Paulosophia • Paul E. Martin's Personal Blog
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Too Many Horror Stories: Day 11.

May 14, 2020 By paulosophia in Uncategorized

I don’t want to read it, anymore.

The morning reports. About the children. Not your loved and sheltered and guided ones.

The millions shacked up with torture. Torture. In America. COVID-19 makes them illusive to the press. Who talks about them. No mandated reporters to help.

I feel for the homeless; I fear more for children of rampant neglect, abuse , abandonment, far more.

Children.

They will end up incarcerated, unless we act.

Unless we act.

We can act.

www.rfk.org

I’m speechless. Day 10.

May 13, 2020 By paulosophia in Uncategorized

I can’t write about the pain. Goodnight.

Writing Campaigns: Day Nine

May 12, 2020 By paulosophia in Foster Children, Parenting, Spirituality Tags: family, for the children, parenting

I don’t know much about plumbing or civil engineering or heart surgery or geology. 

But I know a thing or two about children of neglect, abuse, and abandonment. 

I’m living during a time when I sometimes wish that I didn’t. 

All over the country, states and counties are scrambling about what to do, given COVID-19. 

I sometimes can’t find the words to describe the severity of this crisis. But many are with “writing campaigns.”

Friends, we are talking about children. Three-year olds and seven-year olds and 12-year olds. We don’t know how many, but we do know that close to 500,000 live in the foster care system. Because of neglect, abuse, and abandonment, the circumstances were so dire, that the government had to take them.

Countless have not been reported and are living with their abusers. And given COVID-19 and schools being closed, the reports are harrowing. 

Children are dying of child abuse at unprecedented rates. It can be exhausting at times, and very sad. I wrote about it here.

Local and state newspapers are begging for people to become foster parents.

Ironically, this tremendous need was pronounced mostly in the month of May, National Foster Care Awareness Month. 

A recent article in The Gainesville Sun titled How You Can Help A Child In Need, the need was stated simply: “Florida needs foster families, and Florida needs them now. Florida needs you.”

I commend the authors for their advocacy. As the President of an international foster care agency, I’d add one line.

Not everybody could be a foster parent, but everybody could make a difference. 

Thousands of RFK volunteers around the country and world, are doing just that with “writing campaigns.” Here’s a letter that was recently written by a counselor “Grandma” (many of the children don’t have grandparents). It was delivered to the child who lives in western Massachusetts.

I Want To Touch Her So Badly: Day Eight

May 11, 2020 By paulosophia in Foster Children, Life, Parenting, Personal, Relationships, Spirituality Tags: for the children, my life, parenting, relationships

I want to touch her so badly. It’s Mother’s Day, but I can’t.

People have lauded me for the love I have for my mother, Maria Luiga Zeppetella Martin, or “Louise.” They see the all the photos and videos and terms of endearment that I’ve posted on social media since her massive and unexpected hemorrhagic stroke in the evening on August 21, 2015. I wrote about it here.

But I can’t see her today. And I’d be lying if I denied my urge to run past the security guard, the one who sits outside the entrance — one of those kinds who gets to carry a gun — at her skilled nursing facility, just to see that look of joy on her face.

Then she would caress my face.

Later we would sit, and I’d hold her hand. 

When one suddenly dies, or in my case, suffers a mentally debilitating stroke, for the first time ever, you appreciate her as you never have. This is loss, defined. In the case of death, the qualities of the loved one exist only in your mind; in the case of mental impairment, you still get to see and touch and listen, but it’s not the same as before.

Not even close. 

I haven’t had a conversation with my mother since her stroke. 

In addition to Mom, today I think of the millions who have no mother. Or of those estranged from their mothers because of addiction or mental illness. Children in foster care have lost their mothers, temporarily, and oftentimes, permanently.

I relate with them: grief.

My love for my mom is deep. Inside my body. My chest. Real pain — a somatic reality completely different than the emotional pain.

I want to touch her so badly. 

Some have said, “Just think about what an amazing woman she was and all the good memories.”

That doesn’t work with me in times like this. 

The thing about Mom was that she wasn’t really amazing in the sense of being one of those super-moms. She didn’t care about my grades, as long as I passed my classes. We never took “Mother-Son” trips or have dates or do any of that stuff. 

She didn’t care whether I sat on the bench or played quarterback.

Her expectations were simply: help others, respect people, respect the planet.

But she’d always be there. Wearing whatever team pin or t-shirt. And when I finally got up to bat, I’d hear this distinct faint voice, “Go Paul!” And I’d look and you could see the expression that blended smile and joy and pride – her living and loving me, caught up at that moment. 

That same faint voice sang flat at every Sunday at mass, or later at the Protestant services. But she’d sing with all her being. And she meant what she sang. You could just tell. 

In every season of my life — when I was succeeding and all those times I was failing — she loved me the same. 

Mom is gone. The nurses will let us FaceTime with her, but I won’t. It will only confuse her, and I’m almost certain, in spite of her mental fragility, at least possibly, cause her to wonder why I’ve abandoned her.

If she doesn’t see me, she’s not thinking about me.

I want to touch her so badly.

Three mental realities bring a tinge of solace.

First, I am a lucky man to have a mother like Luigia Maria Zeppetella Martin. I was loved, unconditionally, from the time she bore me, to the day I kissed her and told her I loved her and went on vacation. (She had the stroke while I was on vacation.)

Second, I think of the hundreds of thousands of children in the United States (and millions around the world) that either have no mother or have lost them because of neglect and abuse. I work for those children. I’ve been with hundreds. I’m blessed to have that which I…had.

Third, Mom’s real name is Maria. When she immigrated to the U.S. with her family, she didn’t want to be called “Maria” because back in those days Italians weren’t liked much. So her aunt used her middle name, Luiga, and gave it an American twist: Louise.

But I think of the name Maria. And, growing-up Roman Catholic, I think of the respect they have for Maria, Mary, Jesus’ mother. 

Mother Teresa was once asked about why Catholics make such a big deal about Mary. She replied, “No Mary, no Jesus.”

Mom’s name in English would have been Mary.

So no Mary, no Paul. No me. That’s the thing about mothers, without them, we wouldn’t be here.

I want to touch her so badly.

It is 21:11: Day 7

May 9, 2020 By paulosophia in Foster Children, Parenting, Religion, Spirituality Tags: for the children, philosophy

It is late.

I won’t do poverty porn.

Poverty porn is when you guilt or shame and manipulate people to send you cash.

My father always said, “Money talks, cash screams.”

I am tired.

It is 21:11.

We had very constructive meetings today with senior leaders at the United States Department of Health and Human Services.

Government is not bad.

Thank God for so many civil servants who give their lives to protecting our nation, and the most vulnerable.

I’m telling you right now, children of trauma — that means those whose parents neglect, abuse, and abandon — this, in my view, is the single biggest and most insidious issue given COVID-19.

I don’t want to guilt you.

It is 21:11. Or now 12.

You are coping.

I have been thinking much about prayer lately. Because logging onto www.rfk.org and giving money, or volunteering — it just isn’t accessible to many.

All people can pray.

I am tired. Think of a 4 or 7 or 9 or 11-year-old. In some small apartment. Hungry. Beaten. Raped.

Or maybe none of that. Just alone. No teacher. No coach. No pediatrician.

I really wrote about all this stuff yesterday.

Those saints are — we are on the front lines. Now, they can’t see those children.

There are no people more innocent and vulnerable than children.

We must, all of us, help them.

I will, as long as I have breath.

If you want to help: RFK

Me. Tired. Now.
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Stuff I Write About

education (1) family (6) for the children (13) metaphysics (1) my life (156) parenting (90) philosophy (31) politics (134) relationships (43) religion (121) social justice (1) spirituality (78) spiritually (1) teens (45)

About Me

Former U.S. House of Representatives candidate. Writer. Activist for children of neglect, abuse, and abandonment. Politics junkie. Chess geek. INTP. Enneagram 5w4. Mediterranean cook. UCLA. Philosophy.

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paulosophia

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New York spring. #paulosophia #leicaq2 #leica #p New York spring. #paulosophia #leicaq2 #leica #picoftheday
I saw her today. Now I am writing about her. Tomor I saw her today. Now I am writing about her. Tomorrow I will post thoughts. #paulosophia #freedom
Meet Majorie Taylor Greene, a member of the United Meet Majorie Taylor Greene, a member of the United States House of Representatives. #paulosophia
Using my voice, earlier. #paulosophia #leicaq2 # Using my voice, earlier. #paulosophia #leicaq2 #bastion #warbyparker #pictureoftheday
My sole decision for choosing UCLA in my early thi My sole decision for choosing UCLA in my early thirties was its world renown (analytic) philosophy department. I couldn’t give a rip about the “top university” nonsense, though they rank in the top 15 in the world for research. It was only later that I learned that some innovators had preceded me. (Of course I knew about John Wooden and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.) Today as we celebrate Bruin Jackie Robinson’s 75th anniversary as the first black person to play in the major leagues, and his radical activism for civil rights, there are others I’m grateful to call fellow UCLA alum. To name a few: James Dean, James Franco, Mayim Bialik, Francis Ford Coppola, Jim Morrison, Ralph Bunche, John Williams, Sally Ride, Sara Bareilles (but don’t care much about Nicholas Cage or Ben Shapiro). #ucla
On the 75th anniversary of the great Jackie Robins On the 75th anniversary of the great Jackie Robinson taking the field as the first black person in the majors, I call for a new political party — The Robinson Party! #paulosophia #ucla #jackierobinsonday #gop #politics #racism #blm #maga #ınstagood
Came across this — she’s even rockin’ a Pret Came across this — she’s even rockin’ a Pretenders t-shirt! Miss her more than ever but this made me happy. #mom
The One Thing in America today, redux. #paulosop The One Thing in America today, redux. #paulosophia #putin #blm #ukraine #politics #instagood #racism #georgefloyd #equality #lgbt #queer #progressive #maga #americanbully
I have to brag about my friend @lizadonnelly (agai I have to brag about my friend @lizadonnelly (again) for using her art to advocate for human rights — and sometimes she gifts us with her wit. This one is in @newyorkermag print edition! Bravo, Liza! ✍🏻 🙌🏼❤️
I love this woman. 🇺🇸 I love this woman. 🇺🇸
If you didn’t hear Senator Cory Booker’s speec If you didn’t hear Senator Cory Booker’s speech today — tears of joy and hope. Ketanji Brown Jackson #ketanjibrownjackson
Photography is therapy. #paulosophia #leica #lei Photography is therapy. #paulosophia #leica #leicaq2 #pic #pictureoftheday #photo #photographer #bar #art #style
Everybody needs to swipe left after I talk. Then p Everybody needs to swipe left after I talk. Then print out the drawing so we can, together, “Overthrow the order of ignorance and injustice.” #paulosophia #confirmationbias #belief #religion #politics #love #art #science #cdc #masks #philosophy #instagood
As always, my friend @lizadonnelly’s talent and As always, my friend @lizadonnelly’s talent and commitment to justice…changing the world with the stroke of her pen. 🇺🇦🙌🏽 ✍🏻 @newyorkercartoons #ukraine #zelensky
Traditional Saint Patrick’s weekend river dye. N Traditional Saint Patrick’s weekend river dye. No color filter here — it’s that green. 🇮🇪 #leicaq2 #paulosophia #stpatricksday
Chicago. #sunset Chicago. #sunset
The metaphysical question "What is art?" can produ The metaphysical question "What is art?" can produce an array of responses, sometimes accompanied by passion. French artist Marcel Duchamp purchased a urinal from a sanitary ware supplier and submitted it in 1917, signing it "R. Mutt 1917". "Fountain" was questioned and deemed a not a piece of art, but a piece of sanitary ware. In 2019, a banana was duct-taped to a wall by Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan; it sold for $120,000 at Miami’s Art Basel. In my view — despite the intentions of the artists, often the criteria for what qualifies an artifact as art — neither of these are art. One was a urinal. One was a banana duck taped to a wall. Last week, while on a walk in Corona Del Mar, I shot this photo. It's a small section of a water barrier that allows entry into Newport Beach's bay (swipe left). Strange thing is, I've seen this utilitarian structure a hundred times before. Never thought much of it. But once a photo, the wall took-on an artistic quality, as if those who constructed it, intended it to be art; of course, they didn’t. I’m not sure this section couldn’t be cut and removed and put in MOMA and named, “Wall.” I could write much about the complexity in this photo: the grays and parallel lines, a mean face, the oranges and browns under, withering due to salt, the contrasts. I will likely frame this photo and hang it on my wall. Even if I decide to name it “Wall,” I don't believe the wall itself is art. It's a barrier in Newport Beach, California (For books on philosophy of art, I recommend Danto's "Transfiguration of the Commonplace" and Goodman's "Languages of Art." Swipe for red squares and pay attention to the last sentence of the first paragraph.) #paulosophia #art #philosophy #metaphysics #leica #leicaq2 #writersofinstagram #photography #pic #pictureoftheday #newportbeach
He dropped out of high school and told the concern He dropped out of high school and told the concerned principal he would "hire the brains," then ventured ahead, his way. Values: hard work, pay down debit, build it or fix it yourself to save money. Remain curious. Worked seven days a week at a gas station for years as a teenager. His friends would drive by on Saturdays in their convertables on the way to the beach screaming, "sucker." He purchased his first house at 18, right here in Orange County. Then he built and fixed: a cosmetology school, a state-of-the-art beauty salon, houses, retail properties, a ranch, his cars and tractors, you name it. He didn't just acquire: he built. Retired in his early 30s with paid-off businesses and real estate rentals. I don't ever remember the word "college" used by Mom or Dad. But Dad exemplified curiosity about pretty much everything from organic farming to dog breeding to history, welding, electrical, plumbing, pit barbecues, wine making, civil engineering, irrigation, carpentry and countless more. He casterated the pigs and I had to hold the back legs. Docked the tails of the Springer Spaniel and Doberman litters. Cut and stitched the ears on the Pit Bulls. Sheered the sheep. Slaughtered and butchered so we'd have meat to eat. He built this massive bird sanctuary with individuals cages for quail, pheasants, finches, pigeons. Once he asked me to get a box so we could take two of the homing pigeons to Mexico. He left their cage door open. A few hours later we arrived in Rosarito Beach, well over 100 miles away. We got out of the van. He grabbed and opened the box. Off flew two white birds into the horizon. Three days later we were back home. I run to the cage. "No way could they figure out how to get here," I thought. But deeper down, Dad was almost always right about everything. There they sat, perched and content. Now he's working with other things: thoughts. I wonder if he's right about this, too. #paulosophia #philosophy #dad #spirituality #selfhelp #mindful #education #learning #college #school #success #dad #success
Home… Home…
Yesterday, and today. ❄️🌊 #paulosophia # Yesterday, and today. ❄️🌊 #paulosophia #pictureoftheday
Saw birds today. #leica #leicaq2 #pictureoftheda Saw birds today. #leica #leicaq2 #pictureoftheday #pic #photo #bird #chicago
Period. Period.
The Esquire Theatre opened in 1911, showing silent The Esquire Theatre opened in 1911, showing silent films and featuring live events on stage. Can’t say enough about this city. #paulosophia #leica #leicaq2 #picoftheday
Too many, far too many, believe the ultimate good Too many, far too many, believe the ultimate good to be financial success. And too many of these misled and very often noble souls, later in life, come to realize that truth: what matters most is what one does to help others. And pursuing one’s passions, for the sake of nothing else. We must teach children, in word and deed, to pursue their talents, dreams, visions, passions, regardless of this pounding social trope that lies to us, that ties happiness to wealth, that treats education as a means to an end. I've come to this very deep conviction, perhaps, because I came from a home with money. My father, a high school dropout, retired in his early thirties. And yet, never has he manipulated me with his wealth. In fact, besides a modest birthday or Christmas gift, he's kept his investments to himself. It once infuriated me to no end. Now I relish the fact that I did this by myself. He did at times model audacious encouragement. Always to pursue passion, purpose, what's in your heart. And to be curious, always curious, and suspicious of convention. #paulosophia #parenting #money #dreams #education #college #mom #parent #success #happiness #selfhelp #artist #purpose
Soul and mind officially scrubbed and clean by sol Soul and mind officially scrubbed and clean by solitude, quiet, nature, just being a person. Thank you @theland.earth #paulosophia #mindfulness #solitude #selfcare #flow #newmexico #soulcleanse #grateful
Video journal from @theland.earth day 8 “Far be Video journal from @theland.earth day 8 “Far better it is to dare might things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to rank with poor spirits who neither enjoy much, nor suffer much, because they live in that grim twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.” - Theodor Roosevelt #paulosophia #mindfulness #bikram #yogapractice #yoga #inspire #good #newmexico #rayban #lululemon #instagood
Thoughts after 144 hours at @theland.earth #paul Thoughts after 144 hours at @theland.earth #paulosophia #newmexico #berkeley #parenting #parent #children #rayban
Journal from @theland.earth, 144 hours Shot this Journal from @theland.earth, 144 hours Shot this then ate dinner. Woke this morning at 6 in silence. Waiting for the coffee. The shape of the window. Earlier I shot this photo of one of the many ponds. Listening to all the trickling of water. There were damns made by beavers. I forgot to take a photo of a damn. Maybe I will tomorrow. I realized as I looked at the construction of twigs and branches — I realized I don't even know why beavers make damns. Brown medley rice with black barley and daidon radish seeds. I always brown yellow onion first in olive oil, then I brown the rice. Brown browned rice. I added green beens at the end. They were nice and crisp. Yesterday I marinaded an organic chicken in lemon and salt and pepper and just a pinch of oregano. I put it in a pot with a lid and left it on the back porch for 24 hours. Today it reached 50 degrees and and night it was 20 so it was fine. I cooked it slowly in the barbecue for over an hour. But first I had to remove six inches of snow from the lid. A mixed green salad with fresh dill and sour cream and olive oil and lemon dressing. Water from the well. I'm going to post a video story in my next post of the food and some thoughts, including missing them. #paulosophia #newmexico #leica #leicaq2 #food #pic #picoftheday #writersofinstagram #write #damn #selfcare
Thanks to Matt Davies and @newsday for describing Thanks to Matt Davies and @newsday for describing how too many parents “think.” #momsdemandaction #everytown
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