Duckology

 

duckology - noun - (a neologism coined by me) - the study of the fundamental nature of ducks. 

duck - noun - a water bird with a broad, blunt bill, short legs, webbed feet, and a waddling gait (Google).

I don't know about you, but I adore ducks. Definitely. If reincarnation is a reality, I'd like to come back to this planet as a duck. Why? Despite their somewhat awkward outward appearance, in terms of their abilities, they are the next best thing to Marvel superheroes. 

According to Google (a reliable source), ducks can walk relatively long distances, swim as long as they want, dive down 240 feet to catch fish, and then upon exiting the pond, dry off instantaneously just by ruffling their feathers before flying off. In fact, ducks can soar above most small planes, reaching an altitude of 21,000 feet and speed of nearly 60 mph, surpassing most biplanes. Although not all breeds of ducks mate for life (most mate for just the mating season, which is about eight months), the whistling duck, like the swan, mates for life. Not too many species, including humans, can pull that off. Ducks, like happily married persons, get so emotionally attached to their mates that if their mates die, they grieve the loss, often falling into duck depression. Which is extremely tragic especially as ducks have no way of connecting with licensed psychotherapists. Not that I or Google knows of anyway. 

Those who don't like ducks peg them as "dirty" and as "rapists," but since ducks act on instinct, the males' aggressiveness toward unprotected, virginal, single females is merely a means of guaranteeing that the species perpetuates. (Apparently, female ducks have complicated vaginas that are hard to penetrate. Yikes! TMI.) Obviously, ducks do not have the moral sense to understand that they are being sex offenders. And fortunately, neither the human legal system nor the law enforcement community considers them felonious. (Thank Goodness! Can you imagine male ducks sharing cells with convicted human rapists in prisons? Hahaha!) So why should anyone else? (Ah, give'm a chance! They are so cute!)

My idea to coin the term "duckology" came last week when I was about to take a dip in my apartment complex's heated pool. Atypically, out from behind the chaise lounge chairs waddled a handsome Mallard couple, making a beeline for the pool. Of course, I had to film their flight for TikTok audiences, not thinking they would have the gall to step into the pool with me around. Not only did they enter the pool (and rather delicately by putting one webbed foot in at a time), they had the audacity to remain floating around in the pool while I did laps. Eventually, though, I unintentionally managed to create a wake that started to make them seasick enough to exit the pool as elegantly as they had entered. After drying off doggy style (but with far less vehemence and flying H2O droplets), the two sauntered over to a cabana to rest–as anyone would–protected from the sun. 

From a safe distance, I became immersed in duckology (the fundamental study of ducks) via silent observation. I noticed that the female Mallard fell asleep almost immediately, whereas her male did not. He chose to keep watch vigilantly in order to protect her from me or any other human (or "rapist" ducks) in the vicinity. Although I was far enough away not to be threat, he wasn't going to take any risks. When I finally decided to leave, I couldn't help but think that we humans, possessing the ability to rationalize, could definitely learn something from these water birds with minuscule brains. 

Ducks can be benignly savvy. For one, the duck pairs treat each other with much more respect and genuine caring than a large cross section of the human population. They are also incredibly loyal to each other. Impressive. 

The older I get, the more aware I become of miraculous Mother Nature, probably because I take the time to notice. I hope the next time you are in a park, if you see any ducks, think of duckology and do a little observing yourself. You might just learn something that I didn't, something positive that you can apply to your own life to improve it. 

Just sayin'. 

#blog, #PersonalNarrative, #ducks, #SliceOfLife, #nature

Gun Culture: The Wild West: Then and Now

 

culture - noun - the customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation or people. (Google)

Second Amendment: "A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." 

I don't like guns. Never did, never will. The reason why is binary: 1. I am a textbook pacifist and 2. Before I was so committed to peace and love, I used to accompany my gun-admiring ex-husband to the local shooting gallery for kicks. While there, I was pressured into trying my hand at shooting just about every kind of gun you can imagine even James Bond's Walther PPK and Dirty Harry's .44 Magnum, which by the way, sent me flying against the back wall of the range. Ouch! Ergo, I know the unmitigated power of these mini canons, and it still frightens me forty years later. 

On the other hand, I didn't grow up in a community that had its own erroneous interpretation of the second amendment. Most in my town didn't own or operate guns. My father didn't. None of his relations did. In New Jersey, one of the original thirteen colonies (in case you've forgotten), our ancestors who fought in the Revolution (I have a distant grandfather and four other relations who did) could define "militia"as they fought in one and understood that it was necessary "to keep and bear arms" to secure the newly freed nation from the tyranny of successive monarchs. Let's not forget that back in the late 1700s, the military as we know it did not exist. Since it was no longer relevant after about a hundred years, the amendment should have been removed from the Constitution. As we know, it wasn't, and fans and/or members of the NRA continue to misconstrue its meaning today by possessing guns for sport or protection: "It is my Second Amendment right to own an arsenal!" Hmm. Is it? But I have a feeling that not as many want to or feel the need to own firearms in New Jersey as, let's say, in Oklahoma. 

Let's face it. This country was built on guns. Viva the Revolution! A bit later on, the newly "civilized" West was definitely built on guns, hence the moniker, "Wild West." After moving from the East to the West last year, I have managed to befriend individuals who spent their childhoods immersed in the Western gun culture. According to one close friend, at one time, just about everyone had a gun in California. Free-spirited, male teens in search of notoriety enjoyed getting together with their peers, driving out to the desert to erect makeshift shooting galleries where they could experience "gun happiness" for hours sans parental supervision. It was easy because fifty years ago, firearms were not as regulated as they are at present. Even if they were, police were/are scarce in the desert. Gun shops were abundant, drifting like tumbleweeds from neighborhood to neighborhood, going in and out of business until the onset of reported school violence at which time they vanished like concrete-block mirages on the horizon. 

However, those same boys who are now in their sixties and seventies have preserved their arms by closeting them in locked safes somewhere in their homes. They still take them out to admire their design, polish them up, or shoot them whenever or wherever they can albeit legally. Hence, the love affair with controlled (?) explosives continues. Sadly, I guess human beings will never get beyond a handy lust for loud authoritativeness. 

Just sayin'. 

#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #guns, #second amendment, #Western culture, #American Revolution, #Eastern culture, #hobby

The Adumbrated Wilderness

 

adumbrated (part.) symbolized (Google)

For those of you who fall under the religious nomenclature of Christian and are practicing, you are aware that it is the season of Lent, which is marked by Jesus's forty-day journey into the desert to contend with Satan. Any desiccated environment (picture Death Valley here) is synonymous with the wilderness, otherwise known as an "uncultivated, uninhabited, inhospitable" region (Google). In their reflections, a.k.a. sermons or homilies, those of the cloth use the image of the wilderness to adumbrate where many of us are today: feeling quite alone and/or anxious amidst the turmoil of contemporary society. 

Unfortunately, many modern-day Protestant churches (and perhaps even Catholic ones) are losing parishioners because the young are getting lost in a wilderness of Sunday activities unrelated to the sabbath, but also because they don't feel connected to institutions that they view as antiquated. Which is a shame because religion isn't. Faith isn't obsolete. In fact many need it more than ever but just don't realize that they do as they are lost in the busy business of their daily lives. 

Fortunately, there are some parishes that are not short of attendees. Mine, for instance. Known among national Presbyterian boards as "the little church that could," my congregation, the Culver City Presbyterian Church (with eighty members), is not lost in the dark remoteness of irreligiousness. The light that emanates from it is small but bright. The singles, couples, families from all walks of life and pronouns unite as a community, stand by their belief system, and inculcate it in their children. All–even the most isolated socially–are welcome. What they hear each week coming from a young, vibrant, former actor of a preacher (who looks like Uma Thurman) they interpret as the word of God, the living Bible. Her verbiage, a reflection of the Good Book, holds meaning. It pretty much cajoles them to follow in the steps of Christ, finding purpose in their lives. Don't we all need that? A purpose? Yup.

Although I have never viewed myself as a "religious" person, I do see myself as spiritual. I attend church because what is spoken I find relates directly to problematic situations that I visit in my life. The messages can offer solutions. Ergo, in my case, the reverend is more of a prophet who also proffers solace and guidance not only to me, but others who venture to the simple Spanish structure weekly for a heady concoction of verbal hope. 

I know that the infidels may bypass my words altogether as they are "done" with what they believe is mere mythology. I can't change their minds. But I will say that among my various friends, those who do have a spiritual center of some kind (not necessarily Christian but Jewish or Buddhist) are a lot happier than my friends who have created their own adumbrated wilderness by worshipping materialism, capitalism, or any other "ism" that propels them forward or holds them in place. 

Just sayin'. 

#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #Christianity, #religion, #solutions, #philosophy, #PresbyterianChurch, #church, #Lent