Coming Over – Edith Milton

Edith Milton - ????

Displaced.

I’ve been lucky in this life so far as to have never been forcibly displaced from my home.

There are plenty though in this world that have, and are, and will. It’s one thing when something like a flood or fire takes away your home, you can be angry and upset, but can you really gain the needed satisfaction of getting angry at a flood?

When a man or groups of men, or a government displaces you, then you have something, someone to direct your anger towards – that can feel it.

Now, if it impacts them, that’s another story.

Milton knows what it feels like to be displaced, and it shows through her story. Displaced not only physically – but psychologically.

It’s the psychological displacement that I can, and I think most people can relate to. I would venture to say that a great number of people feel displaced psychologically at one time in their life.

Milton’s story takes place on a ship crossing the Atlantic.

I spent some time on a ship once, and it happened to be during a period in my life when I was going through a mental displacement.

I was on the Volga River traveling between Volgograd and Astrakhan Russia. As companions, I had Germans, Dutch, English, Japanese, French, Americans and of course Russians both sexes well represented in all of the nationalities.

We drank, we danced, we smoked, and we sat on the deck chairs and tried to impress the girls with our “personalities”.

Time on that ship was spent discovering limits and boundaries – not only in others but within ourselves.

Some of us sought to create new identities but the realization that doing so is far more difficult than ever imagined.

The close quarters, and the anonymity that the closure of our trip would soon allow us - brought down the walls of civility, courtesies and behavior that existed on shore.

It’s as if we were free of the burdens of our lives for the voyage.

We forgot to sleep knowing that any time doing so would be wasted. I had to stay awake as to fill each hour with meaning and adventure.

I learned a lot about people on the ship and a lot about myself.

My displacement was a good thing, and allowed for growth.

I was forever changed after that trip down the Volga.

our ship

Harmony of the World – Charles Baxter

Charles Baxter - May 13, 1947

I don’t know if it would be considered a complement or an insult to say that I felt like this short story was a novel.

I’d like to think it would be taken as a compliment. Baxter’s ability to pack just the right amount of “everything” into this short- gave it such thickness and substance that my brain felt as if it had just consumed a novel.

Have I ever been sooooo passionate about something as to drive someone away?

No, I can confidently say that although I am passionate and a bit crazy, I know humans have certain boundaries and limits and most importantly edges that you can’t push them over.

I think it comes down to a level of respect for others.

I really try my best to respect people, and I’m genuinely concerned about their feelings.

At times, I may talk the talk of a heartless bastard – but, in reality, I’m soft.

The problem is – the characteristic that gets me into trouble the most with others – the one thing about me that drives others insane – especially those closest to me, is that I am a bit too self-centered.

Ya think?!!

Perhaps this is due to my constant self-assessment sessions that I put myself through.

Perhaps it is due to the divorce all those years ago and the years after struggling with my identity.

Who knows- I can blame any number of things.

The good thing is that I am aware of this and awareness is the key!

The Gift Horse’s Mouth – R.E. Smith

R.E. Smith – no info on this author

A nice grisly story about summoning the intestinal fortitude to carry out a task beyond what you yourself could ever imagine doing.

You know, like cutting the head off a horse.

It’s amazing what a person can transform themselves into when a loved one is injured or just slighted.

I don’t feel the need to relate any stories of past cases where I have undertaken a deed thought to be “unsettling” one moment and completely within my realm of doing the next. – It has happened quite often with me. –

-Well not cutting heads off horses.

The Power of Language is Such That Even a Single Word Taken Truly to Heart Can Change Everything – Alvin Greenberg

Alvin Greenberg - May 10, 1932 – Alive and still writing

Wild pigs and the slight possibility that they have the ability to write.

Hummmm- OK, I’ll bite, chew and yup – I like it.

I have a problem. I have the strong suspicion that I sound crazy when I speak.

Crazy, stupid and not “all there”.

I’ve run this thought across M, and she assures me that in fact, I’m mistaken, and that I don’t sound like an idiot 99.99% of the time that I open my mouth.

Even with that assurance, I am very self conscious about the way I use words even if I think I use them correctly. But, I don’t think I have the ability to put them together correctly. I think that I have them in my basket; I just can’t sort them out into a sentence or thought that really conveys what I want to say.

In short – I don’t like the way I talk, and I think I sound unintelligent.

I’m about 3% away from actually being labeled intelligent...but not quite there. And I’ll never gain that mysterious 3%.

How do I listen, or interpret what is said to me?

Well, I do take about everything that is said to me to heart – at least for the first few seconds that it bounces around in my brain. I pass it though a filter, and I am able to distill out what I need to hold close and what I need to let go (which I can never really do).

Not all that surprising- I take a lot to my heart. I really value what a person says to me, and I feel that my reactions to what was said are solidly based on their utterance – rather than my own well developed opinion.

It takes a good while for me to develop an opinion. I need time to really absorb all the information that I can and to put it into my crazy order – only to, yet again, sound stupid.

I hear others in my circle of acquaintances speak, and they are very well spoken, and I just don’t match up to them. This intimidates me further.

So, words that are spoken to me or about me are very important. I give them great weight.

I don’t think there are enough people that truly take what is said to them to heart.

It’s unfortunate – but makes life interesting - maybe.