You see ER, you got me pegged wrong. One minute you have me as a leftist in disguise, a revolutionary plant, and the next I am the ultra-conservative living in Baronial splendor.

Neither is accurate. And what's more - you already know it. That's what's so fun about reading your posts. They are exercises in half-hearted slander you know, even as you are composing them, will fall flat because they don't quite fit.

I'm not the enemy of the people seeking to make a better life for themselves. I'm their best friend - only they don't often recognize me as such. Like Cary Grant confounding David Niven in The Bishop's Wife

source:libertyfilmfestival.com

That's me...a Dudley of sorts. Sharing bits and pieces of advice, especially when asked, that folks can use to help themselves out of their own self-made prisons.

Yes, most of us live in prisons. Each bar formed by the thoughts and actions of our pasts. We embrace those bars. We wouldn't know what to do without them because those bars are us.

I lived in Mayberry. It was a small town with a population under 20,000. I had a dog. Many folks greeted each other by name on Main Street at the donut shop, the market, the small Rexall drug store and the town's single theatre on the week-end. Most everyone did look like Aunt Bea, Andy Griffith and lots of kids looked like Opy. There were several Mexican families, One black family and that was the extent of the towns diversity. Except in this town - they were just other residents with names and personalities. No one discriminated against them and most probably went out of their way to insure the opposite because of their unique position. It was normal. I never felt I was rich or that the kids in the school with me were rich. Most weren't. It was an upper middle-class neighborhood and money was almost never even talked about or focused on.

As a result, I didn't really watch much TV. It was far more idyllic in real life than anything the TV could imagine. Same with Disneyland. Disneyland seemed far more burden and artificial goodness than the real goodness I knew. Fake smiles and greetings were no substitute for real ones by people who know you and care about you. The fake rockets of Disneyland were no match for the real ones built at nearby Rockwell and shipped out to Florida. A ride on the Mark Twain steamer was a pale, short-lived thing next to a day on my great uncle's fishing boat.

So the point is Mayberry was an ideal, but there were realities far greater than television or Disneyland could produce. Some folks actually DID experience them. I'm one of the fortunate ones - in the right place a the right time.

The right you lament and castigate for seeking the Mayberry's that they feel they lost are just like you - seeking their own emotional and physical comfort level.

Each has their own Mayberry. MAs would differ from yours and yours would differ from Lindy's or Z's. As a result no single town or place can ever accomodate the tastes and needs of the masses. The logic of such conclusion should be obvious. Mayberry must reside in each of us.

The secret is to learn to love all those you seek to extricate yourself from. When the left loves the right & when the right loves the left then everyone will have their own Mayberry. Outside change and salvation will be understood to be futile in bringing lasting happiness. Until you can live anywhere with anyone true peace of mind will elude you.

Sometimes one needs someone to act as a mirror to help one truly see what is within our hearts.

Now you'll have to pardon me...I've got a taste for some of Mathilda's chocolate cake.