they work hard for the money

Tonight I rode the Lawrence bus with the hard-working people who live along its route. It was Friday night. The street and the bus were crowded. The bus moved slowly and stopped often.

Outside my window I noticed a slim, beautiful young woman with long dark hair halfway down her back standing as she chopped something at her small umbrella stand. From a nearby chair, her young daughter was half-sitting, half-standing, chattering happily to her smiling and nodding mom. The school day was over, mom's work was just beginning. A block or so on, I saw a man setting up the red and yellow umbrella for his stand. I hoped they weren't too much competition for each other. Clothing racks were set up on the sidewalk, hoping to interest the people walking by. On the bus, one very tired man in work clothes slept slumped against his window. Three little girls sat a few seats in front of me smiling and laughing as they played a game together under the caring eyes of their mothers (who had just picked them up after work perhaps?). I was not the only tired older person smiling from their energy and joy.

It may not be PC to use the word poor. I'm not sure. But it struck me as a I looked around that the working poor work hard for the money. Very hard. And they probably don't make much money or get any benefits as a reward for all that hard work. They get by. They work hard to get by.

We heard this week that South Shore Bank went under. A bank with a heart. Part of the reason they went under was that they didn't foreclose much; they gave people a chance. And they didn't get any TARP money. Just the big banks, that did foreclose, got our tax dollars. What's wrong with this picture?

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No one says it like the Daily Show. This must not be missed. A perfect example of hypocrisy.

Cover designed by Eric Martin ...

I love the cover Eric designed. Now I'm really jazzed about it finally being published.

So here's what Winston Churchill had to say about writing a book:

“Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement; then it becomes a mistress, and then it becomes a master, and then a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him out to the public.”

I think I'm still at the state where it's a tyrant ... I'm longing to fling the monster out to the public. Soon.