Death II

 Mom

 

                                    Watered eyes and another sleepless night. On this

day one phrase in the bible is embedded in my mind.

                                    “Jesus wept.” All the lives you left your mark upon,

I feel the way you would.

When you left us your great grandchildren Whitney,

Alex, and Brandon were still preschoolers. At the time

they were too young to understand heaven, hell, and

all that my be in between. Sometimes all I want to do

is cry, then cry some more. Indeed the world is a

lesser place without you.

Mother’s day is officially the worst day of the year.

In a morose way Brooke is very lucky. She was yet to be

born upon your death. Brooke will never cry because

she misses you. Then again she will never know how

truly funny and inspirational you were. You touch many

hearts with words of wisdom and feeling. You made us

laugh time and time again. Tonight and many other

nights your spawn and friends will cry you a river to be evaporated into paradise.

Paradise; the waiting grounds for eternity in the bliss.

The dwelling den of the soulfully rich and heat felt

opulent. Paradise is where your heart beats steady

and your soul Runs free…….                          

Mark N Schurr / Neil Peart

 

 

Dad

 

            Joyful emotions have been swept away by  your

                                    death. Your passing has caused emptiness and

grief to shroud love and laughter today. I embrace

your souls yesterday. Yesterday, a metaphor for

the past. A past in which you thrust your wisdom

upon us. Yesterday your robust presence spawned

a family and instilled a passionate spirit yearning for

a world that ought to be. I remember how we

laughed and drank to Laurel and Hardy. Yesterday

was fantastic. Today’s tears are tomorrow’s laughter.     

Goodbye dad. 

                                                    Mark N Schurr

Farewell Ali, Revisited From January, 2014

Ali was for all intensive purposes my step daughter from the time she was 4-years-old till she was six. I remember the day like it was yesterday when Ali, her neighbor Randi and Randi's younger sister Michaela were with me at the Cedarwood Apartment complex swimming pool early one Saturday afternoon. One of the neighbors asked the girls to quiet down. Really? At 1 p.m., maybe 2 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon, your asking two 5-year-olds and a 4-year-old to be quiet in a public place. Petty stuff indeed. 

Dozens of times over an entire summer I was fortunate to witness little Ali Bear and her two next door neighbor pals laughing and having fun at the tenant swimming pool. Just added to my bucket list, a video camera rolling as me and several little girls are in front of the camera and doing nothing but laughing hysterically. 

From the years 2000-2004 I was a preschool teacher at the YWCA, A Special Place and three months before Ali was 3-years-old, she joined our school. Before she turned 4-years-old she was one of eight children in my group of kids, 'The Brown Bears.' Her smile back then was just as infectious from the above photo. 

The picture below features the two sister Randi and Michaela who used to swim with Ali bear. Their brother Nathan was not even born yet, this picture was taken 2-years after the the summer of laughs.  

Debby was gracious enough to give me Ali's last high school picture, her bracelet and her stuffed bunny rabbit. Obviously, the picture of Ali on the rabbits is not her junior year high school photo.

Again I thank Debby for giving me those things that once belonged to Ali who was a huge part of my life for three years. Suddenly she was gone of all the life's she left her mark upon...





Shrouded in doubt and caught in an onslaught of wondrous despair, left to ponder why for the rest of my life.

In July of 2009, I spent a whole month at Debby and Joe's place in Nevada when Ali was 12-years-old. One day, Ali and I took Irene, (my Saturn) out for a spin with their family dog in one of the many deserts of Nevada. I allowed Ali to drive while I sat in the passenger seat. Her step dad Joe must have taken Ali out driving many times, because she was a very good driver. I was only nervous once when Ali drove the green dragon up a large one lane hill and it dead ended, I taught Ali to make a 'y' turn. At one point I honestly thought the two of us were going to crash down the very steep hill. My inside emotions were frantic, but on the outside, I knew better then to freak her out, so calm (outwardly) 

"Hit the breaks," I said.

She took direction extremely well, was able to back Irene up without taking us down the other side of the hill, and slowly, but surely Ali bear made the 'y' turn and the both of us made it back to civilization unscathed.  Ali told on herself and Debby gave me an ear full for letting Ali drive, and Ali defended me by claiming I was good driving teacher.

"Mark doesn't yell and scare me when I'm driving like you do mom," Ali said.

The selfish side of me sees only the evils in the world; endless political corruption, the realization of only death and taxes, joy dominated by hopelessness and the unrelenting facts that I'll never share a laugh with Ali ever again. Ali's smile was infectious from the first time I saw her when she was just three-years-old.

As a sole entity with no immediate family of my own I sometimes have dark visions of Mother Nature getting so disgusted with the human race, she showers the entire planet with acid rain and meteors the size of mountains until every last human is gone forever. It's my only explanation why people as sweet and lovable as Ali are taken away, so she doesn't have to witness her own death as Mother Nature rids this beautiful planet of money, greed, power and rap music. I'm ashamed to be human right now.

Whew, I've vented some. The above mention of Mother Nature wiping out the entire human race was derived from some of my dark poetry written in the 90s which one of my then friends titled "Dark Mark."

Ali's step dad Joe Wyatt said Ali was looking to harness a scholarship to college playing soccer and that she wanted to be a psychologist in a mental institution. Who knows, If things would have worked out, I just might have been Ali's first patient.

Suicide Kids

Diversity, laughter, love, peace and harmony are often shrouded in the endless realities of prejudice, sorrow, hate and war.

Because large government in any part of the world has no interest in the good will of human kind, the world will never be a place that truly ought to be. World leaders interests are driven on power, keeping it and expanding its powers where ever possible.

Religious and many other extreme fundamentalist who insist on thrusting their beliefs on others are too often funded by large government. I don't know exactly how it works, but it's based on money and the false promise of Heaven, Paradise, Valhalla, Nirvana or any other name for the 'good' after life.

It's evil enough to be a fully grown adult and blow up innocent civilians including women and children along with yourself. Some people do this because they blindly follow their government. Other suicide bombers do it because words in an ancient book dictated how to think, feel and believe. Blinded individuality and wisdom caused by the outdated Bible has lead to the needless slaughter of children as young as six.

Last year Afghan police intercepted 41 children between six and 11-years-old whom insurgents were planning to use as suicide bombers according to the article "Afghan Girl Says She Was Sent on a Suicide Mission" http://www.cnn.com/2014/01/07/world/asia/afghanistan-girl-suicide-mission/index.html by Masou Popalzai and Mariano Castillod written on Jan. 7.

Using children as young as six for suicide bombing in the Middle East has been going on since 2007 according to Mia Bloom and John Horgan's article; "New Terror Weapon: Little Girls?" also written on Jan. 7. http://www.cnn.com/2014/01/07/opinion/bloom-horgan-afghanistan-girl/index.html

Suicide bombers will continue to get younger because it's easier to get children to believe in what is intangible and unrealistic, such as ludicrous afterlife promises. Islamic leaders promise 72 virgins for male suicide bombers.

Muslim scholars claim female martyrs who had multiple husbands on Earth will get to choose the best one in the afterlife. These women will also be beautiful, happy and satisfied to be with only one man eternally. Their husbands affections to them will never stray (aside from 72 virgin women) according to Denise Chow's March, 2010 article "What Does Islamic Faith Promise Martyrs?" http://www.livescience.com/6237-islamic-faith-promise-martyrs.html

The Bible states fornication is wrong, yet many religious zealots using the Bible as a guideline say it's OK to have 72 virgin women as your personal sex slaves if you murder others while killing yourself in the process who simply don't think and believe like you. How Christian like to brain wash and manufacture suicide killing children.

Death

Death can claim anyone at anytime, but it cannot wash away marvelous memories of laughter and love.

Although I had not seen 17-year-old Alondra (Ali) in five years, her delectable presence saturated my soul with sheer happiness for several years. When I was teaching at the YWCA, A Children's Place in the early 2000s, I had the privilege of teaching and caring for her for two years.

Alondra was in many groups during her two years at A Children's Place, including The Green Growing Things, Purple Dinosaurs, Yellow Sunflowers and ended up in my group, the Brown Bears. One specific moment embed itself into the deepest core of my memory bank.

During free play outside, Ali was one of the children seated in the large sand pit with several other children. I was kicking a soccer ball straight up in the air as high as I could and catching it, or at least trying to. One of my kicks was way out of range of catching the ball, but still very high in the air. The soccer ball hit Ali square on the top of the head.

Instead of tears and maybe a bruise on the head, which I expected, she just turned around mildly surprised as if someone had gently tapped her on the shoulder. When I apologized to her she nonchalantly smiled and continued to play with the other children.

Taking Ali and her friend's to the swimming pool at the then apartment complex was always a joy. Laughing preschool eyes and joyous shouts of gratification as she and her friend's constantly got out of the pool to jump back in again always put a smile on my face.

I dated Ali's mother for about a year and half, thus I got to spent a lot of time with her. From the time Ali was 3-6-years-old I was a regular in her life. To this day Debby and I are still friends. I helped Debby and her husband move to Nevada. I just wish I would have visited Debby and Joe a lot more than I did. When Ali was 12-years-old I spent about a month at Debby and Joe's house.

While at Debby and Joe's during that time, I reminded myself of "The Thing That Wouldn't Leave," a 70s Saturday Night Live skit in which John Belushi, portrayed a single man at a married couples house who refused to take a hint and over stayed his welcome.

Debby and Joe seemed to tolerate my presence very well, even capitalizing on it by taking a couple weekend trips to Reno, Nev. leaving me with the kids. Debby's son William was in high school at the time, so he required little if any supervision. Ali and I spent lots of nights watching kid movies including "Matilda," "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants", the Harry Potter movies, and several others.

The most fun I had with Ali at that time was letter her drive Irene, (my green Saturn Vue) in the desert of Fernley, Nev. She was a great driver for any age, let alone being a 12-year-old. Obviously Joe must have taken her out on a lot of drives himself.

Ali gave me one good scare when she got to the top of a steep hill and she had to make a Y-turn because the path was too narrow for a U-turn. As Ali was making the Y-turn, she started to panic and said where going to go off the edge, and I thought the same for a brief moment. Inside I was panicked, but outwardly I was calm and told her to brake, (she did) and put the car in reverse. With my sagacious coaching, she made an excellent Y-turn which had little room for error. An error may have sent us both off the steep hill.

Initially I drove off with Ali and the family dog with strict orders from Debby to not allow her to drive. Ali told on herself when we got back, and Debby gave me an ear full, and I assured Debby that Ali drove great. Debby said Ali scares her when she drives. Ali said to her mom that I was a lot calmer than her as a passenger.

"Mark doesn't yell or scare me like you do mom when I drive," Ali said.

After life or no, heaven or hell, the simple fact remains, even though I haven't seen Ali in half a decade, my life is a lot emptier with her untimely death. The passing of my father in January 2013 also shrouded my soul with gloom and tears, but with his death it was easier to embrace life again. My dad was 90-years-old and the night he died, he was in his bedroom in bed surrounded by most of his children, grandchildren, two of his great grand children and some very loving in laws.

My mom was 72-year-old, falling victim to leukemia in 1994. Yes, her live was too short, but she passed in the same conditions as my father. Days before my mom passed, she was in the hospital and was extremely adamant about wanting to get home and she did. What is really sad about my moms passing is that she never got to meet Brook, her great granddaughter, while my dad at least got to witness Brook getting to high school.

Of course my world would be a lot better with my mom and dad still in it, but in the big picture of life, they truly lived; marriage, witnessing there children becoming adults and to spend quality time with their children, grandchildren and some of their great grand children.

I can't even phantom what Debby is going through. My life is empty right now because of the few years I got to laugh with Ali. Now and forever just as the loss of my parents, Ali's absence without return has thrust an emptiness in my heart that will never return.

...until our final breath while our loving Watchmaker loves us all to death, Neil Peart wrote in 2012.

A Modern Moron Memoir

Wasted youth thrust into the pit of middle age caught in a wonderment of happiness despite having done nothing with my existence.

In my offal youth no adherence to goals or wisdom has landed myself in a void stream, complete with no tangible love, meaning or purpose. My awesome family and friends give me reason to laugh and bask in the entertainment of books, sports, comedy, news and "Rush," my favorite band. I'm still not working steady enough to afford the video equipment I need (want) to film and upload foolish videos I've written.

I'm just a boring old fool who day dreams about vast riches and living alone in a moderate sized RV. Because I completed three years of college (way to late!) doing journalism for a living is no longer in my deck of life. If I was extremely wealthy, I'd spent most of my money on local schools and bringing back the human element into job interviews.

Last year I literally had to compete with 25 other people to be a sole dish washer at Olivers Market. Thank the powers that be for Labor Ready. Pass a drug test and say yes to work; presto, I can pay my bills, because of Labor Ready.

All I want for myself material wise is modern video and still photography equipment, to live in an RV and travel the U.S. for months if not years at a time. Share the occasional weekend with family and friends and this simple soul is set. To spend the evening with a drink and a friend Neil Peart wrote in 1987.

Against doctors orders, I'm making another appointment to donate platelets again. It's been three months since my last donation. My doctor told me not to donate for six months. The blood bank is happy with six donation a year, I've topped more than 14 donations per year since 2010.

I donated plasma more then 60 times in 2010 while living in Utah. Donating depletes your iron, but just slightly. In September my doctor said my iron was low. Due to some cancers and accidents, some peoples life's depend on others blood, plasma and platelets.

I'm way over due for reading again and researching real news stories to write about. I'd write a review of the new "Rush, Clockwork Angels Tour," but I'm way to biased to write an open minded review. In the world of journalism, it's a conflict of interest. I also could never write a review of an Eminem concert. Without seeing a second of footage or hearing a single note from Eminem, my review would start out something like this: The soulless noise and vulgar lyrics displayed how musically retarded(c) rap music really is. I've heard better sounds from a baby banging on pots and pans with a large metal spoon.

If I ever wanted to write an article how a filthy minded second grade boy thinks, reading Eminem lyrics would be the perfect words for the research. If I live to be 2000-years-old and never hear one of  Eminem's vastly uneducated and simple songs, I would be quite content.

Life is short, get a woman (lover) before your 30, stay in shape, get rich, help others and laugh.

The Novella "Evil Eye" Evades Anything Interesting.

 One time best selling author Joyce Carol Oates (“Blonde") latest book is an onslaught of awful stories; four to be exact. 

Wearisome characters in a web of weird terrible tales define 'boring' perfectly in the novella” Evil Eye." The first story and title track, "Evil Eye" is a tiresome tale focusing on three fictional characters. Mariana is the 4th wife for Austin Mohr who is 32 years her senior. Ines Zambranco, Mohr's first wife and her niece Hortensa come to visit Mariana and him.

As the story unravels it is found out that Mohr and Zambranco's infant son Raoul died of crib death; Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Suspicions are aroused that maybe Mohr or Zambranco killed the child. Also at a glance, Mohr is generous, kind and brilliant while working for a film and theater institute. His intense anger at Mariana for simply rearranging some furniture makes one question his kindness.   

Is Mohr a wife beater, a murder? When all is said and done, "Evil Eye" because of its non-existing character development is as entertaining as a spot of darkness in the farthest corner of the cold universe.

The second story, "So Near Anytime Always” is even more colorless and drab than "Evil Eye." This story takes place in Strykerville, N.Y. in 1977. Lizbeth, a not so attractive 16-year-old girl, self proclaimed falls for Desmond, a 21-year-old college student. The two become very close in a plutonic relationship. Like the first yarn, "So Near Anytime Always" has no characters of interest. There is simply no pull to the people in this lame saga. 

Desmond, when he was 14-years-old bludgeoned his sister to death on a canoe asks Lizbeth to go on a canoe ride with him there is absolutely no tension, why? The reason is because when he asks Lizbeth to go on the canoe ride with him; the reader does not know what he did to his sister till later in the story.  

Toward the end of "So Near Anytime Always", one of the two teenagers dies while driving drunk at a high rate of speed, but because it's a poorly written yarn, there is no feeling what so ever, no joy, nor remorse.

The 3rd story, "The Execution" was another disastrous debacle featuring idiotic beings living in Lameville, USA. Incidentally, that is not the name of the town in Oates story, but it might has well been. 

"The Execution" is a bizarre tale of a college aged rich kid named Bart who clings to his mother the way a preschooler might. Oates manages to bore the reader with drugs, alcohol use and a brutal axe murder. It was simply a twisted tale of love between a mother and grown son. Thank all the powers that be, the two were never lovers, because of this, the novella receives a one star rating instead of zero. 

The last story, "Flatbed" was a real flat liner to the senses. By far the worst story in the book which is quite feat of futility. In nutshell, "Flatbed" was a story of far-out dreams and necrophilia. The best thing about "Evil Eye" was that is was only 216 pages, another reason I managed to give it one star.     

The 1960s, A last gasp for Hope?

Ah, the 1960s in the U.S. when the Vietnam War divided this county like it had not been divided since the Civil War former Sen. George McGovern said. 

The potential for positive change flourished in the 60s with the likes of President John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., and several other high profile activists. Just 50 years and days ago, the assassination of JFK sent the political world into an endless sea of corruption, greed and murder which included women and small children. 

Maybe if JFK and Martin Luther King Jr. had not been assassinated, the U.S. government would still be riding on its path to destruction and greed. No one can know for sure now. Interesting how high profile politicians and other men with severe pull for peace are murdered. My guess is that there is no money in peace and that does not fly with any government in the world which is run by about five percent of major business. 

Do the research and realize war makes millions and billions of dollars for a small group of people who continue to shroud the general public into believing war is necessary? 

JFK sighed a bill to keep the U.S. from going to Vietnam. The very next day after his murder, then brand new president Lyndon B. Johnson revoked the bill and after 10 years, more than 55,000 U.S. soldiers were killed and more than two million Vietnamese, many of them women and children were killed. Incidentally the average age of U.S. troops killed in Vietnam were 19-years-old. 

If you believe the pointless war in Vietnam was a 'conflict' or that the U.S. was combating communism which is another countries right how 'they' live, your simple wrong. 

Boeing Airline’s which currently transports many of our troops to an oily death or limp removal in the Middle East makes massive amounts of money on war such as the Vietnam one. 

Several huge corporations thrive on the profit of war; do the research. Today's wars are 100 percent about money, if you believe other wise, I'm truly sad about your blind perspective. 

The top stories in the day before Thanksgiving were about shopping on back Friday, the crowed airports and how extremely cold it gets in northern territories this time of year. More than 6,600 U.S. troops have been killed and more than 50,000 have been wounded as of Feb. 5, in both the Iraq and Afghanistan wars according to the article “U.S. Military Casualties and the Cost of War: Iraq, Afghanistan and Post 911-Conflicts” by John Wihbey wars. (http://journalistsresource.org/studies/government/security-military/us-military-casualty-statistics-costs-war-iraq-afghanistan-post-911#) 

Since the brutal fiasco in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, more than 1,700 U.S. military members have had amputations, more than 1,450 of those troops lost major limbs according to Wihbey’s article. Other research I’ve done estimated that between 2004-2009, more than 66,000 Middle Eastern civilians have been killed in Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom, two of many tame euphemisms for war. 

”Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives,” John Lennon said.