Posts Tagged ‘charity’


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You see me here, grown old and feeble. I have been squeezed dry as many who sit staring vacantly and my past keeps coming, recurring nightmare of the waking time.

In my time I was nurse and my oath ringing before me every time I took rounds. But routine takes away something from each and what have I in return? Nothing!

I was a nurse sent to care the old senile hags  in institutions where I worked. I worked to go higher and raise a family that shall be proud of me.

I was also young. I worked while my skin glowed and full twenty years made me curse my work every minute of it. None found me cross or less than my professional image I set for myself.  My smile and my teeth all well cared for made even a smile passed for truth. My body hygiene and appearance impressed my superiors.

Every day I signed the register and took my wards through their paces.  Did I enjoy it? To tell the truth, no Oh no.

I cursed the hags in their diapers. I ladled porridge spoonsful into their dead flaccid mouth wishing they would choke. But for the money that I made I would have thrown the whole filth I daily cleaned on the matron’s head. A battle-axe who never smiled at us nurses nor at the imbeciles whom we cared for. Oh when the director and trustees of the Bethesda Old Home came trooping in she smiled. As on cue we four nurses smiled and trooped the well fed starched straight-laced bible carrying Samaritans to their car. They earned the places in heaven and we kept our jobs.

It was not that we hated the old. Caring them was not of the same league as caring our mother or children. But tell me how long one can bring out her best under all provocations? The old who left under our care just didn’t care for our lot. For them time just stood still. Whereas we walked our line whether we fell short paying mortgage or could not afford an affordable education plan for our young. Our wards just sat in their wheelchair to be moved about and expected clean up the mess they left. OhI hated it. I do not regret it even for a moment. I stoically converted our frustration into work that was all.

As I am in this Home for the Aged do I care? Oh no. Now the nurse, a poison pill has her lipstick all wrong and hair  tucked in her cap,- she tells se is a Goth!, and she finds me as her millstone. I sit all day staring into TV and the nurse need not even see me twitch and squirm in pool of my own filth. She knows it by closed circuit beeps that warn her. Only she switches it off so she can rifle through her fashion catalogues or text message her boyfriend. My calls to ease my distress she treats as mere nuisance and she has learned to swat away as I did in my time. That is routine for you. I know she finds work just as I found: a A filthy business.

This evening the night nurses are planning a pillow fight for the entertainment of us,  inmates. And we are all watching the nurses fight it out. It is playful and it goes spirited and when all the feathers fly helter-skelter,  it is our secret night of horrors. All the feather fluff smelling of urine and shit would need mop after and some hard work. But we are the thing, morons laughing at our own cruel world we only let get this far. This night as hours tick by we only feel our private horror.

We see nurses have just shed their clothes, appearances of civility are gone. They have taken us back when we were as full as they.

Work was filthy for the peaches, the juicy young twenty something and they are us all in their ugly shapes, jeering at us.

Ah now they lug us into the heap of filth and dress us with cunning care, as chickens! It was a costume I never dreamed up! Hideous Jezebels are not done with us yet. As we scramble from mass of bodies, and pulled by hands to teeter and fall back with thud, there are screeches of merriment. There is a professional photographer who is creating a video diary. I know this age even our shame titillates some creep. We shall be in YouTube. It may be a viral hit among the viewers. 

I wept at the injustice of it. One of my tormenters leaned over and pulled out a feather from my toothless mouth to say,’ Nothing personal Martha, Work these days is still a four letter word.’

Now we are a spectacle and our carers have no excuse that they are kept short on money. They make money on us.
Work is still the same soulless aspect,- the world taken through a shredder of hell just gives some compensation for it. Money they call it. 


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In the star Sirius there is only one inhabitable planet that is called False. The men and women lived quietly in the shade since the dog-star burst and spewed great many ideas in wake of solar flares. Some suddenly would strip themselves and dance around a tree or two and speak utter nonsense. But in a planet like False the wizened old men would nod their heads and say,’they are shooting wind. We have heard so many and none has spoken against the grain of our existence.’ The inhabitants were as we might here on earth say,’wise men.’
One day a man came. Whether he surfed the solar roller coster of a giant flare or in a space shuttle I cannot tell.
He urged them to think of eternity. ‘I give you a religion where all you need to do is obey a set of rules. Five times you bow your rear to the Andromeda galaxy and leave your nostril clean; and mouth shut unless you want to speak something fair and in praise of your fellow men.’ He lived and he raised a family. Before he left he said,’Above all things don’t you make the error of having any creature between you and your Maker.No Priest talk but do what is good and speak what is set down in the book of rules.’ All agreed that it was indeed spoken like a great prophet.
Years went on and the family of the prophet chose from among them the Grand Turk of Bazaar that was the capital city. Eons later the prophet came to see how it fared in the planet False. There were great many exhortation Halls for the inhabitants to converge and there were thousands of teachers all claiming authority on the Prophet’s wise sayings.
The Old prophet went everywhere and no one recognized him. He asked the teachers if there were some rules left by the founder of their religion.
No one knew what the old man was harping about.
In the end he was taken to the Grand Turk of Bazaar who politely heard the old man and said,’ In this planet called False what set of rules you require? What I say is Law; every thing else is false.’

Poor prophet as he went back to his home he kept on muttering,I went as wise man and now I return sad and broken.’
This fable reminds me of Andre Rafflovich a wealthy Russian who settled in a fashionable area of London. Oscar Wilde knew him and on one occasion he said,’ Poor Andre! he came to London to found a salon. Instead he ended with a saloon’. This is how all religions have ended up.’

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1.Nothing  good ever dies:
Associated press has this headline:
Salvation Army left short of cash by fake SC check

CHARLESTON, S.C. – The Salvation Army thought it had received a grand gift ahead of Christmas — a $25,000 check. But the donation turned out to be an expensive hoax that may force the charity to cut back on winter assistance for the needy.

Kiki Cooper, the director of development for the local chapter said the single check represented about 10 percent of what the Salvation Army typically raises during the holiday season.
Cooper said people were already offering to help offset the loss.
“We’ve actually had a couple of people walking in dropping off $20. We have that at Christmas, never in January,” she said. (Bruce Smith, Associated Press Writer )

The second news is by the Reuters:
U.S. believes 1 in 5 ex-detainees joining militants
WASHINGTON (Reuters) – A classified Pentagon assessment shows about one in five detainees released from the U.S. military prison at Guantanamo Bay has joined or is suspected of joining militant groups like al Qaeda, U.S. officials said on Wednesday.

The disclosure comes amid revelations that former Guantanamo detainees had joined al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula — a Yemen-based group believed to be behind a failed plot to blow up a U.S. passenger jet on Christmas Day.( By Adam Entous and Phil Stewart ) This brings me to state the second:
2. Love and goodwill win you friends and not enemies:
What is won over with love will stay to be a cushion for you and what is put down with hate and brute force shall make you lose sleep.


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Second Chance

Agostino would hear none of it. He insisted Immanuel stay with him till he was well enough to continue his journey.  “Why must a child, you are indeed a child, and why must you take up such a hardship?” He replied that he was sent to seek out children whereever in need. He would have said further.
“But you came to Cloud Peak to look up an old man!,”
he cut in with evident relish.
“You are a child too. Otherwise why would you have carved dolls?” Turning to other topics he said in the end he felt in him a kindred spirit. “My father was a carpenter and…”his voice trailed off as if his past  came in a rush. “Oh to be here. As if I am among familiar things.” He held his hand out and asked if he could hold his doll for a while. Shocked Agostino pointed to the welt in each palm that stood out horribly red against his tender skin. He was about to ask but Immanuel said simply ” Oh these are some reminders,- ‘I was wounded in the house of my friends.’
For a week he thought over. Agostino felt pain that such tender age did not leave the child much. On the day of leave-taking he said, “Here take all, each doll I give into your safe keeping. ”Immanuel looked at him searchingly while he added, ”Give them away if that would make you happier.”
Immanuel accepted them and before he left the old man he said, ”You are a good man. Leave it at that.”
Yes, Agostino felt that his age allowed him to let go. As his dolls.
It made him happy.
The End
Season’s Greetings to all my readers. I take time now to express my thanks to the WordPress team who is doing a great job and wish each one of them a great year.

I shall be busy for a while what with shifting house and building our own dream house. I may not be as regular with my posts as I would wish. Anyway let us see.


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Bad Laws are all alike. These make justice, to fit the law of the land and not for people who shall be affected by it. The criminal who commits a murder for example is punished according to the law. But what of his wife who has no idea of her husband’s crime? Or what of his children who are dependent on him? Having thrown them into the street or destitute for no guilt of theirs  if at all they are helped that is charity and not justice.
The criminal may learn a much needed lesson or most likely becomes a hardened criminal. The hero in the Dosteovsky novel was sent to Siberia and was redeemed through suffering. Yes in a way suffering for the guilt is apt as much as we suffer for the simple reason we are inadequately protected in an imperfect world. Suffering then is a natural part of living. You invest some forty years of your life with a woman and grow into each other so to speak. If she is all of a sudden stricken with some incurable disease are you not then affected? You suffer because you live in an imperfect  world.
Still we need to make Law as though divine and sacred ( as in the case of religion), while those who administer it or interpret them are only imperfect. We allow it since what greater good it may do to organize a society that can work with all its imperfections than total chaos, which would otherwise by and by engulf us all.

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Our life on the Earth is to be considered as an apprenticeship. We have an equal share of energy to do needful things which mean in a manner of speaking, to use it judiciously. We negotiate energy as bills of exchange with others in ways, and we learn with experience to multiply it as the wise servant who doubled his ten talents. Talent is not our energy. Energy is in our deeds and not talents themselves. Thus the servant with five talents also prosper. In the parable on creation His breath in us is to be understood as energy we have received to do well in our sojourn on the earth.
God is a consuming fire, in the book of Deutronomy so we read. To my present intent and purpose God is that Absolute, constant and Truth.
Some believe they can please God by repetitions and some rituals that have lost their meaning as soon as they were prescribed. How so? What is the use of prayer without faith and faith without works? Some fast for days and other pray so often daily. It would be fine if that made them set a good example to others by deeds. Why waste energy in meaningless mumbo-jumbo that has a form of godliness but doesn’t better you or others? In quietness and confidence shall be your strength. This quote is to be complemented by actions that are good so your energy by its proper use earn you much more. Goodness is its reward.

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