Talking TURKEY! 11-18-2012

This is a somewhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins

Talking TURKEY!

In my last post, “Blowing Off Steam,” I refer to needing to blow off steam from time to time. The same steamy weekend we experienced the power plant uproar, we observed, with many others, a steaming road rage incident. It occurred at a busy Ozarks signal light. Scenes like that don’t occur on our side of town!

We were horrified as an irate 40-year-old stood nosehair-to-nosehair with a defenseless elderly man. The yelling lunatic had stopped his truck, in the right-turn lane of traffic, delaying other drivers. He was acting like a Clint Eastwood character, strong-arming the helpless man. As we drove past, he was using his body to push the driver’s door into his surrendering victim, grabbing the elderly man’s arms forcing them upwards. He definitely wasn’t horsing around.

I became a side-seat driver screaming orders to Jeff: Stop, Jeff! I’m afraid for that helpless man! There's gonna be a shooting if someone doesn't stop that crazy loco!!!

Clear-thinking, always-composed Jeff replied: Diane, there are too many cars for me to stop quickly. Just give me a second. I wonder if the one man is drunk.

Rather than stopping in the middle of the street, we wisely pulled into the Price Cutter parking lot, ready to phone the cavalry; but, fortunately, within just a few more scary moments the lunatic backed off. That 40-year-old must have felt powerful in his brave exchange.

My reaction that day reminds me of fear-filled times, of my inebriated, 6-foot Father angrily interacting with my helpless, 5’2” Mom. Maybe I internally over-reacted to “Road rage” Dad. He was unpredictable when he was slurring and warring with Mom. An important note, I NEVER ever felt that Dad would harm me. Much of my childhood was spent observing frustrated Dad's non-verbal cues, honing into his emotional state. Head-strong Mom was physically helpless, but like a train, she had a one-track mind. We never were able to logically talk about it. Ever. I received little hints from Mom like: We better not buy this because Dad might...

This week a devastating tragedy occurred in Midland Texas. A train rammed full-speed into a parade float. The parade was honoring our military service people. When the track's guardrails began lowering and the train's horn blared, the veterans' natural instincts kicked in, responding to save others, but there was too little warning. Sadly, the train ended up killing four of our brave military men. They survived war, but not the barrelling locomotive.

I survived my parent's war, but my 20's could have been a train-wreck. In November's "Hic, Hiccup" post I explained that alcohol's stupor felt very comfortable, but unbearable migraines actually spared me. For too many years I felt clumsy, in a sober, autrovert fog. If not for my sensitivity to alcohol, I would have learned to rely on it rather than my...Trainer... He is helping to develop my natural stride and teaching me my "voice."

Returning to our Ozarks road-rager, he certainly would not try to bully a train, ramming into it on purpose. Nnnnneigh to that thought. As a wise coward he knows he would be talking TURKEY!  Midland, Texas shows us that one-track trains are powerfully destructive. I still prefer to compare my free-will to a...

Another thing for which I am grateful: #7  Thanksgiving, which gives me many reasons to...sing!!

My next post will be the food prep Wednesday before Thanksgiving; it will, indeed, be a very busy day! Deo Volente.