Using Humor At Your Peril

What is humor anyway? just something silly to make us laugh, or can it be biting satire the reveals that the Emperor has no clothes? Here is a previous article I wrote, published by 360º Nation.

 

 https://www.bizcatalyst360.com/using-humor-at-your-peril/

Finally, a Mystery May be Solved

 

 William Johnston Braman 1931-1955

 

 Tomorrow, documents will be sent to the Brooklyn Veteran's Administration Office, to finally start an investigation about my father's death. I am hopeful that records will be found, and we will know if he died for his country.

 

 

 

 

 

Memorial Day - 2024

As Memorial Day approaches, I realize that it is 69 years since the day in May when my father died. A USMC Corporal, who served his country in several places, including Camp Lejeune, who died mysteriously at age 23. He left behind my grief struck grandmother, my devastated newlywed mother, a brother, a sister, and me, a 3-week-old baby. The pain and trauma was so deep that I grew up learning very little about my father, and what little came my way was mostly inaccurate. I was told he died from inhaling airplane exhaust. I was told he died from tonsillitis. I was told he died from a cat scratch.

I found a drawer full of memories when my mother, then my stepfather, passed away in 1988. The drawer had photo albums, receipts from a young couple’s married life, wedding cards, and many, many, cards expressing sadness and grief over William Johnston Braman’s untimely death. His death certificate, typed on paper so thin you can see through it, revealed his cause of death – Uremia. The dictionary definition is “a raised level in the blood of urea and other nitrogenous waste compounds that are normally eliminated by the kidneys.” The origin of the word means “urine in the blood.” The National Institute of Health states that uremia “develops most commonly in chronic and end-stage renal disease.” Those words would become important to me.

But Uremia was not a final diagnosis. Below, as a contributing factor was written “pending chemical.” No matter how much I searched, I found no report of what those chemical tests revealed. I closed the box, confused, but I was a busy young mother, with 3 active children who would all have to deal with our own trauma in the years to come.

But when I began to see solicitations by lawyers, looking for persons harmed by contaminated water at Camp Lejeune. I submitted a request to the Veteran’s Administration. Yes, he had been at Camp Lejeune in the 50s. His death occurred at the Brooklyn VA hospital. His death certificate was incomplete. Something felt wrong.

I asked the City of New York for another copy of his death certificate and checked the box to included cause of death paperwork. What I got back was a clearer version of what I already had. No chemical testing reports.

The TV lawyers were not interested in helping me figure this out. Did my father die from contaminated water? Renal failure is listed as something caused by this contaminated water. Did he actually die from serving his country? How in the world could anyone ever compensate me and his last remaining sibling for his loss?

I called and called the Brooklyn VA Hospital. Calls were misdirected, voice mails never returned. As a government hospital, it could be possible that records from the 50s were still in some rusty file cabinets. But no one even called to say those records had been destroyed. Nothing.

I approached my Congressional Representative, sending copies of everything I had, service records, death certificate. No answer, no answer, no answer. Finally, in late 2023, I was told that a request had been made to the Brooklyn VA Hospital, and to allow 30 days for a reply. No answer came. Not from the Hospital, not from the Congressional Office.

Meanwhile, there is a timeline ticking down to make the government aware of those who were harmed by this contamination. Currently, staff at one of my state senator’s offices has stated they will try to get info from the VA, to find out if the records still exist. And if they don’t, what does that leave?

Should I go on without ever knowing, or should I start believing that the words on his death certificate are proof enough that his death had a “chemical” cause?

I was born in April 1955. My father died in May 1955. Thanks to his 14-year-old sister, who snatched me out of the baby carriage while my mother argued with nurses who refused to let a baby into the hospital, my father was able to hold me. He wept uncontrollably and died soon after. My eyes fill with tears as I write this, just as they filled with tears when my father’s last remaining sibling, his sister, told me this story, just a few months ago.

And now I am desperate to fill in the blanks. To pass on the story of a man who died young, but whose genes live on in me, my three children, and my seven grandchildren. A man who may have given his life for his country.

 

2020 Revisits

 

Overcoming

To
talk without speaking
listen without hearing
work without producing
 
and
rule without leading

Creates
words without meaning
sound processed without understanding
jobs done without purpose

and
orders given without conscience leads to
gibberish
silence
failure

and
revolution.
 
©2020 Noreen Braman

 

Because I Have to Repeat Myself

 

 

©2017 Noreen Braman

 

 

Because

Because of the priest who told my mother she was doomed to hell

for a tubal ligation after life threatening childbirths,

and almost leaving three daughters motherless. 

 

Because of the man who cornered me in the boathouse

attempting to remove my clothes while laughing,

knowing my adolescent self would be too ashamed to tell anyone.

Because of the knife held to my throat

at the workplace where I was the only woman on the floor,

working too fast and making the men “look bad.”

 

Because of the men in the office addressed as “Mr.”

while women were addressed by first names,

and paid significantly less for doing the same job.

Because those same men felt entitled to grope women in the hallway,

make job security contingent on sexual favors they demanded,

or withheld them to punish your noncompliance.

Because of the insurance providers holding the key to healthcare

denying treatment for my children and myself,

until a protracted fight was engaged.

Because women who came before me fought so hard to get here

bequeathing me a country where I can raise my voice,

continuing to demand that we don’t go backward.

Because it is too easy to get comfortable

allowing erosion to do its deadly work,

destroying the firmament under our feet.

Because the women that come after me should never suddenly find themselves

back in the dark places that exist in cultural memory,

but rather go only forward,

reaching their hands down to pull other women up,

and with them humankind as a whole.

©2017 Noreen Braman

 

©2025 Noreen Braman

 

 

 

 

 

 

Human Sacrifice - A Poem from 2020

 

 

Human Sacrifice

Useless blood spilled
appeasing non-existent gods
the life taken to ensure
the lives of others will go on
never stopped earthquake
tsunami or pyroclastic flow
made it rain
blessed the crops
or protected hordes of warriors
in uncountable battles of pointless wars

Death was the only winner.

And now you tell me
sacrifice myself
on the altar of an ancient god
made of stolen gold
my blood in exchange for
monetary stability
status quo
the kingdom over the
surplus population
dangling generations of descendants
in front of my eyes
while the barons of finance
hide out in their counting houses
and those who once we thought of as leaders
sputter and threaten and withhold favor
choosing instead to watch from afar
as the rabble fight each other
over food and medicine and haircuts
pointing fingers at each other
assuming no blame for their actions
listening to new world Svengalis
spinning tales of intrigue
proposing heretical solutions
hiding behind philosophies and beliefs
they push on others
but ignore themselves

While death is the only winner.

And now you tell me I owe my life
to the future in which you have already dirtied your hands
where you have pushed your piles
of filth and betrayal ahead
as gifts for those same
generations of descendants

Do they not dangle before your eyes?
Do they not know your dread complicity?
And your schemes and plans and usury
for only your own benefit in this world of today?

I would step in front of a bullet
throw myself in the path of a train
sell all my possessions
and mortgage my soul
to spare my progeny suffering
but I will not die on your altar of gold
to support your narcissistic survival scheme
and with my last breath I will call you out
for the harm you have done to humanity

And not let death be the winner.


©2020 Noreen Braman

New Year, New Word for 2025

 

To Resolve or Not to Resolve: That is the New Year Question

(and why does Hamlet still sneak into my essays?)

As 2024 rides off into the sunset, and 2025 peeks over the horizon, the old standby question comes up. “What are your New Year’s Resolutions?” Some of us are very serious about this, others play with the idea, while another mindset is to resolve NOT to make any resolutions (which, in one respect IS a resolution.)

There are unhappy failure rates published this time of year, ranging from 80% to 99%, depending on surveys, guesswork, and personal opinions. The stats don’t matter in the long run. Either you fulfilled you goal completely, worked on it for a while and dropped it, wrote down something then never looked at it again, or patted yourself on the back for not jumping on the bandwagon.

However, whether it is a new year, or just any day in any month, taking some time to assess your dreams, desires, accomplishments and strike-outs is a healthy practice. In that respect, using a new year can give you a nice 12-month period of time to think about. This helps me a lot, because I am the person who can start ruminating failures starting from having to stand in the corner in first grade. (why I am terrible about ruminating about past successes is the subject of a different article.)

Here are some questions I consider;

1. What are my "did work" and "didn't works" for the past 12 months?  Making this list is probably the longest part of my process.

2. For the “did work” things — what did I do that made them successful and how to use what I learned going forward?

3. For the “didn’t work” things — What were the mis-steps and can they be corrected? Do I want to return to the failure or mistake and try to revitalize it, or should I learn a lesson from it and just move on?

4. What can I spend more time on?

5. What can I eliminate?

6. What skill, habit or practice can I add, and when can I start?

7. What new ideas are percolating in my mind, and how can I start working on them?

8. Did I live up to my own version of myself, including my personal relationships, and did I laugh enough?

Here are other important things I consider:

• Things I can control and things I cannot control.

• Situations I can change, and those I cannot change.

• What gave me joy, sense of purpose and resilience, and what did not.

Of course, the answers and the actions to take are not always simple. My decisions will involve and affect both my personal and my professional life, and the lives of my loved ones. Those steps forward can range from tweaking something, to life-changing plans.

In the case of items and situations I cannot control, learning how to accept those issues – not letting them "live in my head" – will help my personal well-being. I know this, and yet, still struggle with this particular habit. I also need to regularly remind myself that things or actions that give me joy and a sense of purpose may not be "profitable," but  a sensible investment in my resilience, happiness, and self-satisfaction.

As I move forward into the new year, I will be resolving to keep these words about hope in mind. What resolutions, ideas, or wise words will you resolve to keep in mind?

“Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering 'it will be happier.'” — Alfred Lord Tennyson