Sure, I’d vote for Ron Paul. I don’t say he’s the greatest, but a whole lot better than the rest. His track record is the whole point. Every other good guy/gal we’ve sent to Washington always broke from their promises to do good stuff. Every one of them.
There aren’t that many Ron Pauls to go around.
So we assume everyone going into office is corrupt. Things would make a lot more sense if we started from that position. Instead of lying to us about what they’re going to do, if we could just come clean, be honest about the corruption, I’d be a lot more likely to play along.
Even the Zionists in our government are dishonest. Their supporters are pretty honest in telling you their agenda — everything for Israel and America be damned. We understand that. But the politicians who carry out this agenda aren’t even honest about that. They always charge a high fee by way of corruption to do it. They aren’t the true believers all of their supporters appear to be.
People get involved in government because they want the extra leverage to enrich themselves. You know it; I know it. They know it and lie about it, and we agree to believe them. What I want is not a stack of Ron Paul types, because I know they will never exist. What I want is a chance to see open dealing, for a politician to tell you where and how they plan to tap that vast stream of revenue. Not the amounts; that’s just a variable about which we’d simply have more lies. Just tell us what your special interests are, whom you favor. Then, carry out your contracts. Just be ethical enough to execute your own corruption honestly.
If just a tiny minority of politicians began doing this, I’d go register to vote. Taking graft is something we should expect, and stop fussing about all that Orwellian talk of “good and honest government.” Good moral people would never allow themselves to be railroaded into government such as we have now. So everyone in government is a crook already, or they wouldn’t be interested. All it would take is just a few being honest about this and I would willingly participate in elections again.
Until then, there really is no point. It’s all fixed at some level, and your vote means less than nothing. You pay extra for the privilege of being raped.
They spent a few moments on the porch exploring the concept of letting her skin tell her she didn’t need the coat.
“When people work outside a lot, their bodies adapt by doing a better job of both warming and cooling as needed. It’s just a bit chilly this morning, but I won’t wear long sleeves because I’ll be warm enough once I start working. You can decide for yourself, but you have to take the time to notice how your body feels. You can learn to anticipate how it will respond to things you’ll do later.”
She left the coat in the cabin as they began climbing the hill into the woods. He began explaining the concept of ego boundaries. Quickly outlining normal human development, he started with infants who have no ego boundaries. “For newborns, when they are hungry, the whole universe is hungry. Parents are just an extension of their desires.” Then he described the normal process of development, the awareness of self, and others as separate. Most people are aware they cannot force others to perform their wishes, because other people have their own will.
Arriving at the last place he worked, he pulled the small tarp open and took out the double-handled saw. The first thing he did was take her to a rather large broken treetop, something that fell in last winters’ heavy winds. He explained how some things required coordination between two people. He showed her the saw could do more work if she was on the other end, pushing while he was pulling, and vice versa. Yet, even he was surprised how much more was accomplished once she got the hang of it.
They worked through the morning, stopping to rest from time to time. An hour short of lunch time she was sweating just a bit, and they had already drained the water jug he had brought. They stopped to rest at the wood pile, which stood at the top of a rise some ways behind the cabin. He heard the sound of an approaching vehicle, not the old man’s tractor. It was an old car pulling a rather large trailer.
He waved at the driver, then commented to Lana, “People can’t see your smile from a distance, so we wave to welcome them into our presence.” She tentatively raised one hand, then dropped it again. She stood silently in place while Thomas went to greet an unusually animated old fellow driving the rig. That is, he was somewhat more subdued than Thomas, and smiled a good bit more than most Finns. He owned one of the cafes in town, and chatted about how slow it was this summer.
Tom helped him load up as much wood as they dared in the trailer. He waved again as the car braked hard to control the descent back down the long gravel drive toward the main road. He found Lana sitting on one of the logs. “Ready for lunch?”
She nodded her head and he reached out his hand to help her up. She paused, looking at it. “It’s both to help you and to touch you as a friend.”
“Friend,” she repeated with just a hint of a smile, and took his hand. She continued holding it for a few meters as they walked.
He sang an old hymn about friendship all the way back down to the cabin. Near the end, she began faintly echoing the chorus with him. After lunch, he realized her help was making the food disappear a little faster. Time to visit the village, but not just for food.
Thomas coudn’t gauge what a slow season would look like, but the village was neither bustling nor sleepy. Most businesses offered multiple services. Even the old Lutheran chapel was actually more of a community center. There was no resident pastor, though at times one would visit there on his vacation and perform a few simple services. During most of the year, a deacon would visit monthly for standard social services. There was only a part time secretary living in what would have been the rectory attached to the chapel.
Sometime in the past, when people cleaned their holiday rental spaces at the end of the season, finding random pieces of clothing and the like, they duly turned them in to the mayor. The stuff collected in a closet of the chapel because there was no other place for a lost and found. Nobody ever came looking for anything. When the current secretary was hired, being a hard core neatnik, she organized the closet, and quickly began using it for charitable purposes. Tom heard about this and was hoping to bolster Lana’s wardrobe beyond a single outfit.
But he was just a bit nervous, wondering if he would encounter any resistance to getting Lana help. If she had worn out her welcome in the village, it might be a little difficult. He was hoping his own good relations would overshadow things. As it was, the secretary either hadn’t encountered Lana, or pretended so, and took her in charge, rifling the closet for usable clothing which might fit her. At least Lana was being more verbal than she might have in the past, so things proceeded in Finnish while he waited. Eventually Lana came out with a couple of bags filled with clothing. On her feet were like-new trainers and frilly socks which matched. He decided to let her carry her clothes for now as he thanked the secretary. At the door, he thought to ask about underwear, and was told the little variety shop had some.
Making sure Lana could tell him what sizes she wore, that was the next stop. He picked up a few other items, as well, including a cheap day pack and some reusable shopping bags. Then they crossed over into the grocery section. By the time they left, his pack was loaded and both of them were carrying the garishly colorful shopping bags. If anyone was uncomfortable with Lana’s presence, he never detected it.
As they lugged this baggage back up the road toward the cabin, Thomas turned and asked, “Do you think you’ll be staying with me a while?”
Apparently she hadn’t thought along these lines at all. Finally, she said, “Don’t send me away.”
He stopped and turned to face her. She halted with him. “In the hospital, you were just an object among many which justified keeping the place open. You weren’t a person. When you left, you didn’t know how to reclaim what the hospital had taken from you. Out here in the world, you have to stop acting like an object. You have to be a person, or you’ll always have trouble and pain. The hardest thing is not living with abuse, as you already know. Once you figure out who you are, the hardest part is dealing with other people who don’t abuse you, but don’t care, either. You have to give them a chance to care, perhaps taking as much as they are willing to offer.”
It was not staring, but she gazed intently at him. He continued, “I’m not your custodian. I’m your friend. I don’t have to take care of you, but I want to. Maybe we can be more than friends someday, but right now that’s a lot for you. As long as you don’t do anything to hurt me, make me feel sad, I want you to be with me. But more than that, I want you to find your self.”
As they resumed walking, he turned his head and added, “I hope you believe I am the one person you can trust right now, because I don’t intend to hurt you, or let anyone else hurt you.”
When they got back to the cabin, he helped her organize her things while pointedly refusing to make too many decisions for her. He took some of the shopping bags for temporary storage of his stuff so she could have her own space on her side of the bed.
Finns were not particularly demonstrative, so he wasn’t sure if it was something she saw, or where it came from. After going down to start dinner preparations, there was a moment she came up beside him. He didn’t look directly at her, and after waiting a bit, she said his name. “Thomas.”
He stopped what he was doing and turned to face her. In his mind, it was a big moment simply that she would call his name to initiate contact on her own. How big the moment, he would not have guessed.
Looking down into her upturned face, he saw clearly the liquid pooling on her lower eyelids. She reached out her hands, not quite touching his shoulders. “Hug me,” she said simply. He complied, taking her in his arms gently, letting her decide how it should happen. It was clumsy, slightly stiff, but it was a start. They held each other for a while. The rest of the evening passed as if in another world.
In the middle of the night, he awoke on his back. Lana lay on her side in relaxed slumber facing him, her arm across his midriff. What woke him was what he felt sure was a familiar, audible voice. It was attached to a vivid memory of his Osage friend, walking away into a glowing cloud, turning just enough to speak a couple of words. “Farewell, Thomas. You are home now!”
After awhile, he faded back off to sleep, never to see that face again in his dreams.