Friday, July 23, 2021

How to Tether to an O-2 Tank

About 4:30 this morning, I was lying awake when I heard a sound distressing to my nurse’s ears.  Our bedroom is at the back of our apartment.  The window was open a bit and faces the driveway of an adjacent apartment building.  The sound I heard was a man coughing, but not just any cough.  The cough exhibited the telltale sound of constricted airways.  I wondered if he was having an asthma attack.  I thought perhaps he was on the way to his car, but there was never the sound of a car door, and the concerning cough continued.


Eventually I got out of bed and peeked under the shade.  A man was standing on the small back porch of the building behind our apartment complex.  I watched for only a few seconds when I saw the flash of a lighter being used.  He was smoking.  Ah!  That was the explanation for the horrible cough.


I wanted to shout out the window…”Oh, please, mister.  Stop smoking!  Don’t you know you are already showing signs of COPD?  You will soon be tethered to an oxygen tank.”  But it was 4:30 AM, and I wasn’t sure who else I might awaken in our complex.  I was certain one of those disturbed would be my husband.  I also was fairly certain the guy wouldn’t think I was the voice of God or an angel giving him a message not to be ignored.  I was just a busybody old woman peeking out of her bedroom window.


I went back to bed thinking about the whole notion of smoking.  I grew up in a family with many smokers.  My paternal grandfather smoked cigars and died at 69.  My Dad smoked cigarettes until I was about 7 years old.  He quit and living to be almost 91.  My maternal grandfather smoked and died at 65.  My mother’s three brothers smoked and died at 50, 61 and 70.  Two of her brother’s wives smoked.  I am uncertain how old they were when their health deteriorated.  But, there certainly was a pattern in our family between smoking and not living to a ripe old age.


I saw so much smoking when I was little, that it is somewhat attractive to me.  The whole notion of having something in one’s mouth and manipulating the cigarette is something I can almost feel myself doing.  I certainly “smoked” candy cigarettes as a child and imitated the motions I had seen.  I have, however, never tried a single cigarette in my life.


I wonder if no one has worked on the idea of developing a cigarette than is pleasant to inhale, but which also delivers medication to open airways without filling the lungs with black goo.


Things to ponder when awake at night.



Monday, July 12, 2021

KTS Dre is Dead

KTS Dre is dead.  I had not heard of him before his name appeared in the news today.  He was released from Cook County Jail wearing an ankle monitor, and immediately gunned down in the street.  He was shot about 60 times.


KTS Dre was a rapper known in the Chicago area.  He probably had ambitions of being known more widely.  I guess now he is.  I wondered what KTS stood for, so I went internet searching.  KTS is a gang acronym for Kill To Survive…only he didn’t…survive, that is.  I suppose his murder was related to gang affiliation.


It makes me incredibly sad that there are young people in this world who have no hope, who see no future.  Their minds are filled with the chaotic noise of despair. They never make the connection between education, honest work, and success. They are looking for shortcuts to fortune and fame.  Do they really believe that one must kill or be killed?  That taking another’s life is the only way to guarantee one’s own survival.


 I wonder…did he grow up without a father?  Did he have a single mom who struggled and brought him up in poverty?  Did he see no way out?  Did he never hear the name of Jesus as anything other than a curse word?  Did he never have the opportunity to know Jesus and the freedom that relationship brings?  Was he unable to make wise choices…too overwhelmed by the tyranny of surviving in the moment to see the big picture?  Who taught him that KTS was an appropriate mantra?


How does one break the awful cycle of poverty, despair and violence?  The BLM movement is not going to accomplish it.  Regular infusion of money from the government is not going to accomplish it.  Free housing, education, and healthcare are not going to accomplish it.  The problem is in the heart of mankind. But fewer and fewer people believe that, and those of us who do are labeled as lunatic fringe.  I am not saying that we should abandon programs which meet human need.  I am saying that they do not touch the greater need of finding meaning and purpose in life.


I wish this young man had had a moment of mental clarity, had seen the possibility of being set free, had known Jesus.  He was busy wasting his life, but He was a black life that mattered to Jesus.



Sunday, July 11, 2021

The Underboob???

I could never be accused of keeping up with the latest fashion trends, but I am surprised that I am just now hearing of something which has apparently been around for months, if not years.  Evidently it is popular with fashionistas, participants in sexy reality television shows, and, of course, the Kardashians.  It is called the “underboob.”


The idea is for someone who has perky boobs that stay mostly in place to display the underside below the nipple.  Allowing the upper boob to bulge out above one’s bra has been in vogue for centuries, but the underboob has come into view (pun intended) more recently.


Clearly this is for the young…very young…who are endowed adequately, but not overly.  I’m pretty sure it would not be deemed attractive for sagging double or triple Ds.  Underboob does NOT mean they sag so low that they can be tucked “under” the waistband of one’s slacks.  They must still stay within the normal vertical range of a boob, but they are allowed to peek out below a crop top or bulge out of the bottom of a bra-like top or band of fabric.  I assume if one goes for the crop-top peek, one must be careful not to raise one’s arms too high lest the underboob become an entire-boob exposure.


There are actually bras and bikini tops for sale that advertise they are intended to show underboob.  I probably live a sheltered life, but I haven’t seen one of these in public yet. If I do, I will be tempted to offer advice on how to find a bra that fits well and is comfortable.  I have spent years in that pursuit.  Clearly, they are not meant for comfort.  If combined with a thong, it would be double torture.  Having had the experience of an ill-fitting bra that allowed some sneakage below the band, I can testify that this is not pleasant.  Why someone would do this on purpose is beyond me.


But then, the older I get, the more that is beyond me.