Grudges and Humidity

I hold grudges. Not purposely, mind you. I believe it’s an aspect of my hardwired survival instincts. If I remember what you did to hurt or offend me (or tried to do), I’m able to guard myself from future potential assaults/abuse. Sometimes that means going no contact. I don’t do that easily, cavalierly—it’s only done when I’ve been given no other reasonable choice.

To paraphrase Ricky Nelson:

It's all right
I’ve learned my lessons well
You see, you can't please everyone
So you got to please yourself

Jen is currently on her way to visit her favorite aunt. Jen’s mother (who is Aunt Betty’s sister), Jen's sister Erin and Erin’s son are all making the trip. This is an annual excursion and is always done in summer. Why am I underscoring the season? Aunt Betty lives in the Deep South. It’s motherfucking hot and humid as Hades down there. Hell's bells, it’s too hot for me down there in January!

I’ve a confession and, if you’ve been reading the blog for awhile, this likely will come as no surprise—I don’t view the Deep South favorably. This is rooted, primarily, in watching the news while growing up in the ‘60s. Yes, I’m fully aware that the North wasn’t and isn’t a bastion of peace, harmony and decency but, Jesus lunch-counter Christ, the news, the images Walter Cronkite brought to elementary-school me were horrifying.

I can’t UNhear my mother, commenting in a previously never heard imperious, scornful tone, ‘the South is uncivilized.’ I understood her to mean that it was scary as all hell and definitely not safe. This was underscored by the fact that, while we lived in a lot of different states as my father sought a tenure track gig, we never crossed the Mason Dixon line. Ever. Hell, we never even went to southern New Jersey and we lived in the northern parts for more than five years.

Even now as an adult, though I’m fully aware there are decent, not racist Democrats and other lefties living there, when I think of the Deep South, what comes to mind are rabid, mentally unstable, hate propelled MAGAts—the 21st century KKK. It feels like, especially with the dearth of responsible gun regulation and Cheato’s endless racist bullshit spewing, like crazy carnage, horrific tragedy and unspeakable sorrow are never more than a heartbeat away.

As of March 7th, 2024, in the state Jen and fam are visiting, open carry as well as concealed carry is legal without a permit to anyone 18 years of age or older. It's perfectly peachy-keen legal there for folks with the mental maturity of a kumquat to buy and openly tote around weapons of war. Also, a permit, background check and firearms registration are NOT needed when purchasing a penis substitute from randos off the street or your preferred, official death merchant. Hey, what could go wrong?

So, I don’t take vacations in this part of the country, just as, were I to travel solo again, I'd avoid visiting Russia, South Africa, Brazil, Alaska, Tennessee, Arkansas, Mexico and Iran.

I just sent Jen a bon voyage text and reminded her that, when she lands in the South, she can legally refuse to accept the gun they issue her. Yes, especially given the current political climate, I'm worried about them (and seem to have a grudge against the South)..

You don't have to live next to me
Just give me my equality
Everybody knows about Mississippi
Everybody knows about Alabama
Everybody knows about Mississippi, goddamn

That's it!
~ Nina Simone, Mississippi Goddam

He was my brother
Five years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three years old the day he died

Freedom rider
They cursed my brother to his face
Go home, outsider
This town's gonna be your buryin' place
~ Paul Simon, He Was My Brother

There been times that I thought
I couldn't last for long
But now, I think I'm able
To carry on
It's been a long
A long time coming, but I know
A change gon' come
Oh yes, it will
~ Sam Cooke, A Change Is Gonna Come

It is certain, in any case, that ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.
~ James Baldwin, No Name in the Street