Appreciation, a lost art

I came across an article I saved from 2013, about how Civil War benefits are still being paid out to a couple of people, two children of Civil War veterans. Of course, they are "children" now in purely the semantic sense, they are elderly, in their 80s.  The benefit amount is about $876 per year, which is approximately $45 in 1872 money.  

It made me think of all the lost pensions of those who worked for companies that took a dive in the past few decades.  Or all the companies that mismanaged/merged/acquired/re-located themselves out of any financial responsibility toward so many who worked for them loyally for so long.  

Like sheep, we've come to accept that treatment as part of doing business with business.  We really have no other choice. No one protects our interests in this.

Those who are government-haters and corporate-lovers should take heed.  

Wouldn't it be wonderful to live in a world where businesses and corporations would show the same sense of respect and duty that our government does toward those who work for it? Toward those who deserve it? And to keep paying for over 100 years to survivors?  

I know that $876 per year is not a living wage. But it represents an acknowledgment of a promise. One that will be kept as long as necessary.  What business these days can provide the same?

If Affluenza, why not Ebpoora?

OK, you'll have to bear with me--lots of thoughts going down here, but I do have a point. 

Following a more-than-lovely Thanksgiving holiday, shared with my family, for the first time in our home, lots of disturbing news events reared their heads to squelch the warm fuzzies.

I'll recap a bit, although no one likes to focus on this stuff:

•     A local woman, poor and ill, was refused entry in a motel, despite pre-payment for same by a third party. No, not her pimp.  

•     A hit-and-run driver killed a local elderly janitor pedestrian, who was on his way to work downtown.    

•     A woman was stabbed in the back while she was scraping ice off her windshield.

•     Another woman was stabbed in the back in broad daylight near the Cinerama.         

•     Several high-profile killings of black men, for no apparent reason, other than lack of a better idea.   

And on and on. The inequity of some of these incidents pains me. I mean, if certain rich, white kids are caught driving drunk and killing people, for instance, a phrase is coined to excuse their behavior:  Affluenza. And everyone nods and smiles and says, "Well, then, that's completely understandable."

Why can't they equally coin a phrase such as Ebpoora? It seems to me that lifelong, gut-wrenching, brain-deadening poverty should be a more justifiable excuse for some folks' behavior. Instead, poverty is an excuse to be mistreated or killed.  

When constant depressing news has me stumped for writing ideas, or rather, not stumped for ideas, but preferring not to rage on and on about injustice and stupidity, etc., as I'm wont to do, I turn to my trusty DARE (Dictionary of American Regional English). I only have only one volume, D-H, but it provides a wealth of ideas. (Volume I, "Intro - C" is on my wish list).

As if channelling the rank thoughts in my brain, devilry, if you will, the first selections that caught my eye were was in the "devil" category. Pages and pages of devil-this and devil-that.  Devil in the bush. Devil's Bit. Devil's Claw. Devil's Guts. Devil's Snuffbox. Devil's Shoestring. And they're nearly all plants.  Who would have thought that mere plants could inspire such perfidy? I guess they're named for such characteristics as being sticky, stinky, poisonous, or deadly. 

Which links perfectly with what's going on in the news.  I think society has been eternally dabbed with the Devil's Paintbrush.