There is No Place Left to Hide

There’s No Place Left to Hide

As an ‘older generation American’ I am often amazed at how dependent we have become on our technology.

My son Matt Brotherton, over at www.mabrotherton.com talks about the robots (I’m so old I thought they still called them spiders) that keep track of the movements and purchasing habits of every consumer. They collect data and analyze your personality based on every website you’ve visited, every post, every comment, every like, every phone call and every tweet you’ve made. Technology knows and understands us better than we know ourselves.

Take our favorite pastime for example. No I don’t mean baseball or (get your mind out of the gutter); I’m talking about posting on Facebook. This is the epitome of our lack of privacy. There’s only one rule, and it is as simple as it gets. If you put it on the internet, it belongs to the world –FOREVER – it is no longer yours. No amount of adding words to your Facebook post about how your stuff is your stuff is going to keep it from them. Those little robots are always working and showing you ads and things that it believes you want to see. It will even count that day you accidently clicked on ‘that sight’.

So if you’re like me, by now you should be worried about what else goes on and just exactly who is watching who do what. We already know that every keystroke on our computer, tablets, cell phones, laptops and GPS systems are closely monitored.

But it’s even worse than that. Every time you step out your front door (unless you’re living off the grid in some remote wilderness, in which case you can’t read this anyway so you don’t count) you are being tracked. By satellite radio, store security cameras, traffic light cameras, cameras that monitor the highway and weather, and on and on and on….It seems it’s true, big brother is always watching. Some studies say that the average person is seen on 75 cameras every day and in a lot of the bigger cities, it’s can be more than 300 times a day. Conservative estimates say that there are now over 30 million surveillance cameras in operation in the United States today. That is not even talking about the fact that since 2011 there are more cell phones in the United States than people. Each one with a camera. It’s estimated that the average household of 2.6 has about 24 ‘traceable‘ electronic devices.

Now, I’m not one of those government conspiracy guys that believes ‘Donald Duck Trump’ is watching me through my TV screen like it’s a two way mirror. Although, I know he would if he could. (I ‘m pretty sure he thinks he can do anything he pleases without repercussions.) Besides, we all know that only people who own the cable company can really do that. (I’m just kidding billionaire cable company guys. Please don’t send your goons after me) But it does appear that it is impossible to avoid the all-seeing eye.

Yes, I know…There are still people living in America (Land of the Free and Home of the Brave) that believe in privacy. They should be free to live their lives the way they want and what they do in their own backyard is their own business. If you are one of those naïve few, it seems “I’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do to you Lucy.”

Our privacy is gone. Vanished, caput…it went extinct along with hand written letters, a computer mouse with a roller ball, VHS tapes and the phone book. Is it a good thing or a bad thing, I will leave that up to you to debate.

I do have this final thought, a personal message from me to the youngest generation. Once you let yourself become so dependent on a thing, it’s nearly impossible to live without it when it’s gone. The recent ‘Ransomware’ attacks have taught us how quickly something we rely on can be snatched away. It’s not too late to change how you react with your friends. So please don’t let technology replace your humanity. Texting is a good thing…but just do your future self a favor and get up and go hug someone every now and again. You’ll be surprised at how good it will make you feel.

Why Do I Write?

Why do I write?

There was a time when the words flowed from my hand and dropped onto the paper with ease. In those days long ago I walked with Kings and Gods and we talked of love, war, happiness and sorrow. I shared my dreams with you and could make you laugh or cry with the press of my pen. I scattered my words into the rain so that you might feel the mud between your toes as you ran barefoot through the puddles. I showed you where to find golden trees that glittered with a thousand lights. I could share with you a sunrise that splashed orange marmalade and pink chiffon onto a deep blue canvas. With the ink from my soul, I tattooed my stories into your thoughts.

But I left the muse of my youth behind as life pushed away the youthful dreams and parked it’s minivan on my inspiration. Time covered the mounds of words that lay strewn in piles upon my desk and hid them behind mortgages, 401k’s, and cable bills. Children rushed in and out taking with them my every thought. My life was consumed and I was content. I no longer had a use for words and tossed them into the attic of my mind. Over the years they lay there in the dark, alone and hoping that someday my muse might come again.

Age has little more to do these days than to pry open all the doors of my memories. It has found my words of forgotten rhythms and emotions and dropped them haphazardly into the forefront of my mind. I see that the ink on those words that I once drew from the well of my youthful imagination has dried and faded; but it has not disappeared completely. Now they are with me again. They may be tarnished and blemished but they still cling to life. I will attempt to take those words and clean them until they shine again. They still believe in me and I need to believe in them.

Adoption

Adoption

It was just a year ago that Deb and I found what was left of this plant. It had been abandoned and neglected and left for dead. One stringy vine with only two, mostly brown leaves on it wilted over the side of the pot. I was ready to throw it in the trash. I had given up on it.

However, my wife saw something in it that stirred her emotions. She could tell that it was trying, with all the hope that it had left in it, to cling to life. So she moved it to the new house with us. Though it was definitely an eyesore, she set it on the dining room table. It became the center of all attention in the house. There, basking in the warmth of the sun, it drank in the love and happiness that surrounded it.

At first, those two remaining leaves fell to the floor and we thought the shock from being in a new home might have delivered it a death blow. Perhaps it had given up on us. But we still nurtured it, talked to it, fed it…Loved it. One day, a true miracle began to take shape as a tiny green leaf pushed itself into the world. Each day brought more and more surprises to us as we learned how to care for the new addition of our family. It began to flourish and thrive.

Yes, even today you can see the scars of its past life. But those scars do not diminish its beauty. They create its uniqueness. The plant send new stems high into the air… proud and strong. They define what will be its future. Its past is still visible, but through time even those wounds are healing and surviving. Because it knows that someone loved it enough to share their heart, their home, and their love with it…this beautiful life will survive.

Defining Success

There’s only one reason I post on the internet. It’s just to let my ego come out and play for a bit.

I don’t do it for money. In 2006, Publisher’s Weekly reported that the average book sold less than 500 copies. That means that in order to make $30000, a person would have to charge $60 per book. Or in most cases where a book does good to sell 100 copies, $600 per book.

I don’t do it for fame. WordPress, the host of this blog reports that there are 84.3 million new posts on the internet every month. Each month, people view more than 23.3 billion pages (that’s billion with a bold, upper case, hi-lighted in yellow, B). So the odds of even getting read by a total stranger is .1652% or 1 in 4,956,000 people on the internet. That is mind boggling. All I can say is that 1 person that stumbled onto my site will be one lucky dude.

So why do I keep putting my words out there for the world to scrutinize? It’s the thrill of that instant endorphin rush. When I say  that I’m a comment junkie, it’s true. I  admit it, each time I open my Facebook page, or my blog site www.thebackyardpoet.com my heart leaps a bit. I’m an instant gratification poet. I write my words, put them out into the world through the network of social media and wait impatiently. I am not a patient man. If you don’t believe me, just ask my wife.

I tend to post most things at midnight so sometimes I have also have to spend a sleepless night waiting for you guys to send me some love.

Hopefully, you will give me some likes… maybe even a few of those heart shaped emoji’s. I break out into my happy dance each time I have a comment (it’s not something you would want to see but it makes my wife smile). But the ultimate Nirvana is when (lo and behold), someone has cared enough to share my creation with their friends. To see there was at least one person that ‘got’ what I had to say is as good as it’s ever going to get.

I’ve thought about this a lot… I believe the greatest honor I could receive as an artist (and I use that term loosely) is to have someone know a piece of my work by heart. Or that someone might tell their children about a story I shared. Or I hear a group of friends sharing coffee at their local coffee shop and discussing some piece of my work.

We (the people who push our words out into the world to be criticized, analyzed and dissected) imagine these things even if they don’t really happen. In my imagination, I see a teenager sitting alone in the park reading my poetry and understanding that life is worth it after all. Sometimes, my mind dreams of two young lovers lying on a hillside in the bright afternoon sun, quoting my words to each other as they fall in love. Images like that are what I see with each comment, each like and each share.

So that is what keeps me going. For me, a small group of devoted fans is worth far more than selling a million books. Because fortunes fade, fame is fleeting, but good friendship will last forever.

Jerry Brotherton

The Backyard Poet

http://www.thebackyardpoet.com

©All Rights Reserved 2017

Happy Mother’s Day

Let me start by saying that being a mother has to be the hardest and possibly the most thankless job in the world.

Just take a look at what the average mom will go through in the 6570 days (18 years) until her brood finally leaves home. But can she rest then…No. Then her work really starts after they return home with grandchildren.

Meals cooked – 3 times per day @ 60 minutes per meal = 821.25 Days

Dishes washed – being conservative to say once a day for 30 minutes = 136.875 days

Laundry – once per week @ 6 hours = 234.65 days

Grocery Shopping – once per week @ 3 hours 117.32 days

Being a doctor to colds, mumps, measles, teenage depression, husband’s bad day at work…etc. – 273.75 days

Sleep – 6 hours per night if she is lucky – 1642.5

Cleaning up the mess around the house – Vacuuming, dusting, mopping, picking up dirty underwear stuffed under the kid’s bed. – 547.5 days

That works out to be 3773.84 Days

That leaves 2796 days or (DRUM ROLL PLEASE)

2.39 hours per day… to work her full time job of 40 hours a week

So this is for you dear mother

 

Mother

You are the strength and determination

That keeps the gears of life greased

With your inspiration

You are the compassion, the forgiveness

The hope, the love

The dreams fulfilled

You are the safe haven

Those happy memories

The joy, the life, the beginning

You are the sleepless, scared and scarred

The comforter of the sick and week

You are without complaint

You are

Mother

 

Jerry Brotherton

The Backyard Poet

http://www.thebackyardpoet.com

©All Rights Reserved 2017