Category: Bedlam Farm Journal

“A king who does not care for his people is not a king, but a tyrant waiting for his own ruin.“

— Unknown

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From ancient Greece to England, the history of Kings is littered with the tragic stories of kings who failed their people.

Sadly, it is nothing to gloat about – kings are choked to death by their own egos, and they take many tragic and betrayed followers along with them.

Donald Trump has beaten the drums about his defeat in 2020, clinging to the provably false notion that the election was rigged.

This week, he launched one of his specialties: an effort to frighten voters likely to vote for someone else away from voting. He promised a Herculean speech that will sweep his enemies away.

I know this is “big, big” news about the election; we can almost write the script. His corrupted lackeys from somewhere will come up with even more false evidence, flaws, or conspiracies that took his election from him, and to make sure his opponents will hide or run away.

His bluster is predictable, along with numerous lies, insults, and chest-beating.  In recent months, some of his speeches have been incomprehensible. What freed men need is champions who are fearless and determined, not people trembling just the way he would like us to be. He wants to be a King, but he has never read the history books.

He can’t be happy about his access, his billions of dollars, or his vast power. That’s the problem with the super wealthy.  It’s not enough. They never have enough.

With sincere empathy, I cringe when I see him now, another Biden stumbling and bumbling and unable to stay awake in his own meetings. I know what it’s like to get old, and I sympathize. It’s not possible to hide. But there’s no longer any doubt about our King; there isn’t enough makeup to cover the truth or the lies about his health.

I write this not in the hope of hating him – I don’t – but in the hope of assuring people – many of whom read my blog – that this latest plot – stop the election –  will go nowhere.

The Constitution is quite clear that votes are the business of their states, not the President. Say what you want about our mercurial Justices on the Supreme Court; they mostly seem to love their Constitution.

I just don’t see them setting it on fire by allowing a President to interfere with or damage an election. State governments have been preparing for this for many months. He has no real idea what he is dealing with. His own followers have been begging him to focus on something else – anything else.

There are far too many people in America fighting him already to pull this off. And we all know why the Epstein files are terrifying him. The truth  is just peeking around the corner. His ill-fated macho war is eating his presidency every day a little more.

His new agenda is often cruel, confusing, corrupt, and even frightening, but almost nothing he has tried to advance has stuck or will stick in the future. The biggest Army of American history is massing, organizing, voting, and donating to a new generation of young leaders who share one very determined goal: to end Trump’s long rule as a loved but erratic and almost entirely failing list of demands and ideas, from Tariffs to the endless war in the Middle East.

He keeps insisting to struggling people that they aren’t struggling at all. That is proven to be really dumb politics.

We are getting just what we needed – the old farts of the Democrats are on the run, the next generation is here, and with a bang. Nobody is talking about what a great job Donald Trump is doing. Most of the praise is going to a young and creative Muslim mayor of New York- the very antithesis of Trump – something that was inconceivable just months ago.

The arrival of younger, more idealistic political candidates is refreshing to me, and is a hopeful sign.

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Trump has earned his place in history; he has brought great and needed change; he has had a long run for a King as disinterested in leading his people as he is. History is overflowing with Kings just like him, even worse. There is little in history more vulnerable than kings who choke on their own egos and forget to share the gold with the people.

His over-reading cruelty to the immigrant nation is his legacy, the stain that will keep all of those images of him off the walls of America. It is the cruelest thing I have witnessed in this country in all of my life. The world won’t forget his denial of the planet’s suffering, especially when it might have been saved quickly.

Neither will the world forget the millions of children who suffered and died without the help from the richest country in the world that was keeping so many alive.

Trump is a failed President.

He lied too many times and is sealed up in a castle where nobody but sycophants can go, people who don’t dare tell him the truth or warn him against his deepening confusion and exhaustion. His never- nding war is widely understood as one of the great catastrophes in our history. It has clung to him like Super Glue.

Like many failed Kings, he believes the Gods chose him and that he is unstobbable.

His immigration policy is a nightmare, from beginning to end.

It’s no party to be a failing King, no matter how much money you have. If the reign of Donald Trump proves nothing else, it would be that money can’t buy happiness, not even for a King.

Beyond the failure of his obsessions with retribution and money, his Court of adoring assistants is rapidly turning against them, especially those out of his reach. Their own ideas are on the line now, and that is a different story.  The history of sycophants is even sadder and unforgiving than the fall of Kings. Nobody likes a sycophant; kings always have some followers.

Beware boot lickers, is the political history. Kings are often loved and followed for a while; sycophants run off to hide, if they are lucky.

I don’t really need to say more than this. For all their many faults, the Democrats seem to be the place where tough, smart, and fascinating opponents of iron and cruel rule are gathering more by the hour.

It’s only fitting for a king to be taken down by an Army like the ones coming to power against him. They don’t need guns to overturn a King.  They don’t even need to lie.

They need brains and some morals. They seem to have both. I hope that sticks.

They seem to care about the people they will serve.

I was surprised this morning by coughing fits and breathing struggles, and looked out the window to see what we immediately recognized as smoke from Canadian fires. It happened last year. It comes and goes. I can’t go out for too long, but long enough.

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The sky told the whole story of the smoke from Canada. Above, the yellow cast.

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Smoke and all, Maria started her meditation wood hour, something she hopes to do until the wood is in the woodshed, waiting for winter.

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Zip sits on his throne just about every morning now.

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Flowers pay the smoke no mind. Cheered me up from the gloom.

My Flash project is new; I forgot about photos that I love and couldn’t figure out where to put them. I’m quarantined, and except for short inspections, I’m not going outside. So I look through the flowers through the glass.

These are photos I like but didn’t have room to post. I love the photo of Zip sitting behind the fence, getting himself ready for a hot morning. Soon, he’ll go off and find shade, but this photo was Iconic for me, showing Zip’s comfort with the farm and with himself.

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97 degrees – through the looking glass.

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In the heat, changing the water every few hours.

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Friends. Fate and Robin.

One of the most complicated aspects of aging is dealing with the health care system and my own body without getting sucked into the dinosaur system that gives ordinary people little control or decision-making: attitudes and empathy matter.

Self-pity and complaining are not healthy.

I have a wicked virus now, but I am one of the lucky ones. I never let myself forget this. I understand the health care system is broken for many people. But I don’t deal with politics in the context of my new health drama.

Going there is not healthy for me or anyone, as I learn I have a strong virus to contend with.

I have good health care and a doctor I think the world of. American medicine has saved my life several times in several different ways. I’m grateful for that, period.

We all know the awful problems that surround in adequate health care, which has become an almost impossible morass tangled up in our broken political system.

I’m writing this journal because I found out this week that I didn’t have a stroke as I feared, but a viral illness called “Bell’s Palsy,” a neurological condition that causes sudden, usually temporary weakness and paralysis in the muscles of one side of the face.

I want my experience to be a help to others.

Bells Palsy occurs when the facial curve (the 7th cranial nerve becomes inflamed or swollen. Researchers believe the exact cause, still unknown, is a viral infection. It can last for months, sometimes for life. Most people recover in time.

The first signs of Bell’s Palsy represent the same signs of a stroke, and my dentist thought I was having one this week when he called off my tooth cleaning and insisted I get to the hospital.

I did, and spent a frightening day getting every part of my body examined by high-tech giant machines. It took doctors 10 hours to let me go home. I am grateful for the sudden and thorough examination.

I also refused to add additional examinations that one doctor wanted me to have; it was clearly (to me) unnecessary.

My primary care physician, whom I trust, agreed. Sometimes, I know, I have to be my own advocate.

I’ve had open heart surgery, a toe amputation, a collapse that caused minor brain damage, and other dramas, and the examinations unanimously found that my heart, brain, and blood sugar are all in excellent form at this time, considering my age.

I am learning that Bell’s Palsy is not life-threatening, but can be uncomfortable and even debilitating for weeks or months. I’m getting organized, and an eye patch is coming tomorrow to cover my eye, which needs constant drops to prevent dehydration. This will perhaps be the most serious problem I face.

I feel like I always feel when I run into a serious health issue. I remind myself that attitude is central to health. Good doctors and good patients understand the connection between stress and sickness. So do wise patients.

I’ve learned not to complain about the system, even when I can’t always accept it. We have become a nation of whiners and complainers, many of us seeking overwhelmed doctors and people to blame for the shortcomings of our society.

Perhaps the people who complain the most will one day elect to office people who will solve problems rather than hide behind them or exploit them.

When I woke up the night of my heart surgery, I had tubes all over me and said I needed to take a walk. The nurses were shocked, but they took most of the tubes out, and I started walking and walking every time I woke up in bed. When I did 30 rounds around my recovery room, they sent me home, and I was working three days later.

Believe me, I am no Superman, athlete, or tough guy. I have learned to take responsibility for my health, not simply place it on others or complain anout people wanting to help them and are given few tools to do so.

I have to have faith in myself.

I also realize that my health depends on my refusal to give up on life because I am old. Keeping busy and involved is essential to my health. The healthiest medicine I take is my writing on my blog and work at the local food Pantry, helping hungry people to eat.

I make decisions with my doctor, but I don’t do everything I am told or take every step the system may want me to take. I have the right to live as I wish and die as I wish, and I won’t give that up to anyone. I want to be well, but I want to be me.

Another thing I do for health is my photography, a passion that brings me out ito nature and the world, and out of my own laments and suffering. I never treat a nurse or doctor badly, even though I see that happen every time I land in a hospital.

We have drifted into a culture of cruelty and complaint- no one and nothing is good enough for us or doing enough for us. This may often be true, but my response is to do good every time people or governments promote hatred and cruelty.

This new illness is a difficult one; it is uncomfortable and affects my work, eyesight, writing, and eating habits.

One by one, I will take on these challenges and put the information to good use. My first step is to put a patch over my eye so I can continue my photography, see clearly, and keep the eye moist.

This is supposed to help. I’ll pick up the other issues or feelings as they come along and share them in the hope of being useful to others. I am surprised to learn a lot people have had to deal with Bells Palsy.

I intend to inform, not dictate or complain. I’m a fortunate man, and I learned this week I am also a healthy man, especially for my age.

I remind myself to treat the people I meet in health care as I wish to be treated, and I believe I have been treated well, in part because of that. I also firmly believe that self-pity and whining kill.

That’s all for the first round. I’ll keep the process up on my blog. I hope it might be helpful, something that is also healing for me.

Note: What is the cross about? A friend of mine got it for me on a trip to Jerusalem. I am not a Christian, but a longtime believer in the messages of Christ. I wear this chain in the hope that his values will prevail in America. I will be wearing it until our country returns to kindness and empathy. Call it my own kind of prayer and protest. He is badly needed here. I don’t worship Christ, but I cherish his humanity.

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For some years, I asked for blog support every month or so (it took me a long time to do that). Since then, my readers and I have found ourselves in the same situation: we all have less money and bigger bills. So I don’t ask for blog support monthly, just when things get tight, and I get a bit nervous.

As many of you know, the blog is free to you, but not to me. As you also know, the price of every single thing is going up, something the government denies, but my bank account doesn’t. I feel like a Democrat’s plea for money; I get a bunch every day.

Please help if you can, and thank you: On PayPal, my address is [email protected], and on Venmo, it’s Jon@Jon-Katz-13.

I’m doing all the good I can do – supporting the Cambridge Food Pantry, Sue Silverstein’s art class, and a lot more – the blog is at the center of all that, but I need some support myself.

It’s the end of the month when I get nervous. I think we all need one another these days. I need readers and supporters, and you need a space where no one can call you names or insult you.

If the blog is helpful to you, or stimulating in some way, if you are interested in my ideas or my Abstract flowers, or if I amuse and give you things to think about, think of supporting the blog, the story of my life on an upstate New York farm with my wife Maria and Zip the wonder cat, and Zinnia and Fate, Lulu and Fanny and those sheep Maria turns into beautiful things.

I’ve deepened my photo contributions and have posted a flower photo just about every day for several years. I’m proud of the blog and what it has become. It’s not a political blog but a safe place and hopefully an interesting place to go and perhaps steady your nerves.

I see the blog as the story of a life, now two lives, a digital soap opera and memoir. With reader support, I feel ever closer to the readers. And after much handwringing, I decided I deserve to be paid for my work.

Donations are not mandatory or fixed. The blog is and will always be free. I don’t charge for some ideas while paying extra for the rest. Donations are optional and can be of any amount. Just go to blog support.

You can contribute any amount you wish.

My PayPal ID is [email protected], and my Venmo ID is Jon@Jon-Katz-13. Any amount is welcome there also. Checks can be sent to Jon Katz, Blog Support, P.O.Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

For those of you who value the blog, I need support. I don’t get those fat publishing checks anymore; farms and animals are expensive, so is photography. I charge for none of that but depend on the goodwill of readers. Thanks to those who can afford support, and those who can’t are quite welcome to read the blog, which is published every day.

And don’t forget Zip, he gets a lot of attention here. He helped wear out my camera.