It is a windy day. The Old Man observed that most days are windy in his Golden Years. The wind feels good on the Writing Porch. As we journey, we forget. Often not intentionally. Some of us misremember that those who helped us along the way and replace this history with, ‘I did it my way.’ No matter how introverted we are, we did not come this way by ourselves. At all points in our lives, there were helpers. People who believed in our abilities. People who cared…they sought no recognition… no praise…only our best interest. I had a supervisor ask me many years ago…how Jay Brooks became Jay Brooks. There is a process from cradle to grave.

‘The people of Palestine are humans…the people of Iran are humans…how do we rationalize their destruction as if War was a Game,’ Neva J asked. ‘We think of them abstractly while we think of ourselves dynamically,’ Neva J continued. ‘We step over the homeless on our way to a fine restaurant…we avert our eyes at the ill-clad family asking for donations…if we think anything, we think, ‘By the Grace of God, there go I ‘Or, we say they should get up and go get a job,’ Neva J continued. ‘People across our world and in our Country live in abject poverty…our dogs live much better, richer lives,’ Neva J observed. ‘Where would we be if someone had not given us a helping hand…had not shown compassion…had not fed us when we were hungry,’ Neva J whispered. ‘Mother and I hunted for persimmons in the woods because we had nothing to eat…my dad was an alcoholic…his money went for his passion,’ Neva J continued. ‘When we objectify and dehumanize a civilization, we have lost the plot and our memories have failed us,’ Neva J mused.

‘Perhaps we have forgotten who we are,’ Chet said. ‘We are a needy people who have forgotten the needy times,’ Chet continued. ‘We guard our half-acre of land and riches as if it is our birthright…as if we are king of the hill forever,’ Chet mused. ‘I remember walking everywhere I needed to be…I had no car…I had no money to purchase gas,’ Chet noted. ‘I was hungry and had no food…I ate Cremora by the spoonful and wiped the residue from my lips…I attended church with people who regularly had steak dinner and admonished me to eat steak, as I was pale and losing weight.’ Chet smiled. ‘My clothes were tattered…my pants were too short…my friends called me ‘High Waters.’ ‘We forget when we have enough…more than enough…’ Chet said with tears in his eyes.

‘It hurts to be hungry,’ Billy B said. ‘Many have tunnel vision when it comes to seeing suffering people,’ Billy B continued. ‘We think our President is a narcissist…we are narcissit…we focus on what is directly in front of our field of vision…someone may be starving in our preiphial vision…we see them not,’ Billy B said solemenly. ‘I returned from the hungry and ill clad…I finally got a job that payed enough for me to live…many were suprised…they did not think I had it in me…I worked 16 hours a day when I was hungry,’Billy B said with a look of forgivness.