20160427 (scare tactics)

For some drought. For some flood. For many war. Tell the truth about climate change.

“Isn’t it too late to talk about

Saving the world from severe

Climate change?” I asked David 

Beach of Green City/Blue

Lake, a local advocacy group

Newly affiliated with the Natural

History Museum. “Considering

The feedback loops that have 

Been set in motion, the likelihood

The Paris goals will not be met,

That fossil fuels will continue

To be used in even greater amounts

Now that the U. S. has become a

Leader in production through

Fracking, and driven the price of

Oil down to where it again

Competes with eco-power?”

I’m not sure Mr. Beach was 

Ready for an hour of hardballs

From a church group. I have 

Been assiduously following

The progress and setbacks in

The change to eco-power and

I wasn’t going to back down.

I didn’t want to attend another 

Church presentation about

Recycling, changing to more

Efficient lighting, and better

Insulation. More so when as I 

Stated, “Now is the time to 

Be in the streets with pitchforks 

And torches--no, they’re fossil

Fuels--demanding a complete

Cessation for power sources

That poison to our climate,

Threaten destruction of our farms,

And will soon be the leading

Cause of wars among nations

Who will face total submersion

By rising sea levels.” Actually the

War in Syria can be considered

The first such eco-war as it 

Has arisen from people driven

From formerly arable lands.

I knew several of the congregants

Thought I was again off on a 

Quixotic toot painting so grim

A picture. Tough for them. I’ve

Got a conscience and confidence

That my convictions are grounded

In facts. This was church—where

We speak the truth with courage,

Where we hear with hope, where

We bear our burdens as the family

Of God. No time to pussyfoot and

Fear we are dispiriting the masses

By sharing knowledge. One lady 

Raised the issue of the psychology

Of the problem. I took the opportunity

To compare it to an alcoholic’s. At 

First there is only the easy rewarding

Indulgence; the day of reckoning does

Not affect us because it is so far off

However threatening it may be. Then

When we have finally hit bottom

Where the rewards are no longer

Alluring and disaster looms in 

Full force ahead—only then

Might we find change possible. 

My contention is that future then 

(Now) is too late. It is moral

To scream in anguish when the

Skies are still blue, when the 

Waves at the shore are lapping 

Only at our ankles, not our hips,

And our fields get enough rain

To produce crops, and the locusts

Have not consumed all the seed.

c, J.S.Manista, 2016

20160426 (better living through chemistry)

Could lithium have helped Adam Lanza? Or maybe just good psychiatric care available to all? The mother of "I am Adam
Lanza's mother" got her child help but only after her blog went viral.

Sunday morning, headed to church

On the Shoreway, I was listening to

The TED Radio Hour and heard an

NPR staff reporter, Jessica, interview

Liza Long, a single mother of

Four in Boise, Idaho, whose blog

Post the day of the Newtown massacre

Was titled, “I am Adam Lanza’s

Mother,” which went viral and

Has been read by millions. She

Of course was not Adam Lanza’s

Mother but went on to write 

Her middle school age son Eric

Walton, suffered periodic rages 

So like those reported of Adam

Lanza, she cried out for help.

Despite numerous referrals his

Problems evaded diagnosis and

Cure. She told how many times

His rage threatened her life,

That of her children, and Eric’s

Itself. When school counselors

Were of no avail, he was placed

In juvenile detention four times

Again without relief. Physicians

Diagnosed widely and  prescribed

All manner of drugs, but nothing

Worked. She scoured the thousands

Of emails for hopeful news and

Found one person responding to

Her blog who kept trying for her 

Attention. This person led her

To Dr. Demitri Papalos of the

Juvenile Bipolar Research 

Foundation in New York 

Who made the right

Diagnosis and administered

The effective medicine. Since

That time Eric reports he has

Had no rages of the sort that

Interrupted his and his family’s

Life so many times for so many

Years. He has blossomed in the

Intervening years, has given a

TED talk urging people not

To give up hope for those with

Mental illness. This experience

(And I urge you to hear it—link

Below) so moved me in that it

Presented a clear way to help

Others, like Eric, who could

Possibly be saved from becoming

Mass murderers. I had a similar 

Story with one of my children 

Whose plunges into depression

Eventuated to his suicide. We also

Had run the gamut of social workers,

Counselors, psychologists,

Psychiatrists, during his

School years. I remember writing

An article in 1958 for my high 

School newspaper reporting

Successes doctors were having

With all sorts of psychotic 

Disorders. I stressed the cures

Came more by chemicals than

Traditional talk therapy. To some it

Meant the end of those thrillers

Based disorders of the patient 

Undergoing some childhood

Trauma which explained everything

(The Rosebud phenomenon), which

Still occurs for many. But 

Chemistry presented new hope

Of a way out of the wilderness.

If lithium would have kept my

Son from hanging himself,

I’d have been in the forefront

Hollering for it. Whether it 

Would have helped Adam Lanza

No one will know--might help 

The next Adam Lanza.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

*http://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2016/04/24/475461959/how-talking-openly-against-stigma-helped-a-mother-and-son-cope-with-bipolar-diso

20160425 (clarity)

Note the Y and the phone message. Everybody knows what the Y means, right?

User friendly is not obvious to

Everyone, particularly the people

At the Cuyahoga County Jury

Commission. Two weeks ago I 

Received in the mail their notice

That I was to serve for a minimum

Of five days beginning April 25.

The fold-over tear-apart notice 

Bore the full color seals of both

The Court of Common Pleas of

Cuyahoga County and of the

Cleveland Municipal Court

Whose matching stacks of 

Wheat and corn flourish in

The rays of the rising(?) or

Setting (?) sun of some farm

Presumably defying the laws

Of physics as the shadows of

The wheat and corn do not

Flow from the base of either.

That should have been my first

Clue. I read carefully (I thought)

All the directions on the notice,

Set the clock for 6 AM Monday,

Allowed time for the usual duties

To cat, dog, dishes, diabetes,

Drugs, and finally dress, choosing

Comfortable casual slacks, dress

Shirt, subdued floral tie, and

Standard blue blazer lest I get

Chided by some Judge Judy-like

Tyrant for showing up in an

Anti-war tee shirt, shorts, and 

Beach sandals in defiance of 

Traditional courtroom decorum.

I was told to show up at 8 AM

And to which building and office

Of the court system I should 

Report. They did not tell us 

The only entrance I, non-disabled,

Could use was located on the

North side of the building at 

Lakeside—furthest from the

Address entrance listed on

Ontario. They did mention the

Security procedures, x-raying,

Assuring me the devices were

Not hazardous to one’s health—

At least not as hazardous as

Entering the building itself and

Being shot by some irate litigant.

Wheelchaired persons were to call

To arrange special van parking

But were not told they would be

Required to use a door five 

Hundred feet from the regular

Entrance. I guess that’s part 

Of why they told you to call

At least two business days ahead.

I reported to the fourth floor,

Went into what I thought was

The proper door from arrows

Marked on the wall outside

The elevator into a room

Where the clerks bore that

“How’d you get in here? That

Door’s supposed to be locked,” 

Look on their faces. I told them

Good signs would correct such

Deficiencies on our part as

They shooed me in the opposite

Direction. I entered a hallway

Where people were lined up

On either side as far as the eye

Could see. I asked a security

Guard where to go next. “Line

Up alphabetically,” he said, which

I thought odd. I get to break into

The line at the MAs? No, you

Don’t, they bristled, go to the back.

One charitable soul revealed

The secret code: the line on 

My left was for M-Z the right

For A-L. When I got to the end

And turned to face the front

I clearly saw the two signs

Above and remarked that we

Could have avoided a lot of

Inquiry had the signs been

Turned around to face people

As they came in. After a half

Hours crawl to the desk where

Clerks checked us in, my M-Z

Clerk told me I wasn’t even

Supposed to be here as I was

A juror for the Municipal

Court. How was I to know this?

She pointed to a Y appended to

My juror number and told me, 

“The directions [in bold print

I should point out] are you should

Call this number to find out if 

You’re even needed. That’s how 

They do it in Cleveland.” Chagrined

(Or was it Kinsmanned) I

Exited in shame and regret for

Not following directions. Silly

Me, I thought. I called the

Number. I wasn't needed.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016