5.22.2026 – weren’t satisfied with

weren’t satisfied with
having money unless there
were many who didn’t

Oddly, it wasn’t the poverty that ground against the sensibilities so hard that depressed me the most but the attitude of many of the more fortunate who weren’t satisfied with having money unless there were many who didn’t have it.

Even quasi-religious people liked to quote Jesus as saying, “The poor you have with you always,” neglecting to add that he didn’t say to sit on your ass and don’t do anything about it.

The thought that my country accepts the idea that a quarter of its citizens are destined to be social mutants peels my nerves.

Our compassion quotient has seemed to lower a bit more every year of my adult life.

I never much minded when my colleagues would tease me for being a “bleeding heart” because if your heart doesn’t bleed you’re dead, and you’ve become just another greedy little shit factory on life’s way.

From True North by Jim Harrison (New York, Grove Press, 2004).

Yes of late I have been drawing a lot of inspiration from Mr. Harrison and The Road Home of late.

You can guess that I am re-reading it again and wonder if the power of some of Mr. Harrison’s writing would have been lessened had he left some of the rawness out of it.

But this is like trying to draw life lessons from watching the Soprano’s and wishing they could have dropping the violence.

The life frustrations of Tony in his sessions with the psychiatrist (“If my calling is so important, PICK UP THE PHONE”) I guess need the contrast with the miserable life of a mobster.

But I digress.

Our compassion quotient has seemed to lower a bit more every year of my adult life.

I could start with the compassion quotient but you could add almost any other aspect of life and it has seemed to lower a bit more every year.

It seems that I have read stories that for the first time, the next generation of Americans are looking at a worse world then the previous generation had.

We could start with that current man in the oval office and go down hill from there.

I read books and poems about a filled with bird song and all I have around my house is the caw caw of crows.

I read books filled with exclamations of wonder and beauty over the salt sea breeze and where I live on the Atlantic Coast of South Carolina, what you get is the pluff mud of the salt march which smells of dirty diapers.

Sports are money pits with nothing to do about sports.

I am tired of raging against the machine.

There is just too much money, dead money, money that isn’t doing anything but sitting in banks in account and doing nothing.

I don’t like to go to Woody Allen but in Annie Hall, the artist (Max von Sydow) says:

Money, money, money! If Jesus came back, and saw what’s going on in his name, he’d never stop throwing up.