Gratitude

Thank You to Our Heroes

April 1, 2020 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Maybe it’s because I’m “of a certain age” or I’m simply a curmudgeon, but boy howdy do I have a catalogue of pet peeves.

People who tailgate are head and shoulders top of the list. I can maybe, sorta, possibly justify this irk because it can be dangerous. However, many of the others just rub me raw for no reason in particular except, well, I dunno, just because.

As example, it really yanks my chain when I spot that stupid, senseless, ridiculous — even offensive — “fashion style” of one’s pants fastened below the butt. The way I see it, it you have to waddle while walking, holding your trousers up with one hand so they don’t plotz down to your ankles, you might want to rethink the manner in which you’re wearing your clothes; just saying. I don’t know why it irks me so much but, I’ll own it, it does.

Another annoyance of mine is the “inflation” of the word “hero,” now tasked to depict virtually anyone who does what is expected of them – or even less – with no sacrifice of their own.

“She is a real hero; she walks her dog every day.”

“My children are heroes; they clean their rooms without being asked.”

C’mon! Really? Can I be a hero because I paid my bills or managed to get out of my pajamas; choking down the terror and resulting paralysis I overcome on a daily basis during the pandemic? No, I think not. We’re all doing it, and by definition, we cannot all be heroes.

A definition of hero is, “a person noted for courageous acts or nobility of character; or who, in the opinion of others, has special achievements, abilities, or personal qualities and is regarded as a role model or ideal.”

The crisis in which we find ourselves has indeed brought forth genuine, true-to-life, tangible heroes, who despite risk, continue to push forward, contributing to the greater good while jeopardizing their own. Among all the mayhem, confusion, and anxiety of these days, I felt it an honor, as well as appropriate, to call them out. [Read more…]

Getting Though It – What Will the Future Be?

March 18, 2020 By Scott "Q" Marcus

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Last week, I forecast that within a week the 1,000 United States COVID cases and the 120,000 international cases would seem nostalgic.

Sadly, they are; everyone saw that coming. I’m not a soothsayer. Oh-so-seven days ago, states were floating the concept of limiting gatherings to 250-500 people. How quaint is that? Seniors were outside; the Bay Area was bustling; coffee shops, diners, and bars were open for business.

Oh, what a difference makes one week.

Currently the U.S. now has 7,668 cases with 117 deaths. The world count has risen to 212,799 with 8,787 people succumbing. It is recommended that those of us 65+ “self-isolate,” a term utterly unknown but a few weeks past. Recommendations are that we limit crowds to fewer than ten. Pubs, restaurants and eateries are shuttered. The markets are off approximately 35 percent from their highs, companies are failing, average people — like you and me — are without income. San Francisco is closed. Hospital ships are being sent to New York and the West Coast.

Four to five days from now, this might read like sentimental history.

I am case-closed certain that I am not the only person who feels like he or she has been transported into a sci-fi, environmental, economic, post-apocalyptic, end-of-times, action-adventure movie for which I did not audition; nor did I have any interest in being cast. Certainly, soon, the credits will roll, house lights will come up, and we can rise from our seats and leave the theater; a great idea if movie houses were even open for business.

If someone would have written this as a plot for a movie, it wouldn’t have been green-lit. No one would believe it.

Nonetheless, here we are. There’s no sugar coating it; things appear dire.

So, now that I’ve harshed your mellow, let’s look at where we go from here.

Recently, I heard an eloquent, simple analysis of how we react. It went approximately like this: Something happens; we create a story about its meaning; that story in turn creates our reality, and therefore what we believe is possible or not. In effect, “What we say to ourselves determines what we do to ourselves.”

Don’t misinterpret; this is scary stuff. Real lives are being affected. Some people will not survive, others will suffer long term economic and physical damage. Thinking positively and placing our hands on our chests, closing our eyes, and chanting “Om”, will not eradicate the virus nor heal the economy.

Yet, while we gingerly, one-step-in-front of the other, shakily traverse the swaying rope bridge from what was to what will be, it is essential we keep first and foremost the notion that we will emerge from this fiery, molten, hellscape. The terrain in which we will find ourselves will be shaped by how we think now, today, as we struggle to endure. We need to examine the thoughts and beliefs — in effect, the stories — we are telling ourselves; if we are going to find our way to a better place.

To that end, some thoughts to remember.

[Read more…]

This is Our Life

February 20, 2020 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Right now, where are you as you’re reading this?

Are you on-line, looking for something to share with friends on your social media stream? Are you leaning over a kitchen counter, using the newspaper as a distraction while you hastily throw food into your belly while on a break between chores? Are you in the employee lounge at work scanning the newspaper that a co-worker abandoned on a table, and you came across this piece? Or maybe, sitting with a cup of coffee on the couch on a Sunday morning is part of your regular routine?

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, stop for a moment and absorb what’s happening around you (don’t worry I’ll be here when you return). Stand or sit up straight, adjust your posture so your shoulders are back, your head is held high, and your chest expands. Then, take a deep, deep, deep breath and then slowly let it out, releasing any tension you might or might not even realize you’re holding.

Cease all the hub-bub, self-flagellation, to-do lists, and mental noise for just a smidge of an instant and give to yourself the gift of simply “being.”

This moment, in this place, at this time, is your life. It is not lamenting dreams you didn’t accomplish or plans for the future. It is not an inventory of promises unfulfilled. It is not how much – or how little – money is in your account. It is a parade of ephemeral, fleeting moments passing into history, an everlasting mental train of thoughts and observations traveling from today to yesterday.

THIS moment — this NOW — is your life.

What prompted me to wax so philosophically (aside from the fact that I’m incredibly philosophical, insightful, introspective man, of course) started unexpectedly enough, when our washing machine exploded.

Don’t picture a Michael Bay movie; my wife and I leaping to safety in a slo-mo scene as flames burst forth from the Maytag behind us. It was a whimper more than a bang. The valve that’s supposed to stop the tub from overflowing called it quits and opted to not shut off when it was supposed to. Resultingly, upon returning from changing into pajamas, I discovered our kitchen, utility room, and my wife’s studio, were flooded. [Read more…]

Powerless

October 30, 2019 By Scott "Q" Marcus

November, as we know, is the eleventh month of the year.

It doesn’t take a Fulbright Scholar to know that. Its name (derived from Latin “Novem” meaning “nine”) carried over from the Calendar of Romulus (c 750 BC) when it was indeed the ninth of the ten months in that calendar. (As a side note, January and February were added to the calendar about 300 years later, giving us our present twelve-month calendar.)

A few factoids about the now-eleventh month of the year:

World Kindness Day is celebrated annually on the 13^th. On this day, participants attempt to make the world a better place by celebrating and promoting good deeds and pledging acts of kindness, either as individuals or as organizations.
November also is the home to several “awareness campaigns” including Lung Cancer Awareness Month, Transgender Awareness Month, Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month, Military Family Month, National Adoption Month, COP Awareness Month – and many more.
If you’re tired of seriousness, Blasé Day (really) is celebrated annually on the 25th of the month. On this day we have permission to be blasé’ toward just about anything. To celebrate, it is suggested we yawn, feel “meh” and tune out; posting our actions on social media – but only if we feel like it.

Of course, most of us associate this month with Thanksgiving and gratitude — which I’ll admit has been difficult to feel when, for the last few weeks, our power has been cycling on and off like a strobe light at a rave.

If you don’t live in California, and are therefore not aware of this phenomenon, PG&E, the energy supplier for large swaths of the state, has been “de-energizing” vast portions of their electricity delivery-system as an attempt to minimize fire danger caused by the hot, dry weather and strong winds besieging the (not-so) golden state via what are known as “public safety power shutoffs” or “PSPSs”. The logic is if there isn’t electricity flowing through the power lines, should one be toppled by the gale force winds in a tinder-box parched region, it cannot start a fire. However, if one has listened to the news of late, one knows that California is ablaze from one end to the other. That’s not necessarily the fault of PG&E, but obviously, something more needs to be done.

Whose fault is whose is of little consolation to my inner child when he’s sitting in a light-less household sans heat, worried about food going bad in a lifeless refrigerator and anxious about how to make a living when he doesn’t have electricity.

“Someone needs to do something!” I yell with righteous indignation at no one in particular. “This is horribly unfair! How are we supposed to live like this?”

Granted the anger and frustration are legitimate. After all, this is 2019, not 1819.

[Read more…]

Thank you for the money tree.

April 3, 2019 By Scott "Q" Marcus

Editors note: This column is a follow up to a previous column, that is worth reading first.

I’ve thought regularly that if the low-life individuals relentlessly attempting to scam us out of our hard-earned income took a few moments and focused on how they might improve society, not only would the world be a better place, but they would perhaps be wealthier.

After all, an individual in a dark boiler room, chained to a desk, deceiving people on the phone can’t be a) very happy, nor b) very wealthy. What a miserable life!

Yet, that’s as much sympathy as I can muster for the scumbags who besiege us with a non-stop waterfall of scam phone calls intent on swindling us into purchasing credit card protection, extended auto insurance, or — now that I’m a certain age — Medicare options. It’s become so prevalent that I don’t answer my phone; assuming – that if the call is legit – the caller will leave voice mail and I will return the call at my leisure.

Anyway, I doubt my experience differs much from yours. I receive – no exaggeration – between ten and 15 rip-off calls every day. So, when the phone rang, I was loath to pick up. Yes, it showed a local number with a person’s name but I’ve been Charlie Brown to that football too many times. Yet, something inside me said, “Answer it.”

I’m glad I did.

“Hello. This is Scott,” I said as I activated the speakerphone, poised to shut it off immediately upon hearing a south-Asian accent telling me that my computer is infecting the internet. Rather, I heard an elderly woman’s voice crack through the speaker.

“I read your column in the paper,” she said, “I have a gift for you.”

I stumbled, “Um, well, thank you. That’s very nice. Who is this please?”

She admitted to being private and didn’t want to disclose her full name. As much as she deserves credit for what you’re about to read, I’ll honor that, and will simply refer to her as “Ruth.” (Which was the name of my mother, who would have been the same age as is she.)

Said “Ruth”, “I’m 95 and I I’m blind so I can’t drive. Could you come by my house so I can give it to you?”

Truth be known, although I’ve written this column for almost 15 years, never before had anyone invited me to their house in order to bestow presents upon me. I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“What is it you want to give me?” I asked.

“I don’t want to tell you,” and then added, almost as afterthought. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I’ll own up to lots of irrational fears, but being bludgeoned by a sight-impaired house-bound nonagenarian who’s a fan of my writing isn’t even on the list. It put things in perspective. “Not a problem; where do you live?” [Read more…]