I Don't Care About This Country—It's Not What You Think

I don't care about this country;
I care about only me.
I don't care about this country's people;
I care about only myself within this country.
I don't care about this country's population;
I care about myself as an individual whom makes up a part of it.
I am not responsible for my countrymen;
I am responsible for only myself.
I don't ask what my country can do for me;
I ask what I can do for my country.

"The Night Before Christmas" and Reflections on Years Past

I was going to have to do this sometime. As I said, I apologize for getting teary eyed. Honestly to God, one of the few good memories that I can take away from having to deal with Dad and his family (meaning the family that has mistreated me, not the family that actually has some decency) is when Pop-Pop (whose soul is hopefully at peace, despite how he mistreated me and others) would read "The Night Before Christmas", since he wasn't really keen on the religious part (He was an Anusi Ashkenazi, after all, and went through the motions.). No wonder, then, that he read "The Night Before Christmas" with such fervor and nary, if at all, mentioned or read the Bible.

Every Christmas Eve that he could (including the Christmas Eves that my sister and I were there), he would read "The Night Before Christmas". Whenever "and" came up (e.g., "And Mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap"), the grandchildren (at least the under-18-years-of-age ones) would pass a gift around, and (pun intended) whoever got the gift on the last "and" ("and to all a good night") would open the gift—and I remember that Michelle got it one year, for example.

See, Dad; I didn't miss out on the life of a (not-at-all) "great man". In fact, as I said (or, as he would say, "like I said"),  one of the few good memories that I can take away from having to deal with you and your family who have mistreated me is when Pop-Pop (whose soul, again, is hopefully at peace, despite how he mistreated me and others) would read "The Night Before Christmas".

I took away from Pop-Pop's life what I needed to take away—and in conclusion, as Pop-Pop would read, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night". Enjoy Christmas without your real daughters—after all, Erica and Danielle are exactly who you and Pop-Pop wanted as daughters and granddaughters, and that is no compliment to you and them.

By the way, today is Great-Great-Granddad Julian's professed birthdate—December 24th. Had he lived, he'd've apparently been anywhere from 124 years old (since great-Great-Grandma gave 1879 on his death certificate) to 128 years old (if he was born in 1875, as he seems to have been—since, after all, "Julian Laczinsky" was and "Julius Charnetski" was killed at 46 years of age on September 11, 1922).

Downhill-- A Poem

"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones"
Well, I've thrown some at my own
"If you've nothing nice to say, don't say a word"
But you might best cage the bird

We don't need the song sung out of control
We can't always let things go and just roll

Downhill-- everything's going downhill
I can't pretend that I see no evil
Or that I hear nothing
I'll speak up, say something
Downhill, everything's going downhill

Downwind-- can you catch me there in an hour?
You can't, gone with the power
Of the breeze, trav'ling whichever way it blows
But in the end-- in the shadows

You'll be, and I'll watch you from the meadows
I might even laugh as my voice bellows


Downhill-- everything's going downhill
I can't pretend that I see no evil
Or that I hear nothing
I'll speak up, say something
Downhill-- everything's going downhill

Here I am in Abraham's bosom and Paradise
And you're begging for water, and asking "Could you be nice?"
It's too late; I can't cross the chasm--
If I tried; I might fall and spasm


Downhill-- everything's going downhill
I can't pretend that I see no evil
Or that I hear nothing
I'll speak up, say something
Downhill-- everything's going downhill

(Spoken) I wouldn't want to be in your shoes
For if I was, that'd be bad news
For me, for you,
For everybody
And their all mothers, too
You probably know how the old expression goes
But if you don't, you will
I can't even briefly save your soul with witty prose
Lest I'd go downhill