Moonbeams

 

“Would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?
Or would you rather be a mule?”
 

 

            The ability to learn is the most important part of being human. It is inherent, built into our framework. If you do not learn your lessons you are destined to repeat them. For those who wallow in their own crapulence, life does the same. The reality is that the process of life is nothing more than a learning curve, and then you die. If there wasn’t teaching, and studying, and recognition, there would no growth, no change and no evolution. Life would be static and seemingly unmovable. Some people are born limited. They struggle with their own ignorance regardless of how many years of education any one person might have acquired.  Higher learning requires one to actually learn. Some people remain as simple as a wood chuck. An education does not automatically negate the lasting effects on those stupefied by the very act of their genetics. You cannot be a little bit pregnant. Sometimes it comes right down to stupid is as stupid does. I should polish up my political correctness. I could choose my words with moderation. This would not take away from the fact that some people just don’t have a clue.

 “A mule is an animal with long, funny ears

He kicks up at anything he hears

His back is brawny and his brain is weak
He’s just plain stupid with a stubborn streak
And, by the way, if you hate to go to school
You may grow up to be a mule”

            He was stunning and I appreciated that. While I was security on one side, he was bartender on the other. We became friends, at least in a casual sense. I liked him as a person and I valued what he put into our friendship. He sure was pretty. His solid muscular body, his very handsome face and his general demeanor made him the star attraction in many a gay man’s night. Management was right to put him behind the bar. Sex sells after all. The entire package of him was what another co-worker called rather “yummy.” I agreed with her completely. Good always comes with the not so good. There is always a price to pay. James was dumber than a tree knot. We had to explain to him how ice was made. He could mix drinks for 10 people, all at the same time, but he couldn’t manage to put his shoes on the right feet. I am unsure if James was aware of his limitations. He struck me as the sort of man who didn’t stop to do anything but brush his teeth. He was shallow and I am sure not only because he was vain. It was like talking to an empty vessel. He was 26, at the time, and he somehow managed to get threw a quarter century of existence. You would think that journey might have rubbed off on him. In the end, he was a dull light bulb ready to be changed. He only lasted a few months then the exhibit closed for good. He was gone but so was his beauty. He didn’t leave because he found another job. He didn’t leave to improve himself with an education or training in an apprenticeship. James, an innocent child it seems, left because he was afraid that by working in a gay bar, the gay would rub off on him. I asked him, when he shared his fate, “aren’t you gay?” 

 “Or would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?
Or would you rather be a pig?"

             Without some semblance of decorum, we are nothing but animals. Tell that to my late friend Tammy. She was a wonderful companion and I loved her dearly. She died a few years ago yet somehow the odour remains. She was a hoarder, and a rather nasty one at that. For the 20 years that I knew her, I rarely ever went over to her place. She was embarrassed, humiliated and yet did nothing to rectify the situation. Her home was a pigsty. I have known several other hoarders, including a family member, and their chaos was nothing compared to Tammy’s. It wasn’t just too much furniture, too much stuff. Garbage and filth were everywhere. It got worse every time I climbed over what used to be her living room. At least, she didn’t seem to collect her own feces or urine, although I could never be sure what lied under all those piles of debris. I am not sure why I never said anything to her about her quality of living. I suppose, in a clear sense, I was just as embarrassed for her as she was for herself.  It was heartbreaking to venture into her world. I never knew what might crawl out of the piles of trash that literally littered the place. At one visit, I thought the floor was moving but it was only a combination of ants and roaches that tricked my senses. 

"A pig is an animal with dirt on his face

His shoes are a terrible disgrace

He’s got no manners when he eats his food

He’s fat and lazy and extremely rude

But if you don’t care a feather or a fig

You may grow up to be a pig”

            The longer her rampage went on, the harder it was to breathe in her place. I suppose the black mould on almost every wall was the culprit. It wasn't fair that my health might be the price I paid for exposing myself to the mess. Eventually, any invitation I had to return to the scene met with distance and excuses and disinterest. I still cared for my friend but I could not just keep going, condoning her behaviour and her lifestyle. She definitely needed the help I could not give. Even if she had a mental condition that caused the behaviour, she had other options besides ruminating in her own crapulence. She had no shame, no sense of pride. I’m not sure if this detachment was the problem or if she was. All I know is that her death was just as messy as her life had been. Her body, like her kitchen floor, filled with foreign invaders. Things grow in a crowded house.

“Or would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?
Or would you rather be a fish?"

            The entire coronavirus pandemic has had a limited effect on me. Although I wear a mask (double most times), I socially distance and I work primarily from home, so I am intact for the most part.. Otherwise, there really hasn't been any real burden on my life. I have found that there is a freedom in following Covid-19 protocol.  I tend to feel safe and secure in my sterility. Yes, I miss my friends and I miss my family but I have maintained all my relationships through technology and a want for contact with them. I missed my Dad's 83rd birthday. I know a few people who have contracted Covid-19. Luckily no one I know has died from the disease. I take the pandemic very seriously but there has been little psychological or emotional distress for me to experience. I have handled the entire nightmare rather well. There are those who have not. 
            It is abundantly clear that some people just don't get it. This far into the pandemic and those people just don't seem to give a damn (about themselves or others). They either cut themselves off so completely or they disregard safety and stand in large groups or refuse to stay away. People put recreational sports above their mortality. Dinner with a friend is the only thing that matters. A Barbeque means more than remaining healthy, apparently. Back when the second wave started, I would see large groups of high school students gathering on the main drag in front of the school. Very few wore a mask or socially distanced. They didn't seem to care as they migrated to the local pizza shop. I'm not sure much has changed other than location. Whenever school comes back in session, I still see groups of them lingering, playing with no apparent regard for anything but the moment. I am not sure if this disregard is the result  of upbringing or basic stupidity. I can't tell you how many times someone has walked right up to me, bold faced and without a mask. Mercifully, most people wear a mask in light of the daily count and the Delta and Omicron variants. I remain safe because I follow the rules. This is not something I have excelled at in my past but it works for me now. I wish it worked for everyone.    

 "A fish won’t do anything but swim in a brook

He can’t write his name or read a book

To fool all the people is his only thought

Though he’s slippery, he still gets caught

But then if that sort of life is what you wish

You may grow up to be a fish

A new kind of jumped-up slippery fish”

 

             I don’t believe in fate or serendipity. God’s will is all good and well but I doubt very much that the idea is anything more than just that. While I do not entertain notions like destiny and “meant to be,” I do believe that there are lessons implanted throughout our lives, lessons we must learn or face repeating. This is why learning is so very important for a person who wishes to move past their own ignorance. If we don’t learn then we don’t move forward, we don’t evolve and we become stagnant. Some people like to rummage around in their lives. Staying in the same place is comfortable and easy. It takes no effort at all. You can always do better. If you are stupid, study. If you are dirty, take a bath. If you're out in public, wear the mask. Regardless of our limitations, each one of us has choices and those choices will dictate who we will turn out to be or if we die trying.

 
“And all the monkeys aren't in a zoo
Every day you meet quite a few
So you see, it's all up to you
You can be better than you are
You could be swingin' on a star”
(Swinging On A Star, Bing Crosby 1944)

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CDs067081E

 

       

 

 Photo

https://foodgram.netlify.app/moonbeams-in-a-jar.html