Steppin' Out

So, this is the time of year when Central Texans rise to the occasion. It's officially Autumn and all the ladies are bustin' out the deep rich jewel tones, the Jackie O cardigans, and the tall tanned leather boots....while simultaneously lathering on the Arid Extra Dry I might add, because in all honesty, it's wishful thinking. We're still in Texas after all, and right about now the days creep well into the eighties. Regardless, there is something magical about October in this region of the nation. An invisible jovial bug infects us all, a side effect resulting from the menagerie of mosquito bites and sun burns accumulated over the summer I suppose. We pile ourselves in droves onto every creek side patio, into every tree lined restaurant, sipping margaritas and munching chips dipped in fresh cilantro salsa; hit every single trail or anything resembling a deep fresh breath of cool green greenbelt; pack picnic lunches laden with chilled iced Luzianne and slow roasted hatch chile cheese dip; then after a day romping about we head home to build fires in our fire pits, gleefully parading about our insect free yards, save for the inviting symphony of cicadas and their ectoskeletal overture.

I am madly in love with central Texas, but this was not always the case. It took an unexpected yet delightful affair with central west Texas to launch me into this realization, but that is a story for another time...

Hard and Soft

My patch of Earth is hard and soft,
the wavy fragrant blades
a forgiving green ocean
inviting me to spill my dreams.

My patch of Earth is hard and soft
like my heart
when it was young
plump, fertile, and teeming with activity,
yet time became my teammate
And together we pushed its air up
and its life deep.

My patch of Earth is hard and soft.
It pines patiently for aeration
roots for nutrients
churns for love
advocates for attention,
a tender shoot
alive
and infinite in years.

My patch of Earth is hard and soft.
It begs to cultivate something,
and I lie on it
flat out
fertilizing
nurturing
sun shining on my face.

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

Freeze Tag

So what's the deal
Oh bird of prey
Can I not
Reveal my soul to you?

How will you steal it?
In the night
Stealthy and sleek
Like a beautiful thief?

Or will you come softly by morning
Drowning my fragrant heart
In a cold hard freeze...

The delicate petals
Of an exquisite blossom,
Cracking
Like the ice in a stiff drink,
Silently falling to the Earth.

By Andrea Hanson Kelley

Dirty Little Secret

Health Insurance. Let's see. Insurance? Insurance for WHAT? Annihilation by unaffordable health care? That's laughable (Oops! Better not bust a gut; could cost me ten grand)! I'm most likely stating the obvious, but doesn't it appear that the "insurance" industry is on the brink of pricing themselves out of their own market? I am baffled that as a whole (myself included), we continue to buy into their dirty little secret, the lie that we can't live a day without their "safety net". I envision a not so distant future strikingly reminiscent to that of our not so distant past. Can you envision CIGNA and the like dropping like aging insects? Going the way of the dinosaur? What would we do with all the money we used to begrudgingly dole out for insurance premiums? Forget cigarettes! Health insurance is much worse for your health! Ludicrous but true. Hmmmm…

Hey, want to take a trip down memory lane, just for grins? Yeah? Okay. Cool. Close your eyes and imagine that it's almost the summer of LOVE. The year is 1965. The sun is shining and it's a hot day in late July. Two clueless 22 year old parents drive their new bundle of joy home from the hospital after mom and baby have spent the standard one week convalescing following a normal delivery. One month later they get the bill from the hospital (insert music from the movie "Jaws" here). They open the bill and it.... (are you sitting down people? Please sit down or you'll fall over I am certain. I wouldn't want to be sued for your $20,000 trip to the emergency room.) The bill they opened that day in 1965 was…… under $300! Total! That’s correct, under $300. And the real kicker is, when they plucked it out of the mail box they weren't bowled over by a wave of nausea, like most of us are when we see a medical bill staring us in the face. I could now launch into the standard "good ole days" oratory, but I'll spare you the pain and suffering. I will, however, say this; my parents did not have health insurance. Few did 45 years ago, until in 1971 when John Ehrlichman, a top Nixon aide who was being heavily lobbied by the infant HMO industry, brought up the notion of profitability through providing less care to patients.

Now Mr. Ehrlichman, I'd say your messy delivery to Tricky Dick in the White House that afternoon could be likened to a cinematic tale of horror ever so popular at the time entitled "Rosemary's Baby". Little did we know that there was actually an infant insurance company in that black bassinet adorned with the inverted crucifix. No wonder Mia Farrow freaked out. On top of all that psychological trauma, her demon baby hospital bill was about to grow up into a strapping young and oh so evil $15,000 liability on a good day.

But I digress. Regardless, Ehrlichman's dirty little secret was hardly a bundle of joy, like yours truly and the manageable bill my parents received. Yes,back in 1965, health care was affordable. Insurance was a moot point. It was not necessary. My suggestion is simple. Get rid of health "insurance" (the nerve of them to still call it such a thing) and start over from scratch.

I sometimes wonder if that's what our wise old Mother Earth has in mind; ridding herself of us humans and starting over. Maybe we should begin entertaining the idea of a massive pandemic as our saving grace, or a new beginning, because if all we have to rely on when the swine flu gleefully mutates and makes its valiant attempt to gobble us up is our health insurance? Well, we'll just be shit out of luck.