Tag: Will Stanton

Posted on

Time by Will Stanton

“This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.”
So went Gollum’s riddle to
Bilbo.  Of course, the answer is “Time.”  Everything falls prey to time; nothing
lasts.  And, this includes humankind.  Our lives are but a mere speck in contrast
to, for example, geological time, although our lives usually are longer than
the fleeting moment allotted to a butterfly.
We usually have no inkling as to
how long our lives will be.  I always
have felt uncomfortable with the possibility that I may not have used my time
so productively as I might have, that I may have accomplished more to make me
truly worthy of this gift of time. 
Ironically, I currently spend a lot of time on these Story-Time
presentations.
In Thomas Mann’s acclaimed novella
“Death in Venice,” the protagonist Gustav von Aschenbach is shocked by a sudden
realization of mortality when he suffers a heart attack.  Afterwards as he watches the sands running
through a large hourglass, he muses, “The aperture through which the sand runs
is so tiny that, at first sight, it seems as if the level in the upper glass
never changes.  To our eyes, it appears
that the sand runs out …only at the end. 
And ‘til it does, its’ not worth thinking about ‘til the last moment
when there’s no more time…when there’s no more time to think about it.”     
Oh, I know that, in comparison, I
may have used my time more productively than many other people.  A lot of  people waste their lives in pursuit of hedonistic
pleasure or self-aggrandizement.   Or
worse, they throw away their lives through self-destructive behaviors or
destroy other people’s lives through mistreatment or violence.  Yet for even those of us who have had good
intentions, have we made the best use of our time?
I never have come to terms with
reality, always fantasizing that life and the world could be more ideal.  It may not be so, but it often appears that
the good die young, and the bad live on into old age. Why can’t those persons
throughout history who devoted their lives to helping others, to making the
world a better place, who had the talent to create great beauty in life, live
very long lives? 
Can you imagine a 20th-century
world without World War I, the Russian revolution and communism, World War II,
the Cold War?  What if Archduke Ferdinand
of the Austro-Hungarian Empire had not been assassinated at age of fifty and
had had time to continue his reformist influence that well may have defused the
tension between Serbia and the monarchy? 
There may have been no Great War, no millions of dead, no World War II,
not so much horror and sorrow.
Anyone who cares to learn the true
facts of history now knows through revelations from U.S. and former Soviet
Union officials that J.F.K. and Bobby, through back-channels, literally
prevented World War III and nuclear holocaust. 
What if John F. Kennedy had not been shot at age 47 and, instead, had
time to carry out his plans to withdraw our troops from Vietnam and to continue
to counter, as best he could, the military-industrial complex that President
Eisenhower had warned against?  Could he
have prevented thousands of U.S. soldiers and tens of thousands of foreign civilians
from dying?  Could he have prevented the
waste of trillions of dollars?  We only
can speculate, for he did not have enough time with us.  Neither did Bobby.
What if Martin Luther King, who
died at 39, had had time to continue his message of non-violence, equal rights
for all, economic balance among all citizens? 
We might not have had the riots and blazing neighborhoods that followed
his assassination.  He might have helped
to avert the rapid back-slide into political discrimination and the
disproportionate domination of wealth by so few.  His concern was for more than just the Blacks
of the nation but rather for all.  But,
his time was cut short.
Then in early history, there was
Giordano Bruno in the 16th century who, through his scientific observations,
saw for himself that our sun is a star, just like many other stars in the
heavens; and he expressed the opinion that we are not alone in the universe,
that there are many worlds far beyond. 
What other scientific revelations would he have found had the Church not
burned him at the stake in 1600 at age fifty-two?  He should have lived a long life.
There also have been many creative
individuals such as the young physicist Henry Moseley whose scientific theories
were so brilliant that he was assumed to be destined to win the Nobel Prize had
he not been killed in action at Gallipoli in World War I.  Why couldn’t someone like that have more time?
Music historians claim that Mozart
was the greatest musical genius of all times. 
The beauty of his creations continues to enhance the lives of those of
us who choose to listen.  What great
works could he have written had ne not died of rheumatic fever at age thirty-five?  Wasn’t he entitled to a life at least as long
as some evil person such as Mafia don Joseph Bonano?
And, what about the young and
innocent such as Ryan White who received a tainted blood transfusion and died
of AIDS at eighteen, or Martin Richard, the little eight-year-old boy who
recently was blown to bits in a terrorist bombing in Boston?  Ironically, one of the last photos of him
showed him holding a sign that he had made that said, “No more hurting
people.”  If they had lived full lives,
what contributions might they have made to the world?
If people must meet untimely
deaths, why not the evil and destructive people of the world instead, those terrible
individuals who harm others, destroy the planet, those who lie, cheat, and
steal?  There are far too many of those.  Had their time been extremely short, what
horrors could have been avoided?   
What if Adolf Hitler had died
young of syphilis in Munich, or Josef Stalin had died early so that his
paranoid evil had no chance of infecting Russia and the world?  How much more wonderful the world might have
been without the Hitler’s Holocaust, Stalin’s genocides, “Bomber” Harris’ order
to fire-bomb peaceful Dresden.
And frankly said, what about the
possibility of an apparently sociopathic vice-president succumbing to his first
heart attack instead of mechanically being kept alive like Darth Vader?  What if he, along with all of his nefarious
political manipulators and financial supporters, had perished from the earth
early on?  Might the President whom the
people actually chose have had a chance to serve his two terms rather than a cadre
of misguided ideologues who wreaked endless political and financial havoc upon
the nation and the world?  How different
would the world be today?  If that time
had been allotted to other people who were motivated to do good, what a
different world we would live in today.
Ironically in recent years, that
realization has come to a couple of Supreme Court Justices.  They quietly have lamented to friends that,
in retrospect, they now realize that the Supreme Court broke with all legal
precedence, terminating a presidential vote-count, an action that subsequently
was found to have put the wrong men into office and consequently unleashed
unforeseen events that have caused great hardship and sorrow to the nation and
the world.
None of us in this room is either
J.F.K. nor Stalin, neither Mozart nor Darth Vader.  So, what do we make of our lives?  All that each of us can do is to take the
time remaining for us and do the best we can. 
Be positive and creative, be honest and loyal, treat each other well,
love each other.  And, enjoy the company
of those who feel as we do.  Live well,
for time is short.  Eventually, this
thing, time, all things devours.

© 2 April
20013

About the Author


I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life
stories.  I also realize that, although
my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some
noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have
derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some thought and effort into my
stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.
Posted on

Right Now by Will Stanton

From time to time, I have heard the phrase, “You think too much.” That probably applies to me. I’m a thinky type of person. Of course, the type of thinking one does determines whether or not the thinking is “too much.” We often waste too much time with non-productive thinking. I’m good at that; I’ve had lots of experience with it.

Opposed to that, I’m reminded by a recent news story about the brilliant fifteen-year-old Jack Andraka who spent so much time in the Johns Hopkins lab that he often slept on a cot, and he even missed his own birthday. All his thinking resulted in his discovering a new, fast way of detecting pancreatic cancer. He won the youth-achievement Smithsonian American Ingenuity Award along with $75,000. So, all that thinking resulted in something truly worthwhile. His efforts and thinking were in the right-now.

I suppose that I can admit to having an “artist’s nature,” as opposed to a “scientist’s nature.” Dreamy minds may not be the best for focusing on the right-now.

Having been part of Story Time for going on three years, I have had ample opportunity to avoid thinking about the right-now. Instead, I have allowed my mind to wander back several decades to my youth, dredging up old memories, even in fine detail, and spending time writing them down to share with the other members of the group. I’m afraid that I also have engaged too frequently in thinking back in time and wondering what I might have done differently, what if circumstances had been different, how could my life have been different. So, I probably have spent far too much time in the past, not in the right-now.

Also,I had the habit for many years of wondering about the future, not necessarily making pragmatic plans to carry out, but rather, less organized musings about who I wanted to be when I grew up. I probably continued doing that even through mid-life, which does not make very much sense. Time seems to have passed by quickly, and I definitely am way beyond the point where I should be wondering about what I want to be when I grow up. All that wondering was not in the right-now, either.

I always have accused myself of being a slow learner, but it’s beginning to dawn on me that concentrating upon the right-now throughout my life most likely would have been much more productive. Also, living in the moment can prove to be more enjoyable and satisfying. I’m sure that’s true with some humans, but I’ve seen that frequently with dogs.

I realize that it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks; but in my case, I suppose living in the right-now probably is a skill I need to practice. So for right-now, I’m going to enjoy listening to the other members’ stories, and I’ll put off until later debating whether or not after Story Time I want to go across the street to get a cup of coffee and a fresh-baked cookie.

© 12 December 2013

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Drifting by Will Stanton

This presentation is going to be very short and un-sweet. I’ll be succinct and not belabor what I have to say. Saying too much would be, as the old adage goes, “like beating a dead horse.”

Our parents often have high expectations of us. Our society has certain expectations, too. To be supposedly a worthy member of society and (quote) “successful,” we should know very early on what we want to do in our lives and what we want to be. In our society, apparently that means making a lot of money and being envied, like a Wall-Street banker, football quarterback, TV star, rock singer – – or perhaps being a professional, whatever that is – – doctor, lawyer, Indian chief.

Much of what determines how we turn out is what we have learned in childhood. If a child has a good parental roll model, that’s helpful. Maximum opportunity to learn, to experiment, to gain experience are good, too. Having a strong sense of identity is essential. Without it, we may end up drifting. Sometimes, as in my case, I did not have a good parental roll model, a father or even a mother I could identify with, to wish to be like, to wish to do the same job. I was pretty much on my own in that department.

What we have inherited from our genes has a strong influence upon our personalities, too. Significantly in those relatively unenlightened times of my childhood, too little was understood about children’s personalities and what difficulties there might be. The early version of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory had been around since 1943, but researchers and school-counselors seemed to be more focused upon how rapidly individuals could learn. They seemed to regard comparative points and percentiles as as the tell-all, the end-all, like how much money one had in the bank.

I attended a university-run elementary school, and I seemed to be able to answer questions quickly. As a result, a pair of university researchers singled me out for an extended interview. They said that they just want to know “what made me tick.” They concluded the session by stating (and I’ll never forget this) that (quote) “I could be anything I want to be.” I suppose that meant “doctor, lawyer, Indian chief.”

Apparently, they did not consider “self-actualized and happy” as being essential to a good life. What they did not take into account was my confusion and preoccupation with who I might be that interfered, yes, even stymied, my focusing upon choosing a career path that would result in my becoming a (quote) “universally admired, well-healed professional, happily married as expected, and a contented family man.” They did not take into account my orientation. Even if they had, they would not have understood the impact such confusion and preoccupation would have upon my thinking and actions. My uniformed and Puritanical parents would not have understood, either, let alone accepted my orientation.

As a consequence, I have spent most of my life drifting. Yes, I did manage to sporadically concentrate upon making a life of sorts, but it was likely not what it might have been had I not been incumbered with the endless searching and emotional confusion that dominated my life. Like a leaf floating upon a stream, I have drifted wherever circumstances have taken me. I never was a powerboat, capable of going in any direction I wished to go.

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life
stories.  I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me
particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at
times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived
pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some
thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Drinking by Will Stanton

Regardless of the fact that there may be a few people here who have had personal difficulties with alcohol in their past, I have reason to be quite aware about the pervasive problems excessive drinking causes individuals, families, and society as a whole. In my working with peoples’ heads for thirty years, I frequently had to deal with people who have had problems with drinking, as well as drugs. I could write a thousand pages on the subject. I’m not. I’m not even going to write one page on it. I’m retired – – and tired. I don’t wish to revisit those problems.

As for myself, I never have had a problem with alcohol or drugs, Fortunately, my family and I were not genetically prone to substance abuse. Also, alcohol never was a big deal in our home while I was growing up, so I never made drinking a habit. In college, I never cared to go out drinking, get drunk, throw up, pass out, participate in riots, be arrested, or get DUIs. None of that seemed like fun to me.

Throughout my life, I always have been able to (quote) “get high” naturally, both emotionally and biochemically, pumping out endorphins and dopamine. All I have to do is engage in activities that I truly enjoy, either alone or especially with good friends. Not only do such activities raise my spirits, but also, especially when I am passionate about something, my own body pumps out chemicals that go to the pleasure center of the brain and make me feel good. And, this is without bad side-effects and without breaking the law and being arrested.

When I was in college, I was puzzled when other students seemed not to be able to know what to do with their spare time. I remember some Friday evenings in the dormitory when I’d hear a couple of students trying to figure out what to do with themselves for the evening. The dialogue usually was, “Hay, Joe, what d’yuh wanna do tonight?” “I dunno. What do you wanna do?” “I dunno. Wanna go up town drinkin’?” “Yeah.”

I’m well aware that people being drunk has been regarded as an easy way to make jokes. Many jokes I don’t find to be funny at all. Some I do, but that is because the humor is truly witty, no person is denigrated in any way, and there may be some redeeming features to the humor. Foster Brooks kidding Don Rickles on the Dean Martin Roast is a classic example. Check it out on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdPcjIrSvcs

So, what do I drink? Lots and lots of charcoal-filtered water, for one thing. Occasionally limited amounts of fruit juices, limited quantities of coffee or tea, and only occasionally an alcoholic drink. If I do have an alcoholic drink, it literally is only for the taste, not to get a buzz. I don’t need two or three or four of something to get the taste. As far as that goes, it’s the same thing for me with ice cream. One dip provides plenty of taste. I don’t need two or three or four dips to enjoy the taste. (I hope that I didn’t embarrass any “ice-cream-aholics” in the group.)

Alcohol is so unimportant in my life that I do not have a bar in my home, I don’t hang out in bars, and I usually don’t bother to have alcohol at social gatherings. I don’t believe that alcohol needs to be outlawed. Human nature already has proved that this won’t work. But, if it were, that would not bother me. I don’t need it; I can live without it.

© 02 April 2014

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life
stories.  I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me
particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at
times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived
pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some
thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Keeping the Peace by Will Stanton

In 1967 when I traveled through Yugoslavia, all
the diverse states and ethnic groups were unified under the stern, deft hand of
Marshall Tito.  Keeping the peace
required a person of his universal admiration, status, and cleverness.  Although I was, at the time, quite young and
not particularly well versed in world affairs, even I could see the underlying
signs of entropy and conflict.  Sewn together
at the end of World War I into a makeshift nation, differences and suspicions
between Muslims, Orthodox Christians, and Roman Catholics, were just too deeply
engrained for the nation to last once Tito was gone.
The western-most state of Slovenia had more in common with Austria
culturally and ethnically than it did with its eastern counterparts.  Also, for a so-called communist state, it was
very democratic, in some ways even more so than America.  Upon my entering adjacent states, I noticed
differences in the cultural,
religious, and political atmosphere. 
During World War II, the Croatian Republic of Herzeg-Bosnia
claimed to be an independent fascist state with an uneasy mix of Muslims and
Christians.  Farther east, Serbia seemed more
primitive and populated by stern, dour people who easily adhered to
communism.  Muslim minarets were in far
greater evidence than in the western states. 
I had no idea that, after Tito’s death, my perception of Yugoslavia
being an uneasy alliance of very different peoples would prove to be so
prophetic.
I recall in particular the ancient
town of Mostar in Bosnia.  I took a picture of the world-famous stone
bridge that arched over the deep ravine of the Neretva River. 
16th Century Mostar Bridge
Of
my  more than three hundred slides from
that year, that color slide of the old bridge and the stone buildings on either
side of the ravine was one that literally was of prize-winning quality.  The Ottoman architect Mimar Hayruddin built
the narrow, stone bridge in the 16th century, and the bridge was the
subject of many paintings and photographs over the centuries.  During the early 1990s, however, neither the
bridge nor the peace stood.
In 1992, the area of Bosnia and Herzegovina declared independence
from Yugoslavia.
The central government in Beograd,
Serbia, retaliated.  Mostar was subjected to an eighteen-month siege by the Yugoslav People’s Army.  They first bombed Mostar in April, 1992.  The Croatian Defense Council
responded.  Continued shelling destroyed the
iconic bridge, the Franciscan
monastery, the Catholic cathedral, the bishop’s palace (with a library of
50,000 books), and a number of secular institutions as well as fourteen mosques. 
Civil War Destroyed the 16th Century Mostar Bridge
It took the intervention of the
United Nations and the European Union to attempt to bring relative peace to the
area by forming a Croat-Muslim coalition and then trying to convince the Serbian
government in Beograd to accept a peace
plan.  The Army of the Republic of
Bosnia and Herzegovina was comprised of a majority of Muslims and a
minority of Christians.  Fighting broke
out among them, too.  Before the
agreement could be signed, the Muslim-led forces fought bitterly against the
Christian Croats in attempt to control Mostar.  The Christian Croat forces
dominated Mostar, controlled the  western
part,  and the Muslim Bosniak population was
expelled and driven from their homes to the eastern side.  Peace, empathy, and humanity crumbled among
the ruins of Mostar’s stone buildings.
Finally, a U.S.-led agreement was
signed, and Mostar was placed under E.U. administration with the German mayor
from Bremen
governing and a British general in charge of U.N. troops.  The peace accord resulted in a very shaky
union of two autonomous regions, the Serb
Republic and the Bosniak
and Croat Federation.  Decision-making
was run by a system of ethnic quotas that has stagnated making agreements and
has stifled economic recovery.  The
editor of an independent Mostar website has stated, “They never will reach
agreement.”
Nine billion Euros have been spent
rebuilding the region including Mostar’s bridge and city buildings, but there
still is no reconciliation among the inhabitants.  The two city-sections each side of the river
still have their own electricity provider, phone network, postal service,
utility services and university.  Croat
and Bosniak schoolchildren attend separate classes, studying from different
textbooks.  The Croats, in the majority,
want the town unified.  Suspicion and
hatred are so deep that there appears to be little chance of that.  In January, the situation took a violent
turn, when a bomb blast toppled a monument to fallen soldiers of Bosnia’s
Muslim-dominated wartime army.
Such hate and violence is not
unique to Bosnia.  I have pondered long and hard about the
failings of humanity, its capacity to hate and to harm its own kind.  For one contributing factor, I am well aware
of the continuing debate concerning the relative merits of religion, good versus
bad.  Muslim, Christian, Jewish,
whatever, sometimes I wonder if Bill Maher is right; the world would be better
off if there were no such thing as religion.
But, that is only part of the
problem.  Much of the blame is placed
upon individuals, their failure to grow into informed, wise, caring people who
feel genuine empathy for others.  Inflexible,
unquestioning belief in one’s own religion or politics and denial of other
people’s religion or politics is symptomatic of just one aspect of the
religiosity-mind, a mind so entrenched in one’s own beliefs, even if they defy
fact and reality, that any attempt to see beyond them is hopeless.  Any attempt to prompt such people to look
beyond themselves and to consider other people and their ideas is met with strident
resistance, anger, and sometimes even violence. 
We see such toxic mindlessness today even in our own Congress and among
the voters and media-pundits who support them.

The wide difference between well
informed people with good critical-thinking skills versus those persons with
religiosity-minds astounds me.  The
famous philosopher Schiller once stated, “Against stupidity, the gods
themselves labor in vain.”  I realize
that medical researches have found actual evidence of certain differences in
brain structure between people that give an indication of which way one may
think.  I also realize that learning
plays a large part in how one develops his beliefs and method of thinking.  I can only dream of a cure for the
religiosity-mind, some medical procedure perhaps on the genetic level so that
all those born in the future will develop inquiring, thoughtful, empathetic
minds.  Perhaps only then will the world
have a chance of keeping the peace.

© 13 May 2013  


About the Author  

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life
stories.  I also realize that, although
my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some
noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have
derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some thought and effort into my
stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.
Posted on

Don’t Touch Me There by Will Stanton

This topic seems immediately to imply unwanted physical contact. Perhaps that’s what the person who chose it was thinking. I suppose one could, by extension, think of “touching the mind,” or “touching the soul.” But then again, maybe that’s stretching it; those approaches sound too philosophical for such a small presentation.

So, what can a person such as I write about unwanted touching? Any form of touching is foreign to my experience growing up and into my early adulthood. Coming from a rather Puritanical home where touching and expressions of love were extremely limited, I craved the kind of attention that psychologists have learned is so important for helping to develop happy, healthy people with a good sense of self-esteem. I’m speaking of wanted touching, of course. I would not have been comfortable with unwanted touching. In my case, that was not a problem. My having had a very controlled childhood, apparently I never was placed into a situation where I was vulnerable to unwanted touching.

So, rather than my speaking of my own limited experience, I’ll address the fact that the human need to be touched, to be held, to have sex, is a powerful need; and if a majority of people, or those people with power and authority, feel that some expressions are outside their experience and therefore not normal, they tend to make such expressions taboo. What human expressions are deemed to be abnormal and worthy of being demonized or punished has changed from era to era and country to country. This certainly is true with same-sex relationships and relationships of individuals of disparate ages.

What once was accepted may no longer be accepted. The spreading of the Judeo-Christian mindset and influence in the West and the Muslim belief-system in the Middle East is what turned same-sex attraction taboo and instilled greatly varying limits upon age-of-consent. Societies do change. To exist in contemporary society, one needs to makes certain rational accommodations if for no other reason than for self-preservation. Such accommodations, however, should not result in denying the reality of one’s own nature or the acceptance of the facts of human nature in general. Ignorance and fear should not negate empathy and love for other people. Unfortunately, that ignorance, intolerance, and even stupidity continue to be pervasive, and with terrible consequences to the health and wellbeing of individuals and society as a whole.

I have observed cases of persons suddenly developing extremely painful emotions with terrible shame and guilt when it has been drummed into them that they should, they must, harbor such destructive feelings. Churches with intolerant, antiquated dogma and social groups that have lived with such bias firmly ingrained for generations continue to contribute to a social atmosphere that harms rather than helps. The legal system and courts have exacerbated fears of human sex, both straight and gay.

In one case, the Denver County District Attorney charged a young man with ten felony counts for a several-month, mutually agreed-upon relationship because his girlfriend was not yet eighteen. Under the laws of age-of-consent in France, the relationship would have been legal. Those felony charges must have succeeded in causing life-long trauma to both individuals and also destroyed for life the reputation of the young man. I was so disturbed by seeing the young man crushed by the weight of authority and law that I could not stomach the idea of serving on the jury. I fortunately was able to have myself excused from the jury because of my work obligations.

In another example, had seventeen-year-old Daniel Radcliffe opened his play “Equus” in New York rather than London, he could have been arrested for public nudity because what was legal in England was not in New York. There are implied moral determinations here, too. What was moral in England would have been immoral in New York. A rational person would be right in questioning if this made any sense.

The news media also do their share of sensationalizing sex, too, turning human nature into titillating, yet shocking, tales of human depravity. The viewing audience and voting public, therefore, focus on sex rather than the important issues of the day.

Mind you, I’m not excusing unwanted touching or harming other people. Instead, I’m speaking of the profound need of humans for love and touch that often goes unmet. Years of psychological research has proved that emotional closeness and physical touch are essential for good mental and physical health. Without loving contact, the mind and body suffer. In addition, without them, the young, from frustration, may place themselves into undesirable situations, seeking that needed love and touch. A college friend of mine revealed to me that, during high school, he had been so desperate for love and touch that he briefly had turned to prostitution, not so much for money, but rather for hoped-for comfort.

I’ll relate a case of someone I met who described in detail his experience of touching. From his telling, it was hard to discern what his current feelings are regarding his experience, wanted or unwanted touching.

When I first met him, the scandal involving the Catholic Church was just breaking. At thirty, he still looked very boyish and attractive, although he also had made a macho place for himself in society by forming a successful concrete-cutting company. During a group-conversation about the apparent molestation of boys by priests, he ironically quipped, “None of the priests touched me. What was wrong with me?”

I say “ironically” because what he experienced was far more significant than a mere occasion or two being fondled by an adult. His experience also began at an age that even ancient Greeks thought to be too young, eleven; and the man was twenty-one.

There were stereotypical aspects to his childhood, such as a totally dysfunctional family and an absence of love. Lacking guidance, support, and affection, he was an easy target, as often is the case with such boys. Yet, the boy and the man apparently derived sufficient comfort and satisfaction from the relationship because it lasted ten years. One would assume that, as he grew into adulthood and gained some more mature perspective of his situation, he might have felt more comfortable withdrawing from the relationship if he had developed growing misgivings. Apparently, he had not.

As it turned out, it took an outside force to radically change his perspective. The disharmony and dysfunction within his family had only increased, so he sought professional help. Now, I know something about how to work constructively with patients, and immediately imposing one’s own, personal beliefs upon a patient, especially when such beliefs are intolerant and deny human nature, should be avoided. Apparently however, avoidance is precisely what this therapist did not do. When he was informed of the ten-year relationship, the therapist told the young man that he had been taken advantage of, abused, molested, scarred for life, that he always would feel guilt and shame. Not surprisingly, he consequently concluded that the therapist must be right and developed agitated feelings of having been scarred for life and shamed. So rather than coming to comfortable terms with his homosexuality, he became confused and angry.

All this occurred unbeknownst to the older man. To celebrate his young friend’s birthday, he had delivered to him a nice, new television set. Still feeling his new-found rage, the young man walked it over to the other’s home and smashed the TV on his front porch. Obviously, that was the end of their relationship.

Any thinking person who has become familiar with history can not escape the realization that such desires and relationships are ubiquitous and have existed for many centuries. This is not a limited nor new phenomenon. If any rational person takes the time and makes the effort to dispassionately analyze this fact, some logical questions are raised. What kind of touching is, in the truest sense, natural; what kind unnatural? What kind of intimacy is healthful; what kind unhealthful? If society or religion make normal human needs taboo, and people’s attempts to meet their desires become misunderstood, feared, corrupted, and unnatural, its logical to conclude that the resulting behaviors may become fear-laden, twisted and unnatural. Harm may come to one or both parties. Skewed behavior may turn even to violence.

Nobody should take advantage of another person, young or old, to selfishly attempt to satisfy a need. This is especially true with very young people who have not yet developed their minds and personalities to the extent where they can make rational decisions for themselves. That is precisely why the ancient Greeks assumed that young adolescents where not appropriate for intimate relationships, although courting older ephebes was not only accepted but celebrated. A thinking person might conclude that ancient Greeks had a more normal, healthful attitude about sex than modern societies. For any person to hold intolerant beliefs and to instill in others self-destructive thoughts and feelings not felt naturally is thoughtless and harmful.

Too little effort has been made by professionals and the general public to understand natural human needs, needs that have gone unmet with so many people for so long. I have read some surprising comments posted on YouTube regarding the film “For a Lost Soldier,” an autobiographical account similar to my description of the relationship told to me. There were several posted comments from viewers who, when young, apparently had lacked the love and touch they so desperately needed. Several of them said, “I wish that had happened to me.” How the relationship in the story happened was not the most healthful or desirable; however, I can understand the feelings of those who still felt hurt that they were denied a loving touch.

© 04/18/2013

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Birth Experiences by Will Stanton

Unlike much of the rest of the world, I have no first-hand experience with this topic “Birth Experiences.” I never was married, and I never sired children, not even as a randy sailor sowing his oats in various foreign ports. I never watched a human birth, and I certainly never was a pediatric physician. So again, it looks like I’m limited to writing something just for fun, which I enjoyed doing.

Let’s assume that some people can actually remember being born. That’s a bit of a stretch, no pun intended. That was for me in 1945, a date now seeming to be in antiquity. Well, that doesn’t make much of a story. So, let’s assume that people claiming to remember previous lives is factual and legitimate. I never have put much stock in that; however, to my surprise, there are some reputable people who claim to have become converted believers.

I was reminded of the topic of reincarnation by today’s TV news interview with psychiatrist Dr. James Tucker. He states in his book “Return to Life: Extraordinary Cases of Children Who Remember Past Lives” that he has researched many convincing cases. He described one of his cases about a very young boy who kept dreaming of the exact details of being shot down in his fighter-plane and also mentioning the name of his close friend and wing-man. Dr. Tucker thoroughly researched all the details related by the boy and found that they were factual. Apparently, Dr. Tucker’s many remarkable cases have converted him to being a believer to the extent that he had the courage to announce it and to write about it.

All this reminded me of a book that I had read several years ago by the head of the psychiatric unit in a Florida hospital, Dr. Brian Weiss, who, later in his career, employed for the first time therapeutic hypnotic age-regression for one patient. He was astounded that she claimed to recall, not one, but several lives spanning over many centuries and reported them in great detail. No, she did not claim to have been the Queen of Sheba, but, rather, she recounted lives of hardship and, sometimes, of illness and death.

At the time that I was reading this book, I mentioned that fact to my friend, a psychologist, who surprised me by stating that he coincidentally was reading a similar book, “Suggestive Reincarnation,” by psychiatrist Dr. Ian Stevenson of the University of Virginia, who had been engaged in careful, scientifically conservative research ever since the 1950s.

All of this is very interesting; however, my being a “Doubting Thomas” by nature, I can not become particularly excited by it. I can, however, feel mildly curious and interested in the topic considering the fact that such reputable medical scientists have expressed such surprising findings.

So for fun, what birth years and lives can I claim to remember? How about 344 B.C.E., 1705, 1845, 1904, 1934, 1943, and 1945? There seem to be several gaps there, especially in the early years. What’s wrong with my memory? Why can’t I remember? Regardless, apparently I’m not sufficiently motivated to run right out and engage in hypnotic age-regression. My current life is more than enough to try to contend with.
© January, 2014

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Favorite Literary Character by Will Stanton

When I decided to join the Story-Time group in submitting stories and essays to the blog, I needed to decide whether to use my own name as author or to create a pen-name. I considered the fact that, in some of my stories, I use the names of real persons and real places, which may not always be advisable in a blog. Also, some of my essays speak of especially unusual experiences. As a consequence, I decided to use a pen-name.

Fellow Story-Time member John was showing me how to join the blog, and I had to choose a name and avatar right on the spot. Rather than taking a long time to ponder those decisions, I quickly went with my instincts for both. What immediately came to mind was the name “Will Stanton,” the main character in one of my favorite books. There are a number of Will or William Stantons in the real world; it’s a fairly common name. One even was an author of humorous fiction. Yet, the character I thought of is totally fictional, unless the author knows something that I don’t know.

The author, Susan Cooper, is a graduate of Oxford University and a brilliant British scholar and writer who has a very deep knowledge of ancient British mythology, Arthurian legends, Celtic and Norse mythology and their connection with each other. She won the Newbery Award and the Welsh Tir na n-Og Award for excellence. In 2012, she won the lifetime Margaret Edwards Award from the American Library Association. In many ways, I consider her books superior to those of J.K. Rowlings, but unfortunately they preceded by a generation the Potter genre and its highly successful marketing and, consequently, were over-shadowed.

The first time I that I read “The Dark is Rising,” the second volume of her series by the same name, I felt an immediate connection with Will. I saw in myself many of the same character traits as Will. I also was very moved by the humanity of some of the central characters.

I do not know why I am the way I am, why I have such discernible aspects to my personality, feelings, and values. Like most of us, I have tried throughout my life to understand myself, to try to figure out what experiences might have influenced who I am. I gradually have grown to understand that much of who I am is in-born as well as learned.

I have an ingrained sense of right and wrong, and I feel terribly uncomfortable with the idea of anyone, including myself, being tempted to do wrong. Even if there appeared to be great profit or benefit in doing wrong, I feel that I just could not bring myself to engage in it. I also care very much about the good people of the world and feel pain and sorrow if they are harmed or suffer loss. I would like to be able to assist them, to prevent their hurt, wish to undo any hurt, or to heal them if I can not.

There are, however, far too many evil-doers in the world. I am terribly dismayed by the dark side of human nature, the lack of empathy, falsehood, physical and verbal violence, the readiness to harm others. Such negativity seems to affect me more than many other people.

So apparently, I seem to have had throughout my life a powerful connection to Good (with a capital G), often referred to as “The Light.” The concept of “The Dark” that embodies all that is negative and destructive repels me. The two factions of Light and Dark repeatedly struggle to determine the destiny of mankind. The Light fights for the Good, for freedom and free will, whereas the Dark fights for chaos, confusion, subversion, and control of humankind. I actually recall vivid dreams where I joined The Light to battle black, shadowy entities of The Dark. Somehow, I knew that I had the capacity to do battle with Evil. It felt natural to me.

 

The character “Will Stanton” discovers his true role in life upon his eleventh birthday. I suppose that this is pure coincidence; however, I always have had an unexplained, deep connection with the number eleven, my favorite number. When I was very young, I looked forward to becoming eleven, just like Will.

I never have regarded myself as particularly special, no more or less than any other human being. The literary character “Will,” however, does turn out to be special. He is the last of the so-called “Old Ones,” those of the Light whose mission is to prevent the rise of the Dark. When I read that passage for the first time, a deep emotion welled up inside me. Being one of the “Old Ones,” Will does possess some remarkable abilities that are supernormal that help him defeat the Dark.

As for myself, I never have been presumptuous enough to claim special abilities, although I have had upon past occasions, especially when I was young, some rather exceptional experiences that are hard to explain. Occasionally, I have spoken of them, but I realize that some listeners may dismiss them as unreal or at least exaggerated, perhaps because they have had no similar experiences or, perhaps their minds just don’t work that way. I’m not aware of any such notable experiences in my later years. Perhaps that is because I became so focused upon trying to deal with the demands of daily life that my my mind was hindered in functioning in a natural manner and without stress.

I hesitate to mention one other comparison; but, to be sincere, I do need to mention it. Will bears the sign of the Celtic cross on his forearm where hot metal of that shape touched his arm. In my case, a professional palm-reader brought out a very large book showing lines found in people’s palms, telling me that I have crosses in the palms of my hands, signs that are extremely rare, signs supposedly that indicate, as the books stated, “divine power.” I am too much of a “Doubting Thomas” to be particularly impressed. I dismissed her revelation as unscientific and of no practical significance, whereupon she showed me the pages with the lines and description stating that such signs are, in fact, very rare. Still, it would have taken much more than that to convince me to go bounding off trying to do marvelous things. For the sake of the argument, if I was somehow granted a few special abilities, I can’t say that I have found a way of putting them to good use, at least not in any recognizable way.

One major difference between Will and myself is our families. Will is a part of a large, happy, close-knit family that is wonderfully loving and supportive of each other. As you have learned from some of my previous stories, my family was not. So, I was very attracted to the homelife enjoyed by Will and felt that I would have loved to have been part of Will’s family, too. As far as the image that I selected for my avatar, I now realize that it coincidentally matches the appearance of Will. That had not occured to me when I chose it. It just turned out that way.

So, although I would not be so presumptious as to claim that I am like Will, one of the “Old Ones,” at least I can identify with part of that term. I feel rather old.

© 8 November 2013

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Reframing Reality by Will Stanton

Some years ago, I had a very curious experience with my elderly Aunt Muriel. She never had married and did not socialize very much. The person closest to her was her own Uncle Fred, some years her senior. Muriel was very fond of Fred and deeply felt the loss when he passed away.

Muriel apparently believed in mysticism and séances. Eventually, she thought that she could reconnect with Uncle Fred through a medium at a séance. I tried to dissuade her, telling her that séances are just a scam to take money from the gullible; however, Muriel was convinced that communicating with the dead through a séance was real. So, I reluctantly agreed to take her.

The medium welcomed Muriel and me to her appropriately decorated parlor, colored beads hanging in the doorway and the expected crystal ball in the middle of an old, oaken table. Fortunately, the medium did not ask for more than twenty dollars.

The lights were turned low, and the session began with the medium connecting with her usual spirits and imploring them to contact Muriel’s departed Uncle Fred. I was startled when a man’s, distant and wavering voice answered. Muriel’s head straightened, and she appeared to be excited. I, on the other hand, quickly guessed that the medium had strategically placed some small speakers around the room.

Then Muriel eagerly spoke up. “Uncle Fred! Uncle Fred! It’s so good to hear your voice again. Oh, please tell me, what’s it like on the other side?”

The man’s dreamy voice responded, “Oh, it is so beautiful and peaceful. When I awake in the morning, I am blessed with the sun shining warm on my face and the sound of songbirds singing. I am not obligated to be up right away or to go anywhere. I can relax as long as I like. When I feel like it, I can take as much time as I like having something to eat. During the day, I can take a leisurely stroll through the woods, listening to the breeze in the trees, enjoying the flowers, and watching the butterflies flitting from blossom to blossom. And in the evening, I enjoy just relaxing and watching the sunset.”

Thrilled, Muriel exclaimed, “Oh Fred, I had no idea that heaven was like that.”

After a moment of silence, Fred responded, “What do you mean ‘heaven?’ – – I’m a moose in Minnesota!”

© 9 June 2014
About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Posted on

Hospitality by Will Stanton

When I was starting college back in the LGBT “Dark Ages,” society as a whole often was not so accepting or understanding about homosexuality as it appears to be now- days. This was especially true in small towns such as mine. Perhaps most devastating was the situation of parents not accepting or supporting their own children’s orientation or the fact that they had developed same-gender relationships. Parents who discovered that their sons or daughters brought home “special friends” often lacked kindness and hospitality, to say the least. Sometimes, confrontations could leave lasting scars. On the other hand, if young people were lucky and parents were better informed and more empathetic, parents might be surprisingly understanding and supportive.

At the time when I was only beginning to understand anything about the world of LGBT, a met a young couple of gay guys whose story was so special that I never have forgotten it. I attended an invitation-only party in Cincinnati. The guests were all young guys, several of them from the nearby university. One very affectionate couple drew everyone’s attention throughout the evening, partly because they were so stunningly good looking. I was not the only person frequently glancing at them but, at the same time, trying not to stare. We were curious about them also because they appeared to be unusually young for college students. The somewhat taller of the two, David, was an intelligent and self-assured brunette; whereas Peter, the more boyish partner with gold-blond hair, seem to me to more closely resemble an angel than a mere mortal. They obviously were very much in love, although they did not make an unseemly show of it.
Of course, those at the party who did not know the couple were very curious about who they were and how they had become partners. Part way through the evening, some more assertive person simply asked them to tell about themselves. So, with each partner contributing to the answer, they told us their story. The details were so interesting that I never have forgotten them.
My first surprise was when David said that he had just turned seventeen, somewhat younger than many college freshmen; however, it was his friend Peter who surprised me even more when he revealed that he was only fifteen and starting college. Oh well, it must be nice to be so intelligent as well as so good looking, all at the same time.
It turns out, however, that Peter’s early life had not been so pleasant. He was an only child of two upper-middle-class, professional parents from New York whose thinking and attitudes were extremely lacking in understanding, empathy, and perhaps even love. Apparently, they always had suspected that Peter was, shall we say, “different;” and they certainly did not approve. For several years, Peter had felt oppressed and unloved. The parent’s unthinking, harsh treatment left Peter continually feeling sad and lonely. Peter said that they told him that it was just as well that he was leaving home so that they would not be reminded each day of how disappointed they were in him, this despite that fact that he was a straight-A student and never had been in trouble. How could any parent say such a thing? No wonder he was unhappy.
David, too, was an only child. In his case, however, he appeared to be quite happy and well grounded. His parents apparently had been very loving and caring.
As fate would have it, the two of them were assigned to the same dormitory double-room, perhaps because both of them were younger than many of the other freshmen. When the two of them first met, David said that he immediately was very attracted to Peter, yet he discreetly made no overt indications of his feelings.
As the days went by, David observed Peter and saw that he was extremely studious, always attending to his school-work, frequenting the library for research, but he never went to any parties or social gatherings. Peter was polite and pleasant enough to David, but his shyness kept him from expressing himself very much. Also, Peter never spoke of his parents or his home-life. To David, Peter seemed to be in a constant state of sadness.
It was Thanksgiving break that gave David his first real clue that something was not well with Peter’s home-life. David was looking forward to returning home for Thanksgiving, although he had noted that his frequent phone conversations with his parents seemed to indicate that they were beginning to understand that he had not found a girlfriend but, instead, he often had spoken of his roommate Peter. When David asked Peter if he planned to be going home for Thanksgiving, Peter replied that he was not; he would be staying at school and just spend his time with his studies. David thought that this was somewhat strange but refrained from saying anything about it.
David drove to his parent’s home in Connecticut for Thanksgiving. He told us that, although he felt the accustomed love from his parents, they seemed to ask more questions than usual about his social life on campus and also what was his roommate Peter like. Then David’s mother surprised him by stating that, since Peter did not wish to go home for the holidays, he would have been welcome at their house as their guest.
Between Thanksgiving and Christmas break, David made a point of quietly and unobtrusively becoming even more caring and supportive of Peter. Peter said that he noticed and appreciated the kindness and affection. Over time, they became very close. As Peter gradually learned to trust David and his love, he found comfort and safety during the nights lying in David’s arms.
Then as it came time to prepare to depart for Christmas break, David received a phone-call from home. After some time, his mother inquired as to Peter’s plans for Christmas and suggested that he be their guest for the holidays. She insisted that David ask him. Peter silently shook his head, “No.” When David relayed that reply to his mother, she asked to speak directly to Peter. David turned the phone over the Peter, and she spoke to him with great warmth and caring. Peter agreed to come home with David.
David and Peter drove back to Connecticut for the holidays. David reassured Peter that he would like his parents and would feel very welcome in their home.
Peter said that, as they drove through the gates of the estate, he was surprised by how large David’s Georgian-style home was. It was easy for me to guess that David’s parents were very well off. I also guessed that, because of their position in society, they would be especially particular about David’s friends and whom he would be bringing into their home.
David and Peter said that both parents met them at the front door and invited them in. After they cleaned-up, they sat in the breakfast nook, had some refreshments, and chatted with each other. Peter said that David’s parents made him feel very relaxed and comfortable. After dinner, they sat in the living room and continued to talk throughout the evening.
Now here’s the most memorable part of their story. The most intriguing comment that Peter made to us about his experience with David’s parents was about the direction that their polite but persistent questioning took. They did not give the appearance that they were concerned by the fact that their son’s companion was a boy rather than a girl. Instead, they appeared to be thoroughly checking him out as a person. They wanted to make sure that he was well-bred and of good character. Apparently, Peter met with their approval.
Possibly even more surprising to Peter was, as the evening was closing, David’s mother stood up and announced that she would be retiring for the evening and then said to Peter, “We have a guest bedroom if you like, or you may wish to stay with David. You know best.” Those were the exact words that Peter told us, and I never have forgotten them. I’m sure that you have guessed right: Peter and David did sleep together during their visit.
I always have been impressed with David and Peter’s explanation of how the two of them found each other, how loving and understanding David’s parents were, and what wonderful hospitality they showed Peter. Although that was the one and only time that I ever saw David and Peter, I have not forgotten them. I would like to think that have been together ever since. Now, in a world that has far too much sadness, this is the kind of loving story-ending I like to hear.

© 2 July
2013



About the Author


I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.