Another Multiple-meaning Word


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


Survival—of the fittest. That’s part of  the theory of evolution. The species that is the strongest, smartest, toughest, fastest–that species will survive and conquer those that are weaker.

One wonders, then, about the nondebatable survival of ants.

The Survivor.  A television program I’ve only glanced at during its long run, because I have no interest in watching people undermine each other  in an attempt to win the money. All that conniving and sneaking and disloyalty has no appeal for me.

Robinson Crusoe, on the other hand, does interest me.  As does the Swiss Family Robinson.I am intrigued by so much ingenuity. I’ve wondered, as I’ve read those classics, if I would do even one tiny bit as well as they did.  Probably not.

The popularity, in the past three decades of survivalism,  has not abated.  Companies are still selling survival food that has a 25-year shelf life. I guess it’s supposed to get us through everything from megastorms to nuclear holocaust.

Surviving a hurricane has more interest for me. They come and go fairly quickly in the over-all scheme of things. Four years ago, Hurricane Sandy created a rush on generators. We were all storing water in big containers, and doing what we could for a probably power outage.  Terry still has a supply of MRE’s (meals, ready to eat) from his army days, and they’re really not too bad. We already have kerosene lamps. The only thing we didn’t have was hot tap water, but there are ways around that, too.  I hated not flushing the toilets, though.  It was like having a party when the winds stopped, and the power began to flicker back on until it finally reached our neighborhood.  And we were just in the tails of the storm here in Pennsylvania.  It must have been terrifying for those in its direct path. We lost one of our big old trees out front, but that was the worst of it. We survived.

And somehow, through the most horrific experiences, the human spirit survives. I was watching some videos the other day about Jewish survivors of Hitler’s insanity. They’re dying off, now, and some of them are determined not to let the story die with them. As those who still enjoy hating Jews are doing their best to deny what happened, those who survived it are doing all they can to make sure it is not erased from the history books.  What amazes me is the lack of bitterness and anger that so many of them display. They are not looking for revenge. They simply don’t want their story to be forgotten, because they hope the world will learn from it.

We won’t.  Some will, that is true.  But when you look around you at the world today, you know that hatred against races, nations, religions,  cultures, still survives and is killing people for no reason other than their differences from other people.

Will America survive?  Will we survive this lamentable political wrangling and election cycle?  Will we survive the lying, the accusations, the name-calling?  Maybe, but we won’t be the America people my age remember. I’m glad I grew up then, and not now. I didn’t have to be protected and supervised every single minute of my day because of the evil that lurks all around.  I survived my unsupervised, outdoor-playing-ball-without-coaches-and-parents childhood quite well. I even ran barefoot sometimes, and we drank out of a garden hose now and then. We got dirty, we sweated, we fell and skinned our knees and were NOT rushed to the nearest ER. We didn’t have parents hovering over us every minute to make sure no one fought. In fact, the fights were good for us. We learned to negotiate, and we learned to be friends again when the fight was over. We learned to deal with bullies without having to have special organizations at school to do so. We generally stuck up for the underdog when a bully was being —well, a bully. In those days, the bad guys were not considered cool, and the rest of us did not want to be like them.

We survived quite well, in fact.

And now I have to end this ramble or I’ll be late for work.  Which reminds me:  We learned to work. We were brought up to leave home. We did not stay on our parents’ insurance until we were 26.  We did not live rent-free in their houses after we were 18. We wanted to be self-sufficient adults.  And most of us were.

And now I really am finished. Maybe.

3 thoughts on “Another Multiple-meaning Word

  1. Pingback: Musing on Anti-Heroes & a Book Review | Christine's Collection

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