This doesn't rank as one of my least favorite holidays but it is not my favorite either.
I think it is nice that we set aside one day to acknowledge our veterans.
At the same time I think we (in general) are basically just giving them a hand job (figuratively) and not even letting them finish off.
It is no secret that we have an embarrassing number of homeless veterans and though I am not certain of the exact numbers, we have a high number of veterans committing suicide. There is still news about the wait times at the Veterans Administration Hospital. Vets can wait months to see a doctor.
I personally feel that if you serve at least four years in any branch of the military you should be entitled to at least have your food, clothing, shelter and medical benefits covered for the rest of your life unless you refuse the benefit. In addition to having veterans preference on federal jobs there should be jobs allotted to them in the private sector, They should also get half off their State college tuition for 20 semesters without touching their GI Bill. Children of Veterans should be able to get similar benefits.
This is just off the beginning and off the top of my head. I am certain we could do more.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
JOURNAL ENTRY 69: uNTITLED
The following is an abbreviated version of events that happened. The incident happened about three weeks ago and I wrote the entry but saved it and decided not to publish the entry. I don't generate a lot of traffic so it shouldn't matter but still.....
Roughly three Saturdays ago I was home. I washed clothes and decided to pick up a few groceries supermarket directly across the street from my apartment. Coming back home I went to the main entrance of the building but before I opened the door I noticed from the corner of my eye that someone was coming from the side of the building. The side where we have benches and a mini park. So I looked to see who was coming. It was a young man, I would say early to mid-30s, slim and a little taller than me.
He comes into the vestibule and sees me looking at him. He tells me that he lives in the building on the 21st floor (I forget the apartment number) and that he forgot his key. I have lived in the building since 1996 and I don't ever remember seeing him. Still, it didn't mean that he didn't live in the building. I thought that at this point it would be more drama and grief if I didn't open the door. Being that he claimed to live on the 21st floor I would see if that's where he went. Mind you, I wasn't riding the elevator with him.
I open the door after a few long seconds and I walk towards the stairwell. I open the door and I walk up the steps. I figured after a few seconds the dude will be on the elevator and I would see if he went up the the floor he claimed to live on. Only thing is he never got on the elevator. He stayed around the lobby. Now I am thinking that he my be waiting for someone to ride the elevator with and possibly rob them. Otherwise why not go to your floor?
I leave the stairwell and walk back outside. I can see him peeking at me outside the window. Long story short, I catch the local police and alert them to the mistake I possibly made. The officer comes back with me and the dude goes ballistic. He's calling me names and saying that if I didn't trust him I should have talked to him. Like I was supposed to tell him I think he is a crook and he is supposed to convince me he isn't. During this confrontation a lady who lives in the building comes by and vouches for the guy. Meantime the local cop (not NYPD) never checked the man for identification. The lady who vouched for him accused me of profiling the guy because he is a Black man. She never ever heard my side of the story.
Roughly three Saturdays ago I was home. I washed clothes and decided to pick up a few groceries supermarket directly across the street from my apartment. Coming back home I went to the main entrance of the building but before I opened the door I noticed from the corner of my eye that someone was coming from the side of the building. The side where we have benches and a mini park. So I looked to see who was coming. It was a young man, I would say early to mid-30s, slim and a little taller than me.
He comes into the vestibule and sees me looking at him. He tells me that he lives in the building on the 21st floor (I forget the apartment number) and that he forgot his key. I have lived in the building since 1996 and I don't ever remember seeing him. Still, it didn't mean that he didn't live in the building. I thought that at this point it would be more drama and grief if I didn't open the door. Being that he claimed to live on the 21st floor I would see if that's where he went. Mind you, I wasn't riding the elevator with him.
I open the door after a few long seconds and I walk towards the stairwell. I open the door and I walk up the steps. I figured after a few seconds the dude will be on the elevator and I would see if he went up the the floor he claimed to live on. Only thing is he never got on the elevator. He stayed around the lobby. Now I am thinking that he my be waiting for someone to ride the elevator with and possibly rob them. Otherwise why not go to your floor?
I leave the stairwell and walk back outside. I can see him peeking at me outside the window. Long story short, I catch the local police and alert them to the mistake I possibly made. The officer comes back with me and the dude goes ballistic. He's calling me names and saying that if I didn't trust him I should have talked to him. Like I was supposed to tell him I think he is a crook and he is supposed to convince me he isn't. During this confrontation a lady who lives in the building comes by and vouches for the guy. Meantime the local cop (not NYPD) never checked the man for identification. The lady who vouched for him accused me of profiling the guy because he is a Black man. She never ever heard my side of the story.
Sunday, November 1, 2015
JOURNAL ENTRY #68 Rambling
It is 4 PM on a Sunday afternoon.
My mind is switching back and forth from writing an entry to cooking dinner to cleaning my apartment. I can't get started really on any of these projects. My mind is too unsettled.
So I do one task then switch to another. I just put the ground turkey loaf in the oven. Just before that I washed some dishes. In about two hours I will biol the spaghetti and make the sauce. In about two minutes (while I write this entry) I will fix another grilled cheese sandwich.
Mind is always all over the place.
Later I will be back on the federal job website and Career Builder.com looking for a new place to work. I have reached rock bottom with ICE. I have no desire to leave the house and go to work. My job has always been meaningless.
Except for a possible bed sore on Mom's leg she seems to be doing ok. She won't listen and get up from time to time. Lost cause. I stay praying that I only live to be between 65-70 years of age. I don't want to experience the mosery of having to have someone take me to the bathroom and charge me for it.
My mind is switching back and forth from writing an entry to cooking dinner to cleaning my apartment. I can't get started really on any of these projects. My mind is too unsettled.
So I do one task then switch to another. I just put the ground turkey loaf in the oven. Just before that I washed some dishes. In about two hours I will biol the spaghetti and make the sauce. In about two minutes (while I write this entry) I will fix another grilled cheese sandwich.
Mind is always all over the place.
Later I will be back on the federal job website and Career Builder.com looking for a new place to work. I have reached rock bottom with ICE. I have no desire to leave the house and go to work. My job has always been meaningless.
Except for a possible bed sore on Mom's leg she seems to be doing ok. She won't listen and get up from time to time. Lost cause. I stay praying that I only live to be between 65-70 years of age. I don't want to experience the mosery of having to have someone take me to the bathroom and charge me for it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)