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The Layered Look and Other Notes:
I remember being a kid a long time ago. I really do! In those
days, America was the land of opportunity and the government was
still actively promoting immigration to the United States. It
was in the years between WWI and WWII. We still had what looked
like infinite space and infinite resources. Things have changed
a bit since then. We still have not come to our senses, but we
can see a few problems cropping up. Many of them have to do with
diminishing resources weighed against increasing population.
Back in the good old days, people used to immigrate to the United States from Europe by a method called steerage. As I understand it, these people bought passenger space on a ship. It was not necessarily first class. Some of them got space on the decks and some of them got space in the holds. Not all of the ships were designed for passenger travel. There were no bathing facilities and the bathrooms, such as they were, were shared by all.
The people just got to America any way they could. It seemed like a tough way to travel. However, in retrospect, steerage was infinitely more comfortable than the way many black folks got to the United States. You do not have to read very much about the slave trade and slave ships to be appalled.
In the good old days, we were poor folk ourselves. We never got to New York to watch this European exodus, but there were newspaper photos and those strange flickering newsreels to see. Whenever I saw these folks coming from the boats, they looked quite strange to me. Whenever Mother gaffer saw people whom she thought looked scruffy or rumpled she would say, "They look like they just got off the boat."
I understand now why they looked that way. The fact is, those people were wearing all the clothing they owned. The best way to make sure they could bring it along was to wear it. If they owned three suits, they were wearing three suits. These folks actually invented the layered look. I suspect they were pretty ripe by the time they arrived. That did not stop them from being very happy to be here.
Nowadays we have the modern layered look. These modern people like to pretend that they invented that look. We have kids and older folks who should know better spending thousands of bucks to look like they just got off the boat. It's enough to give you a snort and a giggle.
Was I Ever Young?
I'm sure I was young once, but I don't seem to remember it. I
remember the first time I started feeling real old. Mrs. Gaffer
and I were newly married and we had a home. One day a neighbor's
kid came by and called me Mr. Gaffer. I knew he meant me because
my father was not there. I'm thinking, ‘say what?'
In truth, I feel like I was never young, and now I'm old. How
could that happen? I wonder if everyone feels that way.
My Father:
I saw a weatherman on TV who points his finger a lot. His associates
kid him about it. I understand. This person has five kids. My
mother pointed her finger a lot. She had six kids. My father didn't
point his finger much. He just sat in a corner and cried.
My father was kind of a mild mannered guy. He went to work every day, when they let him. There was a time during the depression era of the thirties when he could not get work every day. still he tried and when he couldn't get work, he cried. He felt responsible. I don't think he was, but then who was? I don't know, do you?
I am an Amateur:
I need to point out how lucky I am. All through my life, from
adolescence until I was about 50, I struggled and struggled and
struggled to get that establishment stamp of approval on my forehead
for everyone to see. "See, I am okay! I have been approved."
I begged for that seal of approval. They would never give it to
me and I was quite angry.
Boy, was I lucky. I am an amateur. The establishment would never stamp me on the forehead. I never became a drone. At age 70, my mind still works. Amazing! Just incredible. I cannot count the times I tried to get the establishment to say, "you're okay just like you are Willie." They never would do it. Thank God. I never got locked in. I had to keep growing and thinking.
Acronyms:
Doctors don't treat diseases or people anymore, they treat acronyms.
I finally figured out what's wrong with our culture. There are
no individuals. The media and the people in power will no longer
tolerate the existence of individuals. They will not treat with
individuals. They will not treat with people. They treat only
with acronyms. Everyone must become an acronym to get attention.
We look at people and figure out what box to put them in. Then
we treat with the box.
Mrs. Gaffer said she wishes I were a dog. Then she could put me down and end my misery.
I say I'm not a quitter. Mrs. Gaffer says I'm bullheaded. It's
a matter of perspective.
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