Once Upon A Time...

Take me to a land of fairy tales and castles and kings and princesses being carried away by their prince charmings. Let me have my childhood dreams vicariously through the real life persons of the very photogenic, very proper Wills & Kate. If nothing else, let me replace my heartache for the loss of an iconic princess who was raised to sainthood from trial and tribulation by the petty paparazzi, the entanglements of royal politics and ultimately erased from existence by the shadow government forces at large.

Am I setting myself up for more disappointment by allowing my heart to be carried away by this continuing saga? Why do I feel an overwhelming sense of trepidation for both the young royal and royal to be? Am I too attached to a wish-dream that they might find love with one another and live happily ever after? Why am I holding my breath?

I am finding myself becoming invested in the hopes and good wishes for these beautiful people. I am captivated once again by the pending pomp and circumstance, anxious to witness history in the making and all the trappings that go along with such a grand affair. The commonwealth will gain a tremendous boost in revenue and that makes me happy. Yet I still can’t quite put my finger on my feeling so ill at ease. You know the little voices that whisper in your ear that you try so hard to brush away?

Perhaps it is partly due to the fact that the entire world at this time feels like it is teetering on the brink and just trying to make it through one day at a time. This tends to preclude making plans. When I have gainful employment, I notice I am not as sensitive to “life” as it goes on around me, but when I am not so fortunate as to be able to make a living wage to survive, I find myself intensely aware of all that I cannot contribute. I suppose thinking in terms of the haves as a have not, I don’t have sweet dreams when thinking about happily ever after.

I am not so sure the rest of the world is, either. I am aware that President Obama just made a multi-million dollar foreign trip to rally the world political forces to help the U.S. get out of its own quagmire, which proved to be as dubious as the challenges that face us in the U.S. The lukewarm response of national entities tells me we are just not there yet. This government has just not done the fundamental work to earn a resounding YES vote. Is this a harbinger of the 2012 election year?

All this tends to make me question whether or not it is time to celebrate. In these very lean times, it’s hard to watch Oprah and learn about the U.S. servicewoman returning from the war living on the street followed by such commercially ostentatious displays of massive wealth being showered on a random audience. I guess this veteran is not one of Oprah's favorite things. I feel juxtaposed and embarrassed and I am just a viewer.

I suspect my hesitance to enjoy the good news comes from knowing the same forces that have led us down the garden path of economical destruction are the ones that hold the destinies of such high nobles as a potential king and his queen. I am watching as I extend an arm before me gesturing, “No, don’t take the car! You’ll kill yourself!,” again. It just doesn’t feel safe. It hasn’t for a very long time. 

The uneasiness of things-gone-wrong is a downbeat as annoying as the mariachi music that bleeds through my apartment wall from the man next door with such regularity. I keep hearing myself say, “Learn to live with it.” I lament that so much of what I have had to learn to live with has watered down the quality of my life so to the point that I just don’t recognize myself anymore.

I remember a time when I was willing to stand up and defy what was apparently taking my sense of liberty away. I remember when patrolmen actually used to patrol. Even they have opted for cameras and staying in their cars to keep from being shot in the chest for a simple traffic violation. What we have become is what keeps me from watching the royal fairy tale unfold before my jaded eyes with any sense of joy and happiness. I am overwhelmed by fear and caution. I think I’ll make myself a cuppa.

TSA – Not For the Faint of Heart

There seems to be a lot of flap about the newly imposed airport screening techniques used by the TSA, presumably for our collective benefit. I have been following the tweets and finding quite a few opinions. Then I sat back and began to reflect on how things used to be and what they have come to now.

I remember as a kid going to our local airport to visit dad as he worked as security there. We got a big kick out of standing right there on the tarmac as the jets were revving up and I loved how intensely loud they were, the thrill of feeling those engines roar right inside my ribcage.

The passengers would file out in line walking to the plane climbing a ladder to board. I enjoyed jaunts from Southern California to San Francisco and I fell I love with the whole experience of flying. That flight was short enough but still allowed for some special treatment from the stewardesses offering refreshments. I felt like royalty. Friends would meet me at the gate (they originally called them gates because you actually came through a gate).

As time went by, I had watched how Orange County Airport went from a shack and a strip to the modern, all-covered, multi-leveled John Wayne Airport. It was fun in the old days when we could go into the hangar to see the famous star’s plane with the signature True Grit eye-patch adorning the tail.

Such freedoms are long gone. At first, it was the metal detector, and then the x-ray, then we had to start removing items of clothing. I find I am sanctioned inside a terminal where I can no longer see the planes, save for a glimpse of the nose as it docks for disembarking and preparing for the next flight. It all seems so clinical.

Fast forward to today. I have just seen images of body scans on television with reporters claiming they are not as secure as we have been lead to believe. While listening to the radio this morning I heard that there are further visuals of things so personal that I dare not even mention them here, but they can be seen on the internet.

There are mothers defending their children’s right to be exempt from such probing and searching. This sense of criminalization is intense. Being one of great shyness and miles away from any attempt to do anything that would remotely resemble an infraction, I am not surprised by the uproar.

There are those sympathizing with the TSA employees and offering it is not their fault, either. When folks argue that military personnel are accustomed to the treatment, I have to ask, are we citizens supposed to accept the same treatment when we are paying so much money for the privilege to fly to our chosen destinations? What about the injustice of planes held on the tarmac in excess of eight hours for delays in order to avoid the painstaking process of rescreening everyone should they leave their planted spots on the plane? This is more like unlawful detention to me.

All in all, I find myself no longer desirous of flying anywhere, just looking back fondly on the old days and marveling at the apparent erosion of our freedoms. The wanton needs of the few have outweighed the freedoms of the many. What have we lost in the bargain? Are we safer in this era of terrorism? Gosh, I am afraid just to type the very word.