It's The So-So Pumpkins, Charlie Brown!

This years Jack o' Lanterns 

Corrine Loved To Be Scared...And I Was Too Dumb To Know Why

                                   Neighborhood Grand Champeen Halloween House for the third consecutive year

   Years and years ago I knew a young woman named Corrine. She and I were friends and nothing more, and at the time I never imagined there was a possibility that we could ever be more than friends. 

   We met each other at college (my second attempt to attain higher learning), in an art class I would eventually take a "W" for, as I did not like the instructor (long story for another time).

   While we got along well and had several mutual interests, I considered Corrine out of my league, as she was not only very attractive and from a normal, well-off family, she was also very...how should I put it? Hoity-Toity? Snobbish? At least that was my perception of her. 

   My perceptions of people back then were (and somewhat still are) kinda screwy. I think I based my appraisal of her being snooty on the fact that she always wore dresses in a city were nearly all the women wore shorts or pants.

   So we never dated. We did spend the night together in a supposedly haunted house once though, which was, due to my inability to pick up several hints she dropped, was all we did - spend the night in a haunted house.

   This is how it went down.

   One day off campus Corrine and I bumped into each other, at a record store, and we discovered we had similar taste in music (the then somewhat underground new wave/powerpop punk rock scene), though she was much more into Goth bands such as Bauhaus and Joy Division, and I was much more into bands like the Clash and the 'mats.

   We ended up going to a small diner down the street from the record store together, just to chat and pass the time. We talked about the various bands we liked and the shows we'd seen, and the shows we'd like to see. After about twenty minutes of innocuous chit-chat, Corrine asked if I was into haunted houses.

   I remember thinking "That's an odd question to ask in March," and just shrugging my shoulders and saying, "Yeah, I suppose, if they're not hokie like the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland."

   Corrine laughed at that, and clarified for me that she meant real haunted houses, like the Whaley house in Old Town.

   Now, at that point in my life I was what could best be described as a burgeoning skeptic, having been introduced to the CSICOP while I was serving in the AF, and I had pretty much adopted the adage "Extraordinary Claims Demand Extraordinary Proof" as a personal credo.

   So, I replied, "Not really, don't believe in ghosts or stuff like that."

   Corrine then proceeded to fill me in on how she was sensitive to the presence of ghosts, and that I should not take their existence lightly. She told me she had seen ghosts, and was absolutely positive that there were lost souls roaming the earth.

   Then she said something that, at the time, confused me. She told me that she actively sought out haunted places as she enjoyed being scared. She also said she loved Horror movies, the creepier the better. For almost ten minutes she went on about how being frightened, really frightened, to the point of her heart racing like a greyhound and her body physically trembling, was the biggest thrill she had ever known.

   She also asked me if I wanted to go to a haunted house with her and spend the night - she even goaded me a bit, insisting I was a chicken if I didn't go.

   It was explained to me that this wasn't a haunted house put together as a Halloween attraction (it was March, afterall) but an old abandoned home she knew about that was supposedly haunted - Corrine had been told about it by some people she knew (a haunted house spotters network?) and had checked it out, but wasn't about to go inside it alone.

   So I agreed to go to the haunted house with her. It was located in an older part of National City, which was not too far from where I lived, and we agreed to meet there at 7:00 in the evening two days from then, which would be a Wednesday night - not exactly a busy night of the week.

   When I arrived at the address she had given me I was surprised to find that it was a condemned old Victorian that was surrounded by a chain-link fence with signs stating "No Trespassing" attached to it on all sides. Corrine was there waiting for me, holding a small gym bag (this was in the days before the small backpacks everyone carries now).

   I asked how we were going to get in the house, and she lead me to a section of the fence that she had cut open just enough to allow us to get through. Then we walked around to the back of the house and she pointed out a boarded up window, and asked me if I could pry the large sheet of plywood off. I pulled at one side of the board and it gave way fairly easy, swinging out like a door would. Corrine climbed through the window opening into the dark room and I followed.

   After our eyes adjusted, we discovered we were in the kitchen of the old house. Corrine whispered that we needed to be quiet for a minute, just in case anyone else had gotten the same idea she had and was in the house with us. For what seemed like 10 minutes we stood in silence until Corrine finally said, Okay, let's go upstairs."

   We walked up a narrow staircase to the second floor, which made one heckuva racket - had to be the nosiest staircase ever - if someone was in that house other than us, they surely knew of our presence by then.

    Corrine paused at the top of the stairs and rifled through her gym bag, pulled out a tall candle and asked me to hold it. Then she struck a match to light it. I distinctly remembered thinking at the time, "What, no flashlight? This woman is really into the Goth ambience."

   She took the lit candle from me and led us down a dark hallway. Two doors on opposite sides of the hallway had been removed and were leaning against the hallway next to the now empty doorframes - we walked right past those two empty rooms and made our way to the sole door at the end of the hall. It was still on it's hinges, and Corrine opened it and stepped into a large bedroom - there was still bedroom furniture in the house, and in the flickering candlelight, the room looked pretty much like what Hollywood would use for a haunted house set.

   Corrine walked over to a dresser and placed her gym bag on it. She passed me the candle and then rifled through her gym bag again until she found a candle holder. She took the candle back from me, put it in the holder, and set it in front of the dust covered dresser mirror.

   The candlelight reflecting off the mirror brightened up the room to the point that I thought that someone outside the house might get suspicious and call the cops, but just as quickly as I had that thought I realized the windows were all boarded up - from the outside the room would still look dark and empty.

   Looking around the room I saw a tall chest, what looked like a console table, a couple of bookcases (empty except for dust), one of those old fashioned sofas with an elaborately carved exposed wood frame that was upholstered in a well-worn red fabric, and a small bed with an old sagging mattress on it.

   Walking over to the sofa Corrine gingerly sat down. She patted the cushion next to her and whispered, "It's solid, come over and sit here."

  I did so and asked, "Do we have to whisper? Think anyone can actually hear us?" Corrine looked around the room and replied in a slightly louder voice, "Can't be too careful you know, don't want this to end before it even gets started."

   "What gets started?" I remember thinking to myself. I prepared myself mentally for a long night of nothing but explaining away the odd sounds old houses make due to wind or settling or whatever. 

   Agreeing to sit in a condemned vacant house for a night was shaping up to not being one of my best decisions.

   "It was in a house like this that I first felt the presence of a ghost," Corrine eventually stated. "very much like this, but in Virginia where I grew up - we lived there for twelve years before my Dad was transferred here. It was the ghost of a Sailor's wife who had been raped and murdered while he was out at sea. No one else could feel her presence but me, and I could hear her crying too - she cried constantly, and called out the name of her husband, begging him to come home and save her. I was only fifteen when I first made contact."

   I thought I saw a shiver pass through her as she recalled the experience, and she shifted on the sofa, moving closer to me. 

   "There is something or someone in this house, too. I knew it the first time I walked past it back in January. I've been wanting to investigate it ever since but didn't want to be alone in here." She turned her head to me and I could see the candle flame flickering in her eyes. 'Thanks for coming here tonight, my skin is crawling and I'd probably be screaming if I was alone."

   I probably replied with something like, "Hey, no problem," but I really can't remember. I don't actually remember word-for-word what she said, too, but you know, artistic license and all.

   What I can remember is that she scooched even closer to me after she said that, to the point that we were making full body contact and I could feel her shaking a little.

   Corrine continued. "There is a dark energy here, not evil, not malevolent, but dark. Something bad happened to someone who lived in this house - that's why their presence is still here. I can sense suffering, and heartbreak."

   She was quiet for awhile and I could hear the creaking of the old house. It was a calm night, no wind to speak of, but I knew buildings sagged and shifted and made creepy noises all by themselves. There was also the faint sound of the occasional car driving down the street outside. 

   "Did you feel that?!" Corrine said in a sudden, excited loud whisper. "That cold that just snaked around us as if it were wrapping us up?! Tell me you felt that!" 

   As she said this she clutched my arm and pulled me tighter toward her. I could feel her heart beating fast, and she was breathing in big gulps.

   I recall instinctively putting my arm around her and asking her if she wanted to leave, and she replying that there was no way she was leaving. She was going to find out who or what was in that house if it took all night.

   Corrine continued to talk about her experiences with ghosts for awhile, while I sat there listening patiently and wondering what the hell I was thinking for agreeing to be there.

   About ten or twenty minutes after she had made the outburst about the cold sensation she abruptly got up from the sofa and started nervously pacing in front of me. She looked at the ceiling and then to me and said, "You must think I'm a nut case for this. Thank you again for being here." Then she suddenly stopped pacing and turned to face the bed. 

   "I have to lay down on the bed. Whatever is here wants me to lie down." She walked over to the bed and placed both of her hands on the mattress and pushed down forcefully, then turned to me. "It's as solid as the sofa, should be okay."

   She sat on the bed and removed her shoes, saying, "I can't lay on a bed, any bed, with my shoes on." 

   She settled into the bed and for several minutes all I heard was her breathing. She was calmer now, but her breathing was still heavy. The candle had melted down quite a bit, and I asked her, "Do you have another candle? This one is almost down to the base of the candleholder."

   She said she didn't and that she thought the candle was supposed to last for 4 hours at least. I looked at my watch and was surprised to see it was almost 10:00 - we had been in that house for three hours, how did that happen?

   Corrine sat up on the bed. With just a trace of nervousness in her voice she said, "Come over here and sit on the edge of the bed before the candle burns out or I'll freak out when it does."

   I walked over to the bed and sat down - it was a small bed, what was known as a double, the largest commonly available before the queen-sized mattress was created in the 1950's, which meant that when I sat on the bed Corrine almost rolled into me. I again could feel as well as hear her breathing.

   "When we first walked into this room I felt that we were not alone, and now I'm certain of it." Corrine said those words in a shaky whisper. "The presence wants us to know it is here." She trembled again as she spoke, and gripped my forearm. "The presence is trying to communicate with me, I can sense that there is a great, dark sadness within it."

   As if she was speaking to someone on the telephone she asked aloud, "Who is there? Speak to me please, I am here to help you. Tell me how I can help you." 

   Corrine's arm was pressed up against mine as she spoke and I could feel the goosebumps on her skin. She breathed hard as she implored the presence to communicate.

   "We mean no harm, nor do we mean to disturb you. We are only here to help you find peace, to shed the chains that bind you to this earthly realm and find the eternal rest you deserve."

   Almost as if on cue I heard a creaking come from the area near the top of the stairs down the hall. I knew that stairs were a major source of odd noises in old homes simply due to the repeated compression of heavy footsteps and the recurrent release of that compression, but I still shuddered a little.

   Corrine shuddered too. She shuddered, and appeared to writhe on the bed as if she was tossing and turning in slow motion. Her skin was still goose-pimpled, and I could feel her heart beating fast and hard.

   "Please, please speak to me, trust me to help you. You deserve a final rest." Corrine said those words in whispered gulps as she continued to writhe on the bed. I did nothing but sit there on the edge of the bed, Corrine's right arm now hooked around my left arm. 

   The last few flickers of the candle flame bounced off the mirror and then the room was plunged into absolute darkness. I could no longer see Corrine and she could no longer see me. 

   "The presence is now everywhere in the house, it has completely enveloped this room - but it will not speak to me. It does not want to leave, it is afraid to let go." Corrine seemed to edge into me slightly as she spoke and her grip on my arm tightened. 

   I imagine I must have pondered how a ghostly presence could be afraid to let go.

   "Lay down next to me, hold me - I need you to hold me, just hold me!" I did as she requested and was taken aback by the way she was shaking when I was alongside her. Her breathing was in gasps, and she turned into me, burying her face into my shoulder as she seemed to quake in absolute terror.

   For several minutes we lay on the bed quietly. Her breathing calmed and I could feel her body relax. Before I knew it Corrine seemed to be falling asleep. I felt trapped with her on the bed - it was awkward to say the least.

   Being as how I was then a hetero young man with a hetero young man's thoughts regarding laying on a bed with an attractive woman in a very dark room, it may seem unbelievable that all I felt was awkward, but that's the truth - I was not a lothario by any stretch, and really was a bit dense when it came to picking up signals from women back then (still am, truth be told).

   I eventually drifted off to sleep next to her.

   We awoke almost simultaneously at 5:30 the next morning. I got up off the bed and then helped Corrine stand up before either of us said a word.

   "Wow, that was incredible." Corrine looked at me with a weird dead serious look on her face as she spoke. "I know I cannot explain to you what happened last night, but it was as real as it gets. I do not feel the presence anymore - it has moved on."

   She then stood on her toes and leaned into me and planted a light kiss on my cheek. She sorta laughed and said, "You are a true gentleman! I almost appreciate that!"

   Those were her exact words, or damn close to them - it was after she said those words (and quickly turned to the dresser to retrieve her gym bag) that the shoe dropped and I realized that she had actually got me to stay with her in that house for an altogether different reason than just to keep her company.

   Again, I'm a bit dense at times.

   'Well, glad I could help, I guess," might have been my reply. I don't clearly recollect, but I do remember thinking that I was an idiot as we made our way out of that house and through the hole in the chain link fence before anybody was out and about in the neighborhood.

   Corrine and I saw each other several more times before that semester ended, but we never did anything else like that again. We lost contact over the summer - think she moved back to Virginia, or maybe met someone a little more astute at picking up signals.

   Sometime after the events of that night I related what happed to my friend Kevin who no doubt started laughing his ass off (Kevin laughed at everything). "You idiot," he probably yelled for the whole world to hear, "How could you not pick up on what she wanted you to do?" Man you are a moron!"

    Can't recall how I responded to Kevin, but chances are it was a combination of embarrassment and a desire to punch him.

   Kevin was the sort who snorted as he laughed and while I cannot recall word for word his reactions, I know he loudly stated something obvious such as "Dude, that chick wanted you to bang her in a haunted house, chicks get off on that shit! How could you not know!"

   And I still remember feeling like a bumpkin at that moment, even more so than I usually did.

Quirky Old Thing Found In A Musty Old Box

   Found at the bottom of a small box filled with old books that was purchased at a garage sale this weekend - eight silver dollar sized pieces of stiff paper printed up for the 1932 Leadville, Colorado, High School Junior-Senior Silver Dollar Prom.

   They were tied together with a small piece of thin ribbon that had been threaded through a small hole punched through each disc of paper. From what is printed on them these must have served as the program for the prom, complete with dinner menu and dance card.

   Sadly, none of the 16 standard entries on the dance cards were filled out, and only the 4th line on the last dance card, the one with four lines for "Extras", was filled in (very faintly) - with what appears to be the name of a teacher, Miss Macy (?).

   So, even 90 years ago kids were hot for teacher...

Spooky Scary Skeletons

 

 

Public Art In Wheat Ridge Colorado

                               Discovering The Stars, Stainless Steel, Designed by Kevin Robb
 

The Tells Of Approaching Winter

    Autumn came without fanfare - just the usual streets-littered-with-dead-leaves and frost coated windshields. 

   People started flipping collars up as they walked down the windswept streets, and young men, those who had spent the summer clean-shaven, sported scruff on their faces that would soon become full-blown beards. Women of all ages sported scarves and leggings, and even the pets seemed to get fluffier.

   Oh, and the Padres lost the Pennant series to the Phillies. 

The Secret Life Of Books

   Buying a lot of books to read from thrift shops, garage sales, swap meets, etc., often results in the occasional discovery of an unusual bookmark, an odd citation or two, or a dog-eared page that provokes a little speculation.

   Grocery lists, various utility bills, unused checks, business cards, postcards, pieces of greeting cards, small decals with the backing intact, torn pages from notebooks, corners of envelopes, and even pages torn from books being read have all been found being used as bookmarks. 

   Citations have been encountered that underscore every mention of a specific character in a book, or locations used, or years cited - I remember reading a well-worn copy of Follet's Winter of the World (the second book in the Century trilogy) and discovering a very detailed timeline of the events in the novel written in a very neat though minute print on the inside back cover or the book - the timeline cross-referenced chapters, paragraphs and pages to years of occurrence.  

   As for dog-eared pages, I would estimate that at least 75% of all the used books I've ever read have had them. Why do people dog-ear pages? An easy first guess is that the reader could not find anything to use as a bookmark. However, it's also possible (since dog-earing creates a more hidden placeholder) that the reader creased the corner of the particular page in order to remember something of importance on that particular page as they kept reading - maybe an extremely well-written passage, a great turn of phrase, or a crucial plot element or twist.

   This morning as I was reading a copy of Hemingway's A Movable Feast (A book I bought awhile ago and am just now finishing) I discovered a dog-eared page near the end of the memoir - page 197, the first page of the last chapter wherein he makes mention of his babysitting cat. There is also a date penciled in on page 211. the last page of the book - February 17th, 2008.

  I pondered for a minute or two the possible significance of both the dog-eared page (surely there couldn't be a need to place hold the first page of the last chapter, must be something significant to it), and the penciled in date (was finishing this Hemingway masterwork a victory of some sort?). 

   Then I closed the book and put it back on the shelf, figuring neither really could have been that special as I picked up that copy for a quarter at a garage sale.

Don't Look At Me In That Tone Of Voice

   Lately I've been picking up on distinctive tones of voice.

   What I mean is, I've somehow developed the ability to hear specific tones of voice and to translate them, so to speak (no pun intended)

   One would think there would be as many different tones of voice as there are people, but I've been able to classify a few distinctive tones that are shared by several different groups of speakers.

   I've categorized these different groups like so:

   The salespersons tone of voice

   The foreman's tone of voice

   The announcer's tone of voice

   The parent's tone of voice

   The I've-never-had-kids-but-this-is-how-I'd-raise-them tone of voice

   The teacher tone of voice

   The instructor tone of voice (much different than the teachers)

   The police officers tone of voice

   The Doctor's tone of voice

   The Nurses' tone of voice

   The Judges tone of voice

   The cashier's tone of voice

   All of these can be sub-categorized further, such as with the announcer's tone of voice - the traffic update announcer's tone of voice is much different than the armchair quarterback sports talk show host tone of voice, and those are both vastly different from the political-agenda driven reporter posing as a public-interest reporter tone of voice.

   Individuals seem to possess many different tones of voice that they use situationally. I have friends who are parents that can use their "sternly-chastising-children-for-failure-to-perform-a-task" voice and minutes later use their "my-child-is-a-gift-from-god" voice, and seconds later switch to their "what-have-I-done-to-deserve-these-ingrates" tone.

   I have also experienced co-workers who comfortably use a "working-alongside-equals" tone of voice 99% of the workday switch to a "Man-you-would-not-believe-the-idiots-I-have-to-tolerate-at-work" tone the minute they are off said job.

   

Pretty Dead Leaves

The Procession

 

Waiter, There's An Eye In My Soup

 

This Is Not A Rebroadcast, Reproduction, Or Other Use Of The Pictures And Accounts Of The Game...

                                                                     This is not a depiction or description of a celebration in a clubhouse by a team of deliriously happy professional baseball players who wear uniforms that sport the name "Padres", but feel free to close your eyes and imagine that it is.

    In what is known here in the United Sates as the National League Divisional Series of Major League Baseball, the Major League Baseball team that operates out of San Diego, California, known most commonly as the Padres but also referred to as the Friars and by some as the Fathers, defeated the Major League Baseball team that operates out of Los Angeles, California, known most commonly as the Dodgers but also referred to as Big Blue and by some as the Evil Empire of the West.

   Three wins for the Padres, One win for the Dodgers, wrapping up a best-of-five series early.

   Watching the last swing taken by the batsman for the Dodgers at a pitch thrown by the hurler for the Padres was a grand and glorious moment. The swing was impotent, as useless as the slowest hand on earth trying to swat the fastest fly on earth.

   Did I mention it was a grand and glorious moment?

   One to be cherished and lorded over my friends who favor the Dodgers Major League Baseball organization forever and ever.

   Petty of me, I know, but still gunna do it.

    Com'on, let's say it together, just this one time: Who's your Daddy now?

There Was A Middle-Aged Man Who Lived In A Car...

                                                Halloween Decorations on a house up the street
 

   He had been living in his car for the past twenty months. Living in his car, he said, was intentional - it was a course of action designed to allow him to save up enough money to buy a house.

   As he explained it, the current real estate market was stupid expensive and his plan was to wait out the unrealistically high prices for even the smallest homes by living in his car and banking all the money he was saving on rent, utilities, etc., for as long as he possibly could.

   He had joined a fitness center that allowed him to not only stay in shape, but be shaved and showered every morning before work, and he had a post office box for his mail (he didn't get much mail, but it was nice to have a mailing address if needed).

   He was able to use the free wifi at a couple of different places to access the web & check email on his laptop, and if necessary he also had his smart phone. 

  It had taken him awhile to find a location where he could park in the evening and sleep without being disturbed by traffic or being rousted by the cops, but he had indeed found what he called a "sweet spot", not too distant from his gym or job, and more importantly, one where he felt safe.

   He would not divulge how much he had managed to save towards a house so far, but he did say he had enough to allow him to trade in his car and get a nice van or small RV to live in, which he was contemplating if the housing market didn't head south anytime soon.

   A nice RV would be ideal he said, simply because it would be nice to be able to start dating again without having to explain to any potential dates that he didn't actually have a place that they could go back to.

   Dating again. In an RV. Interesting. 

   

Odd Picture From An Old (1940's Era) Magazine Of The Day

 

Maybe I Should Leave The Sports Reporting To The Sports Reporters

The San Diego Padres beat the Los Angeles Dodgers 5-3 tonight - I know, I know, I can hardly believe it myself - but it actually, truly happened. 

Solid pitching in the 4th & 5th innings by Yu Darvish (after a dodgy first inning, an icky second inning, and a painful 3rd inning) along with solid hitting by Manny Machado, Jake  Cronenworth, and Jurickson Profar earned the Friars the W.

It was beautiful.

Fortune Favors Those Who Can Forge Ahead In The Face Of Adversity

   She was a self-taught botanical artist of some renown, her work having been published in several nature magazines as well as a few textbooks.

   Her original goal in life, and by that I mean her childhood ambition, was to become a mountain climber - she set her sights on conquering Everest someday, sometime before her thirteenth birthday, and to achieve that aim she started climbing anything and everything in her hometown that presented even the slightest challenge.

   Which was not much, she would relate to others much later in life, as she was raised in a small town in central Illinois, an area of the country that was fairly flat.

   It wasn't until after the accident, when she spent nearly a full year either in a bed or a wheelchair, that she took up the artistic endeavor, mainly to pass the time. She wasn't much for reading, and television just made her sad as everyone on all the shows could walk and run through life without a care in the world.

   One of her relatives had brought her a sketchpad and a box of colored pencils soon after she had been released from the hospital, and since her bedroom at home was filled with bouquets of various flowers sent by friends and family, she started sketching them to pass the time. 

   Before she had relearned to walk she had gained a reputation as a talented artist.

   Mountain climbing being taken off her plate, she decided that the decidedly less dangerous avocation of drawing and painting might be worth turning into a vocation.

   Chalk one up for lighting a candle as opposed to cursing the darkness.

   

 

   

The Raven Checks In

   The large jet-black bird landed on the railing roughly six feet from where he stood. The feathers shimmering like a black mirror as it's wings folded in on it's sides. The bird cocked it's head to one side and looked directly at him.

   Taken aback by both the sudden appearance of such a large bird and the way it looked directly at him, he crouched a little as if he might have to jump out of the way of a sudden attack.

   He gathered himself together and, realizing he had the weight advantage, stared right back at the...Raven? Crow? He wasn't quite sure what type of large black bird it was, but he was fairly sure it wasn't a sparrow.

   Raven. He settled on it being a raven, as he understood that ravens were the larger of the two birds, and this bird was definitely large - it was at least  two feet in total height if it was an inch.

   The bird stood it's ground, or rather, it's spot on the railing. Thinking the bird might be looking for something to eat, he glanced around the immediate area but did not see anything that might be appealing to a raven.

   Looking at the bird again he formed the impression that the bird didn't actually look hungry, but rather, the bird looked concerned. The raven seemed to be looking at him as his mother used to look at him when she was worried he wasn't happy or full or comfortable.

   For unknown reasons he suddenly felt that he needed to reassure the large bird that he was doing okay, that everything was fine. So he did.

   "Hey man, appreciate you stopping by. Life's going alright, ya' know. Things are good. Hope the same is true for you."

   The raven tilted his head forward a little as he spoke, appeared to nod slightly, then turned away and took flight, heading off toward the western horizon.

   He didn't know what to make of it. Odder things had happened though, so he just shrugged his shoulders and got back to the job at hand.

The Blue Dragonfly Of Happiness

 

Old Solutions For Modern Problems

 From a 72 year-old copy of a  southern California newspaper comes a short story that still holds a bit of relevance.

"A Judge...disposed of a drunk driving case...then moved on to the next defendant who had also been charged with operating a vehicle while intoxicated...the Judge discovered the two defendants had actually collided with each other. 

Speaking to both of the defendants the Judge commented..."I wish to commend you two drunk drivers for running into each other instead of into some innocent person. If this sort of thing can be encouraged I think we may have hit upon the solution to a serious problem." 

Man, I'm From Right Here

 

A website sent me a breakdown of my ethnicity according to the regions/countries of origin of my ancestors. 

Originally, the information depicted above also included a comparison of the percent of my ethnic background that most closely mirrored the ethnic background of an individual who is doing research through that particular websites DNA database, but I removed the individuals info as it's their business, not mine.

The data shows I'm pretty much a mutt (a fairly white mutt, but still a mutt). From most to least, the regions/countries of origin of my ancestors are as follows (in the breakdown shown above the order is by most common ancestry shared with the researcher).

Baltics (Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia)   = 39%

Norway                                             = 12%

Sweden & Denmark                         = 11%

Eastern Europe & Russia                 = 10%

Ireland                                               = 8%

Scotland                                            = 7%

Germanic Europe                              = 6%

England & Northwestern Europe       = 4%

Spain                                                  = 3%

I noticed that Finland is not represented in the admixture, which is curious as I do have relatives in Finland. Maybe they moved.

While I am interested in my ancestry and the genetics I inherited for various reasons, I am not really all that keen on the idea that the area of the world where my ancestors originated means much of anything. 

I somewhat despise nationalism or regionalism or any other ism that determines a persons identity by the region/country where they/you were born.

It's the root cause of a lot of division and conflict, as evidenced by the historical record.

It's not like anyone has any say or choice in where they were born, you know? Simply put that's all just happenstance of geography.

I consider myself an Earthling (or Terran, if you need to church it up), as that's where, on the only scale that matters to me, I'm from.

An Internationalist, if you must.