my ass for ten days now rankles.
Because it's not the flu. I never get the flu.
"You're coming down with something" Edna said.
"No- I just swallowed wrong- I'm fine" I smiled.
"No- you're coming down with something".
I brought Edna home and went on to work. Joe came in to take me to dinner about 6pm and I was feeling decidedly light-headed, but not sick. Because I never get the flu.
By the time I drove home at 9pm I was shivering, feverish, and everything hurt. Even my hair. I went directly to bed.
I totally lost Friday. I literally have no recollection of Friday. At all.
I do remember Saturday. It was miserable. I took Meloxicam for the body aches and Tylenol for the fever and headaches and Diphenatrop for the havoc the Meloxicam and Tylenol wreak on my intestines. Also as much Emergen-C as I could siphon into myself in between bouts of coma-like sleeping.
Sunday my fever broke but I still felt like I'd been hit by a truck. A big truck with snow tires on it.
By Tuesday I thought, "If Ward drives, I'm sure I am well enough that we can go to Pam's New Year's Eve Party in Denton tonight. We can drop Sparky off and just visit a few hours and then go to the hotel where I can sensibly go to bed early".
By the time we got to Denton I was over-the-top dizzy and I lasted all of 45 minutes at the party- 44 of them sitting miserably crouched in a corner away from everyone and doing my best not to exhale. I had 4 crackers and some cheese. They were delicious.
I remember briefly waking up when our friends dropped Sparky at the hotel room around 2am. I asked him to turn off the never-ending trucks on the interstate highway right outside the door.
We drove home New Year's Day and I went straight back to bed.
The 2nd I had Ward drive me to work for about an hour, plus a few other necessary errands- he was literally my wheels and feet for all of it, but just that little bit did me in. I think I'm fine and try to do stuff but quickly tire and get dizzy- especially if there is auto travel involved- and I freaking can't keep my eyes open. They actually close of their own accord after losing all focus and directional abilities.
I gave the hell up Thursday night. Decided I'm not going anywhere till Monday. I'm in bed or on the sofa no matter how much it rankles my over-achieving spirit.
And it rankles. Whatever the hell it is that's knocked me on my ass for ten days now rankles.
Because it's not the flu. I never get the flu.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
New Year, New Story...
Third in the six part series is now available for your enjoyment. Happy New Year to you and yours...
Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia: Book Three- Undead Hunger, Zombies for Brunch
Prologue
Almost gagging from the overpowering aroma of tea tree oil that permeated the rag tied over her nose, Serratia scurried quickly through the back alleys.
She hated being in here, hated the oppressive atmosphere and the overgrown tangle of neglect that the once-pristine city had become. She especially hated the mounds of maggot-infested clothing lying all around where they had fallen…the people.
Enough time had passed that everything civil and tame was going feral, but not enough for Mother Nature’s clean-up crew to tidy up the fleshy leftovers.
As the virus spread and the people sickened and died, most were buried, but there were still others- mostly the poor without family or friends- who just dropped where they fell, and lay till they died.
So she averted her eyes as though they were aware of their embarrassing and compromised predicament, and thanked Gaia that as pungent as the tea tree oil was, it blocked out more than just the bacteria, but also the smell of its aftermath.
Ducking around a corner, Serratia stopped and removed a wrinkled piece of paper from her pocket. She frowned at it a minute, then stuffed it back into her worn and dirty jacket.
Being the local Healer usually meant positive perks, but every once in a while it meant she was first in line for the really shitty stuff. So now here she was, probably on a Fool’s Errand right into the center of the Freak Show.
All she knew was…he’d damn well better be there.
Peering over the top of the faded red bandana tied bandito-style over her lower face, she found the building number she was looking for, glanced furtively from side to side, and disappeared into the open maw of the front door hanging askew on its hinges.
The air barely stirred and the sun beat down relentlessly. The piles of clothing moved imperceptibly as the white larvae pushed their way silently through the decaying corpses.
On the far side of the building Serratia had just been swallowed by, there was a scraping and a scratching sort of noise as a window was opened just enough to allow a body access…
…”ssshhhttthhmmmmp.”
In the gutter in front of the building, a pile of leaves rustled and shifted, revealing two tiny bright and intelligent black eyes. Quick as a sneeze, the rat darted out of the gutter and into the nearest pile of clothing.
There was a brief interlude of tugging and nibbling, then the sound of Jell-O sliding reluctantly off of a spoon and the rodent popped out the other side with a ‘thwack!’- slick with bodily fluids and running head high…most of a chocolate chip cookie clutched in his mouth triumphantly.
.jpg)
Available on Kindle here http://www.amazon.com/Justice--Weekends-Dystopia-Sheri-Dixon-ebook/dp/B00HL0GB14/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1388346857&sr=1-1
or from my website for a signed copy here http://www.sheri-dixon.com/wyrd1.html
Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia: Book Three- Undead Hunger, Zombies for Brunch
Prologue
Almost gagging from the overpowering aroma of tea tree oil that permeated the rag tied over her nose, Serratia scurried quickly through the back alleys.
She hated being in here, hated the oppressive atmosphere and the overgrown tangle of neglect that the once-pristine city had become. She especially hated the mounds of maggot-infested clothing lying all around where they had fallen…the people.
Enough time had passed that everything civil and tame was going feral, but not enough for Mother Nature’s clean-up crew to tidy up the fleshy leftovers.
As the virus spread and the people sickened and died, most were buried, but there were still others- mostly the poor without family or friends- who just dropped where they fell, and lay till they died.
So she averted her eyes as though they were aware of their embarrassing and compromised predicament, and thanked Gaia that as pungent as the tea tree oil was, it blocked out more than just the bacteria, but also the smell of its aftermath.
Ducking around a corner, Serratia stopped and removed a wrinkled piece of paper from her pocket. She frowned at it a minute, then stuffed it back into her worn and dirty jacket.
Being the local Healer usually meant positive perks, but every once in a while it meant she was first in line for the really shitty stuff. So now here she was, probably on a Fool’s Errand right into the center of the Freak Show.
All she knew was…he’d damn well better be there.
Peering over the top of the faded red bandana tied bandito-style over her lower face, she found the building number she was looking for, glanced furtively from side to side, and disappeared into the open maw of the front door hanging askew on its hinges.
The air barely stirred and the sun beat down relentlessly. The piles of clothing moved imperceptibly as the white larvae pushed their way silently through the decaying corpses.
On the far side of the building Serratia had just been swallowed by, there was a scraping and a scratching sort of noise as a window was opened just enough to allow a body access…
…”ssshhhttthhmmmmp.”
In the gutter in front of the building, a pile of leaves rustled and shifted, revealing two tiny bright and intelligent black eyes. Quick as a sneeze, the rat darted out of the gutter and into the nearest pile of clothing.
There was a brief interlude of tugging and nibbling, then the sound of Jell-O sliding reluctantly off of a spoon and the rodent popped out the other side with a ‘thwack!’- slick with bodily fluids and running head high…most of a chocolate chip cookie clutched in his mouth triumphantly.
.jpg)
Available on Kindle here http://www.amazon.com/Justice--Weekends-Dystopia-Sheri-Dixon-ebook/dp/B00HL0GB14/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1388346857&sr=1-1
or from my website for a signed copy here http://www.sheri-dixon.com/wyrd1.html
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Ho Ho Holy CRAP My Head Hurts
'Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Everyone tiptoed and whispered with care
Because mom had a migraine that hurt even her hair.
The day had broke sunny, the cat had been fed
And then BAM just like that, mom was back in the bed.
She downed 2 Tylenol ES, cold washrag applied
And burrowed under the covers, keeping light from her eyes.
A half-hour later she lurched from the room
Looking haggard and deadly- the house filled with doom.
"On Meloxicam! On Diphenatrop! Quick, where's the caffeine?"
And she cursed stupid laws against home IV's with morpheine.
And Gomez and Sparky were filled with concern
If Christmas dinner's on them, how bad would it burn?
For several long hours, time seemed frozen in place
Even the dogs knew to stay out of mom's face.
Then what to their wondering ears did they hear
But the soft clicking of keys on her laptop so near.
And they knew then she'd live and re-enter the fray!
Happy Christmas to all...it's a wonderful day!
The story above is true- names have not been changed to protect the innocent.
I'm off to work and one. Last. Freaking. Errand.
Tylenol, Meloxicam, Diphenatrop and caffeine on board- my head is only throbbing at about a 5, instead of the 14 it was this morning on a "From zero to ten, how bad is the pain?" scale.
Sunny, calm and 50 degrees out...a perfect winter day. The garlic is up, the peas are up, the herbs are still hanging in there- oregano, basil, parsley, cilantro...all reseeded themselves for the umpteenth time.
The boys are wrapping gifts "Don't look, mom!!!" and tonight and tomorrow will be quiet affairs- I'll cook a big dinner tomorrow after doing some baking, and if everyone's feeling up to it, we'll have Joe and Edna over to eat.
I was thinking on Christmases past and how weird it is after several decades of being a kid on Christmas followed by several more decades of having kids on Christmas, that my very last baby (almost 14) announcing this year, "Mom? Just take me clothes shopping- I don't need anything to unwrap" filled me with several emotions.
Sadness of a deep and abiding sort- the sadness that comes when you know something is over. Really over, and won't be back. Ever.
Irritation because I'm not ready for that phase of life to be over yet. I still love the whole gifty wrappy Christmas morningy thing.
Relief that I'm done with letters to Santa, and trying to budget to fulfill the top 5 requests on that list, and the wonderment that my children were always careful to put the really expensive shit on Santa's list...because they knew we couldn't afford them.
Christmas and how we relate to it changes with age and circumstance, like everything else in life and that's not only OK, but it would be creepy if it didn't. It's a very tangible yardstick of how we're growing as humans, where we've been and where we are now.
It's one day of the year that is caught over and over again through the photographs of us as kids, then teens, then adults...the people in the photos changing from one bad hairdo to the next, one ugly holiday sweater to the next, one awkward human phase to the next. Grandparents grow older with each passing year of snapshots and then are simply not in them anymore. Babies suddenly appear and are linked in with the rest of the family chain.
And there you have it. The real reason for the season.
Because whatever mid-winter event brings your family together, THAT. That right there is the reason for the season.
Stop. Look at the people around you- even the ones who make you insane. This is your chain.
If you're alone, remember holidays past and how they were all different from each other if only microscopically- not to make you even more miserable, but to remind yourself that nothing lasts forever- there will be new chains to link into even if your old one is gone for good. I promise you that.
I spent one Christmas Eve alone in a crappy motel outside Lubbock Texas. My alcoholic abusive husband had knocked me around a little, screamed at me a lot, took the car keys, the car and all our money and disappeared into the night. This was before cell phones and I didn't even have a dime for a pay phone to call the nearest people I knew...400 miles away. I can safely say that was my worst Christmas ever.
I will never tell anyone to 'just' cheer up, get a grip, get out there and meet people, stop being depressed, stop being used or abused because no one else is in your head besides you, and no one else knows what living your life has been like or what your exact thought processes are.
Anyone who judges someone else for apparent lack of character or bad decision making is an asshole.
This is also the time of year for the highest rate of suicide.
I have no magic wand, no quick fixes for a heart so broken that it feels like it cannot beat one second longer.
All I can offer is this-
This, the darkest time of the year, the shortest day of the year comes every single year.
And every single year it's not only the darkest day of the year but it's the beginning of the light.
Light always comes after darkness, and we are every one of us stronger than we think we are.
I promise you that.
Just give it another day.
Merry Holiday to my entire human family. I love you all.
Even the ones who make me insane.
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Everyone tiptoed and whispered with care
Because mom had a migraine that hurt even her hair.
The day had broke sunny, the cat had been fed
And then BAM just like that, mom was back in the bed.
She downed 2 Tylenol ES, cold washrag applied
And burrowed under the covers, keeping light from her eyes.
A half-hour later she lurched from the room
Looking haggard and deadly- the house filled with doom.
"On Meloxicam! On Diphenatrop! Quick, where's the caffeine?"
And she cursed stupid laws against home IV's with morpheine.
And Gomez and Sparky were filled with concern
If Christmas dinner's on them, how bad would it burn?
For several long hours, time seemed frozen in place
Even the dogs knew to stay out of mom's face.
Then what to their wondering ears did they hear
But the soft clicking of keys on her laptop so near.
And they knew then she'd live and re-enter the fray!
Happy Christmas to all...it's a wonderful day!
The story above is true- names have not been changed to protect the innocent.
I'm off to work and one. Last. Freaking. Errand.
Tylenol, Meloxicam, Diphenatrop and caffeine on board- my head is only throbbing at about a 5, instead of the 14 it was this morning on a "From zero to ten, how bad is the pain?" scale.
Sunny, calm and 50 degrees out...a perfect winter day. The garlic is up, the peas are up, the herbs are still hanging in there- oregano, basil, parsley, cilantro...all reseeded themselves for the umpteenth time.
The boys are wrapping gifts "Don't look, mom!!!" and tonight and tomorrow will be quiet affairs- I'll cook a big dinner tomorrow after doing some baking, and if everyone's feeling up to it, we'll have Joe and Edna over to eat.
I was thinking on Christmases past and how weird it is after several decades of being a kid on Christmas followed by several more decades of having kids on Christmas, that my very last baby (almost 14) announcing this year, "Mom? Just take me clothes shopping- I don't need anything to unwrap" filled me with several emotions.
Sadness of a deep and abiding sort- the sadness that comes when you know something is over. Really over, and won't be back. Ever.
Irritation because I'm not ready for that phase of life to be over yet. I still love the whole gifty wrappy Christmas morningy thing.
Relief that I'm done with letters to Santa, and trying to budget to fulfill the top 5 requests on that list, and the wonderment that my children were always careful to put the really expensive shit on Santa's list...because they knew we couldn't afford them.
Christmas and how we relate to it changes with age and circumstance, like everything else in life and that's not only OK, but it would be creepy if it didn't. It's a very tangible yardstick of how we're growing as humans, where we've been and where we are now.
It's one day of the year that is caught over and over again through the photographs of us as kids, then teens, then adults...the people in the photos changing from one bad hairdo to the next, one ugly holiday sweater to the next, one awkward human phase to the next. Grandparents grow older with each passing year of snapshots and then are simply not in them anymore. Babies suddenly appear and are linked in with the rest of the family chain.
And there you have it. The real reason for the season.
Because whatever mid-winter event brings your family together, THAT. That right there is the reason for the season.
Stop. Look at the people around you- even the ones who make you insane. This is your chain.
If you're alone, remember holidays past and how they were all different from each other if only microscopically- not to make you even more miserable, but to remind yourself that nothing lasts forever- there will be new chains to link into even if your old one is gone for good. I promise you that.
I spent one Christmas Eve alone in a crappy motel outside Lubbock Texas. My alcoholic abusive husband had knocked me around a little, screamed at me a lot, took the car keys, the car and all our money and disappeared into the night. This was before cell phones and I didn't even have a dime for a pay phone to call the nearest people I knew...400 miles away. I can safely say that was my worst Christmas ever.
I will never tell anyone to 'just' cheer up, get a grip, get out there and meet people, stop being depressed, stop being used or abused because no one else is in your head besides you, and no one else knows what living your life has been like or what your exact thought processes are.
Anyone who judges someone else for apparent lack of character or bad decision making is an asshole.
This is also the time of year for the highest rate of suicide.
I have no magic wand, no quick fixes for a heart so broken that it feels like it cannot beat one second longer.
All I can offer is this-
This, the darkest time of the year, the shortest day of the year comes every single year.
And every single year it's not only the darkest day of the year but it's the beginning of the light.
Light always comes after darkness, and we are every one of us stronger than we think we are.
I promise you that.
Just give it another day.
Merry Holiday to my entire human family. I love you all.
Even the ones who make me insane.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
You're Really NOT the Boss of Them
We home school. Alec has been home schooled his whole life and is doing just fine, thanks.
Is it time-consuming? Yes.
Is it expensive? Fairly.
Is it worth it? Absolutely.
We started for many reasons- we wanted to keep the freedom we were accustomed to to travel when we wanted to and not be hemmed in by the school year calendar, our local school district has a student/teacher ratio of 25/1 in KINDERGARTEN, and frankly the big "NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND" banner in the lobby totally freaked me the hell out- I know it was supposed to be comforting but it hit me as really threatening, but the final decision came when we had to spend a lot of time at MD Anderson and I would've had to choose between leaving Alec here with friends to go to school or Ward in Houston in the hospital and neither one of those options was acceptable to me.
The one reason we are NOT home schooling is to 'ensure our child has a Godly upbringing'.
Which is very very rare in this area of the country. This is the shiny buckle of the bible belt and 99.9% of the home schoolers here are doing so to 'keep their children away from the evils of the secular world'.
That would be MY family.
We also live in Texas, one of the most lax states in the country as far as home school regulations.
When we decided to home school Alec before he entered kindergarten, I contacted the school and asked what I needed to do. They said, "Easy- just don't sign him up for school."
And it's as easy as that. Don't sign them up. There doesn't have to be a record anywhere of where children are being taught, or even, after they are issued a birth certificate, that they even exist at all.
Well, surely there is some standard that must be tested against to be sure they are learning...fucking anything.
Nope.
Wanna teach art class because it's fun but avoid math because it's...math? Knock yourself out.
Wanna teach that Jesus rode dinosaurs back when the earth was first created...less than 5,000 years ago? God bless you.
Honestly, we drive 3 hours one-way every week to be in a home school co-op that believes in freaking evolution. Oh, there's a home school co-op here. A honking huge one that has its own sports league (not just teams), orchestra, everything. But you must sign a statement of Faith to get in. Fuck that shit.
There are Christian home schoolers who are doing a very good job teaching their kids and preparing them for the real future in a real world. They take their self-imposed job as 'teacher' very seriously and work tirelessly to provide their students with the very best educational experiences.
And there are secular home schoolers who are doing so just because they don't wanna get up early enough to take their kids to school and let 'em play video games all day. So this is not merely a rant on the Christians.
This is about possession.
Because it chills me to the very core to read fellow home schoolers' frothing at the mouth at the thought of having to show even the most basic and simple proof of learning on the part of their students.
The argument goes something like this-
"There is NO WAY anyone is going to tell me what to teach MY CHILDREN! Forcing me to adhere to some government-mandated agenda of learning sketchy science and obscene secular literature is a violation of my Rights as a FREE citizen! These are MY CHILDREN and I will raise them and teach them they way *I* want to!"
...and variations of the above.
Except here's the thing.
Your kids are not your property.
Sure you created 'em and grew 'em and you're feeding and housing them and all, but they are NOT your possessions. As anyone who is adamantly 'pro-life' will be quick to tell you, those children are actually 'people'; autonomous beings that have their own little souls and thoughts and rights all their own.
Why the Sam Hell is it wrong for a woman who is carrying 12 cells of tissue to make an informed and usually difficult decision to abort it because "That's a PERSON and not a THING!" but once born into THEIR OWN families, children are possessions to do with whatever floats their holy boat? Deny them access to a full range of education, indoctrinate them into your own belief system, even get out the belt if they (being autonomous beings and all) dare to question your authority?
How can you even deign to limit their options by choosing what YOU think is 'all they'll need to know' about life, or anything? To 'train' boys to grow up to be the 'kings of their homes' and to teach girls only enough to keep a house and family because 'that's what women are made for'- those are both heinously dauntingly passively aggressively abusive.
Seriously?
Our children are not ours.
Our children belong to themselves.
Not some God, not the government, and for damn sure not to you.
It's our JOB as parents, whether or not we home school, to do our level best to insure that our children are exposed to the best the world has to offer, and that's more than a bible as 'the only text book you'll ever need' (on one end of the Bad Parent spectrum) and a stack of video games (on the other end).
Because they will have to live in the world. And the world is a big,scary, dangerous, sinful,glorious place filled with all different kinds of evil-doers and terrorists artists, musicians, thinkers, belief systems, foods, literature, science, nature, history, good gravy...EVERYTHING!
The biggest bonus of home schooling, for our family and the families we know and call friends- is the opportunity to show our children MORE of the world, meet MORE varieties of people- and not just 'more people who are basically just like we are because that's safe and correct' but MORE true diversity.
To learn and figure out for themselves how to be comfortable in their own skins and around people they don't know and in situations that are different from Home, to be eager and willing to learn from and accept without judgment others who are not duplicates of their own families will ensure that our children will be able to travel through life with grace and wonder, respect and compassion.
And to do that with any competence, they MUST have a working knowledge of basic human education- how to speak and write fluently and correctly in their native language, how basic math concepts work and how to use them in every day life as well as abstractly, a foundation of honest history of their own country and the world in general, and SCIENCE. Real science, not 'science as seen through the bible'. Because that's not science, and to teach your children that it is, is willfully setting them up for a life of disadvantage in the real world.
Love those precious angels your god blessed you with? Of course you do.
But they're not yours to keep forever, they're not your possessions.
You're the one who's been tasked to minister to THEM. It's your job to equip them for a life that's better, fuller, MORE than yours.
Put down the damn belt and the bible, and pick up the science book. Go out into the world.
It's pretty awesome out here.
Is it time-consuming? Yes.
Is it expensive? Fairly.
Is it worth it? Absolutely.
We started for many reasons- we wanted to keep the freedom we were accustomed to to travel when we wanted to and not be hemmed in by the school year calendar, our local school district has a student/teacher ratio of 25/1 in KINDERGARTEN, and frankly the big "NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND" banner in the lobby totally freaked me the hell out- I know it was supposed to be comforting but it hit me as really threatening, but the final decision came when we had to spend a lot of time at MD Anderson and I would've had to choose between leaving Alec here with friends to go to school or Ward in Houston in the hospital and neither one of those options was acceptable to me.
The one reason we are NOT home schooling is to 'ensure our child has a Godly upbringing'.
Which is very very rare in this area of the country. This is the shiny buckle of the bible belt and 99.9% of the home schoolers here are doing so to 'keep their children away from the evils of the secular world'.
That would be MY family.
We also live in Texas, one of the most lax states in the country as far as home school regulations.
When we decided to home school Alec before he entered kindergarten, I contacted the school and asked what I needed to do. They said, "Easy- just don't sign him up for school."
And it's as easy as that. Don't sign them up. There doesn't have to be a record anywhere of where children are being taught, or even, after they are issued a birth certificate, that they even exist at all.
Well, surely there is some standard that must be tested against to be sure they are learning...fucking anything.
Nope.
Wanna teach art class because it's fun but avoid math because it's...math? Knock yourself out.
Wanna teach that Jesus rode dinosaurs back when the earth was first created...less than 5,000 years ago? God bless you.
Honestly, we drive 3 hours one-way every week to be in a home school co-op that believes in freaking evolution. Oh, there's a home school co-op here. A honking huge one that has its own sports league (not just teams), orchestra, everything. But you must sign a statement of Faith to get in. Fuck that shit.
There are Christian home schoolers who are doing a very good job teaching their kids and preparing them for the real future in a real world. They take their self-imposed job as 'teacher' very seriously and work tirelessly to provide their students with the very best educational experiences.
And there are secular home schoolers who are doing so just because they don't wanna get up early enough to take their kids to school and let 'em play video games all day. So this is not merely a rant on the Christians.
This is about possession.
Because it chills me to the very core to read fellow home schoolers' frothing at the mouth at the thought of having to show even the most basic and simple proof of learning on the part of their students.
The argument goes something like this-
"There is NO WAY anyone is going to tell me what to teach MY CHILDREN! Forcing me to adhere to some government-mandated agenda of learning sketchy science and obscene secular literature is a violation of my Rights as a FREE citizen! These are MY CHILDREN and I will raise them and teach them they way *I* want to!"
...and variations of the above.
Except here's the thing.
Your kids are not your property.
Sure you created 'em and grew 'em and you're feeding and housing them and all, but they are NOT your possessions. As anyone who is adamantly 'pro-life' will be quick to tell you, those children are actually 'people'; autonomous beings that have their own little souls and thoughts and rights all their own.
Why the Sam Hell is it wrong for a woman who is carrying 12 cells of tissue to make an informed and usually difficult decision to abort it because "That's a PERSON and not a THING!" but once born into THEIR OWN families, children are possessions to do with whatever floats their holy boat? Deny them access to a full range of education, indoctrinate them into your own belief system, even get out the belt if they (being autonomous beings and all) dare to question your authority?
How can you even deign to limit their options by choosing what YOU think is 'all they'll need to know' about life, or anything? To 'train' boys to grow up to be the 'kings of their homes' and to teach girls only enough to keep a house and family because 'that's what women are made for'- those are both heinously dauntingly passively aggressively abusive.
Seriously?
Our children are not ours.
Our children belong to themselves.
Not some God, not the government, and for damn sure not to you.
It's our JOB as parents, whether or not we home school, to do our level best to insure that our children are exposed to the best the world has to offer, and that's more than a bible as 'the only text book you'll ever need' (on one end of the Bad Parent spectrum) and a stack of video games (on the other end).
Because they will have to live in the world. And the world is a big,
The biggest bonus of home schooling, for our family and the families we know and call friends- is the opportunity to show our children MORE of the world, meet MORE varieties of people- and not just 'more people who are basically just like we are because that's safe and correct' but MORE true diversity.
To learn and figure out for themselves how to be comfortable in their own skins and around people they don't know and in situations that are different from Home, to be eager and willing to learn from and accept without judgment others who are not duplicates of their own families will ensure that our children will be able to travel through life with grace and wonder, respect and compassion.
And to do that with any competence, they MUST have a working knowledge of basic human education- how to speak and write fluently and correctly in their native language, how basic math concepts work and how to use them in every day life as well as abstractly, a foundation of honest history of their own country and the world in general, and SCIENCE. Real science, not 'science as seen through the bible'. Because that's not science, and to teach your children that it is, is willfully setting them up for a life of disadvantage in the real world.
Love those precious angels your god blessed you with? Of course you do.
But they're not yours to keep forever, they're not your possessions.
You're the one who's been tasked to minister to THEM. It's your job to equip them for a life that's better, fuller, MORE than yours.
Put down the damn belt and the bible, and pick up the science book. Go out into the world.
It's pretty awesome out here.
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