FacebookTwitterGoogle+RedditEmail

True Path(ology)

by

Tuesday evening and I’m sitting at the dining table, typing. There’s a glass of wine to the left of my laptop. Separating me from dim daylight, the blinds are lowered to the floor, a shield against the approaching thunderstorms, possible tornadoes and hail. Those blinds are about as protective as confetti.

Earlier today, I flipped April’s page away and opened May’s trapdoor. May Day. Mother’s Day. Memorial Day. And then May 25th, the anniversary of my husband’s death. Last year, I was moving into this apartment, arranging furniture, busy, but I was aware, even thinking, “How strange. Charles has never been here.” I wanted, was trying, to close a door, to escape, hoping I could force grief to be linear and left behind.

I don’t know yet if I’m really going forward, but I say it, repeat, “I’m fine” and “time heals” even if I’m kidding myself. Hell, I’m trying everything except religion and even if what I’m doing is just performance, I’ll work it, fake it, and laugh a little too loudly at parties held in the lobby of my building for residents and their guests. This isn’t assisted living, but it is.

Really, I could dream about Charles tonight, wake with a thud, and feel like beating myself bloody against the headboard.

Anyway, I have a seriously impressive flashlight Laura and Erma gave me for Christmas and it’s ready to grab, along with my keys, one of which accesses the stairs to the parking garage beneath the building. All of these are with my purse that’s filled with necessities—you know, lipstick, hairbrush, breath mints, and the wine. Okay, I’m joking a little, playing with you. Hmm, that wine goblet’s empty. Empty twice. I AM ready though, if and when this twisting force rumbles its erratic path past the confetti.

You know more than 35 people have died this week in storms that hit the South and Midwest and millions are at risk during the next couple of days. Not as many who die almost daily in the countries the USA bombs in the name of humanitarian intervention. Do Americans understand this—the choice that was/is made to demolish lives and cultures? To kill children?

Meanwhile, Laura’s called throughout the day with updates. I know this is love. She’s someone to watch over me, little loner that I can be, even as she has her wine with Erma and Erma’s sister.

Whoa, I just watched a video—towns that look like warzones. This could be Iraq, Afghanistan, any area after missile attacks.

Meanwhile President Obama, on that Asian trip, has promoted business deals, signing agreements, finalizing the fast tracking of the Trans-Pacific Partnership, and, of course, chastising the Malaysian government about human rights issues, because: “…nations are stronger and more successful when they work to uphold the civil rights and political rights and human rights of all their citizens.” Jeez.

Oh, my, he mentioned a regret, his biggest—not spending enough time with his mother. It’s just that I can think of so many responses, decisions someone with a conscience would lament. And what if, in a flash-dash of honesty, he’d said, “Receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, because I do so enjoy my Kill List?”

Then there’s Sec. of State John Kerry, accusing Russia of “escalating the crisis” in Ukraine, blah, blah, blah-ing about “spirit of law” and the creation of “a structure by which we would behave, all of us, differently, representing the best hopes and aspirations of all people on the face of this planet.” Huh? I think he’s exhausted, dizzy, after slipping the truth about Israel, saying “apartheid state” in a meeting (januis clausis) on April 25th, then U-turning and spinning when word leaked.

Charles wouldn’t like this, my writing mean stuff about someone’s physical appearance, but I look at the ghoulish Kerry and think, “The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out.” I may wish I’d deleted that. I still can, will consider it later.

Okay, check this article about computer software that’s being written to decipher human pain—can accurately read facial expressions. Imagine if this technology were used when Obama and any of the death dealers misrepresent or exploit a tragedy to buttress nationalism.

Time to drag the foam mattress topper into the bathroom that’s windowless and try to sleep. If this building blows and my body becomes a projectile, I can think of destruction I’d like to inflict. I learned something from that experience with the man who negated his existence every time he exercised his vocal chords: that I’m not really very peaceful. Maybe I should follow my true path, anger turned outward.

Missy Beattie has written for National Public Radio and Nashville Life Magazine. She was an instructor of memoirs writing at Johns Hopkins’ Osher Lifelong Learning Institute in BaltimoreEmail: missybeat@gmail.com.

More articles by:

Missy Beattie has written for National Public Radio and Nashville Life Magazine. She was an instructor of memoirs writing at Johns Hopkins’ Osher Lifelong Learning Institute in BaltimoreEmail: missybeat@gmail.com

CounterPunch Magazine

minimag-edit

bernie-the-sandernistas-cover-344x550

zen economics

June 26, 2017
William Hawes – Jason Holland
Lies That Capitalists Tell Us
Chairman Brandon Sazue
Out of the Shadow of Custer: Zinke Proves He’s No “Champion” of Indian Country With his Grizzly Lies
Patrick Cockburn
Grenfell Tower: the Tragic Price of the Rolled-Back Stat
Joseph Mangano
Tritium: Toxic Tip of the Nuclear Iceberg
Ray McGovern
Hersh’s Big Scoop: Bad Intel Behind Trump’s Syria Attack
Roy Eidelson
Heart of Darkness: Observations on a Torture Notebook
Geoff Beckman
Why Democrats Lose: the Case of Jon Ossoff
Matthew Stevenson
Travels Around Trump’s America
David Macaray
Law Enforcement’s Dirty Little Secret
Colin Todhunter
Future Shock: Imagining India
Yoav Litvin
Animals at the Roger Waters Concert
Binoy Kampmark
Pride in San Francisco
Stansfield Smith
 North Koreans in South Korea Face Imprisonment for Wanting to Return Home
James Porteous
Seventeen-Year-Old Nabra Hassanen Was Murdered
Weekend Edition
June 23, 2017
Friday - Sunday
Jeffrey St. Clair
Democrats in the Dead Zone
Gary Leupp
Trump, Qatar and the Danger of Total Confusion
Andrew Levine
The “Democracies” We Deserve
Jeffrey St. Clair - Joshua Frank
The FBI’s “Operation Backfire” and the Case of Briana Waters
Rob Urie
Cannibal Corpse
Joseph G. Ramsey
Savage Calculations: On the Exoneration of Philando Castile’s Killer
John Wight
Trump’s Attack on Cuba
Dave Lindorff
We Need a Mass Movement to Demand Radical Progressive Change
Brian Cloughley
Moving Closer to Doom
David Rosen
The Sex Offender: the 21st Century Witch
John Feffer
All Signs Point to Trump’s Coming War With Iran
Jennifer L. Lieberman
What’s Really New About the Gig Economy?
Pete Dolack
Analyzing the Failures of Syriza
Vijay Prashad
The Russian Nexus
Mike Whitney
Putin Tries to Avoid a Wider War With the US
Gregory Barrett
“Realpolitik” in Berlin: Merkel Fawns Over Kissinger
Louis Yako
The Road to Understanding Syria Goes Through Iraq
Graham Peebles
Grenfell Tower: A Disaster Waiting to Happen
Ezra Rosser
The Poverty State of Mind and the State’s Obligations to the Poor
Ron Jacobs
Andrew Jackson and the American Psyche
Pepe Escobar
Fear and Loathing on the Afghan Silk Road
Andre Vltchek
Why I Reject Western Courts and Justice
Lawrence Davidson
On Hidden Cultural Corruptors
Christopher Brauchli
The Routinization of Mass Shootings in America
Missy Comley Beattie
The Poor Need Not Apply
Martin Billheimer
White Man’s Country and the Iron Room
Joseph Natoli
What to Wonder Now
Tom Clifford
Hong Kong: the Chinese Meant Business
Thomas Knapp
The Castile Doctrine: Cops Without Consequences
Nyla Ali Khan
Borders Versus Memory
Binoy Kampmark
Death on the Road: Memory in Tim Winton’s Shrine
FacebookTwitterGoogle+RedditEmail