It seems to me that the further down the road we go in time, the lazier we become, especially in the United States.  It has been a while since I have been to a foreign country, but thanks to the wonderful world wide web, I have many friends and acquaintances around the world.  Through them I see other views and customs.

In the past few years in Second Life, I have seen people’s names diminishing rapidly.  At one time people seemed to address another person by the first three letters of their first name.  Now, they just address them by their first initial.

My nom de plume is DL Bach.  I am also known by other names.  My real first name is Debbie.  Sam is a nickname given to me by others I worked with because there were three women named Debbie in our group of ten.  In Second Life I am Parker.  A friend in Paris did a play on my pen name and calls me DeeEl.  I like this.

Debbie is a shortened version of my real name Deborah.  If you really don’t like me and want me out of your life, just call me Deborah.  I will be gone faster than you can repeat it.

There is one person I know in Second Life who has given to call me JJ.  Now, my last name in Second Life begins with J, but for the life of me I cannot understand why this person calls me JJ even though I have corrected them several times.  I generally use a person’s full first name in Second Life to address them, unless they ask me specifically not to.

There are times when nicknames (usually shortened versions of a given name) are used to be endearing.  For instance, my Second Life name is Parker and most people call me Parky.  This isn’t much shorter, but it is fun and playful.  Then there are the nicknames that have nothing to do with a person’s name at all, such as my nickname of Sam or when people call a loved one Boo or Woobie, etc.

A while back (when I used to work), I was screening a movie or something and two men were discussing nicknames.  One was Russian and the other American.  The American asked the Russian if names didn’t work the same way in Russia being that you shorten them when speaking to or about a loved one.  The Russian replied that occasionally it does work that way, but usually the nicknames are longer for someone you love.  His rationale was that when you are saying the name of someone you love, you never want it to end.  This is where I am.

In real life when I am introduced to someone, the manner of introduction will usually dictate how I address the person.  Until I am invited otherwise, I will usually address them as Mr./Ms. So-and-so.  I hold to the old way of respecting people.  I do not infer intimacy, I wait to be invited in.  When I worked in the prison, my first day of training, I met the head of the prison and when he introduced himself and we were chatting he asked me to call him by his first name.  My manager, later, tried to write me up for insubordination for calling the director by his first name.  The director chastised the manager instead.

When you are invited to the inner intimacy of speaking on first name basis, it is a trust that has been earned, not invaded.  This is a matter of respect.  So if you think so little of me and the speaking of my name repulses you so much that you reduce me to a mere letter of the alphabet, then I must reconsider the intimacy I have allowed you to share.

When I was growing up, I was taught to treat people with respect, especially my elders.  When addressing an elder it was always Mr./Mrs. So-and-so.  When responding to them it was “Yes, Sir/Ma’am” or “No, Sir/Ma’am”.  This is how it was and I never questioned it.  Besides, if I had questioned it, I probably would not have lived to see adulthood. I thought thing were this way with everyone.  Apparently I was misinformed.

After I grew up, I remembered my lessons and used them when engaging in conversation with my elders as well as those my age and younger.  Addressing people in this manner is just showing respect and has nothing to do with age, at least not for me anymore.  One thing I learned was that not all parents taught their children the same kind of respect.  The first time a child called me by my first name, I cringed.  Even if my last name (which is really long) is not known, they could still use Miss with my first name.  However, this was not the case and the parents didn’t seem the least bit phased.

From children that I nannied and/or sat for to the adolescents that I counseled, I found the same thing.  It felt as if the minors were trying to place themselves on the same level as adults.  I find this to be equivalent to parents who believe they should be their child’s best friend instead of their parent.  I may not be able to be a parent, but in my nearly thirteen years as an adolescent counselor working mainly in juvenile justice, I saw the fruits of this process.

In 2007, after dealing with my illness for three years, I found an on-line virtual world that gave me back a lot of what I lost from the illness.  This wonderland is called Second Life ® .  My training carried over into this world and I address people in a respectful manner.  I am continuously ‘chastised’  for referring to people as Sir or Ma’am.  Usually the males protest vehemently.  I still cannot understand why people would feel older by being treated with respect.

Another issue I encountered in Second Life ®  was that the majority of the people who used the same kind of respect I display for others are doing so because they are involved in BDSM or prostitution.  It seems that submissives are told to use Mr./Ms. and Sir/Ma’am when addressing people even if they are asked not to by the person being addressed.  I was told early on that others were believing I was involved in these groups because I was respectful.

What has the world come to when you cannot treat others with respect just because they are human beings?  Yes, I still cringe when not treated with respect, especially by children.  However, I learned to not care what others think in Second Life ®  and still continue to address people with respect.  In real life (and other places on-line) I continue to do the same.  I will address people with Mr./Mrs and their last name unless introduced only with the first name or until that person invites me to address them in a more informal manner.

Respect should never be out of fashion.  We should always show we have respect for others, even if it is just because they are a human being.

The Damsel Fights Back

The Damsel And The Dragon

On the heels of the Queen’s death and the conjoinment of Prince CuChulainn, Princess Emer and Duchess Ryanne, who were now ruling over of the kingdom, came an influx of new faces migrating to the Islands that are called Lost and blending into the fabric of the kingdom deeply enriching the Flanagan Clan.  One of these fresh faces belonged to a comely damsel.  She walked into Flanagan’s Pub one cold winter evening to attend a festive gathering and to satisfy her curiosity about the Clan and other people in the kingdom.

Putting on a name tag that simply read “Parker” she returned greetings with all the confidence and stability of a newborn kitten.  Parker was careful not to make eye contact with any one, but remained on the sidelines watching in wonder and awe.  The crowd was dense and she knew no one in the room.  Slowly she meandered around the perimeter of the amazing ornately plain room.  She studied with care the textures and moldings that would make this ballroom come alive even if no one was present.

Stepping through a side door the damsel had her breath taken away.  She was in the original part of the pub and found herself reaching out and touching the smallest details with tender fingertips.  Studying the richness of every crease and crevice, Parker lost all track of time.  She allowed the music wafting in from the outer ballroom to lull her further into a mesmerizing trance that propelled her into the speculation of the history of the fine craftsmanship enveloping her.  While her fingers ran along the ivory keys of the piano she did not realize her solitude had ended.

As she caressed the handiwork all around her, Parker was unaware of eyes studying her.  She jumped at the greeting bestowed from behind.  Turning toward the door, Parker was face-to-face with Prince CuChulainn and returned his greeting apologizing if she had entered a room not open to the public.  The prince assured her that all rooms were opened for exploration.  He went on to apologize for interrupting her reverie but explained that he was not given to crowds and much preferred smaller gatherings.

The pair chatted for a while then the prince went into a detailed history of the pub.  Lovingly he explained how the queen had desired such a place for the Clan and all those in the kingdom to come together.  Parker drank in every historical notation accounting the construction and dedication of the pub, its ballrooms and gardens.  She did not want to miss one iota.  The more the prince talked the deeper the damsel drifted into the manifestations that are the Flanagan Clan.  In the same reality the deeper the prince took Parker’s thoughts into his recitations, the further she went from the nightmare in her own world.

One cold winter night in the warmth of a cozy pub, a friendship was formed between two unlikely souls.  Parker and the prince would spend hours together talking and sharing their thoughts and their joys.  Enthusiastically the pair explored various parts of the kingdom and enjoyed the richness and beauty therein.  But, always close in the damsel’s conscience was the battle looming that she fought every day.  Wanting to enjoy every blissful moment, the damsel knew she could not reveal to anyone in the kingdom (least of all the prince) that a dragon had come to claim her and threw her into a vicious battle that she fought alone in her own world.

Years before, without warning, Galar entered the damsel’s life.  At first she did not think the dragon powerful and venomous.  Time proved her wrong.  However, knowing his strength would not have given Parker any foothold to banish him from her life for good.  In the beginning Parker did not know what she was fighting and knew even less about how to fight dragons.  Instead of fighting, the fair damsel gave up and ran away looking to find replacements for all that Galar had stolen from her.  In her apparent flight from reality, Parker found herself continually on the Islands that are called Lost and enjoying the companionship of a prince.

Day after day the sweet damsel entered what she called her fairytale life.  It was there that she could be herself again, be whole.  In her fairytale life she could run and dance and even spread her arms to fly.  There, Parker could control her own life and not be concerned with Galar looming behind rocks or lurking in caves waiting for a chance to spring, talons extended and deliver more crippling blows to her already fragile body.

In the fairytale land of the Islands that are called Lost, Galar dared not enter, but the moment Parker would step out of the fantasy, away from the beauty of the land and the companionship of her princely friend, Galar was waiting.  His hot breath steaming through flared nostrils would cause her head to spin.  Galar is a sneaky dragon and does not fight fair.  He has a way of leaving his prey alone and just watching, waiting for just the moment that the intended victim would feel confident that he was finally gone and would plague them no more.  Then at just the perfect moment Galar would extend his talons and use the full force of his mighty arm to knock the victim off their feet and leave the poor soul laying there writhing in pain.

One day, in the early spring of friendships blossom, a messenger arrived while Parker and CuChulainn were exploring gardens on the far side of the kingdom.  Parker watched helplessly as news delivered to the prince that a knight, who was closer to him than a brother, had been murdered by a dragon.  It was speculated that this dragon was of the same nest as the one which claimed the queen and another knight who was a boyhood friend of the prince.  In his grief the prince ran off for the palace leaving the damsel to stand shivering with worry.

Parker return to her home and watched the day the prince rode off on his steed to hunt down the dragon which dared to enter the kingdom and take the life of one so loyal as Sir Jeff.  Parker waved as CuChulainn rode by, but still buried in his grief the prince did not see his friend.  In her heart of hearts, Parker knew she would never again spend time with the one who had given her many hours of relief from Galar.  Demurely patting away the tears rolling down her cheeks with her lace handkerchief, she slowly turned and walked back into her home.  Her reality.  Her own personal battleground.

Deep concern for the prince allowed Galar another entrance into Parker’s world.  She was already weakened from previous battles with her fierce enemy.  Now, her heart broken, Galar wasted no time hurling his fiery darts in just the right places to send Parker crumbling to the ground.  There was no one there to catch Parker as she fell and no one to help her fight this dragon she did not understand.  Now, she no longer had any one to help her escape his relentless torment even for the briefest of time.

One brisk autumn day, lying in a sea of her own tears, Parker found herself curled up like a kitten shivering in pain and fear.  Slowly, she pulled herself up.  For the moment Galar did not appear to be around.  Tattered and scarred, the once fair damsel knew in fractured clarity that she needed to fight back.  After bathing, Parker put on fresh clothes and went in search of a friend.  Stepping back into her fairytale world she reacquainted herself with others she had enjoyed the company of in time long since reverted to memory.  Spending time in her fairytale land with acquaintances she felt comfort that she hadn’t felt since her time with the prince.  Once again, Parker had found an escape for brief interludes from Galar’s ferocious attacks.

Slowly, the damsel regained the resilience she knew before Galar entered her life and wreaked havoc.  As she felt surer of her footing she also found herself trusting.  She began to share information of her battles with those who had taken her in as family and friend.  Neither the Flanagan Clan nor the royals had fully accepted her, save the prince alone.  She was a commoner and not a clansman therefore, they could never have fully accepted her.  However, in a quaint little village known as the Bee Hive Township, there were those who offered hands to hold and arms to lean on whenever Parker was weary from her battles’ rage.

Seven souls welcomed Parker into their world and in return she began to trust their strength and learned to use it during the ensuing skirmishes with Galar.  Even the times that Galar would have the upper hand, Parker knew she was not alone.  There were seven angels who were each in their own way, there to catch her or to help her tend her wounds.  Over time, in the fortitude of a few, Parker found herself winning the battles more and more.  Galar turned his attention from the damsel with the help of a gentle wizard who truly knew how to fend him off.

Parker would return to the Islands that are called Lost from time to time and continued to be concerned for the prince.  However, CuChulainn faced his own dragon and the sweet damsel held vigil against hers.  The season’s changed as they always do, but Parker could now stand in both her fairytale world and her real world with trust in her heart with the weapons of friendship and love to wield whenever Galar came to prey.  Deep within the damsel knew this dragon would never go away.  But then again, neither will friendships found so true.

June 19, 2009

© DL Bach

The Damsel Is Victorious

**DISCLAIMER – The characters in this story are people in Second Life.  I am not, in any way, attempting to mock or do harm to any deities.  The people chose their own names and I just wrote my story.

To keep the peace is not just a purpose of law enforcement.  Peace has been sought by groups and individuals alike for generations.  Many times these people are labeled “peacemakers” and “dreamers”.  I stand before you accused.  I can only hope you find me guilty as charged.

Growing up, my kinfolk would speak derogatorily and make fun of other groups of people they deemed lesser.  This broke my heart and cut me to the core. Especially when they would speak differently in the open.

All through school and college when studying history, my heart broke.  From the torture of the Native Americans to the inhumane treatment of Negros to the mass murder of Jews and other “undesirables” in Nazi concentration camps the pain I felt was wretched.  But this was nowhere near what these others suffered at the hands of terrorists.

I grew up hearing music by John Lennon, Bob Dylan and others who wrote and performed songs laden with the message of peace.  This message was not specific to any particular genre and had no boundaries.

Recently, I sat in awe and watched as the Egyptian people stood and fought back against their oppressive government.  We are still watching as other nations are following the same path.

For some time now I have been writing poems about peace.  In December 2010, a friend in Second Life ® asked me to come to her group and read my poems of peace and then perhaps stay around and DJ a gig so they could dance and have a party.  I agreed.  As I pondered this event, I decided instead to do something never done in Second Life ® before, I interlaced my poems into a special playlist of music with one theme.

I dubbed this setup to be the genre of peace and began my research for appropriate music.  I wanted my listeners to be surprised not only by my poetry, but by the selection of music as well.  I was extremely surprised throughout my research and included music from a variety of genres including jazz, blues, rock and even Celtic.

Keeping the peace and being a peacemaker should not be left to police officers and dreamers.  This is a right and a privilege of every human being.  Learning to accept people is the first step in co-existing on this tiny planet.  The way I end my peace program is to charge all my listeners to go out, walk up to someone they don’t know (and probably wouldn’t befriend) and hug them.  Then tell them you are glad they are alive.  I so charge each of you now.

What is the verdict?  Am I guilty?

My thoughts weren’t just about the eggs as eggs.  I kept thinking how I said that eggs were all the same no matter the color.  This is like people.  No matter the color of your skin, eyes and hair, every human being is the same.  I recall the old movie Tammy And The Bachelor.  During the course of the movie, the uneducated swamp girl, Tammy makes a startling statement about war.  In essence she said that if people would remember that under all the armor and clothing there is nothing but flesh and blood, perhaps there would be few wars.  Oh, the innocence.

Those who have followed my blog for any length of time have already figured where I am going.  My favorite topic to write about in here – PEACE.  Just like those eggs in my refrigerator, people are the same.  We may look different on the outside, but inside we are flesh, blood and bones.  The shell may be different sizes or colors or perhaps shapes slightly off; but inside there is a yolk and the whites.

When we focus on the differences we have there is strife and war.  It will only be when we focus on what we have in common (i.e.: being human beings for one) that we can truly accept others and bring about peace in the world.  Greet people without noticing what is on the outside.  Nearly three years ago, to escape the illness that has invaded my body, I entered Second Life (I have a blog just about that and have mentioned it before).  I began getting to know people where all I could see of them was their avatar representative.  After a while I was getting to know them not as their Second Life persona, but who they are in the real world.  It hit me one day that had I been walking down the road in the real world and passed most of these people, at the most I would have just given them a glance, but we would never have become friends.  I used to think I was not a prejudice kind of person, that I was very accepting.  I learned how wrong I was.  I can now boast that I have friends from all walks of life, skin colors, religions, races, nationalities, etc.  I got to know them as people keeping in mind that there was a human being on the other side of the computer, not just a bunch of pixels.

To the rest of the world I offer this advice – Put your blinders on and meet some eggs.