There is so much baloney out there I gotta speak up!

OK I am sick of knowing that the collective mind set (as reflected by main steam media)  is out of alignment with what real people I know and speak with think and feel. So I am going to say what  see and what I think

First—who am I?
I am 62 years old and live in Sedona Arizona. I have been an attorney for 30 years bad am still licensed in California, despite having moved to Sedona. I have done many things in the 62 baby Boomer years of my life-studied piano and oboe, been a care giver, a go-go dancer (briefly) a waitress, an artist's apprentice, doing lost waxing casting in bronze.

. Served in the United States Air Force as an electrics technician. Watched the gas passer refuel a B52 bomber mid air from the tail of a KC 135 Stratotanker, and watched a nervous chain smoking pilot and a C141 from the jump seat,(in the cockpit just behind the pilot and co-pilot)  all out of Anderson Airbase, Guam. (Do you even know where Guam is? I didn’t. Yes, we, the US,  own it.) But I have either digressed or progressed—not sure which. But I went to college before the Air Force so, forgive me.

I made jewelry in college and was on the fire department and trained with  the trucks, those handy dandy fire hoses (when you work with water under pressure it is not as easy as it looks)  and equipment like Indian pumps. (God knows how it is I recall the names of these things… but I do.) I was a nude artist's  model in college and later at two colleges and for several artists. I stopped when my favorite artists died suddenly. (Now I know why. But more of that later.) I got my start when my senior adviser asked me if I would sit for  his wife.

This was the 60s. I said yes. (OK I admit the first I had to remove my wrap in front of a room full of strangers it was daunting,  but after that it was OK. I also remember it was a wool poncho… green I think.) I THINK I got paid... tat part has faded. It occurs to me now that, looking back, it seems I have been Little Miss Courage all my life. IN high school when we were supposed to prick out fingers to look at our  blood—I shared mine with all the folks who didn’t have the guts to prick their fingers. Hmmm. I wioder if there is any point to this factoid. We shall see.

This was a “radical” college in Vermont—Goddard College. (I went there when it was a residential college on 300 acres of wonderful Vermont farmland. Even though I grew up in Florida, I was happy as a clam in Vermont in this idyllic green mountain place, far way from my mother. I am not sure how much I learned academically,   but the opportunity to explore was great. And I did learn that I had a lot of self discipline—in my senior year, I took my work  outdoors to work on my thesis when everyone else succumbed to Spring fever. (And played baseball or otherwise goofed off.) Ah, the days of manual type writers—they work as well outdoors as they do in. I miss that.

I did not think if the possible consequences of attending a school that did  not assign grades. Youth is funny  that way. But yes, we did smoke marijuana. No one drank. The locals thought the hippies were a little strange--I caused quite a story when I got a job at the Dunkin' Donuts in Barre. (That’s rhymes with  Barry as in Dave Barry no relation.) (I am just hoping his name will draw attention.) I doubt I'd have gotten the job, but I was with my friend Cindy who was very clean cut—a blonde athletic former Olympic skier. So the unthinkable had the village agog--a Goddard student was working in the (then) only coffee and donut ship in town. I suspect it didn't hurt business at all. The curisoity was intense. So was I--they ahd t9 tell me to smile. It hadn't occurred to me!

I think I will continue these adventures anon—then you will know, maybe why I see the world the way I do. We’ll get to those opinions though.