Quack

Attended our neighborhood counsel meeting last evening, walked over. VERY well attended, in part because the state legislative session ended between the last meeting and this one, I suspect. We were a bit late, because we'd rather lost track of time, being on vacation. It's not dramatic, but it's very local, good to have a voice.

This week was necessary, getting a lot done, including a lot of "nothing." Very important to do nothing, especially on vacation. Reset to one's own time and balance. The cats seem to enjoy having us around, even when they are sleeping by us. We've been clearing the congestion in several senses. After nearly an inch of rain over the past 24 hours, the garden is joyful.




Mentioned my oldest brother's enchantment with other-than-rational systems. This morning one of those resonances that so often appear. Quackery lives. Hokum is cheaper, more accessible, and doesn't involve having to listen to someone so much smarter that worked so much harder than you.



My brother sold amway, or tried to, I don't think he ever made much income through it. He believed in the power of pyramids. He believed he'd trained himself to be psychic when driving, so he knew what other drivers would do. He thought he could read people amazingly well. Nearly twelve years older than me, he never let go of the idea that he should guide me and tell me what to think. He relished argument, even... especially when he knew it bothered me. (He is a right-wing-nut-job. Of course he is.) He saw it as teaching me to fight. For many years, he urged me to have children, it would do me good! He was Air Force, spent much of it as a recruiter. Married at 21 to a 18 year old bride, two daughters whose lives are chaotic, as far as I can tell.

I'll probably never see him again, and that's fine. I had a lifetime's worth of him long ago. There is no animosity, only distaste. But, he was all honest obnoxiousness, and odd, for which I give him credit. Credulous and pushy, he always cared, strove to perfection, no matter that he was going east on a one way westbound street. He adored flim-flam, even as he thought it was cutting edge science. I see a lot of myself in him, the intensity, the urge to make it all better and overwhelm objections.

I have a soft spot for crack-pot theories and strange phenomenon, as well. I don't believe it, probably because I just am not a believer, but I'm attracted to it. I have a different flavor of eccentricity, but I'm wobbling around strange foci, too.

We were both damaged, he got an earlier version of his father, as a boy, plus the more intense pre-vat2 catholicism. Doesn't believe he was harmed by any of it, as he limps sideways clutching a Carlos Castaneda book. Well, who am I do say?


Finding the image of Pooh above, the reality of his son's life tinges it with regret. It's important not just to do unto others what you would have them do unto you, but to give other's what they would want, as you would wish to be given what you want. Yet, Pooh, as independent from Milne, as his own bear, does the right thing. I wonder if Milne could see this, or if Pooh simply escaped without him noticing.