RESPECT

I personally have never achieved respect.

Just like Rodney Dangerfield said, "I get no respect!"

I know that out in the world at large some people believe they deserve respect.

I know that these same people also believe that they are owed respect.

Respect, where does it come from?

What is respect?

Respect means to admire, someone or something, genuinely, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements.

Does just existing earn you respect?

Like a child is supposed to respect their parents.

But what if the parents neglect, abuse the child?

Is respect still required by the child for their guardian?

If a poll could be taken asking if your parents were flawless, they were excellent, I would wager that getting a perfect set of parents is akin to the same odds as being struck by lightning.

The odds of being struck by lightning is 1 in 3,000.

Those odds seem low to my own experience of being struck three times in my life so far by lightning.

I thought I was unique.

I get no respect from lighting either.

Respect.

Respect is earned never given.

Respect is earned never given.

Respect is earned never given.

Two figures this past week entered the Thunder Dome of Respect.

One lost respect.

The other earned respect.

Our President, Donald Trump, lost respect when he demanded it of the former head of the CIA John Brennan.

Admittedly, our President has been on a slide losing respect from the nation starting with his inauguration.

Trump's high water mark for respect was that inaugural day of his presidency.

Every minute of the day since he's been shoveling crap as hard as he can demanding respect and personal loyalty.

He's obviously losing respect.

The second, the winner of all time, is the one and only Aretha Franklin.

She earns all of our respect for her character.

She earns our respect for using her gift to lift us all up.

It is our privilege to have been witness to her talent, her style, and her grace.

It is humbling to know that a great soul, an angel walked among us.

Her hands reached out to touch us here on the edge of darkness to pull us back to the light.

Her grace was amazing.

Thank you, Aretha Franklin, for sharing yourself with us.

Respect.

Peace

DFrey

Without Our Permission

Change happens without our permission.

That's a fact of this Universe.

The Universe does not wait for our approval.

You can have an opinion about it, but it doesn't change the facts.

Can you stop the tide from rolling in?

Can you stop your child from growing?

Can you stop the sun from setting?

No, you can't.

I can't either.

Nobody can.

Change is the fundamental nature of life.

We are born, we live a life, and then we die.

Each step along that path, we find the world changes around us as we change.

Some of the changes are welcome.

The look of your child as they master riding a bike.

Watching your daughter's face as she marries the person she loves.

That new job you've worked so long and hard for.

Suddenly is gone.

Gone.

Some changes are not welcome.

Your dog is ill and needs to be put down.

There's no work in your town anymore.

The McRib will no longer be sold.

The biggest unwanted change…

The death of a loved one.

Today, March 24th, 2018 in the streets of America and around the world, a collective shout demanding change was issued.

A choice, a demand that life be preserved versus the right to kill.

Why do we reserve the right to kill in this nation?

Could it be the lagging cancer on our soul of racism?

Fear of the other?

Fear of the stranger?

A new voice was raised today to join the old chorus of the past.

It's beat, it's melody unfamiliar to the ears of an older generation, yet, at its heart, it's driving beat as familiar as that old gospel sung by other marchers for freedom from tyranny.

Change comes without our permission.

You can be part of the solution, or you can step aside.

A better world, free of the fear of gun violence has always been in our hands to make real.

The eyes of a nation have been lifted up by the spirit of their children.

March for our lives.

Peace

DFrey

Lift Them Up

Walking into my favorite coffee spot the other day, the hostess Josseline looked tired. 

"How are you today, Josseline," I asked?

She smiled, "No one ever asks how I'm doing. Thank you."

Lift them up.

Some girls were out in front of the grocery store the other day selling Girl Scout cookies. 

They had their learned lines down asking each person as they went by to please purchase their cookies. 

Many did.

An old woman walked by. 

They asked her if she would buy some of their delicious cookies. 

She said she liked to, but she didn't have extra money. 

One of the girls handed her a box for free.

Lift them up.

This coming Saturday, March 24th, from 10 AM to 2 PM starting at Pershing Square, 582 South Olive Street, Los Angeles, CA,

March For Our Lives is holding a rally and a march.

Everyone is welcome, not just students and teachers affected by the rule of the gun in our land.

Wait!

Listen...?

Did you hear that…?

Do you hear it?

People, a nation, a time when voices filled with fear call out collectively for justice.

A sound heard through the long halls history foretells of a building wave. 

A wave built upon the broken and shattered lives cut short by the tyranny of a few men over the many.

Lift them up.

Why can't some people hear other people crying?

Why can't some people see the suffering people not like them

Why do some people turn their backs when they can help stop injustice?

Fear of change clouds the eye.

Fear of change darkens the heart.

Fear of change binds the hands.

Fear of the stranger resists compassion.

Lift them up.

You can read the writing on the wall.

You can see the summer change to fall and then to winter. 

You can see the tide roll in and out. 

You can witness the sunrise in the East and set in the West.

But can you see the despair in others, not like yourself?

Can you feel what it is like to live in fear of death?

Can we as a people ask everyone to be responsible? 

Everyone.

Is that too much to ask for? 

Is that a bridge too far? 

A shore too distant? 

Are we collectively going to fall into a trap set by profiteers of death?

The profiteers who stoke the fears of the unknown. 

Who whisper horrible intent of races not your own. 

Who raised up Jesus yet tell us that even the man of peace would have a conceal-carry under his robe.

That if everyone carried a gun, we would all be safe?

I tell you that's a lie.

It is a lie made by dark-hearted men to make a profit out of the fearful.

To tell you the truth…

I can tell you there will never be a time in your whole life that you will you ever be safe.

Never.

That is the reality.

The story that many believe is if you live a good life, worship the right god, live in the right neighborhood, drive the right car, marry the right person, go to the right school, get the good job, mind your own business, mow your lawn, keep your house painted, donate to charity, care for your family, that somehow through all these things you will be kept safe by an invisible spirit.

You will not be given anything you cannot bear…

That's a story.

It is not reality.

There are some storms we cannot bear…

Bad things happen to everyone. 

You can't stop it.

But you can with compassion do the thing that we all can recognize is the right thing to do.

You can reach out and take a hand that reaches for help.

You can reach out and hold that person who is afraid.

You can lift them up.

Stand with us on March 24th everywhere in our nation.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Most of all, for life.

Peace

DFrey

Charlottesville, Virginia

illustration by Daniel J. Frey

Peace

DFrey

Again Begin

Did you know I'm an artist?

I drew before I could write and I still draw down onto paper my observations, visions…

I draw upon my life and experience.

Being an asthmatic child and adult.

Of dying when I was seventeen.

I forgot my family and had to be reintroduced to them and the world.

Of being an orderly tending the sick, applying CPR on over 114 people, of caring for the dead.

Finding love, of losing it and finding it again, of the gift of a beautiful son and daughter…

To that end and a new beginning, I have begun a monthly extended graphic novel around the central drive of my life to help make the world better.

To point to an open door where our better angels wait for us all.

Again Begin is a journey to the central problem in the world the human race.

It has been a story I've worked on for the past 40 years.

Personal disasters, failures aside, I have turned over this story many times as I lay myself to sleep each night.

In light of the times, in the light of dim direction, plainly no light at all going on in some heads we give the title leader, I will bring to revelation this tale of science fiction wrapped around an ancient parable to stir our genetic memory.

A new myth…

Thank you, Joseph Campbell.

Below is a page exclusive to this website from issue number one of Again Begin available through all the outlets of ebooks as well as a printed version at Amazon.com

Peace

DFrey

Man In Black

I’ve been asked why I always wear black. Here’s the answer…

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,

Why you never see bright colors on my back,

And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.

Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,

Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,

I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,

But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear the black for those who never read,

Or listened to the words that Jesus said,

About the road to happiness through love and charity,

Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,

In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,

But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,

Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,

For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,

I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,

Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

And, I wear it for the thousands who have died,

Believen' that the Lord was on their side,

I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died,

Believen' that we all were on their side.

Well, there's things that never will be right I know,

And things need changin' everywhere you go,

But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right,

You'll never see me wear a suit of white.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,

And tell the world that everything's OK,

But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,

'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black.

–      Johnny Cash

Can’t say it any better.

DFrey

Peace

Monsters

It was a hot spring evening in Hollywood.

I had just settled down to watch the Maher when a call interrupted my weekly dose of reality.

It was a dame.

It's all ways a dame.

She was crying, didn't know where else to turn, she needed my help.

I told her to pull herself together, hit the John, get dried out.

I know just what she needed.

It was me.

I got my tools, I took everything, you never know what you're going to need you know?

I told my roommate, my day walker nephew who was pacing back and forth on the balcony learning his lines I was going out.

Out onto the 101, the Ventura Freeway over to a forgotten corner of tinsel town.

Toluca Lake.

I pulled up outside of a row of shacks.

Leftover vintage bungalows where old man Warner use to warehouse his talent.

I took my tools and casually made my way to the scene of the crime.

There it was, a big ugly lump laying across a table, bits and pieces strewn about with no intelligent regard.

I turned the lump over, noted what I had to do.

I could hear the young woman still crying in her hovel as I went to work on the monstrosity.

I hammered that son of a bitch over and over again.

I felt a set of pleading eyes burn a hole in the back of the neck.

It was the dame standing in the doorway, her voice on lockdown.

Would the lump crack?

Then snap!

The monster was free, it was finished.

The dame called me her hero.

Seems she sculpted a monster head, her mold was stuck together.

Her naiveté and my expertise made some horror romance that night.

Lucky the neighbors didn't call the cops on us for all the hammering.

As I got into my car, the dame's lipstick still hot on my cheek, I looked over at the Warner water tower.

In my rearview mirror, I could see Universal by the light of the full moon.

I wiped the good sweat from my face and smiled.

Monster making in Hollywood.

Peace

DFrey

Visit the dame at KateFreysfx.com