The Sunday Muse # 245- 2/5/23 Rest in Peace

We are asked to find inspiration from an assortment of images. This is the one that I chose. It wasn’t clearly labeled to offer its creator credit. I apologize for that.

Heroes seek less for themselves than for ‘Good’,
But those courageous ones still long for peace.
The most daring hearts chase the “What should?”
Heroes seek less for themselves than for ‘Good’.
They won’t flinch as weaker souls would.
Where might we be if they ever cease?
Heroes seek less for themselves than for ‘Good’,
But those courageous ones still long for peace.

True Stories and Real Heroes

I’m LOUD. I speak with my volume way up and I’m trying to address that.
It’s annoying to many people, especially to my Mom when she’s wearing her hearing aids.
I have many theories about my lack of ‘volume control’.
One, is that my 40+ years surrounded by children and babies as a family child care provider, required me to speak loudly and clearly above the understandable chaos.
Another, more likely reason, is that I have so much to say and I want to share and be heard.
Well, those who love to write seem to fall easily into that category.
Don’t be misled by my volume though. I can keep a secret quite well. Sometimes, folks who have prefaced their words with, “Just between you and me…”, are shocked when they realize at a later time, their words truly weren’t ever repeated.
So, secrets are sacred BUT some should not ever be kept.
I listened to Congressional Testimony, yesterday, from four young women who each were molested by one powerfully placed doctor. He was protected (FOR YEARS!) by elite bureaucrats from being removed, charged, and punished. Those young women did not stay silent and were heroes to those who still cannot process their own abuse, as well as, to those who thankfully won’t suffer abuse from that MONSTER.
This reminded me of an incident where I decided to speak up in High School. I was not a hero (which I define as placing oneself in a courageous fight at ones own peril) but my decision not to keep a secret, was a ‘good deed’.

My mother taught at the High School I attended. This gave me an extra level of ‘familiar ease’ with the faculty.
I had a conceptual art class which welcomed an ‘associate teacher’ mid year. He was an odd man who taught us about meditation and horoscopes, yeah, the weird stuff.
On one incident, he leaned over my shoulder and made me uncomfortable in the ‘personal space’ realm. He also took the liberty to brush my hair away from face too. My alarms were ringing but a report on that ‘squirrel’ wasn’t quite necessary, yet.
Well, as an after thought now, I believe he must have found out I was a faculty child and took his ‘advances’ elsewhere because he abruptly started to pay extra attention to my friend.
A few weeks later, that girlfriend had a sleepover at my house. Our late night chat turned to the news that the associate teacher asked her to babysit for his kids. Then, she told me a “secret”. She had gone to babysit and the ‘squirrel’ had really tried to inappropriately touch her when he’d taken her home. She wasn’t sure whether she should babysit again but didn’t want to make him angry. She, as girls often do, thought she might just be mistaken or overreacting.
UGH! I told her to never go back and my direct, alarmed, reaction had her requesting that I promise not to tell, again.
I assumed my friend would be safe and take my advice to just make excuses not to babysit for him, BUT, I knew the ‘squirrel’ would find another target, sooner or later.
I TOLD my Mom. She said she’d handle it and not to worry. (I never told her he’d ‘come on’ to me.)
A few weeks later, the ‘squirrel’ disappeared. POOF! Our art teacher mentioned. ‘reassigned’.
All was well, and I heard not one word about it… actually, forgot about it too.
On the last day of school, we were allowed to walk around getting signatures from friends and faculty in our yearbooks. I asked the school principal for his and have never forgotten what he wrote.
“Best wishes, Susan. Thanks for your help!”
I knew instantly what he meant and realized that I had done the right thing.

My Hero

Daily Prompt: Heroic

When you were five years old, who was your hero? What do you think of that person today?


When I was five years old, Zorro (portrayed by Guy Williams) was my hero. He was a “righter”of injustices and defender of the weak.

I chose to write on this topic because I felt, Zorro, might be a controversial choice of a modern 5-year-old.

Primarily, the complaints would come from those who dislike the idea of violent images offered to our kids. Parents cringe about “armed” heroes, yet, I believe they are missing the message and ought to consider the moral fiber of fictional (and real life heroes ) with, as much, immediate concern. My former blog post “The Blind Eye”, was about apathy and fear in the face of trouble. This topic seems a fitting continuation of my point.

My heart still quickens at the thought of “Zorro to the rescue” and I really have no memory of him ever hurting anyone. He may have…but, my 5-year-old self certainly did not internalize the violence at all. What I remember most is that people “with power” can be good or evil and the good one’s are heroic only when they take action and risks. Zorro was also labeled a “public enemy” by those “evil” powerful folks who feared his interference in their corrupt and greedy agendas.

I believe that the pen is truly “mightier than the sword” and Zorro, if transported to 2014, would probably be a political blogger. A mighty dashing one, at that! lol

More than any time, ever before, there are medias that allow us to “take a stand” and to expose corruption. Fear of labels, cannot hold the bravest of us back, either. Touche’!

That Selfish 1%…a reminder.

I found this photo and story on Facebook. As I have had politics on my mind lately, I’ll dare to make another controversial statement. Actually, I want this to be food for thought when you hear any comment started with “That 1%…”.

Denzel Washington recently visited the Brooks Army Medical Center (BAMC) in Antonio, Texas. He was introduced to recovering soldiers and made aware of what is called Fisher Houses. They are the military equivalent of Ronald Mac Donald Houses, housing families of the injured soldiers for little or no cost while they recover from wounds in the battlefields. He asked how much a Fisher House cost and made out a check for the full amount right on the spot.

Not only does the rich 1% reinvest in America and pay the largest portion of our tax bill, they donate on the side.(I don’t care if donations can become deductions.) I fear that they are becoming vilified in the recent political climate. Wonder why the TV media did not report this? Hmmmmmm.

Way to go Mr. Washington! I salute you. We all thank-you.