The Patio

In the front of Starbucks on 802 in Brownsville is the "Patio."  Inside Starbucks is smoke free so the smokers all go out front, so do all the people who want to feel the warmth of the sun.  Starbucks recently put out new tables and chairs to replace the wobbly ones that were there.  They put new umbrellas out there too, although, from what I see, people rarely use those.  The "outside" crowd mostly crave the free fellowship, the sunshine, tabacco smoke, and the fresh fumes from the vehicles on the roadway.

Outside people somehow feel free to greet one another and there are ad hoc groups which meet irregularly during the week.  Lots of politics and deep philosophy gets discussed on the Patio.  Lots of business is transacted out there too.  The rich kids from Matamoros  congregate out there too where their guardians  can keep an eye on them.

During the "Huadajahant?" episode of recent note, I noticed the Patio was empty.  When that horrid moment passed, people began once again to haunt their favorite tables.  Yesterday, as I drove around the building to get to the drive through where the squawk box is, there was one fairly young female sitting at a table all by herself. 

I must explain that there are some advantages in being an old man, especially there are advantages in being an old man who has his very own lady.  Such an old man can observe what is displayed before him, take note of it, ponder its meaning and quite go on his own way. I am an old fellow and I have CJ and that is especially nice.

Ok now, here is what I observed. Just the facts.  The young lady was sitting there in a short skirt.  So short in fact that you could see, ummm, everything, as you passed by a few feet away in the driveway.

I suppose of course that we should merely assume that she was simply basking in the 27C morning sunlight.  We could assume that, and if she were at home in her own backyard I wouldn't be seeing it and that would be that.  Fine.  But she wasn't home in her own backyard, she was in a heavily trafficked public place and there was no way to avoid seeing what she was displaying.

Actually I believe that either consciously or subconsciously she was hoping to attract the attention of some young fellow.  That makes me sad for the fellow she finally does attract. That makes me sad for her, and as a matter of fact, I am insulted.

I filmed the flowers on some cacti eary this morning. Their petals and other parts were turned up to the sky and the bees were buzzing and carrying on around them.  That's what plants are supposed to do.

They bloom, they display their blooms, the bees come and the job is done and that's that.  Plants really don't have much else to do.  You've never heard of a plant writting an opera or building a building or doing anything else much other than just being a plant and attracting the bees.  Other than making honey, bees have very little use other than carrying out their role in the cycle of the plant's life.  As far as I can tell, plants and  bees have very little spiritual or intellectual life.

The message the young lady was sending out yesterday morning was that a male's value is similar to that of a bee.  She attracts him, he does his part after which he really should just fly away and die perhaps. 

Now do you see why I am insulted?  I am not a plant.  I am not a bug.  I am more.  I want consort with a female who is more than just a flower to be pollenated.  Not that that part of life is not to be enjoyed as well, no, its God given and its there, but for human beings that's simply not the main course.

There's more.  Implied in the young lady's message is that the pollinator must be young.  Therefore an old pollinator is of no value.  He should just die.  Also implied in her message is that older women past the age of pollination are of no value and they should also just go away and die.  In another generation those of age and maturity were valued for the experience and the wisdom they had accumulated but seemingly no more. 

That's quite a message in that young young lady's attire.  As you can see I resent her message.

This brings us to the topic I want us to consider this morning.  Grab another cup of coffee, come back and sit down and hear me out.

Nearly every day I see our Slavic women sitting on the Patio in skirts so short that I see, ummm, everything, or nearly everything and they are sitting in highly trafficked places where I cannot help but see their nakedness.  I see them and I am not impressed.  I am not titillated.  I am not attracted.  To the contrary, I am insulted.  I am angry.  I am hurt. 

Where do I see you naked?  In your videos on YouTube where you cut romance to shreds, where you vanquish romance to the trash can and where you replace love with the base activity of polination.  I do not wish to polinate you.  I do not wish to see you polinating even vicariously through the illustrations you find somewhere on Google. The kind of relationships you are holding out as "ideal" to our youth are shallow.  What you are showing in your video has no more depth than a bee fluttering around a flower.  Thirty seconds of watching a bee and a flower together is boring, so is what you are showing me when all you can show me is skin skin skin.

Please in the YouTube videos you place on public display let me see beauty and joy.  Let me see the full range of emotions we Slavs so love to share.  You are stuck on a one note song when there is whole melody to listen to.  We Slavs have the best music in the world.  Let's let the world hear the depth and reach of our music and our souls.  We are not just breeding stock.  Let's take pride in ourselves and show the world what we really are! 

But first, put your pants on and button up your blouse.  For the love of God don't insult me any more.  I am a Slav. I am more than a flower or a bee.  A lot more, thank you.

Don't mistake me, you can show me flowers and bees, but just keep your skin covered please.

do sljedeći put, blagoslov - until next time, blessings,

Canovals a.k.a. Slavonac
23 studenog 2011

Huadajahant

"Huadajahant?"

So you can get the feeling in your ears about how this word sounds, pronounce it out-loud where no one can hear you kao na hrvati jezik.  Hmmmmmm.  What means "Huadajahant?"   What jezik is this?


Now look here, I have been answering comments and fan letters in about fifteen different languages almost everyday and yesterday there were two more languages popped up.  That's not to say that I speak or write any of them very well.  I don't even speak good on standard hrvati and even after nearly obtaining a major on English jezik from university, proper engleski eludes me sometimes but you can see I write on teksikanski jako dobro.  But  what means "Huadajahant?" ????

"Huadajahant?" 

That is exactly how I was greeted by the drive-up squawk box at Starbucks on ulica 802 u Brownsville two mornings ago. 

For those of you who may not know what is a Starbucks,  je kafena, only they really do serve coffee and tea.  Starbucks is maybe similar to Tim Horton's in Canada, another kafena.  Perhaps the difference between the two is that where Tim Horton's caters heavily to blue collar tastes, Starbucks caters more to the Yuppie type crowd with upscale desserts and such.  In fact, Starbucks is the epitome of the non-greedy, socially responsible corporation all the "Occupy" people are screaming for these  days and they were socially responsible already long before it became politically correct to be so.   Their prices reflect how costly it is to be socially responsible too.  No one goes to Starbucks for the cheap prices.  You go for the smiles and the camaraderie.

A glance at the license plates on the vehicles around the Brownsville Starbuck's shows it is a favorite excursion for the more well to do from Matamoros. You can always tell when a drug dealer's children are over for the morning because daddy sends along a couple of armed guards who discretely keep a sharp eye on them. I always feel safer when they are around because these guys simply will not allow any trouble around the young folks they are sent to watch over.

Anyway, as I drove up to the squawk box, a female voice said:  "Huadajahant?"

Me:  "molim?"

"Huadajahant?" responds the female voice (this time snarly and impatient).

Quickly I checked my zipper and made sure my shirt was buttoned up all the way.  My teeth were in and my hair was combed.  I had even showered earlier that morning. What ever had I done to offend the creature on the other end of this conversation?

"Huadjahant?"  This time her voice rose with that angry woman sound that so terrifies the heart of any man.

"Please, what is bold this morning?"  I asked plaintively.

"Mmpf," she responded.

"Dobro, dobro, a vente with five sugar and lots of half and half, molim." I say, hoping for the best.

"Rmpf!" she said.

"please also a classic sausage with egg on engleski muffin," I added.

"Nga," she responded impatiently.

Nga?  Oh oh, what means this word??  I googled "nga" on my phone.  No luck.  Oh oh.

"Nga," she repeated flatly.  "Nga day."

"Perhaps please a cheese danish?"  I was desperate now.

"Nga! Drajup!" she said curtly.

"Molim?" I asked, now almost in tears.

"Drajup now!!"  she squawked emphatically.

Not knowing what else to do, I drove up to the window. A young woman almost threw my coffee at me. She was not wearing a name badge in view.  After I handed my credit card to her I was suddenly sure that a gang of bandits had taken over my beloved Starbucks and I would never see that card again.  Real Starbucks employees always wear name badges proudly and publicly in open view.  "I might be lucky to escape with my life," I thought.  Not a single drug lord guard in sight!!!  Oh heavens where are they when you need them?   Can you imagine how relieved I was when she slammed my credit card into my hand in just a few moments?  Whew!!!  As I drove away, I noticed the patio in front of the store was empty. Hmmmm, scary, really scary.

So yesterday morning I went back just to see how things were. I drove up to the squawk box. 

A pleasant voice greeted me:  "Good morning, my name is Alex, how may I serve you?"

In seconds she set me up with my coffee, my sandwich, and my danish!!!!  When I arrived at the window Alex had a badge which said "Alex" on it too.  I tipped her a dollar.

I went back today.  "Good morning, my name is Alex ..." 

I asked which coffee was the bold for today.  "Ohhh, dobro jutro gospodin David!!  Italia is bold all week!"  She didn't say my name "Day vid" either, but "Da veed" with the accent on the first syllable like my mother named me too and not with the accent on the second syllable like the Meksikanski say it!!! She even remembered what I had ordered the day before so in seconds I was at the window where she handed me a bag with my sandwich and my danish.  A minute later came the coffee.  Alex smiled when I tipped her a dollar again today.

"Huadajahant?"  But never mind that, my old Starbucks is back and all is well in the world, thanks God.

do sljedeći put, blagoslov - until next time, blessings,

Canovals a.k.a. Slavonac
23 studenog 2011