In the last month I have been an active member of the Medical Industrial Complex here in NC.

I am a Medicare patient, specifically a Medicare Advantage patient, and until I became eligible for Medicare there was nothing wrong with me. Of course, I AGED into Medicare, but–still–healthy is as healthy does.

Since getting my card at age 65, I have gained a Heart Murmur, intestinal (benign) polyps, a “mass” under my right armpit, a back-sized fungus, and an interesting condition known as a “Hydrocele”.

I lost a crown on root-canaled tooth number 30, my ability to sleep through the night, and (if you can believe it) other functions too personal to mention. (Any senior fighting the financial ruin of senior dental care will understand the ramifications of a root-canaled tooth, rotting, dead, below the gum line, with no hope of re-crowning or resorbtion.)

In years past football, basketball, and baseball injuries came and went and often were unnoticed, or simply “waited out” until they fixed themselves. Diseases, too. There were colds but pandemics and health scares (think AIDS, Ebola, Swine Flu, etc.) never touched me and if they did, they didn’t last.

Medication was never taken. Even the colds were “run out” of me after several morning jogs around the neighborhood.

But now, I am a target of the System. Not only does every able-bodied insurance salesman in the nation (it seems) call during Open Enrollment and other strategic times of the year, but they get to repeat the process the next year, And the next, and the next….

Once a decision is carefully made about WHO will pay for my “Uncovered Medicare Expenses”, the real fun begins.

NOTE to all: Did any one think Medicare covered ALL medical expenses for us tired, old people? I did.

The fun is watching health care professionals scramble to fit their care into the Medicare system. I do believe too much medical care is better than too little, but when The System guarantees federal payments for certain activities, its odd to learn how many of those activities could be performed.

For example, the mass under my right arm looked to be fatty tissue, but was the subject of 2 different mammogram sessions, and a one sonogram with the head of the Sonography Department. The mammographer made the mistake of telling me if nothing was found in the x-rays, no further tests would be needed. When I was CALLED BACK for more x-rays, imagine how I felt. And then I was sent on to the sonographer after the second x-ray. Doom and death had to be in the offing.

But my sonographer was training a new technician and her trainee (and I) learned all the technical jargon involved in observing the Lymph Node. At Medicare’s expense.

Was there a problem? No. In fact, my lymph node was deemed “perfect” and became part of an afternoon class slideshow, without attribution. (Yes, I did ask and learned I’d signed my rights away in one of the ten forms I signed when the long morning started.)

It’s just as well. All the attention is fame enough, except when the test results show nothing but a “Fatty Mass in the right Axilla.” How embarrassing. I prefer the unwritten diagnosis of “perfect”.

I come here to write about things important to me, whether someone cares about my writing or not: writing is for me.

Note: There does appear to be a lack of appreciation for this effort, which really tests my belief in the sentence, above.

Today, I am tired. No surprise. At an elderly age, being tired is a normal state. You’ll see, young people.

But today I am more (sic) tired than ever. Yesterday was the verdict day for a landmark trial in Minnesota. A white cop killed an unarmed black man by kneeling on the black man’s neck for over 9 minutes. George Taylor and Derek Chauvin are the two men involved.

The process has become a race-related flashpoint, and the killing, trial, and verdict were/are extremely important events in the country’s efforts to understand racism in the United States.

But it is tiring. I’ll never understand either side of racism. It’s impossible.

All racism is–at its core–is hating someone you don’t know. Who would do that?

Sadly, racism itself, sees no colors and lures both hater and hated into a cycle of never-ending hate of the other. NEVER ENDING.

In Minnesota, the black man’s family suffered at his death. Consequently, the white man’s family suffered at his conviction and imprisonment. One life has been lost and other lives ruined.

Sadly, throngs of people supporting the black man, and educated pundits from around the world, celebrated the conviction. They danced in the streets. They cried “joyous tears”.

As a non-church person who believes in God and appreciates the teaching of the Bible (the Good Things, anyway), it has to be asked: what inspires this “joy”?

We need to know in our hearts and minds there is no joy in any single second of this entire process. None.

Joy will come when all people stop hating people they don’t know. All.

There are advantages to death if one is open to seeing them…and it’s not your own.

When my mom passed away in 2016, one of the most difficult aspects of losing her was clearing out her house. In case you think it, mom was not a hoarder. She was a saver. Her little two bedroom was neat and clean at her passing. Clearing her house for sale looked to be easy until we opened drawers and looked into the 20 storage totes piled neatly in the basement.

Quite naturally, she kept all her medical and dental records. And her taxes. And her purchases. And her daily schedules. And her personal clippings of her life as a professional singer.

Those records were in three filing cabinets and 8 storage totes.

Since there was a medical issue when mom died, we examined medical records to make sure we saved everything for a possible lawsuit. It took four days, one paper shredder, and 10 garbage bags dropped off at the local landfill/recycle center.

Her taxes took another 3 days as we sorted and shredded years of records not relevant to her final estate and tax year settlements. Another 3 totes down, and 4 garage bags delivered.

Shredding was constant except for times when the shredder needed to cool down. Mom’s small town did not have a commercial shredder with security, enough, to convince me to use them.

The remaining totes were my fault. One was full of my exploits as a young man, including proof I never learned how to really dress myself until my mid-30s.

Another was like the first but for my brother. Others were for my oldest daughter, one for my youngest daughter, and one for each of the five grandchildren engendered by my marriage in 1972.

All totes were filled with faded photos and news clippings. I gave each tote to each subject, however, and those totes were gone.

I came home with two totes. One was mine and one was filled with things snitched from the others: My mom as a young woman, my brother and I in baseball uniforms in 1968, my daughters’ news paper photo of them jumping rope on the first day of spring in 1982…important stuff.

The two totes were put high up on a shelf, out of the way and avoided until this past week. My intent was to whittle the two down to one and get my affairs in order. I wanted to be ready for when someone comes to settle my estate, do my final taxes, and close my books, so to speak.

But I got lost in the totes, in the years they represented, and the memories they inspired. My sober attempt to be a good deceased person turned into a regret I did not still have all 20 totes…or mom.

Regret–in context–does not lead to sorrow or unhappiness. I regret the losses of the last 68 years of my own life, but carry on with life happy in the knowledge someone will feel the same about me in 50 years.

Whether anyone really does or not, is irrelevant. I have faith, thanks to mom’s stuff.

Every minute of every day I search for something life is giving back to me in exchange for all it is taking. Any man in his golden years (and probably women, too) will tell (or bore you, endlessly) about the changes to sleeping habits, eating habits, work out habits, and sex habits linked to old age. Worse, the changes do not happen in one moment, but over time, gradually, so we don’t really notice how bad our eyes are until we can no longer read the cooking directions on the frozen pizza label.

So where are the benefits we get in exchange for the lost functions and features? We have to be alert for them, but they are there.

One, for example, is a learned patience for the lack of common sense shown by American Business. Inefficiency used to drive me crazy. Waste used to make my skin crawl. An inability to accurately communicate made me apoplectic. (A favorite word, finally used!)

Thankfully, the new/old me is more relaxed, calm, and understanding. Growing old blesses us with an attitude meant to stop the bursting of blood vessels! It isn’t a learned patience as much as a gradual wearing down of the sharp edge of what used to constructive criticism. “I’ve seen it all” doesn’t mean I’m finally okay with it “all”, but means there’s so much to see, no new misfortune is worth getting excited about. (Wait, wouldn’t it be another loss?)

To wit: I walk into my favorite hardware store with an empty LP barbecue tank.

New (to me) Clerk: “What can I help you with?”

Me: “Need some gas for the barbecue.” I hold up the 33 pound, aluminum tank digging into my right palm.

Clerk: “Want us to refill your tank with our gas or do an exchange for a full one?”

Me. “Whatever is cheapest.”

Clerk: “That would be a refill. $17.99.”

Me: “Okay.” I head outside where the refill station is located.

Clerk: “Sorry. We’re out of gas.”

It felt like an Abbott and Costello routine. (Young readers, look it up. Google “Who’s on First?”)

Note, also, as we talk about business practices, there is a company selling frozen pizza’s with heating instructions so small a large segment of the pizza company’s market can not read the directions.

Crap, how could I have missed it? The pizza company also sells magnifying glasses.

Now, THAT is good business.

Trying to explain the ISNIC PEC Divide is pointless. I struggle to find teaching examples of how crazy this divide is, because simply talking about it sounds like taking sides, either Red or Blue, Progressive or Conservative, Crazy or Loony….and when we take sides, the other side never listens.

What we all need, really, is to NOT be a part of a group. Period. What would happen, for example, if a politician voted for what was best for his constituents and for his country instead of voting for what the Senate Leader, Majority Whip, House Leader, and House Majority Whip say? Why do the house and senate need whips, anyway? What do they do in those closed committee rooms?

In high school and in School of Rock, we learned a bill is an idea for a law brought before the House or Senate for approval. The bill then gets voted on by both,if approved, is sent to the President for signing.

That’s not even close to how it really happens, sadly, unless the bill is to rename a Post Office in Iowa after a war hero. Or to declare National Marshmallow Day.

The only way to reform the process is to turn our backs on the ISNIC PEC Divide and demand lawmakers vote for what is best for all first, and then for their own constituents. It is understandable an oil producing state’s population would NOT like to see solar power/green energy become successful. But if a new, clean power source became available, who would it help?

Not the best example, but even this sad example would work if Oil Producers (AKA Big Money) got on board and led the charge. Can they not make money off solar/green power? Or are they just making too much off Fossil fuels? And who would want to give that up?

And we’re back to the real problem: money.

It is my contention that Big Money, whoever they are, would much rather we all argue the ISNIC PEC Divide rather than look at real issues….especially their profit margins. And compensation agreements.

I, for one, will no longer speak of the ISNIC PEC Divide. Will everyone else join me?

Let’s say a policeman kills a person while the policeman is on duty.

If this sentence is all we know, there isn’t much to get upset about. We trust the police did the right thing, and bad man/woman will no longer terrorize innocent people.

Unless we are a minority citizen.

But in our ISNIC PEC world, its not that simple. And in real life, it never was/is either.

The Blue Party, Black Lives Matter, and other groups protesting police violence–and the de-funding of police departments–are wrong: we need more police and more money for police. Not less. Not fewer. Not smaller.

If you understand the nature of society, we coexist with each other by obeying laws both written and unwritten.

And what happens if NO ONE is there to enforce these laws?

Progressives calling for de-funding should change their calls to reforming, rebuilding, and resurrecting the police departments.

Point: Our written laws are suffering at the hands of cash-strapped policing units. And having bad apples in those units makes it even worse. But explain to your children how our society can pay a professional athlete more than it can to the very person you depend on to save your life? (Include Emergency medical, fire fighters, etc, in this argument.) In some states the quarterback for the NFL team makes more than entire police departments. Oddly, this supports the need for more police funding by showing that if you want to win, you need to pay for winners. How many police captains have had the ability to bid for good officers? Firefighters? We really should have trading cards for public service.

It needs to be pointed out that Red Party (and probably SOME Blue Party) politicians embrace lower taxes and smaller governments, without understanding that means lower quality public service and smaller policing units.

And what about mental health? Why is a $35,000 a year cop expected to handle a mentally deranged individual who is threatening innocent people?

It is way more complex than this but if Progressives and Blues dropped the ISNIC PEC screed, the de-fund mantra, and Conservatives and Reds looked at taxes as necessary for the continued support of civil, peaceful society…hm…

Last time we talked about the stupidity surrounding the ISNIC PEC situation. Stupidity. Its a situation where people are hurting themselves without knowing it.

Example: In March of 2021 we had some mass shootings. We had Blue politicians offer thoughts, prayers, and new laws to limit the spread of guns capable of killing 60 people a minute.

We had Red politicians offer thoughts, prayers, and heartfelt, stone cold refusal to consider any new laws.

But we had private citizens from all kinds of groups rush out to gun shops and buy more guns. Actual conversation at work: “We need to get an assault rifle before Biden bans them.”

So, who won the gun control game?

Let’s see who lost, first.

1. As of March 2021, 17 innocent bystanders and 1 police officer have been gunned down this year.
2. At a conservative estimate, 34 more people suffered a tragic loss of a loved one, an event that changed their lives. At least 34.
3. Members of the Blue political party, their supporters, and independent citizens who care about gun deaths got nothing but the sick feeling there will be more mass deaths, coupled with the mindfulness that gun reform is not important to anyone in the Red Party.

So, who won?

1. The Red Party wins the political fight over gun laws. Yay.
2. Gun sellers win with record sales as gun owners who own 10 guns realize they need to buy more before the Blue Party takes the guns away from honest citizens.
3. The gun manufacturers who increase production (and profits) to meet this new demand.
4. The National Rifle Association (NRA) who’s membership grows and contributions from existing members increases.
5. Gun Lobbyists as the NRA uses the new profits to lobby harder for no meaningful gun reform.
6. Red politicians who reap the rewards doled out by the gun/NRA lobbyists.

I own two guns: A Rifle, and a small handgun.

Someone please write and tell me why I need an assault rifle? A weapon that shoots 60 rounds in the blink of an eye?

And when you answer, do NOT repeat what the NRA/lobbyists told you to say. Think for yourself. at how you are being manipulated by powerful greedy, politicians and business owners.

And then ask, beg, vote, badger, any and all gun owners, dealers, manufacturers not to simply ignore the problem. I know they care, but money always trumps caring, in America.

I wonder if it works that way in heaven, too?

First: ISNIC is shorthand for Ignorant. Stupid, Nonsensical, Idiotic, and Counterproductive

Second: Divide is a noun for the this article. As in The Great Divide. Wait, that doesn’t help much. Think of the space between things or people. The Gap.

Third: PEC stands for Political, Economic, and Class.

The point: America has decided to redefine itself into several different groups. Not states. Or really political parties. Groups. Complete with their own messaging systems and facts.

Lets not get bogged down with facts, at the moment, and point out some important…points.

I can’t keep this up with a straight face. Our current American PEC Divide needs an adult of any color, any group, and any nationality to stand up and say “What the F— is wrong with everybody? Grow up, you morons.”

Consider the tweets, postings, comments, and new words such a declaration would engender…no, don’t want to.

In a youth spent in the US education system, as well as libraries and bars, I acquired a self-evident truth that education would save America. Once a semi-idealistic youth who railed against the War, The Military Industrialist Complex, The Man, Drug Laws, Racism, I mistakenly grew into a middling 20-something content with the knowledge history would not repeat itself. America was on the Right Track.

But then the 80s’ happened. And then the 90’s. And the aughts. And a strange thing happened.

America got dumb. America suffered the fate my parents warned me about when I watched too much television.

For those of you who participate in the ISNIC PEC Divide, think of this: no one GROUP in these shenanigans is right about everything. No one GROUP is more Godly than the other. No one GROUP has answers the other Group does not have. No matter how popular and reassuring your news/facts supplier. So why bother participating? Actually, join them all!

In fact, if you belong to ANY of these ISNIC PEC groups, you should consider the immortal, paraphrased words of Groucho: “I don’t want to be a member of any club that would have me as a member.”

A sad side-note is the loss of the Independent American, a loosely affiliated group, if there is enough of them, held together only by name, not by single-minded doctrine or belief.

Its a struggle to be polite, so no more: Our PEC Divide is ISNIC. Let it go.

Life is full of possibilities. Things we should do. Things we can do. Things people want us to do. Things people tell us we should do, now!

Age has its negatives but its biggest positive is not giving a crap about anything printed in that first paragraph.

Wow. For those as young as me (67) the realization of how free you actually are does not come quickly. (eg. I still shave. Once a week, whether its needed or not.) FYI: it is needed but NOT necessary.

But with fantastic freedom comes responsibility. NOT.

If my credit score sinks to the bottom of the ocean because of a lack of financial discipline, so what? I can’t get a 30 year mortgage for my new house! Ha.

And exercise–they say–doesn’t prolong life as much as it makes your existing years better. But I’m not working and money keeps coming in from Social Security and Pensions. How much better could life be?

Maybe I should look into doing something for those less fortunate than me. Yeah, right. Exactly like someone did for me when I was struggling?

Ok. This might just be a temper tantrum because the New Orleans Saints lost the NFC Championship game–they were ROBBED of the NFC Championship–but man, does it feel good to be able to say: Why Bother? and actually mean it.

It has been some time since last I entered here. Mom, my dog, my retirement, grandchildren going to college, and my induction into the medical world with my own problems, all conspired to make my presence, here, too much of a struggle. It took too much time, too much energy, too much…whatever.

It was truly laziness, though. There were plenty of unfilled minutes in the last year and a half that should have been filled with attendance at this site.

And the reason for the laziness? Contentment.

There is no urge to come here and express my views when it’s so much better use of my time to sit and watch television. Or read a book. Or play tennis. Or workout. Or call my kids. Or call my grandkids. Or buy a new car. Or spend hours sitting with medical personnel intent on convincing me the need for drugs is real. (I could have used that argument in my profligate youth!)

But there is something about here, something about this exercise, something about putting into words the things puzzling about life…

So I am back. Hopefully on a regular basis. There is lots to write about in this Trumpian World, and I hope to be unhappy enough to be motivated.

I hope I am not too late.