Who Can I Believe?

On Facebook, a priest posts pro Romney ads and comments while putting in non-favorable ads about President Obama.   The posting I saw last night was praising Paul Ryan for beginning every day with daily mass. I suppose more people would benefit from daily mass, yet, two days before when Ryan gave his acceptance speech at the RNC it was reported that some of his statements were untrue, fibs, lies, etc.  I heard about his untruths on television, read it in the newspaper, and saw other comments on the Internet. I never get involved in any political discussion but the FB comment bothered me. My FB response was "Does this mean that a lying politician is a good Catholic? Someone responded with, "What do you mean, Erlinda?"

I  know what and how I feel and I may not be able to explain it but I will sure try. Being Catholic to me is being a good Christian, respecting/loving my neighbor, not speaking evil of my fellow man, being honest, not cheating, having good morals, and praising God. I began to wonder if these principals apply to politicians. Surely, they don't.

After the RNC, a staunch Democrat told me she could not watch Ryan speak "with all his misrepresentations and lies." The following morning the reports I saw and heard were about the false comments in Ryan's speech. Below are some of the misrepresentations.

On Medicare reform President Obama proposed, Ryan failed to mention that in his drafts he also had the same cuts as the President.

On the General Motors plant closing, he blamed the President for not keeping his promise to keep the plant open, yet, the plant closed four months before Obama became president.

On a bipartisan debt commission the President was stymied due to the Republican opposition which included Ryan's "No" vote but he made it sound as if it was all the President's fault and doing.

Ryan and Romney have both been against the credit rating down grade and refused to vote to raise the debt ceiling even though outside analysts urged the passing of the bill. Ryan said President Obama was solely responsible.

I do not know what is true and what isn't but when I read and hear how the speech was filled with untruths, which to me are lies, what difference does it make if Ryan goes to mass every morning?
Both, Romney and Ryan say it is the responsibility of the rich/strong to help the poor/weak yet the budget cuts they propose would be to low/middle income households. 

The most perfect political

community is one in which

the middle class is in

control and outnumbers both

of the other classes.

Aristotle

Today I read where Ryan lied about a marathon and how fast he ran it.  My father always said, "Tell the truth, never lie, and you will feel better about yourself and people will respect you." If Ryan tries to make himself sound better by twisting facts, I believe he will cover the truth to get what he wants.
I saw an interview (don't remember who or when) where he was asked about Ayn Rand and his comment was he believed in her philosophy and gave away her books to friends and fellow workers.  "Pursuit of own self interest and own happiness is highest moral purpose of life," is her (and in my opinion selfish) philosophy. He credits Rand for his entering public life. In a current interview (2012) he disowned Ayn Rand and said he did not go along with her ideas. Makes me wonder!

Good for him if he attends mass every morning, but he should take to heart the teachings of his  Catholic faith.

Honesty is the first chapter of the book of wisdom.

Thomas Jefferson

I am waiting to see if he really dated a beautiful black woman or is this a ploy to get black votes by showing he does not have any biases against people of color. If I hadn't read and heard all the untruths, I probably would not have questioned who he dated!

The question, "Are you better off now than you were before?" I lean toward saying yes. Restaurants are full.  Sports arenas are full.  Movie theaters are full. Shopping malls have people shopping. Grocery carts are full. Gas is still pumped into cars.  Could it be that everyone just wants more?  Is it greed that makes us want more? In that case, then I can understand why many believe that there is something wrong with our economy. 

How great, my friends,

is the virtue of living upon little!

Horace, Roman Poet



The Lady on the Bus

 

Yesterday is but today's memory

Tomorrow is today's dream.

Kahlil Gibran

 

 

 

My previous blog reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years ago

when I would ride the bus to work. Are things really as they seem?

 

  

The lady on the bus
sits quietly,
hands folded,
eyes closed.
Anyone seeing her
would guess
she was
praying,
meditating,
sleeping.
How shocked
they would be
if they could see
the hot blood pounding,
images abounding,
silent fantasies resounding.

A sweet, soft, silky ear,
gently held by her lips.
A roving finger
in her moist mouth.
A hot tongue making her
feel young.
A strong hand at her back
softly stroking,
teasing,
caressing.
Lips toying with her lips,
lightly,
before becoming
more demanding.

Two hearts beating together.
Poetry in motion.
A quiver of emotion,
a tremble of desire,
an insatiable fire.
Firm arms
hold her near,
releasing any fear.

The lady on the bus,
lets out a silent moan,
she sighs,
dizzy with her own
thoughts of love.
Anyone seeing her
would guess
she was praying,
meditating
or sleeping
never seeing the 
tumultuous fire
within.

E. Moscoso
June, 1988

RTD Experience

My car began a bit of stuttering when I pushed on the brake so I took my 2000 Subaru Outback to the "doctor" for a "physical." Not having a ride, I decided to ride the Regional Transportation District bus service after leaving my car at the "hospital."

I walked a block and a half and thought about how strange it is being on foot and not in a car.  The cars look so much bigger, they make more noise and I had to depend on a small button on a metal post to change the light so I could walk across a street. At the bus stop I saw an overflowing trashcan, six grocery store carts, and some wooden benches.  As I sat and waited, the cars seemed to all be speeding as they almost seemed to want to blow my baseball cap off my head with the breeze they caused.  The noise of tires on the pavement was extremely loud and constant. I had to push my Shuffle to the highest level to hear the music. I kept thinking that if one car veered from the road and headed for the bus stop, that would be the end of any waiting bus rider.

Finding a good bus driver can be as

important as finding a good musician.

Reba McEntire

The bus arrived and I found out that the fare for Seniors was $1.10. Digging in my purse, I found enough change to drop into the glass box by the driver.  Before I could find a seat, the bus lurched and was off to the next stop.  Luckily I was holding on to the silver pole and managed to sit down. From the back of the bus I heard a woman's voice yell:  "You are going too fast."

Bus driver:  We are running late.

Woman:  That is no reason to drive like a maniac. You almost knocked the lady down. (I guess I was the lady she was referring to.)

Bus driver:  We are already supposed to be at our next stop!"

Woman:  We may never get there because the way you are driving we could all be killed.

The bus driver slowed down to what felt like ten miles an hour.  As we creeped along the woman yelled again, "Now you are acting like a child."

Bus driver: It doesn't matter what I do, there are always complaints. If I go fast you complain and now I slowed down and you are still complaining.

Woman: Grow up!

The bus driver resumed what I would guess was a normal speed and we arrived at our stop where he proceeded to wash the windshield,  inside and out.  We must have had some time to spare if he had time to clean his windshield.

Riding RTD is an experience because one never knows what will be seen or heard on a bus but it does get one from point A to point B.

A bus is a vehicle that runs

twice as fast when you are

after it as when you are in it.
Author Unknown

Friendly Skies



Frequent Flyer Miles on Frontier

Summer is coming to an end even though our temperature is still in the 90's. I decided to take one more trip this year and began searching for an economical airfare to the east coast. I would visit my brother and sister-in-law and their menagerie of animals, plus travel to Niagara Falls, which has been on my "bucket list"for a few years. I have enough frequent flyer miles to travel on Frontier for free but when I checked I found out that Frontier does not travel to Boston or Buffalo.  For two whole days I typed in airlines, search engines, travel companies and just as I thought I was finding something I liked I found something better, cheaper, or faster. If I left a site with the information I thought might possibly work, I would check one more site and then never find the first one I liked or the prices would change.

Finally, I found a flight to Toronto, Canada in Ontario which is not too far from Niagara Falls and I thought it might work.  I put in Toronto, Canada and Ontario, Canada came up.  It was only $200.  That certainly was the cheapest I had ever seen so I purchased a ticket to Ontario, CA and began planning a trip to Canada.  A blurb came up asking if I needed a hotel in Ontario.  As I looked at the hotels I noticed they were near Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, and places in California.  What had I done? I called the airline and after a few attempts I was able to cancel without any additional fees. Okay, Ontario CA does not stand for Ontario, Canada.

My search began again. I could fly free to New York City and land in LaGuardia Airport. To visit my brother in Boston I would take a flight from LaGuardia which cost about the same as if I had flown from Denver to Boston. It didn't make sense because one is 1770 miles away and the other is 182 miles. Go figure! Yet, if I could fly from JFK to Boston,the fare was about $160 less. My brother suggested taking a shuttle from LaGuardia to JFK and fly out of JFK. Looking for a train, shuttle or taxi to get me to JFK seemed too complicated for a one hour drive just to save some money. It was back to the drawing board to find a fare from Denver to Boston.  Or Denver to Buffalo. Or NYC to Buffalo. Or Denver to Toronto. Boston to Niagara Falls. Denver to Niagara Falls. The combinations were endless as I looked on Trip Advisor, Expedia, Priceline, Orbitz, Hotwire, Cheapair, and Kayak. At the same time I was looking for airfare, I was checking tours at Niagara Falls, ground transportation and hotels. If one part of the trip seemed to work, another part did not quite fit into my plans.

My eyes, fingers and mind were exhausted with all the data so I decided to have AAA help me out. After about the third combination of how and where I wanted to go, the travel agent suggested I come in for a map and book. He also told me that if they planned a trip for me they could not redeem my Frequent Flier Miles and I would need to pay full price for where ever I was going!  I hung up more dejected than ever.

By now, I decided to prioritize exactly what I wanted to do.  1.)  Save Money  2.) See my family
 3.) See Niagara Falls.  Instead of using my free miles, I would fly to Boston for the same amount as flying from LaGuardia to Boston (hard to understand those fees) see my family, and take a bus tour from Boston to Niagara Falls.  At last, everything seems to have fallen into place and I am happy!! I still have my free miles....anyone want a visitor? Of course, you have to live somewhere near the Friendly Skies of  Frontier!

Dinner at Costco

I made a terrible mistake to go shopping at Costco at 4:30 p.m.  It wasn't quite dinner time and lunch had been four hours earlier.  I had gone to order some prints in the photo section and while I waited for the photos,  I wandered around the store.  I spotted a lady with her hair up in a net, clear disposable gloves, and a small table in front of her. She told me that I had to taste the cheese spread. It was Gouda with jalapenos and tomatoes on a cracker. How could I resist?  It was tasty and not spicy at all.  A few aisles down, another lady pushed some health drink in different flavors.  I took the orange flavor as she told me it had Vitamin C and no artificial preservatives.

A man and I spotted one-inch twists that looked like Twizzlers only fatter in a dark brown, almost black color. It was licorice and as we eyed the goody, the lady put another one out and said, "Here we go, let's not fight over it, though it is good enough to fight over!" The man and I grinned at each other as we ate our yummy licorice.

Near the chips, a small paper cup was filled with pencil like crunchy tubes.  I was told it was some kind of vegetable chip.  A flavored green drink went along with the different colored, crunchy vegetable tubes. I continued looking around and found a woman cutting up chunks of different kinds of cheese.  I took a cheddar chunk. I smelled something frying and went to investigate.  "Try this delicious Jimmy Dean sausage....it is good now and better for breakfast," she said and the sausage was full of flavor. My next stop was at a quesadilla spot....melted cheese between two toasted tortillas.

The pizza sampling place was popular and a customer had three children she was feeding.  When I got to the display, the sample lady said, "Just a moment and I will have more....just need to cut some up." Before long she had six small cups filled with one inch diamonds of pizza. I grabbed mine and moved on. The toasted bread tasted like homemade and I wished I had the chunk of cheese to eat with it. And maybe a little wine....but I noticed that no wine was being offered as a sample!

A Hummus mix on a cracker,  a cupful of nuts, a small Almond joy, a piece of a high fibre bar with chocolate on the bottom and nuts on top, and a carbonated drink completed my sampling. My eating frenzy ended with a piece of hard candy that I was told would "be perfect for Halloween!" I was full and knew I would not be eating dinner.  Costco knows how to entice the hunger customers and even though I did not buy any of the products, I did see many that did. 

I picked up my photos and recalled a saying my mother used to say, "Pansita llena, corazon contento!" (Full stomach, happy heart!)

Mama Tito

My Grandmother Monserate's light blue satin comforter was so soft I felt as if I was on a cloud. It seemed to cuddle me when I spent the night with her. She would gently rub my head and tell me stories until I fell asleep. She was my father's mother and we called her Mama Tito. She and I were very close until she made a comment that frightened me.  One day, as she hugged me, she said, "Hijita, I love you so much, that when I die I am going to take you with me."

From then on I stopped going to visit her.  I stayed away hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" would hold true and she would forget me and what she had told me. When I was forced to visit her,  I tried to stay away from her and left as soon as I could.  She mentioned this to my Dad and he told her it was just my age.  "Kids are funny," he told her.

I never told a soul about my fear and when she had a stroke and lay paralyzed for almost twenty years, I prayed that she would never die. When she did die, I was married, pregnant with my son, and living in Denver. I did not attend her funeral in Greeley. One time, my father asked me why I had stopped visiting his mother.  I told him because I was afraid that when she died she would take me with her, just like she said she would.  He laughed and said, "How silly you are. Imagine if everyone was able to come and take their loved ones, there would be nobody left on this earth! Everyone has someone that loves them or that they love!"

Many years later, as I traveled through Europe, I happened to be in Barcelona, Spain.  I found a brochure on a monastery named Montserrat and thought I would visit my grandma's namesake.
There were many curves on the way to the monastery and I kept thinking, how strange if the bus should crash and I would die.  Her prophecy would come true.  I knew how ridiculous the thought was but I couldn't keep the idea out of my head.

Monk's dorms

I visit the Monastery of Montserrat.

The monastery is nestled among huge boulders in a mountainous area.  It is run by a Benedictine  Order. A short walk from the main buildings takes one uphill to where spectacular views can be seen.  The basilica houses a black Madonna holding a gold ball and Jesus as a boy. She is referred to as La Moreneta or the Black Virgin. Many make a pilgrimage to Montserrat to pray to the Black Virgin. Arches surround the square and statues of Saints are placed near each arch. If one stands in the arch, an outstanding panoramic view of the mountains can be seen.



The Basilica



The Black Madonna



 

I spent the afternoon wandering the grounds, enjoying the views, praying in the chapel, enjoying the art in the museum, and most of all, giving thanks that my grandmother had loved me so much.  I felt bad I had not spent more time with her but I do have wonderful memories of the time I did spend with her. Down deep in my thoughts, I was also happy that I returned home safe and sound!



Summer Palace of the Popes

I could see my reflection in the window as the train moved at a fast clip. A family of father, mother and two children were in the same compartment. Since they spoke French and I spoke English, all we could do was smile at each other. When they got off at their stop I was left alone in the small room. I was on my way to Spain and now I had the small compartment to myself.  I stretched out on one of the benches, placed by back pack under my head and decided to try and sleep.

The door opened with a loud swoosh and through semi-closed eyes I watched a young man talking to himself. He sat across from me. His conversation seemed to be in Spanish and he appeared to be agitated.  He had tangled dreadlocks, his shoe strings were untied, and he did not look clean.  I could stay and travel with the stranger, who might be a murderer or a rapist, or I could get off the train.  I looked out the window and saw a large M O T E L sign flashing in the distance.  I grabbed my back pack and got off the train. (In Europe with a rail pass you can get on and off trains at your will!)

It was one-twenty in the morning as I entered the motel and asked for a room.  The French clerk could not understand or pretended not to understand what I was saying.  I tried Spanish and sign language and when he answered I could not understand him either. Just then, a man and a woman entered.  The man had a small monkey on his shoulder. They seemed to also be asking for a room.  After several exchanges between the clerk and the couple, I spoke in English. "I need a room for the night and the clerk does not speak English.  Do you?"

With a heavy accent he said he did. He moved closer to me and said, "There is no room here but if we walk about six blocks there is a hotel that does have rooms available." At this point the monkey decided to jump on my shoulder and his tiny hands grabbed my hair. I screamed and the man, the woman and the clerk all began talking at once, reaching toward me to try and get the monkey off my back while the monkey jumped up and down! "He likes you," the man said as he placed the monkey back on his shoulder.

We walked down a cobbled stone street called the Ruede la Republique until we came to the Hotel Regina. The interior was dark with just a few lights. I was charged $100 and was told my room was 418. The clerk pointed me in the right direction with an apologetic, "No elevator."  I climbed  the steps to the fourth floor and saw room 415, 416, 417, 419, and 420. Twice I looked and could not find 418. I walked back down all the steps and back to the registration desk.  "There is no Room 418."

He said, "Go up stairs....more stairs....go up." I returned to the fourth floor and found a narrow stairway.  It was so narrow I had to go up sideways.  I kept wondering if I had done the right thing.
Maybe I should have stayed on the train. On what appeared to be an attic I saw a lone door marked 418.  I opened the door to find myself in a plain room with a small dresser and a full-size bed. The sparkling crystal chandelier over the bed seemed out of place in the ordinary room. The bathroom surprised me with its beautiful blue, green, yellow and red paisley tile.

My room is on top floor!

Not knowing how safe the hotel was,  I shoved the bed in front of the door.  If anyone tried getting in they would have to shove me and the bed out of the way. I crawled into bed and heard musical cooing. I got up and opened the grey wooden shutter and watched hundreds of grey and white pigeons flutter way. The scene before me amazed me as I looked at a stone

Gigantic Statue

castle-like fort. I could see thick walls, spires, towers, and gigantic statues. I felt as if I had been transformed to a magic land in some fairy tale! At that moment I  knew why I love to travel.  It is the excitement of seeing something different, beautiful, amazing and new. I decided to stay a few days to tour the place I had found by accident!

Avignon, I found out, used to be the summer home of the Popes. For a time there was fighting as to where the Papacy would be....Rome or Avignon. Rome won. The striking town is surrounded by massive defensive walls, 17 inches thick, called ramparts. There is a golden statue on top of the Notre Dame des Doms Cathedral. Outside the walls is the Rhone river and to get to Paris it is about 350 miles. I fell in love with the quaint town. I purchased water in a bottle, roamed through museums, looked at wares being sold in street kiosks, and enjoyed one whole day of sight seeing. Outside the walls I walked along the river after crossing a busy street. Cars do not respect pedestrians!  I picked up tips about Avignon by listening to a tour guide explaining the city to a group of American tourists.



Papal Palace

                                 

                                           Defensive wall goes all the
                                         way around Avignon

Theater and Museum

The Invisible Man