Autumn's Farewell

The stillness of a day in very late autumn: the telephone receiver has been placed off the hook and the seemingly incessant beeping of the phone company's scolding for not holding their service in sufficiently high esteem, has stopped. Only the crash of an airplane, nearby motor vehicles or car alarms could likeliest intrude on these peaceful moments.  There has been much tumult in cyberspace, much of it the result of my pulling on the devil's tail. I am particularly appreciative of family at times like these and with Christmas Day nearly upon us. A nostalgia page on Facebook, the social networking phenomenon, has provided many hours of escape, but even that palls after only so many recollections start to remind us that present day challenges deserve our attention too. The coming new year: what are the hopes and fears? Lennon spoke in his smugness (was it a drug induced reverie?): "Nothing's gonna change my world." Perhaps Lenin bragged conversely to the following effect: "Everything's gonna change your world."  They were both wrong and both overrated.  The changes are already felt. My infirmities, nascent now but their advancements inevitable, telegraph their mischief and the socio-political landscape, with no friendliness, advises vigilance and forethought.  My enemies on the 'net, underestimating the value of my intelligence, boast of the future belonging to the most adaptable to change, a silent tribute to cockroaches, no doubt.

Taking care of one's self is the priority, or "Quality is 'Job One'" as one of America's automotive giants asserts. Serving others must be part of the equation too. Yes, there is a natural conflict there to a certain degree. But both command respect and our efforts.  Loving and being loved: they remain among the finest of human enterprises.  Contributing to our civilization is so much more than an annual tax payment or weekly attendance at church. The smallest social interactions, if they evince caring, exposure of our frailties with good humor and are inclusive of all, can pile up the points, admirably and well competitive with single, dramatic events and expressions of good will by popes, presidents and other celebrities.  Heroism is not limited to only the headline makers, the warriors and the rocket scientists. Even Gelsomina's rock in La Strada is good for something and has a purpose. And blessed silence is the moist soil and needed darkness in partnership with sunshiny/human consciousness. It's a special place and way of being that permits that small voice of truth to be heard.