Jan. 4 1976 Random Thoughts

THERES A LOT TO BE SAID...

....for the woman who got married without thinking what it involved.

....for the man who didn't realize how harrowing or hampering the responsibilities of marriage were to be.

...For the woman who would like to be good at something but cannot get with it when it comes to being the happy homemaker she is expected to be.

...For the woman who has lost her self-confidence because the only role she has, she feels she isn't good at doing

...For the man who feels trapped into staying in a job he hates because of needing the money in order to survive, and has too many dependents, and is too old to start over --to further his education nor learn a profession nor a new profession.

There is a lot to be said for educating the young for the most important job there is-Marriage.  How many people truly know what marriage involves until they've tied the knot.  Two independent people with the same residence says little.  There is budgeting, shopping, childcare, psychology, driving, meal planning and a basic knowledge of healthy living and medical knowledge enough to know when a child should see a doctor... or even one's spouse, when their health is failing and they are in denial.

There must be something said for the woman who has done a good job and therefore her family-now grown and on their own-leaves her with much idle time on her hands.  What does she do with her life now?  Is she still important?  Even if she is at times, what can she do about all the time on her hands. 

  [Oh... being now in my 73rd year, I could tell my old self she'll be busier than ever, but doing what she wants. ;-) living proof!  The above was written in my 14th year of marriage to my ex-husband Al, and my children were all teenagers, the oldest young adults but in their teens.  We finally split up -- a friendly parting of ways, in 1980, and going on 6 years later, I had met and married Tom and became a step-mom extending my motherhood to five children counting my three offspring.]

A MAJORITY OF ONE:

ALONE-NESS:

When I take my dog for a walk up to the lake, I'm pleased Bear doesn't talk... or even bark.  That's where I meditate--on my way, and when I get to the destination: Cranberry Lake.  I set up a chair that was pulled out of the lake many years ago, and I like to sit on it when I arrive.  The people who own property around the lake have more a right to be there than I.  But, sorry Lakers... I resent it when I'm not alone at the lake.  I'd never tell them that.  They probably would never tell me that they resent it when I invade their private space... meaning within visual or (if I were talking or whistling) distance from their presence.  I love sitting there and feeling the everlasting cool breeze that always is, almost like magic. In the winter there can be no wind anywhere, and if I cross country ski on the snow covered ice, once I get to where the inlet meets the broad lake, it's almost like the wind is guarding the privacy of the lake and trying to push away all comers.  I practically worship the wind, even the quiet breeze.  One of my best poems is about the wind.  If I ever die--as, maybe I'll not even realize it and just be transformed into invisibility--I want to be thrown to the wind... my ashes, that is.

But, home or away, when completely alone, I don't feel lonely.  A line from an old poem I wrote once reads, "I am alone, not lonely, and I travel with the breeze."  When I can get to that point of meditation, I can feel many truths, and it's about time I jotted them down.

Fortunately, when I got to the lake, there seemed to be no one around.  As I sat there I realized a peace I could get nowhere but when completely alone.  It's there where I think Inspiration is free to penetrate our minds and enter our souls, letting us know how to live this life with mindfulness of others boundaries and needs.

ANGER:

I've been very sensitive all my life, but sensitive to MYSELF.  I was thinking about that this morning... sensitivities, and how the least criticism is felt, even if it's not voiced.  This morning I began to wonder about that and why I'm so afraid of anger... or just mild criticism.  Why do I listen... even to the unspoken.  The feeling in a room with a group of people when my energy is down.  The tone in a voice at any time.  The reason I'd rather talk face to face rather than on the phone.  I need clues to fend off any enemy feelings.  Sometimes I'd rather not talk with someone if I see something that tells me they aren't happy... and possibly with me.

Being so sensitive makes me unable to deal with people with some problems unless I can be absolutely sure they don't involve myself.  Sensitive people, in the way that I am, would make the worst psychiatrists; nurses in mental hospitals; and those who have to deal with sensitive people who have become overcome with anger. But in day to day situations, I'm keen on treating others as I'd have them treat myself... judging everybody by this majority of one.

This morning I got thinking of Debra and Raymond vs Marie and Frank in the reruns we've lately watched on TVLand reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond.  I realize that in a marriage like Raymond's, the couple are afraid of each others anger.  Whereas in the in-laws marriage, neither seems the least bit afraid of each other.  I was wondering if anyone can achieve that goal: of being unafraid of someone he or she loves.  And what IS that fear.  Are we afraid of abandonment?  Of the loss of their love?  Is this just me? or does everybody feel that?

I had a 30 year off and on friendship with a woman friend which was almost a love/hate relationship.  She was altogether too sensitive to herself, though, like me, she tried to treat people the way she liked to be treated... to the extent that much of what she said sounded false: like someone talking the other into liking her.  Overpraising any trait: generosity: "Oh those apples were so wonderful.  I can't thank you enough.  They were so delicious each one was like heaven just to bite into."  [I mean...REALLY?!!]  The poor woman was praising the wrong person: my husband Tom.  He can smell, see or hear a fake from a distance, so every time she opened her mouth around him, it felt to him like chalk squeaking the wrong way on a chalkboard.  She sensed the impatience; and I was so very uncomfortable being in between these bad feelings.  But, even before Tom was in the picture, I witnessed her being more sensitive to herself than towards her friends.  She borrowed my mini motorhome, which I used for going shopping etc as well as camping trips, as my first husband used the car to go back and forth to work, so she left me her Toyota.  That year of Toyota must have been a bad one, as it only caused me grief.  I didn't want to burden her with the cost of replacing the hose to the radiator which boiled over several times forcing the need while I was using it.  But when they came back from the trip, I heard endless problems they had with the motorhome, and not knowing how to unwind and wind the overhead vents, they had caused one of them to dislodge from the  gears and then flapped for the rest of their trip.  She said it like a big complaint.  I really felt offended.  I don't think they paid us anything for its use. And I think they went over a thousand miles on that trip. My ex was a lot more liberal than Tom.  He'd have had it fixed and sent them the bill.  No, he would have charged them what a trip like that would have been worth in wear and tear as well as for their convenience to use it.

Anyhow... there was time and again where she chastised me for doing something when I wasn't meaning to criticize or in any way to hurt her.  My most embarrassing hurt was when she insisted on heaping so many books for me to review I could hardly carry the bag of hard covers from her apartment  of which was practically wall to wall books.  She was thinking that perhaps  my book club would like to read some of those best sellers in the future.  It would have taken me years to read through all those books, so I thought nothing of loaning them out to my book club members without asking her first.  When I told her what I had done, so I could get the books back to her sooner, otherwise, it would take me over a year to read them all, she said, "Oh, I wish you asked me first.  I never would have wanted that.  I have lost more books by having people borrow them and then forget to get them back to me.  I wish you hadn't done that.  You should have asked me first, and I never would have said 'yes,' as I consider those books like dear friends.  Can you please get them back? Please don't ever do that again.  I can't believe you'd do that."

(Dear friends, my foot!  How did she consider ME?)  I don't think she knew how wounded I felt.  And then embarrassed when I called one after the other and rounded up all her books and took every damn one of them back... having reviewed not a one of them myself.  Then when I gave them back I had to listen to her explain over and over how she hadn't expected me to do that and why she wanted me to get them back and how she would never do that to anyone else, and how she has lost books to a loan and sometimes to someone she thought she could count on.

Like with so many criticisms in my life, I also never forgave her for that reprimand.  I piled on that reprimand with others so it would be another thing I do. Or did. I NEVER FORGET.
I hope I've changed.  But so far I can remember just about every reprimand I've gotten in my lifetime, whether from my mother, a teacher, a friend, my husbands, or even a stranger.  Like when another car beeps at me...  Even that.

What happens within is the ANGER like I felt at my long term friend with whom I'd borrowed books.

It's been difficult for me to feel that ANYONE is my best friend... even my husband Tom, as he, more like Debra in Everybody Loves Raymond, gets angry with me in the same way as Debra gets angry with Ray.  And like Ray, I cow-tow to that anger and try not to make the error ever again.

A CURE?

But why should I fear and feel anger so.  It is an automatic thing... that feeling in my chest like a small hand grenade has exploded within.  Anger being described as "he exploded at me" is a good description, but it is a reaction within.  Maybe it was anger that detonated it, but that anger feels so strong that if I didn't turn it inward, I'd probably feel like killing someone... usually the person who detonated it.  It must have always been there... a sensitive spot, like some dogs that if you do something that threatens their sensitive spot, they snap... only I snap at myself.  It's like biting one's tongue when you feel like yelling back when you feel yelled at even if it is said in an ominously soft voice.  Sometimes that is even worse.  If someone shouts at you, you feel it's okay to shout back.

The big difference with my anger at Tom is that he is the ONLY person in my lifetime with whom I've been able to really express my anger ... shouting angry... swearing and gesturing-ly angry... red-faced and almost completely out of control ANGRY and argumentively angry.  But that "almost" that keeps my feelings from expressing themselves in a physical way are the saving grace of letting the anger out.  What if a person hasn't that 'brake' inside them?  Thank God it's there.  Getting the anger out seems to keep us from remembering the hurt in the first place.  I'd forget the reason in most cases.  I remember some that were classic, but mostly I forget the reason we fought in the first place.  I found out through Tom that fighting it out, as long as we don't physically pound on each other... which we don't... makes the resentment and memory and disappear, and a healing forgiveness set in.  I guess if I ever feel so very angry with a friend, and could get them to fight it out with words with me, and cool down, and ask forgiveness later, that maybe I could go through life without a resentment that I'd file away to take out and feel over and over again later, like it was a lesson in life.  A lesson that mostly makes me feel more comfortable being a hermit if I don't forgive and forget.


It seems as if I've made a bit of progress today.  I only hope that Tom forgives and forgets.

MY LAST PHOTO OF CHLOE... where she would rest under the bench in the living room:

 

The Ninth Life of My Cat Chloe:

With all my copy, pasting, and editing, I hope this launches well.  I'm going to put her last picture up after this is posted:

My independent and beautiful cat, Chloe is now gone.  We 'planted' her body where her soul can visit and sit on the soft moss with which I covered the grave, next and nearly over to where we buried our Guiding Eyes for the Blind dog which we got to keep for her nine years, Gayle.  That's a different story and can be found in the Animals I've Known and Loved part of my blog.  There is also a blog about Chloe taking off for about a month... "We Thought She Was a Goner, but the Cat Came Back" ... but this time she WAS a goner.  I can only put this in my blog now, as it was too tender a time before, but while my feelings were raw, I sent this to my stepdaughter,Trese, on 6/6/13 and have edited it for this blog:
Trese to me "How is Chloe doing?  That sucks she is dying. She has been a great cat, better than I thought she would be. And those beautiful eyes! I'm glad she has had a great life out there. She came a long way from the skinny stray she was so many years ago.

Love, Trese

Hi Trese,

Boy...  did this little kitty give me a lot to think about.  I write my thoughts in a notebook to sort them out.  I can actually write better than verbally(orally?) express myself... Guess from practice.
I thought about whether I should have brought Chloe to the vet.  I thought about my worming her, and did that contribute.  I thought about something on the web where a woman said that she didn't read the signs of her cat dying, brought it to the vet... later the vet calls and says the cat is dying, if you want to 'say good-by'  you'd better come quick, and she rued the fact she didn't pick up on that and upset the end time of the cat with such disruption.
    Then I thought of the worst part of being a nurse in that Willow Point Nursing Home: turning lifeless patients whose automatic systems kept their heart beating and their lungs breathing, and if it wasn't for feeding tubes and hydration, they would have been long gone from that Limbo.  They probably weren't feeling pain or ...Anything.  Maybe their spirits had left them and were sitting at the Golden Gates drumming their fingers on the arm of a waiting bench for their mortal beings to just give up.  Then I thought of the Proxy the hospitals always asks if you have, even when just having a simple procedure being done.  I picked up another when I went from my gastro and colon scopings, but haven't filled it out yet.  The other was tattered which I had gotten at General 8-10 years ago when I thought I was having heart attacks (Blogged about that also).  Someone said one should have it in the Last Will and Testament.  I don't know about that, as long as the family knows my wishes.  [But I don't even know my husband, Tom's. He said they could change as our health does, so he doesn't want them written out now.]
 
    What a way to go to sleep that night... thinking these things.  Then, in Ladder of Years by Anne Tyler, where I'd left the bookmark, I picked it up to read, and my eyes fell on a paragraph where the character in the book is reflecting on her father's death and how once they feel they are a burden and the family doesn't care they usually die.  But I don't know about that.  I think it's personal.  It is just that so many reminders hit me at once... and even in my bedtime reading.  So I may have gotten a good sleep, but my thoughts were on Chloe dying (On June 5th she hadn't yet... just drank water from a trickle from the faucet, went out to pee, came in again, and rested in one of two spots... either on the living room floor under the bench with the embroidery on top, or downstairs on the floor just outside the bathroom.)  She didn't mind being picked up, but she didn't relate like before... she kind of stares at me and gives me the feeling that she appreciates the gesture, but doesn't really mind being left alone.  (I think I've become a good mind reader for animals... I should put up a plaque.)

    When I got up that morning I was so on the verge of tears, and anything your dad said was the wrong thing until I just said I was upset over the cat.  He sobered up and said gravely, "I'm upset too." (The cat had gone outside to pee, and he heard her at the front door, and let her in).  I could see that there were tears in his eyes. [Tom who used to hate cats...but not really ... just thought he did, but he loved this one].  I said, "I'm sorry if I made you cry."  He said, "You didn't ...She did." meaning Chloe...coming in ...skinny and bony and still enough energy to jump up from the chair and desk to the counter and come over for water.  She seemed pretty 'with it'. So I opened another Fancy Feast Beef, which she normally would like... and she wouldn't even lick at it... like when you're nauseous and even the fav's you don't like.
    One feels so helpless.  But life goes on, and I haven't even let the chickens out or taken the dog for a walk yet.  I also want to plant Tom's 6 little tomato plants he's kind of ignored.  I could care less.  I don't particularly like tomatoes, and would never can them, ...guess I just feel sorry for these little plants with their pot-bound roots.  That sensitive about life today!

Then on the 8th I wrote Trese:

Hi Trese,

I have to share with someone.  Even your dad is really moved by this experience with
the dying cat.  Today she took off ...didn't come back.  I looked in what I thought were
all her favorite haunts, but now.  After supper I tried the woods from behind the wood
shed all the way down to near the street.  About 12 paces in from the street... (a guesstimate) I found her in the same position she has taken most of the time; on her stomach with her feet tucked under her, and her head held erect.  The sun had come out and was beaming down on her. 
She moved. I bent over and stroked her.  She has this wide-eyed look of trying to figure out who I am. After stroking under her chin, she knew me, I think.  I decided to leave her there. 
I came up to tell your dad as he's been so subdued that I thought he was angry at me for something, but when I had asked, he said he's just feeling blue about the cat.  "She was the best.  She was my cat. I feel bad, but, still I don't want another cat."  I don't know if he was relieved when I came up and told him... or if he felt I was calloused in not taking her home again. 
Or if, like me, we thought it was over.  If we were going to have storms, I think I would have, but where she was seemed a perfect place to die.  And I didn't want her going off again for fear I'd never find her.

I've learned a lot through this.  It's important to find out what happened to something you loved, as, if she disappears from that spot... if she doesn't die soon... I don't think we could take it without out more heartbreak.  Somehow I have to see the body or I'll never know.

I also found out what others may feel no matter how old one gets if the old biddy is loved, people are going to hurt when she wants to give up her mortal coil and fade into memory. One way at nursing homes and such is by not eating.  Chloe still drank.  And this living so long without food tells me she was stronger than we thought, and maybe intervention could have helped.

I feel it's too late now, but ...we always wonder about these things... even for a little cat who ate us out of house and home and thought nothing of interrupting our sleep so many, many nights this last 6 months or so.

I'm going to go down and check her again.  I'll leave Bear in the car.  He didn't bother her before, but I lost track of him, and it's too close to the road.

I'll give a eulogy on FB when I actually know she's dead.  Why does that seem so harsh.
Ye Gods.  There should be better ways to die.  Life doesn't suck... but dying does!!

Love,
Mary Jo

Later that day, I went back to check on her, and she was no longer there.  After it was all over, I think that once discovered, the animal that has gone off to die decides to change her spot.  I thought I'd have to search all over to find her again, but when I turned facing the cabin down by the road, I saw her resting on the steps.  I went to pick her up and bring her back to the house.  I thought at the time, maybe she changed her mind and wasn't ready to die.  I tried everything to kind of get her back into good health, but she wouldn't even drink the water that I'd tried trickling a little vitamin drink into so maybe it would jump-start her recuperation... which was NOT to be.  Later she was under the balcony.  I put this in Facebook on the 8th: Thought Chloe had wandered off to die today. Gone so long, I needed to find out what happened. I found her at the base of a tree near the road in a patch of sunlight... dead? No, she moved a tiny bit. I patted her, rubbed under her chin, and then left her there, as she chose the place. Later she disappeared... make a long story short, she came back thirsty so we let her drink from a trickle from the kitchen sink faucet... and now she's stationed as usual under a bench in the living room. I had to check. I think Wednesday was the 2nd day she wasn't eating, so this is the 5th day ...just water. Tough cookie. I don't know if we feel worse that she's dying or worse that it's taken so long. But, again, she doesn't seem to be in pain. Just not eating. Will keep you posted. "God bless and take her soon."

Then later I wrote this to my girlfriend, Charis on 6/10/13:
An update on the cat, Chloe.  She still lives, but is dying so slowly it's driving us nuts.  I was determined to take her to the vets and have her euthanized if she was still alive today, and thought she had died several times already only to have her still breathing and when she sensed me nearby, opened her eyes and looked at me with her eyes which only seemed to tell me to leave her alone.  I think it's very natural for a cat to go off to die, but I would want it to be quicker than THIS.  She hasn't eaten anything for 7 days now.  Only drinks water.  I let her stay outside where she kind of hid yesterday, but just under the stairs, because if I took her in, she'd drink.  I don't think she can even hold water down anymore.  I feel like some would judge me for not taking her to the vets.  Before this anorexia started, she was getting quite senile.  Would cry for water, but still ate, but would refuse the same food for two helpings, so I had to keep opening another can and going back and forth and finally, once she wouldn't eat anything, I'm putting a little with Bear's food, as I believe it too rich for a dog except in small amounts along with his regular food. 

Charis, this is the most difficult pet's death since Gayle.  With Millie's, she had inoperable tumors and we had them euthanize her when they found out and while she was already under anesthesia.  Domino (who died being hit by a snowplow) was horrible, but instantaneous, so I can't say it's difficult in the same way.  Polly was ready.  Her life was miserable, and it would have been awful for her if we tried in vain to extend her life.  But a cat is different.  I think Chloe has had a wonderful life, and this is probably more difficult for us than her.  Like when we're sick with a stomach bug, we don't want others to be pushing food on us and just want to sleep.  I think that's how Chloe feels.  So anyhow, last night she was outside under the balcony stairs; I left her.  But right before I went to bed I checked and she had gone somewhere else.  This morning at first I couldn't find her, and was so sure she was dead that I looked only to know, and to give her a respectable burial.  The second time I looked, I found her under the cabin and thought her dead.  I wasn't that noisy, but she raised her head.  She's deaf, too.  I don't know how she knew the last few times when I thought she was dead that I was there.  Maybe cats and owners have and ability to read each others minds... especially when they are at death's door. 

I've learned a lot through this experience, though the cat isn't human.  Being a Hospice nurse I've seen families wait for a person's death when the doctor had estimated it wrong and it was a long drawn out affair.  If this puts us through Hell, what did they go through?!  Also, something the vet, Dr. Sullivan said about our being selfish keeping Gayle alive when she had lymphoma, made me rethink things.  I know that Gayle didn't suffer.  The cat may be suffering.  I'm not trying to extend her life.  But, really, would I be doing her a favor by bringing her up to Montrose against her will and having her euthanized?  That was the big question.  I was wondering if I wasn't just being cheap, but today I'd have given anything to have her have already 'crossed over,' shall we say.  Somehow... again, it's the telepathy I feel for the cat.  The sick wanting to be left alone.  I wrote pages about it later in my notebook, and think, though it's hard, that I am doing best for the cat just letting her stay under the cabin and die.  However, she may change her spot now that I've again found her there.  It's just so difficult for the human mind to give up on a mortal being and trust Nature to take it's course.  I wonder if one of those vets who have to put to sleep all the surplus cats for which they can't find homes would feel the same way about their own pussy cat, especially when the expendable were healthy, and theirs too sick to live.  But, then, they could get the instrument of death to do it at home. 

Today I feel washed out like an old dishrag.  I probably look that way too, as Bear and I took our walk up to the lake after lunch, and I went on that rainy walk without a hat.  


Then, on  June 11th her nine lives were over: I put this on Facebook: After a week of not eating, and just drinking and sleeping, it was a sad relief that Chloe, my sweet pussy cat finally passed away. We let her out Sun. knowing she wanted to go off and die alone. But I had to know where, so I could give her a respectable burial. I discovered her yesterday under the cabin, and thought she was dead, but when she sensed me near, she lifted her head. I let her stay there, where she chose to die. She last night I saw that she had moved further under, and thought she was dead. I waited to the a.m. to get her body, but I discovered her this morning near the edge at a convenient spot. (Good thing or I'd have had to go under the cabin which is a real claustrophobic thing for me.) We've been grieving her all week, but in a heart-wrenching way whereas she was still breathing. But I don't think she suffered. I meditated on that and felt that she was so in the now, that she wouldn't want her last thing to be a disruptive trip to the vet and a convenient to us, euthanization.

BIG BROTHER

If you get the Press you probably saw the Q&A by Matt Apuzzo of the Associated Press
After talking about phone records and the NSA's colossal database of American phone calls, he goes on with...
"Q: Is that everything?
"A: Nope.  A day after the
court document surfaced, the
Guardian and The Washington
Post published stories and se-
cret PowerPoint slides reveal-
ing another classified syping
program.  Unlike the effort to
collect phone records, this one
hadn't even been hinted about
publicly.
    This program code-named
PRISM allowed the NSA and
FBI to tap directly into the
servers of major U.S. Internet
companies such as Google, Ap-
ple, Microsoft, Facebook and
AOL."
[He also goes on to say PRISM was approved by a judge in a secret court order.  So we are assured that these things are signed off by a judge of some sort.] 

My father worked at the Boston Naval Shipyard, and I can remember my mother being upset when the FBI would come around to check up on what 'neighbors' thought of my father.  My mother knew it was the FBI the same way we know it's Mormons now going door to door so neatly dressed and two by two ...by their dress, which back then was complete with the felt hat men always wore with black suits back then, and always the FBI's dress code.  It was either during or right after WWII I think, as I was quite young (I think) or it may have been the beginning of the Communist threat.  My mother never liked the neighbors as they were the back-biting type that would thrive on rumors. To question neighbors like that could be like asking someone that didn't like you for a reference.  But nothing ever came of their checks, of course.  But, like this confiscating of communication records of all kinds bothers us, the FBI checks went against her grain.

I think the American people are going to have to weigh the pros of it against the cons.  With the recent Boston Marathon bombing, the powers that be in Washington are probably just trying to do their best to protect us against the Islamic terrorist groups.  The personal threat of the National Security Bureau to the population seems more the threat of losing our rights to privacy, than the worry of some terrorist group damaging our own personal area, as if we all lived in a terrorist cell.  Then there is the more conservative worry about all this information getting into the wrong hands, or being tinkered with to make innocent people sound like a threat.

On my Facebook page, on Thursday I put the comment: "Remind me not to go Verizon if I change from my ATT cell phone. Guess the National Security Agency has its own information filter where they can filter out certain key words, like Google does for our own encyclopedia in a pinch. My key word for the NSA is "McCarthyism." History is only the best teacher if we USE IT for our Nation's future. Sorry... this is no joke, and I don't like to go political... but it's not really talking about one party or another, just the USofA becoming a "police state." Are they really protecting our freedoms by monitoring all of us? ..."

We never upped our calling plan on that cell phone anyway, and our land phones have been listed in telephone books I guess since the invention of the telephone. 

Just as the government wants to keep their population safe to protect their lives and properties, we have to keep the government in check in order to keep our rights to privacy.  I don't know if this is stated in the Constitution of the United States, but I'm going to finally read the darn thing and find out.

Freedom is a two way street.  We lose our right to privacy if we want to be sheltered by the government that will be constantly on guard for anything that looks suspicious; but if the government isn't on constant watch it also means that we are in danger of terrorist cells easily building up strength.  There has to be a balance, and when there's any threat of an attack on American Soil, we all desire that shelter... that is... until we see what freedoms we lose as a result.

To simplify it to a very basic healthy comparison, Think about when our kids were going out on their own... or recently got their driving license.  We couldn't watch their every move.  Did we really want to?  They had to practice being grown up and on their own.  Now I think the American people generally regard the Government like parental figures, picking them up when accidents of nature happen through FEMA, instead of their just depending on their insurance company and the charities like the Red Cross and Salvation Army, as well as their own townships help, neighbors and rescue and fire squads.  We now expect the U.S. Government to pay for all that destruction when terrorists get through to us and bomb buildings and take lives.  We expect the US Government to pay, not the foreign powers that caused it.  Although we bomb their nations, and many innocent lives are taken, and usually we make good on the destruction we cause as a result once we go over there and shoot all the bad guys.
 
If everything that happens is supposed to be taken care of by the government, we no longer have a right to complain about how they protect us especially from a threat from foreign powers.  What their needs to be is a balance, and more and more ways of digital eletronic communication through satellites  throws us off balance more than even a border watch to make sure the enemy doesn't invade us.  Things have gotten more and more complicated in this day of super computers and vast intercommunication systems. 

It's NUTS!  and I don't know where it will end.  I need to go out and take a walk with the dog.  Things seem simpler in the woods where the biggest threat could be a falling branch, or a possible bear with cubs nearby.  We do need to beware, but do we need a government to be a Big Brother watching us?