Protecting the Children

A new study has revealed we may be harming our children. How you ask ? By sending them to school too early in the morning, that's how. They should be allowed to sleep in. Getting them up early to attend classes is making them unable to learn their lessons. They are just too tired. It has nothing to do with allowing them to stay up half the night, it is their sleep patterns. Teenagers especially have a sleep pattern of sleeping in late.
This study concluded that schools should open later in the day and continue into early evening. That is when children are most productive. What the plan was for the teachers staying awake, us older folks need our rest, I didn't hear. I don't think it was mentioned.
I'm thinking this must have something to do with evolution. It didn't seem to be an issue when I was growing up. Why Ben Franklin himself said early to bed,early to rise. What happened to that advice ? My parents got me out of bed every morning, even in summer ! Get UP ! That's what I heard in the mornings. You're not going to lie in bed all day. Are you sick ? Up and at'em ! I learned my lessons alright. One lesson I learned was to get out of bed and get gone quick. If you didn't Dad was liable to put you to work doing something you would rather not do. I wonder if I could site this study and present it to my boss. Eight O'Clock is a little early for me, maybe we should just open at a later time. Not my fault, it's my sleep cycle. Oh and don't forget about my nap cycles either.
I do wonder where these researchers come up with this stuff. Now the world should adjust their schedules to suit individual needs. Give me a break. I doubt the validity of this study. I think you can adjust your own sleep pattern to fit the need. Mom and Dad helped us kids with that. Bedtime was eight O'Clock. No radio, television or lights allowed. Be quiet and go to sleep. I was roused in the morning, quite abruptly if I recall correctly, and told to get up. After a short time I got up all by myself to avoid that scene. I made the adjustment.
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. I shouldn't have to work on those days or get out of bed for that matter. It is a known fact that productivity decreases Monday mornings and Friday afternoons guess we shouldn't work then. Breakfast should be served at ten too. Is man evolving to be creatures of the night ? Vampires ? Seems like I hear a lot about them these days. All this early rising is damaging us all. We should change it all to protect the children.

I can wait

We as Americans have to be some of the most spoiled people on the planet. I was listening to the news and they were talking about air travel. The sequestration had cut into the budget for air traffic controllers. There were a few flight delays and a couple cancellations. Quick as a flash that was changed and the wording of the sequestration was changed. Now, the money is available, after all. People had been inconvenienced. OMG. We can't have that. The government can be trillions of dollars in debt but that's okay as long as no one is inconvenienced !
I don't have any actual figures but I'm certain a majority of the people flying were going somewhere for pleasure. A delay, more than likely, was not a show stopper. If that is the price we have to pay for saving the country from bankruptcy I'd say it was worth it. Why can't we as Americans get that upset over health care or the budget ? Maybe then something constructive would be done.
It would appear our government officials only react quickly when the people get mad. That and they were all going home for recess and their flights were delayed too. How inconvenient.
Another aspect of this whole deal was the solution. The solution was as simple as, changing the wording of the sequestration. We passed this set of rules in the hope that it would stimulate the lawmakers into action. It did not. It was then put into effect and everyone starts saying what a terrible thing it is. All the gloom and doom. The country is coming to an end. No tours at the White House. The government can't afford it. Now just hold on a minute, I'm being inconvenienced. No problem, change the wording of that piece of legislation.
See, problem solved. Now just how does that work ? If the law is inconvenient, just reword it. Humm. Why don't we just reword the Constitution while we are at it. There are some that would do that.
I think if we didn't reelect those in office that failed to perform, it just might inconvenience them. Not having a job, with perks, may prove to be an effective stimulus. We need to send the message clearly. No more just printing more money whenever we need it, and no more rewriting the laws to make it convenient. Along with that however we all must learn to accept a little inconvenience. We have to stop acting like spoiled little children demanding the government provide us with everything. We are all in danger of losing the America that we all love. We can lose it through selfishness. It takes sacrifice to keep what we have. I'm willing to be delayed a bit if that what it takes. 

Different

In light of recent discussions about issues facing the country I have done a lot of thinking. One thing seems to confuse me. Since when does tolerance mean approval ? It is my belief the two words mean entirely different things. I may tolerate you, and your behaviours, but that doesn't mean I approve. How have we arrived at a point where I can not say I don't approve without being labeled a racist,bigot or other uncomplimentary name ? Also I don't get the whole, if you don't agree with me, you're wrong mentality. I will support my ideas and opinions but that doesn't mean I can't listen to yours. Even when I don't admit it out loud, others have had good ideas and influenced me.
I do find it a bit amusing that those on the " cutting " edge today are just saying what most of us are thinking. They are politically incorrect and we laugh nervously at their jokes and observations. Back where I grew up everybody was like that. Even the politicians were honest to a fault back then. Some still are, I think. I must say generalizations can get you into trouble so I had best stay away from them.
It would appear that tolerating you is just not good enough anymore. Now I need to join in whatever you support. I must not speak out in opposition, at least not too loudly, although screaming how right I am is perfectly acceptable. Yes those hot button topics should not be spoken against.
Does tolerance imply approval ? I don't think so. Do I need to state my approval or disapproval of an issue ? The answer is really, no. My approval or disapproval can be voiced at the polls. It just seems to me that we like to relabel things. They are not illegal aliens, they are undocumented workers or in some cases undocumented welfare recipients. Sorry, it is not welfare anymore, it is public assistance. It is not man and wife anymore now we have life partners.
Well, I'm becoming a dinosaur myself and still tend to call things by what they really are. You'll know if I'm just tolerating you and you'll know if I approve by my actions. Inaction on my part usually indicates disapproval. It may be a simple approach but it works for me. 

George

Yesterday we lost another icon. The great George Jones. A man who was larger than life. A man whose ,what can only be described as tumultuous life, is the stuff of legend. Whether or not you were a fan of his music, you know his name. He will be missed.
I was working when I heard the news. I felt an instant sadness. The  " possum " is gone. As I continued to work I thought about that. I began to realize what I was really mourning was the loss of a generation. That is the sad part of growing older. One by one the loss of the old timers seem to creep up on us, until we are the old timers. It is just part of the cycle. The passing of those that affected not just our lives, but the lives of our parents. George Jones was one of those people. His impact was most felt during my parents time. Yes, he continued throughout his life to entertain. The ability to do that and remain relevant is the testament to his talent. You just can't be country without George Jones !
I will leave his eulogy to those far more qualified than I. George will always be in my music library. We will see a flurry of tributes and memorial shows. That is only right and fitting. Following that will be all the " complete collection " albums and special editions. There is money to be made and it won't take long for those so inclined to cash in. That part of it makes me a little angry.
The comedians can have a little fun with him. I can hear all the jokes now. They didn't have to embalm him, he did that himself. At least this time we can be sure he'll show up. I'm betting George would get a chuckle at those himself. It was good to see him finally get straight and enjoy his last years. I feel like I have lost a friend. I never met him or attended any of his shows. I don't play his music every day. I didn't just " love" everything he ever did. I wasn't a fan of his, I was a friend he never met. Now, when I was a lot younger we would have had quite a time together.
  

Pensive Thoughts

On a short lane with the grandiose name, Park Avenue, stands the Mount Pleasant United Methodist Church of Greensboro and Marydel. How long this church has been there I do not know. It appears to be an older structure. The white paint is chipped and faded. The once brightly painted red front doors are also fading. This once proud edifice of faith now sits forlorn with a" for sale" sign out front. It put a sad feeling in my heart. Somehow seeing any church  for sale seems wrong. How can you put a price on God's house ? I know it is ultimately just a building, a piece of real estate and has monetary value like any other. I am aware of the business side of religion. There are bills to be paid. I can only assume the funds are no longer there to support this structure.
Where are the congregants ? Where are the faithful that once called this structure home ? What of those that were married there, baptised there and prayed there ? What of those that sought solace and healing ? Have they all gone to glory and their heirs abandoned this refuge ? I would think tradition would demand their continued attendance and support. And therein lies the real sadness. The thought that the place that hosted so many memories and special moments could be forgotten brings that sadness. No, I must rephrase that to say, melancholy. That is a more apt description of my feelings.
The church sits in a melancholy state awaiting it's fate. Has this building fulfilled its' function and purpose ? Will it continue as a house of worship or be torn down and replaced ? Perhaps it will be transformed into something else and perform another useful purpose.
I have heard that a church is only as strong as its' pastor. The shepherd that leads the flock is responsible for the health of that flock. I can only imagine how the last pastor of a church must feel. Does he blame himself ? How must it feel to conduct the final service ? Surely that would leave a lasting impression upon someone. I can feel his sorrow as well. Having no experience or training in the field of pastor, or religious leader of any kind, I wonder how does one attract a congregation ? What do you do ? There is only one consolation, and that is your faith. All things end. Perhaps it is just time. Time to close the doors, as this church has been filled to capacity. All the happiness, all the sorrow and all the healing having been done. Perhaps, it is just a new beginning.

Comfort

I have occasionally been accused of holding onto things. I'm not a hoarder but will admit to a reluctance to dispose of things prematurely. It would be wasteful and wrong to not keep it till its' full potential has been realized. As a consequence I have a few items that collect dust and, appear, I cannot emphasise that enough, appear, to be useless. I can assure you that is not the case. These items are necessary. Where they not, I would have thrown them out.
You know things can have several uses other than the one they were originally intended for. The old folks were masters at reusing items. In modern times we tend not to reuse as much. That is strange given all the talk of recycling and saving the earth we give lip service too. So a lot of my saving is just being ecologically aware. My own conscience won't allow me to waste and pollute.
This was brought to mind by a short trip to the attic. I went up there looking for one thing, but found much more. In the dusty corners and hanging from the rafters I found memories. Items once used for a specific purpose now repurposed. They have become repositories of past dreams,aspirations and promise for the future. These items were once new and full of life but now lie dormant. They are waiting.
I just stood there looking around and got lost for a moment or two. All the memories flooding back. Then it struck me. I was looking at scenes. Scenes that the great Norman Rockwell may have painted. Those old objects were lending life to the attic, indeed they lend life to the home. I think that is what Norman Rockwell was trying to show and did so eloquently. They are definitely not the objects of a hoarder. They are not without value or worth. But then that is why they say one mans junk is another's man's treasure. Those objects in my hands release their secrets to me, but not to you. That is because those objects are linked to my past. It may seem strange to some, but to me it is a comfort. Sometimes just standing there and looking around can be a comfort. Each object having a story to tell if you but listen. Some people make a living setting the scene, they call that decorating. As for me I just live my life and hold on. This old world turns pretty fast and it is good to have signposts. Reminders from the past help to guide the future. One needs to glance in the rearview occasionally to know what is coming.

Still friends

I keep hearing a new commercial on the television. Two young ladies talking and one saying to the other, you can go to college, we'll still be friends, you'll just be smarter than me. There are two things about that statement that bother me. The first being that anyone that has gone to college is smarter than someone who has not, and the second being the implication that a " smart " person would not associate with someone who is " dumber " than they.
I will begin by prefacing with a few statements. I have taken a few college courses. No, I don't posses a degree in any subject. I admire those that have completed the courses of study to earn their degrees. Should've, could've,would've ! That is in the past. I don't feel any dumber because of it, nor any smarter.
I judge my acquaintances and friends on personality, not IQ. Those that are pleasing to me I remain friends with, those that do not, I politely ignore. A fairly simple and straightforward process not requiring any sort of degree.
The measure of intelligence is a sketchy thing at best. I may be able to recite facts and figures about any subject, but does that make me smart ? The quoting of others peoples thoughts and ideas does not prove my intelligence. The ability to remember lessons is not intelligence. We often describe people with high intelligence as lacking in common sense. That can be true, but that isn't what I'm talking about. I've known some less than " crisp crackers " that didn't have much of that either. I'm thinking about those that remembered their lessons but don't have an understanding of the subject. I've known a few of that type as well. Oh, they understand the literal translation of the material, but they lack imagination. They can not perceive any changes in the material.
I have issues with the whole " I've got a degree "thing. The implication being that those people are somehow smarter than anyone else. On one level, an elitist attitude. The possession of a degree would seem to entitle those more opportunities. Whereas the earning of that degree is commendable, I still believe the proof is in the pudding. After all, the obtaining of that degree is dependant, in part, on payment. If one has the resources a degree can be bought. I'm not saying that they are, but it is possible. You can not but smarts.
I understand we do need some method of determining qualifications. The obtaining of a degree is that method. The ability to retain information and recite it back has always been admired. I submit it doesn't necessarily make you smart. That is the core of the issue I have with that commercial, but more importantly the general attitude of today. To imply that those having a college education are somehow superior in intelligence to those that do not, is just wrong. Education and intelligence do not always go hand in hand.
Why we insist that everyone should have a college education is something I do not understand. Not everyone is college material. Not every useful occupation requires the memorization of facts and figures. The more degrees that are issued, the less the value of that degree.
I will encourage my grandchildren, and any child for that matter, to pursue a degree. A degree is what is required in todays world. Just as a high school diploma was held in high regard not so many years ago and is now expected, so it is now with a college degree. Soon a four year degree will be blase and advanced degrees sought after. Will they be any smarter ? History will tell that tale but I'm guessing, not. I'm guessing a return to those that can do and not just talk about it will be in demand. History does have a way of repeating itself.
Oh, and as for you " smart " people I'll still be your friend. The question is, are you smart enough to be mine.

Home

They say home is where the heart is. I would say home is where your memories sleep. The things that have past are often the most comforting. We may look to the future and hope for a brighter day, but in the end that is all it is, hope. The past holds the facts. The past is not subject to change, just interpretation. It is my belief one should not dwell on the failures of yesterday, but strive to enjoy the promise of today. Conversely, one should relive the triumphs and look to the future.
It is true that your home is a physical place. That place may change over time due to the forces of nature and man. The home I speak of is not there. The home I speak of is a collection. A collection of thoughts memories, dreams and aspirations. As long as one keeps all of these,one is home. To abandon any of these is to lose your way. To become homesick is the desire to live in the past. It can not be done. One can visit that place but never return. And so it is a paradox. The desire for the past, living for today and the hope of the future. I would say to remember the past, live for today and plan for tomorrow.
We all carry our home within us. Our homes are our past. Our lives are influenced by those we choose to invite into our homes. Be careful in those choices. Only you know the size of that home. Only you can determine the inhabitants. As for me I want a peaceful home. One filled with hope and love. A place where I can get a good nights sleep ! And there is another paradox. We all want to live happy lives and we measure that by, getting a good nights sleep. I guess that is what heaven is really all about, a peaceful sleep.

Looking at the past

This morning I woke up thinking about an aunt. Her name was Alma. She was born in 1919. The year of her passing is a mystery. I do know that in 1920 she was listed as four and one half months. After that all traces of her have disappeared. My Mom is the last of the siblings and knows nothing about it. She told me it was whispers and speculation when she was growing up. Back in those days people did not speak of the dead. There were no " celebrations of life " as they may do today. Even the place of her final rest is unknown.
Infant mortality was a common thing back in those days. So many children lost to treatable conditions and childhood diseases. And back then, as today, all one can do is mourn the loss and move on. Grandmother had ten other children.
Given time and resources I would search the cemeteries in hopes of finding her. Perhaps there is some mention of this tragic event in the local archives. It seems so sad that she lies alone and forgotten. I speculate about her. Her middle initial was K. A good guess would be that it stood for Katrina. Anna Katrina was my great grandmother, my grandmothers mother. Still that is only a guess. Another possibility is that she was a twin. Another Aunt, Anna K, appears in the 1920 census as well. I knew Aunt Anna well but she never spoke of it. Did she know ? Another unanswered question. The records lead to more questions. On the census it is written as Anna K. Katrina ? Aunt Anna used the middle name Catherine, with a C. Why this discrepancy ? A clerical error perhaps. Did the census taker get confused ? Is Alma just a figment of imagination and is in reality Anna ? That is also possible. Was it a family joke following that census ? A joke that turned into legend.
It is a mystery still unsolved. A mystery nearly forgotten altogether. I have uncovered a few clues and will not let it rest. I revisit the meager clues and records I have available to me. Perhaps one day I will get my answers. For now I continue to search and speculate. Has she indeed been forgotten ? It would appear so. In order to be forgotten one would first have to be known. To be known you must have lived. Are the records correct ? Given the tragic story recorded there, but recorded only by implication, one would hope not. Should the records prove correct I would like to place a flower on her grave and let her know, she is not forgotten.  

Acceptance

It has been said we each have our own cross to bear. The statement rings true. I believe we all have our burdens in this life. It is the way we carry those burdens that define our existence. Do you accept them or reject them ? On the surface of things it would seem casting them off would be the best thing, but that is not so. I believe, in order to succeed one must learn to carry those burdens. The burdens we bear are of our own creation and we alone are responsible for them. Do not press your burdens upon others.
It is true that we are all victims of circumstance. We are subject to the whims of nature and our fellow man. Both can be pleasant, as easily as, tragic. Nature is subject to a higher power than man and cannot be controlled. Our fellow man is subject to his own heart and desires. We can no more control him, than we can control the weather. The only control comes from the person. That is where carrying the burden of life comes in. Those who do not accept that burden, that responsibility, are doomed to failure. Often times they seek this "absence of responsibility" through irresponsible acts. They may gain the attention of the world but in the end, fail. They fail because they can not accept the truth. The truth lies before us all, if we only look for it. That is the "pursuit of happiness" our forefathers spoke of in the Declaration of Independence. Happiness lies in the truth. The truth lies within us all. Sometimes the truth may be disguised. Sometimes the truth becomes blurred. The truth is the burden we carry. You can not disregard the truth. You can not cast it off. You must learn to accept the truth and bear it. The problem lies in the defining of truth. What is your truth ? What is mine ? A central question that has haunted man since the beginning of time. One can alter reality, but not the truth ! Find the truth within yourself and you will have found happiness. Accept the burden you have created for yourself, the rest is just circumstance.

He Provided

The other day I wrote about a flower, a lady slipper. I received a few responses and remarks about that. Funny how I thought I was the only kid in the woods picking those things. But we do have a way of thinking that way. I think that is because each memory is our own, unique to us and we don't want to share. I will gladly show you that memory, but you can't have it, it is mine.
In the past I have written about collecting other treasures from those woods. Princess pine and running pine. Holly and white birch. Wildflowers galore and berries of all types. All those things were there,free for the taking. At least I always assumed they were free for the taking. I was taught to not take anything more than what you needed. Don't chop down the tree to get a limb ! Don't pick all the flowers or berries. Long before it was written on a sign I was told to leave the wood as you found it, leave no trace of your passing.
Leaving on the edge of Northwest woods we were about three miles from town. That was quite a distance back in those days. A good ride on your bicycle. Remember we were riding a Schwinn, no gears and it weighed about fifty pounds, took a good bit of effort to keep her rolling. We were not poor people but we weren't rich either. I'd say we were the average for that time and place. Most shopping was done from the Sears and Roebuck catalogue. We had all we needed and more.
As a child I never had much money. We kids didn't get an allowance. You had what you earned by doing chores or whatever. If you wanted things you had to plan ahead. Save up. I would do that for most occasions like birthdays and Christmas. Of course, as a kid I would make things for Mom. Mostly cards but sometimes drawing a picture. I don't recall exchanging gifts with my brothers and sister. Perhaps we did, but I don't remember that at all. I'm sure we must have given each other a card at least. Umm, I'll have to ask about that.
 When I grew older and had a steady job that all changed. As the years went by I would buy flowers and gifts for my Mom. Still do,as a matter of fact. For a while it was a novelty, getting flowers from the florist. Pretty vases and arrangements. I'm sure Mom loved them and appreciated the thought. I even thought those special arrangements from the florist were really something. And now the years are gone. No longer do I live at the edge of the wood. The wood is not even there anymore, not the wood I knew anyway. Mom lives in Florida, in a gated community. I send her flowers from the local florist. What I didn't realize as a child was what should have been obvious. The florist in town had pretty vases and arranged those flowers with ribbons and bows. That was nice, and still is, but I had the best florist of all, God. God was my florist and provided me with everything I needed. Mom knew that, all mothers do. Mom loved those flowers. If I could I would gather those flowers once again, maybe even a lady slipper. Sometimes it just takes time to appreciate the things you did have. The memory of those things can be as as satisfying as having the thing itself.
  

The value of a dollar

Spring has arrived and with it the mowing of the grass. I got the old push mower out. The gas can was empty, so off to the gas station. It is a one gallon can. Well, one gallon and four ounces. That comes out even in the metric system, but I will never get the hang of that because I don't want to, I'm American. In America we use our own system. Worked fine for my Dad, his Dad and the dad before him ! So I fill it up and it costs me three dollars and fifty cents. There is another gentleman filling up his car and I remark to him, " was a time when three dollars and fifty cents would have been enough for a friday night ! " He chuckled and agreed.
I do remember getting two dollars worth of gas, close to five gallons and going to the movies for a dollar and twenty five cents. If you had five dollars you could could also get popcorn and a soda. Now, all 3.50 got me was gas to mow the lawn and it isn't even my grass ! Times sure have changed. The value of a dollar has changed that much is certain. Paying more and more and getting less. In the big picture it all seems pointless.
Merle Haggard summed it up best when he sang, " I wish a buck was still silver back when the country was strong,back before Elvis and the vietnam war came along " Filling that gas can was just a little thing but it spoke volumes to me. My mind went back to the days when a dollar was something. It wasn't possessing the money, so much as possessing your pride. You earned a dollar and it was worth a dollar. That is not true so much anymore. Now it is more about the dollar, and how you obtained that dollar is not so important. It is just the spending of that dollar that is important.
I often heard my Dad speak about the value of a dollar. He would say to me, you don't understand the value of money. I, of course, didn't know what the heck he was talking about. I knew how much a dollar was and what you could buy with it. Old people are crazy that way. And when I was pumping that gallon of gas I became that old person. I understood what it was Dad was saying. The value of money is not in what it can buy you, the value lies in the earning of that dollar. It is an ethic. A code. A dollar honestly earned is far more valuable than one that is not. Money cannot buy those things that are most important.
It would seem the trend is to increase the price of  things. This in an attempt to build a facade over the truth. And the truth is what we all have known all along, money cannot buy happiness. Money is nothing more than a tool. A tool is an object to assist in doing work. A tool does not do the work ! True value lies in the work you do here on this earth. What is your job ? It is to earn money ? Just something to think about.

More signs

The elementary school had a " fun night " at the local McDonalds. The teachers and staff worked behind the counter. Naturally we took our Granddaughter as she wanted to be there with her friends. Other than McDonalds doing a booming business, I really didn't see the point in it all, but then, I'm not in elementary school anymore. The place was crowded and the ordering process slow. To top it off there were no soft drinks or ice tea available. Some sort of snafu with the equipment. Nevertheless we ordered a few snacks.
The play place was overrun, as you can well imagine. The lower grades were in their like the proverbial can of sardines. There were not many fourth graders there yet. My granddaughter went into the play place and looked like a giant compared to the others. All those little kids scurrying around and screaming. She just towered over them all and surveyed the scene. Finally locating a few of her friends. We allowed her to visit with them for a short time. Others were supposed to arrive later but we decided to leave.
On the ride home we stopped at the dollar store for a few items. Grandma took Morgan into the store with her. Morgan purchased false fingernails and a hair extension, ponytail thing. After leaving the store Grandma and I mentioned how we thought she was getting too big for the McDonalds play place. Well, she informs us she is not ! She got a little defensive about it. I was amused by this attitude and teased her a little about growing up. She didn't take to it well. She went on to tell us that she can still play in the play place and is not too old. I let the subject drop.
Later on I was watching television and Morgan is sitting on the couch with Grandma. She is applying those false fingernails. She is showing them to me and saying how pretty they look. She had that ponytail thing on too. It was then that I thought how she was in-between. She was becoming just like every other girl I have ever known. You just can't figure them out. A paradox. Not too old for the play place, yet old enough for false fingernails. Dang it, she is growing up. I saw it with Mark (her brother) when he rode his bicycle over to my house all by himself. Now with Morgan I see it with nails and hair. Good grief, should've stayed at McDonalds and the play place.

A Remarkable Man

Throughout my high school years I served as an acolyte at St. Lukes church. Most of the time I carried the Crucifix during the processional and recessional. I assisted Reverend Davis in administering Holy Communion. I enjoyed serving my church and my God. While performing these duties I wore a cossack and a surplice. The wearing of these garments was both symbolic and somewhat spiritual.( Clothes make the man.) There was no one set especially for me, but were shared among acolytes. In the summer months these robes could be hot. No air conditioning in church. I did feel a little special wearing that outfit.
Following high school I joined the Navy. While I was home on leave I went to church. I was wearing my uniform. I found Reverend Davis before the service began to say hello. He asked me if I would like to carry that cross once again. I accepted the invitation. Now, while I was away a new clergyman had been added. I did not know this man and he,of course, did not know me. I had retrieved the cross from it storage point and was standing at the head of the processional. This gentleman walks over and introduces himself and says, " we'll have to get you a cossack. " Reverend Davis then immediately intervened saying, " I think he has uniform enough ! " I felt so much pride at that moment. I was being recognized by my minister. Receiving his endorsement was a very special thing to me. I mean, geez, if the reverend says it, it is true.
That little scene played out over forty years ago. I still reflect upon it every now and again. I hope Reverend Davis is aware of the impact he did make. I know he has gone to his final glory. It was he who baptised me. It was he who administered my first communion. And it was he that acknowledged my service to the country. With just that one sentence, " I think he has uniform enough. "
Pride is sinful. I was taught that. I will admit that at that very moment, I was proud. The difference was, and is, it was a pride that humbled me. I didn't feel a pride that I was different or better than anyone else, I felt humbled by his gesture and his words. I was not boastful,but grateful. It was Reverend Davis that taught me that last lesson and he did it in one sentence. What a remarkable man. 

Terror

In the wake of yesterday's terror attack at the Boston marathon the news coverage has been non-stop. I sat fixated for several hours myself. The who and why of such an act is beyond my comprehension. The reasoning and thought behind it can only be demented. Lives and dreams shattered forever. Another tick on the clock.
I can not help but question the replaying of those events ( on videotape) several times per hour. Yes, the news should be reported. I do not advocate for the censorship of the news. I would submit however that the continual replay and analysis is serving very little purpose. Shock and grief are what most experience with the first viewing. With continued viewing anger grows. This is the issue I have. Let us not foster that anger, when the anger is unfocused. We don't know who or what is responsible. To feed the anger may lead to mistakes in judgement.
I'm angry ! I am saddened, but mostly angered ! I feel a frustration not having anyone to blame. Not having anyone or group from which to extract my revenge. Someone to hold accountable. The more I hear and see the more my frustration grows. I am trying to not listen to much of the coverage now. I have the gruesome facts. I have been informed of all I need to know. Continued coverage just clouds my judgement.
As a people,as a nation we will move forward. These tragic events serve only as a reminder. A reminder of our mortality. A reminder of the evil that lives in our world. Hold fast to the truth. I will not hide and cower in fear.
We have professionals that will get to the bottom of this. That is their job and I will leave them to it. I'm no different than anyone else and have my opinions. I will share them with close friends and family. I will say this much, you can not make sense out of a senseless act ! 

A little thing

A posting on facebook reminded me once again of my childhood. That is the beauty of that social media and I believe its' original intent. A place to interact with those we know or have known. It is unfortunate it is evolving into something quite different. That is a subject for another day. Today, I was reminded of picking a certain flower for my Mom. A classmate of mine had posted a picture of this flower in memory of her own mother. A mother gone from this world much too soon. I was unaware of this while we were in school together. That was back in time though, back far enough that such losses and tragedies were not discussed in public. But again, I stray from my thoughts.
This flower is called a Lady Slipper. It is a wildflower and actually fairly rare to find. They are a member of the Orchid family, a fact I only found out recently. Botany is not a strong point in my education. I just knew where to look for these flowers in the early spring. As I said, my mom loved them. They do not have a strong fragrance associated with them. The ones I picked where a bright pink in color and the leaves were almost always turning brown. Occasionally I would find them in small bunches, three or four in a group. My mother treated these blooms in an almost reverent fashion. She seemed to think they were protected by the state or some such thing. I gathered them every year.
A few years back I was thinking about those little flowers. I wanted to send my Mom some but couldn't find a florist that had them. I expect with enough time and money I could locate them, but I settled on a picture. I found an image on the internet and printed it out. I mailed it to her, my Mom only uses snail mail, and if I remember correctly she was surprised to see those flowers. I hadn't really thought anymore about it until I saw that posting on facebook. Another circle closing. The things of childhood that come back to visit. A memory that will always be associated with Mom. It is somehow comforting to know that mine was not the only Mom to enjoy these little orchids. We thought we were poor people living at the edge of the woods. Outside of town on a dirt lane. The Moms' uptown got fancy flowers from the florist arranged all nicely in a vase. Little did we realize that Mom was getting a wild orchid, rare and beautiful, freshly picked from the local flora. That they were treasured was no surprise. Mom always loved the things we kids brought her, all Moms' do, but we were unaware of what we had as well. It is an old adage but holds much truth, you don't know what you have until it is gone. The simple things in life really are the best.

                                                                   

Just like I remember.

Moving forward

Are you sitting still, moving forward or just waiting ? Which is it ? That is a difficult question to answer. When we reach a certain point in our lives we choose one of these actions. The decision is ours to make. There are many variables to take into account. Health and wealth being the primary factors for those that lack spirituality. The spirit is not bound by such mundane things as health or money. Our spirits are free to live, forever. Those fortunate enough to recognize the spirit keep moving forward.
There are those that just sit. They sit and watch the world go by them. For them the world has stopped. It is stuck in place and nothing changes. At least, nothing for the good. All is negative. It is from these people that despair and sorrow comes. They may appear to be active, but do not be deceived, they are still. There is no growth in their thinking. New ideas are rejected and dismissed. What is worse is that these people do not defend their own ideas. They just sit.
Sadder still are those that just wait. In silence they wait. They wait for the end. They wait for the time when mortality meets fate. What does it hold for us ? Waiting for redemption ? Waiting for forgiveness ? Redemption and forgiveness from what ? Sin ? And what is sin ? These are the central questions in life. The mysteries that men seek to solve. But are there answers ? One will not find out unless one keeps moving forward. And to keep moving forward requires spirituality. An awareness of the possible. It is only through the spirit that one can leave this world. This has been evident to man throughout the history. It is what makes man,man. The spirit of man is what drives us forward.
It makes little difference what you call it. Call it religion,call it hope,call it by any name you are comfortable with. You may preach it or practice it in silence. But there is no denying it. To deny the spirit is to deny life. For without spirit, there is no promise. The promise comes with the spirit. Believe in the promise and you can believe in the spirit. What you call that spirit is up to you. Do not make the mistake of sitting still. Should you decide to just wait,what are you waiting for ? Waiting implies a promise of things to come. You must move forward to fulfill that promise. You, and you alone can do that.

Government Math

Remember when the kids would bring home their math homework ? They would present you with a problem and you would begin to show them how to calculate the answer. Then you got interupted with, that's not the way the teacher showed us. Well, it's how I was taught ! Must be the new math. Seems every generation has that. Now it seems to me it has spread once again. This time beyond the schoolhouse, all the way to Washington ! I'm calling it Government Math. In government math you don't " borrow " you redistribute. If there is an insufficient amount in one place, just move it there from another place. The numbers don't even have to apply to the same problem. In government math what is mine is mine, but what is yours is redistributed to everyone else.
Government math mostly deals with very large numbers. Obviously these numbers act differently than the numbers we all use everyday. In government math should a deficit occur you can borrow more numbers, redistribute those numbers and eventually solve the problem. You just need to spend more to reduce the amount of spending. Or you may have to sequester some of those numbers. But you can only sequester the smaller numbers so as not to interfere with the larger numbers. You see all numbers in government math are not necessarily connected to one another.
With government math there are no constants. If you do not earn any money, or very little the government will give it to you. If you are the middle of the roaders,income wise, you give  at least 30% to the government, if you start earning large amounts you pay less. All of this is variable of course when we consult the textbook for numbers. This is sometimes referred to as The Annotated Tax Code of the United States. The author is the IRS. A careful study of this text can alter the whole concept of numbers immensely. Keep in mind however the whole thing is subject to review and ruling.
In government math you may start with say, one million in your budget. After a brief time you could have spent two million. You may think you are in a deficit. Not true, redistribute three million from another budget and there you go. Problem solved, you're in the black. Raises for everyone. In government math we only solve the current problem, not a future problem. That is why there are no constants in government math. If there were it would have to be, constant ! Then the numbers wouldn't add up and where would that put us ? Why we would have to redistribute all over again.
Well, just like I told my kids, the old math was a lot easier. At least it made sense. When you borrowed from one number you had to pay it back. Any number could be divided. When you put those numbers back together the total never added up to more than the number you started with. Happens a lot in government math though. Government math is an arbitrary science. Whatever is needed at the time to solve the equation is okay. That math only applies to the government ! Do not become confused and think that you may use it. You must consult the textbook of math and the government may change that at any time as well. Isn't Government math a wonderful thing. What will they think of next ? 

Listening to the laughter

Memorable moments in time. We all have them and they are a gift. You can not plan for them or schedule them, they just happen. I had such a time last evening with the grandchildren. I went to pick Mark up from his Lacrosse practice and had his sister Morgan with me. Morgan and I listened to the radio together in the car while waiting. We changed stations often as she likes to listen to someone called, Rihanna and I like the oldies show. So back and forth we went. On my station that old song about," making an ugly woman your wife came on." Morgan thought it hilarious but somewhat insulting.
Soon Mark was done practice and came to the car. We planned at stopping at McDonalds, as has become our custom. We decided to go inside to order our food as for some reason the person taking orders at the drive up often  has difficulty understanding me. Some say I have an accent, but I think it is defective equipment. Whatever the case, when I went to place the order that is when the fun began. I stepped up to the counter and a smiling face greeted me, may I take your order ? I replied with I would like two regular hamburgers and a chocolate milk. The young lady touched that screen and that order was placed. I then continued with my order. Morgan wanted a six piece chicken McNugget happy meal. It was at this point the wheels started falling of the whole process. Did you want a chocolate milk with that happy meal ? No, I want the chocolate milk with the two hamburgers. That obviously confused this person as her head began to swivel about with a frightened look on her face. She began to mumble, I need help over here. There was no help forthcoming. Forging ahead she took the rest of my order. I requested ice cream in a cup. Giving me the total and the receipt with a number on top I waited for my order.
As we waited I noticed I had been charged for a small pepsi but had not received a cup. I went to the counter and asked for that. No problem you paid for it, yes but I hadn't ordered it. I'll let that slide. Immediately following that I get the call your order is ready. Back to the counter and I am handed a happy meal box and a bag. Mark says, where is my chocolate milk ? Looking in the bag it is not there. Peering inside the happy meal box all I see is french fries and chicken Mcnuggets. Back to the counter. Inquiring about the milk I am told it is in the happy meal. So, you're telling me the cold milk is under the hot fries and McNuggets ? Yup, it is there. Who would have guessed. The kids are beginning to giggle now as Grandpa is getting just a bit annoyed. There is still one more thing, the ice cream. I ask about my ice cream. The girl says, was that a plain Sundae ? I say no, I just want ice cream in a cup. She informs me, as if I were totally ignorant, that ice cream in a cup is a plain sundae ! Ok, whatever. It was at this point the Grandchildren start to lose it. Giggling and laughing at Grandpas' frustration and mild anger.
As we rode home I was talking about this ordering experience. The more I talked the more they laughed. They laughed so hard they began to choke on their food, they laughed so hard their sides hurt, and they continued to laugh. They had both reached the point of downright silly. And that is an enjoyment beyond compare. That was a moment in time that will be remembered. There is no explaining why. They were laughing because they were laughing. Grandpas' every word sent them into more fits of laughter. When I told them that if ice cream in a cup was a plain sundae, they would call it " sundae " not ice cream, that thought that was hilarious. When I said if you put fudge on it you should then call it a" fancy sundae" there bladders became challenged. This laughter and silliness went on for fifteen minutes or so. I so love listening to them laugh. It really is a gift.

Priority

Not so many years ago it was a subject you never heard about. Perhaps some had a very private conversation with their personal physician about it. Then, all at once it was on television ! The little blue pill. Quickly becoming a subject of numerous jokes. That was a sign of the uncomfortable nature of that discussion. The advertising has progressed to," this is the age of knowing." At first the pill was only used for those " special moments, when the time was right " but now we have cialis, for everyday use. You can be ready at any time, because you just never know. That probably came about as a result of wives having too many headaches. With the little blue pill apparently you do know. Although, should that condition exist for more than four hours one should seek medical attention immediately. Oh yeah, have your heart checked before using these products, or you may not live four hours.
There is much more information on this subject contained in the advertisement for these products than I care to know. Guess I'm old fashioned in that regard, some subjects are best left to private discussion. Talking about such things does not make me feel grown up. This is an area that requires discretion and the proper time and place. Ads during prime time television do not meet those standards as far as I'm concerned.
These products have been advertised heavily. The implication being without there use my quality of life is inferior to others that either use the product, or have no need for the product. My views on that are private and will not be disclosed here.
Just as I became somewhat accustomed to hearing and seeing these advertisements a new one has appeared. You may not need these products at all, You may have low "T". Low T can reduce your drive and desire ! As men age there "T" lowers. Wonder if that may be natures way of preventing heart attacks and stroke ? Just sayin'. But do not be concerned there is a topical solution that you can apply to boost your testosterone. Just don't let anyone else in the house come in contact with it. A myriad of serious consequences could follow. Other serious, although somewhat infrequent side effects, may also occur.
I haven't seen any advertisements for new treatments for cancer or other serious conditions. Apparently more research is being done in other areas that make more money for the drug companies. Could it be we have misplaced priorities ? Or is it that we wish to continue to treat those high cost medical conditions rather than cure ? I don't know, I'm just sayin'.

Off center

I would say that I have been accepting of things,as a whole. Neither passive nor aggressive, more of a middle of the road kinda guy. Never receiving great praise nor great admonishment. Not a great student but an average student. Some of my ancestors were revolutionaries. They actively participated in the American revolution. Others never joined a thing.
In the last few years I would have to say it has become increasingly difficult to remain accepting and silent. I am not pleased with the way things are going in this country. Too many changes in what I perceive to be the American dream. The liberals are taking over the reigns. It is my belief that running a country is like raising a child. Being too liberal fosters bad habits, bad habits lead to dependence. I believe in being independent.
I have always had my opinion and never been afraid to voice it. Taking action upon that opinion has mostly been limited to the voting booth. As an activist I'm not very active. I pretty much think to each their own, but their is a point. When your own begins to infringe upon mine, problems will arise. This has been happening more and more in the last few years. I never expected to have to fight for common sense. And that is what is becoming. I expect that is why I've always been a middle of the roader. I could see the sense in both sides of an argument. That is not the case so much anymore. Others, more able to express their views, have pointed out a few things that are hard to deny. What logic says, you need a signed permission slip to go on a field trip but nothing to buy the morning after pill. I can be arrested for hunting or fishing without a license, but not for being in the country illegally. The government wants to take away my ability to defend myself against all enemies,foreign and domestic, but just gave 20 fighter jets to Egypt. And what logic says you can spend your way out of debt ?
I love words and the actions they can inspire. I have been talking and writing for some time now. It may be time to take some action. I'm not talking about a revolution but perhaps speaking a little louder. The squeaky wheel does get the grease. I still believe the majority of the people have good common sense. The challenge lies in getting others to use it. Aristotle said, all things in moderation. That is true, even for an activist ! The Bible speaks of being temperate in all things. My temperature is rising and so I vent. Thanks for listening. 

Learning a lesson

I started writing these blogs as a means of recording my passage through this world. I want to leave a bit more than a granite marker with a date or two on it. I have been known to talk ,just a bit, and I see no reason death should silence me. My thoughts and memories are unique to me, as yours are to you. No one can tell the story quite like you.

As I write about the place where I grew up, I visit. I can see the places and smell the smells. I hear the voices of those who shared that world with me. Their words still echo in my mind. It is a strange sensation at times, seeming a distant memory, but somehow happening right now. It is my hope I share a piece of that with my readers.

In a strange twist, my wife and children have never been to that place. Well, that isn't exactly true, one son did visit there years ago. When I speak of that place it is foreign to them. It is nothing more than a place of myth and legend. It holds no memories for them. Maybe that is part of the reason I do write about it. A means of sharing those memories and keeping them alive. It is a sad thing to allow memories to die. 

Is it true that you don't know what you had until it is gone. One cannot fully appreciate that without living it. But each of us must travel the road as it unfolds before us. We can not know the final destination. The road behind us is familiar and therefore comforting. We know we can navigate that, we are here aren't we ? The road ahead is what needs our attention. It can be challenging to travel that road. We grow weary and just want to rest. That is what memories are for. Memories refresh us and give us strength. Will my memories serve others ? That is my hope. Somewhere in those memories lies truth. If I can but give you a glimpse of that I have done well. Todays facts are tomorrow's memories. Each memory is but a sub plot. The real story lies in the whole. Only by studying the collection can we know the lesson. And in a strange twist the teacher does not know the lesson being taught. Life itself is a lesson and each memory a syllabus. I believe the final reward comes with the revelation of the lesson. In one final twist of fate I won't be here to tell that story. I'll just leave my memories behind for future generations to ponder.

Surrendering to sickness

I wonder why it is we are being taught to surrender to sickness ? You don't think so ? Well just look around and you will see what I mean. For every little ache and pain there is something to buy. A pill,patch or therapy. Rush to your doctor, preferably a specialist, and receive a diagnosis. They will have some initials to explain it. Lifelong treatment is sure to follow. Maybe even disability ! Surrender to the sickness, you are powerless against it. You don't feel 100 per cent. You should feel fantastic every waking moment and if you don't, medicate. And this is not limited to physical ailments, not by a long shot, your mental health is subject to interpretation. Could be you have a disorder of some kind. Not to worry though, modern science can explain it.
Why are we setting our children up for a lifetime of hypochondria ? We are teaching them to seek medical advice and treatment for every little bump and bruise. Commercials on television spout out a steady stream of possible ailments. All of which, impact your quality of life. All of which impact your ability to function at the highest levels. You had best seek treatment, now. We are also teaching them that if you do have some medical condition the rest of the world should then accommodate you. You are the victim !
At a time when all you hear about is the increasing cost of healthcare we encourage more trips to the doctors. We insist upon more and more testing. We push the sale of " medications " of dubious value. The bottom line in all of this is simple. Hank Williams explained it best when he wrote, you ain't gonna get out of this world alive. That is the fact.
I work around a lot of younger people. I see the attitude is a lot different than when I was their age. I tried to avoid the doctors. You didn't go to those " sawbones " unless the sickness or injury was pretty severe. And in my day they didn't do full body cat scans because you stubbed your toe. Doctors were expensive even then and so to be avoided. Home remedies was the order of the day. You learned to live with a few aches and pains. You learned to just work through it. My problems belonged to me and no one else.
When I was younger there was a stigma associated with frequent trips to a doctor. Your peers didn't think much of that. What was wrong with you ? We had names for people like that. Now people speak of going to the doctor as a badge of honor. They discuss their ailments,of all kinds. Some even seem to compete for the most ailments.
I have days when I don't feel well. I have days when I am sad. I am alive and will not medicate that. I will not  surrender to sickness. I need my faculties about me to fight and to feel. We all need help at times. I'm not saying we don't but we should ask for it only when necessary. Most medications mask not cure. I prefer to face the world and my life unmasked.

A visit

The patches of ice over that mud crunched beneath my feet as I walked the edge of the water. The mud was firmed up some from the bitter cold. A steady breeze blew off the bay. I know those long clams are beneath that mud, I need only rake them up. Walking slowly along I look for the tell tale holes in the mud. Bubbles will come up through those tiny openings. A sure sign of a clam. Taking that short handled rake with its' four long tines and sinking it deep just a little forward of the hole. Pulling back that mud and raising up at the same time. I can feel it in my back but the lure of clams is strong. Soon there in that pile of cold thick muck I see my prize. I fumble to pick it up with those thick gloves on. Even though the gloves are moisture proof and insulated, my fingers are stiff with the cold. Got one, now moving along to find the others.
Years ago, in what seems like a foreign place now, I dug for those clams. It is part and parcel of my heritage. I come from a long line of clam diggers. My ancestors did it for a living, but I did it for fun. If you can call freezing your butt off and having fingers and toes near frostbitten fun. But it was fun. It was cold and lonely out there on that beach. The gulls screeched their discontent and the waves lapped at your feet, but it was beautiful too. Comforting in its' solitude. Gave a man time to think and appreciate things. And the promise of eating those delicious clams was a joy to look forward too. Those city folks might think filet mignon prepared by some fancy chef was good, but that is only because they never had fresh clams like these. Those clams gave you a real appreciation for what mother earth could provide. Steamed up and dipped in fresh melted butter there is nothing finer. And drinking that juice left from steaming warms you good on a cold winter day. In the local jargon, " some fittin' Bub, some fittin' ".
Going clamming in the dead of winter on that lonely beach is just one of the memories of my youth. Unaware of the time and place I was grown to, I just went along as though it would always be so. Time is a cruel master and demands much of us. Time takes our youth and leaves us only memories, if we are among the lucky ones. Now I am content to just remember. That time is gone and that place only exists in my mind. It is that way for us all and to pretend otherwise is folly. One can not live in the past, but you can visit. I do it often. There are times when I miss the loneliness of the beach. I miss that communal time with nature. My connection to the past and to the future. The water still reaches the shoreline, that is eternal, it is just the shoreline that changes. 

A sprig of spring

While I was walking home the other day I noticed the bushes in bloom and dandelions popping up. I snagged a few of those dandelions, my guinea pig loves them, and brought my wife a branch of that bush. I called it a sprig of spring. It was just a couple small things that pleased me. Spring really is arriving. I just knew it would !
Baseball season has begun, another indicator of the season. On the evening news weather forecast I'm seeing 70 degrees and more. Slept last night with the window open. The grass is greening and the birds are chirping. As Zac Brown would say, " Life is good today. " I'll be going first to my Grandsons' lacrosse game and later in the day to a Shorebirds baseball game. The Shorebirds are a farm team for the Orioles and play at Arthur Purdue stadium. Yes, that Purdue. The chicken man. It is a wonderful little ballpark for a family outing. Very family friendly. It even has a carousel free for the kiddies to ride. Fireworks will follow the game.
It is wonderful to get out and about after a long cold winter. It is almost like discovering a new world . The brightness of the sun and that strange tingling feeling. Warmth ! That what it is. Warmth from the sun. Activities being planned. Fishing, crabbing, going to the park. Camping out and having a picnic. Cool evenings and swatting at bugs. Coolers, folding furniture and flip flops. Can a sunburn be far behind ?
As I continued my walk, carrying that sprig of spring, all those thoughts went through my mind. Annie singing " Tomorrow " began to play in the background of my thoughts. It's only a day away. The earth is waking from its' slumber. New life,new hope,new promise.

The truth of the matter

It has been suggested that I submit some of my writings for publication. Very flattering words to hear. They both humble and inspire me. Like a lot of others I dream about writing a book one day. Perhaps the great american novel. An instant classic. Perhaps not. But I do think we all have important things to say and stories to share. Over our lifetimes we gather these stories and gather information. They are collected by experience. The variety of experiences vary with each of us. Whether you are a world traveler, or have never left your hometown. Are you a scholar or a simple man ? No matter really, you do have something to say.
The problem lies in that for most of us the stories are fragmented. We only learn the truth in pieces and for most, we never put the pieces together. Like a giant jigsaw puzzle the pieces are laid before us, the picture is there, but we just don't put it all together. Oh we start on the edges, the straight pieces are easier, but the heart of the picture is much more difficult to see. Much more difficult to organize.
I am still searching for the pieces to complete the picture. I don't have a box top to see what it should look like. I hesitate to put the picture out there for fear it is incomplete. Unfinished works do not get published. The fear of rejection is also a factor. I would be less than truthful if I said anything else. It is true I will never know if I don't try, but I'm not convinced I want to know.
I think the real question is, how important is it to you ? At this point I think I will be satisfied with writing these blogs. There original intent remains unchanged. A written record of my thoughts and memories for my descendants to read and enjoy. How important is it to me to share these same thoughts with the rest of the world ? Other than a measure of vanity and possible monetary reward, not very important. I think that is why I haven't pursued publication. Some may call it fear,some may say I'm lazy, and some would agree I'm just not that great a writer. All are true statements. Motivation lies at the core of any endeavor. It is also true persistence reaps rewards.
I have a reluctance to try. Why ? Because I don't want it said that I submitted my stuff and it was rejected. The fear is not in one rejection or two, but in total rejection. I just don't want to seem foolish or vain. Who would know, you ask ? I would. Pleasing others should be a goal we all strive for, but often we do things just to please ourselves. This would be one of those things. I wouldn't want to disappoint myself. And that is the truth of the matter.  

Time to grow

As I was watching the news this morning I heard of a terrible thing. Two boys, fifth graders, had planned to kidnap, rape and then kill another fifth grade girl. I was taken aback. How old were they ? Eleven or twelve ?  How could this be ? To be planning such a crime at that age ? Where in the world did they get such ideas ? From television, video games, the internet or another source ? They had a gun and other weapons with them when they were caught. Thank God they were.
I can only say times sure have changed. I can't say I really remember everything from the fifth grade but I don't think I was thinking about rape. Probably wasn't sure what that even was. I'm thinking in fifth grade the girls still had cooties ! Trading baseball cards, riding bicycles and just playing in the woods occupied most of  my time.
When I was in the fifth grade I watched shows like the Rifleman and The Big Valley. Everyone in those shows carried guns and respected women ! Neither was abused. Misuse of either was a crime against society and yourself. That lesson was taught. And then it was taught again. We didn't bring our guns to town.
Just how we have arrived at this point is lost on me. Could it be that we are rushing our children along into adulthood ? Could it be that we are not allowing children to be children ? In our rush to " educate and inform " could it be that we are missing something ?
Watch some television that a typical 12 year old is exposed to today. Really watch. Lots of sex and violence set in real situations. Compare to what used to be. The road runner and wiley coyote. Now they say that is too violent. He got his stuff from the " ACME " company, the kids today use the internet. Listen to the songs a typical twelve year old listens to today. I'm starting to see a trend here. And what is worse, listen to twenty something parents talking today. Listen to what they say in front of their children. Listen to the language they use.
Back in my day we may not have been cool. We weren't hip to the scene. I don't know what the kids call that today, but we didn't shoot each other. We didn't plan attacks on each other. In the fifth grade we were fifth graders ! Knowledge does not always mean maturity. We may be educating our children but are we allowing them to grow ? Immature fruit is spoiled and bad. So are immature children. A little more effort toward nurturing the child is what is needed. And nurturing is not just allowing them to do as they please. Sometimes you have to say no and tell them they are wrong. Just as you would prune a tree, prune the bad behavior of your children. As Barney Fife would say, Nip It, just nip.
I will say this,as every generation before me has said as well, kids these days just have no respect. Respect can not be taught. Respect is earned. Respect can not be obtained by force. Respect can not be demanded. Respect comes from example. Are you setting the example ? You must live the example, not just talk about it. These children need examples. Laugh with the children and they will learn. We all learn more through laughter than we do tears. Tears just bring bitterness and sorrow. Teach the children to laugh at themselves and they won't be laughing at others. That is a good beginning to understanding. Give them time to grow.

Students Betrayed

If you have watched the news you have heard about the Atlanta schools cheating scandal. Thirty five educators have been indicted in a cheating scandal dating back to 2001. Fifty two schools. From the Superintendent on down this activity was actively pursued. The gains were monetary, career enhancing, and according to some, to just keep their jobs. The whole thing is just disgraceful.
I have long said that funding for the teachers and school districts should not be tied to testing. This incident is proof of that folly. The temptation for cheating is enormous. Unfortunately, in this case, it was too much. I think what amazes me the most about this scandal is the number of educators involved. A few bad apples will always exist, but 35 have been indicted. Those are the ones the prosecutor feels he has evidence against. My feeling is a great deal more had to know, or at the very least suspect. Certainly any teacher would be aware of the capabilities of their students. When the test results were published and the scores were inflated, no one notices ? I think not. And this has continued since 2001 ?
Some of these teachers say they went along to keep their jobs. Some are saying they were forced into this. I say that is a poor excuse. Ask any educator why they want to teach ? The answer won't be, for the money. We are all aware of the salaries teachers make. The answer is almost always to educate young minds. I'm no teacher but I wouldn't cheat those children. And that is what has happened here. All those children have been affected. False test scores are now a part of their permanent record. Any one of these children presenting these records for admission into any college or institution of higher learning will be in question. Is that fair to them ? You can not get that time back. You cannot just retake the tests. These educators took that from these students for their own gain.
There will be those that will try to convince us that the teachers were victims in this. They were forced into the cheating. Nonsense. You will hear how they had to do this, for the children. They needed the money for the schools and consequently the children. I for one will not buy into that. An old adage comes to mind, two wrongs don't make a right. Cheating children for your gain.
We send our children to school and trust the educators there. They are supposed to teach our children. What has this bunch taught ? That cheating is alright ? It is a national disgrace. Now a cloud of doubt will hover over all educators. That is a shame because they are certainly more good honest teachers than these bad apples.
Standardized testing is at the heart of this. Or more specifically, monetary gains tied to the results of standardized testing. That begs a question. How should we measure and reward the effectiveness of our teachers ? That is a difficult answer to be sure. I certainly don't have the answer to that one. I do think standardized testing is a difficult proposition. I don't know of any standardized students.

Sweat and Sawdust

We have passed the doldrums of winter and spring has made its' appearance. A day here and there teasing us with the promise of warmth and sunshine. Spring projects are being planned and supplies gathered. I have purchased a grape vine that I intend to plant. I'm looking forward to building a grape arbor and in years to come enjoying some grapes. I can just picture myself lying in the hammock, being fed grapes fresh from the vine.
At my sons house we have been putting up a tile backsplash. The tiles have all been cut and fastened to the wall. The grouting is in process and that project will soon be done. It has been a while since I have done any construction work and it felt good to get some " man " dirt on my hands. Manly men doing manly things. In all fairness, my wife has done the majority of the grouting. I am getting primed for that arbor and finishing up the hot tub install as well. The mower needs servicing, downed branches need cut and burned and a host of other tasks. Soon, sunburns and bruises will go hand in hand. A redneck summer !
There is always a delicate balance between quality work and getting it done on schedule. I should say some elses schedule. I've got the time to do the job right, but someone is always in a hurry. Let's get'er done ! Quality takes time, is my motto. That and quality materials. My favorite saying is, " you can't make chicken salad out of chicken " *hit ". I do tend to obsess a bit about it though, so someone to give me a push now and again isn't a bad thing. That's what wives are for.
The one thing I find most annoying is the cost of the materials. This cost always interferes with my plans. I either have to cut back on the scope of the project or cut corners somehow. As I tell my wife, that is the main difference between a professional and us. A professional just uses materials without really worrying about being frugal. Us amateurs are always trying to stretch it. I'm not saying the pros waste things but they don't really worry about using scraps to finish up the job either. I'm sure you have all been there.
The other thing with pros is the tools. They have the proper tool for the job and it is a good quality tool. If I try to have the same quality tools, I have no money left for materials. And tools make a big difference. Yes, most things can be done by hand and you can get great results, but you are not doing that in a hurry. Quality takes time, remember ? I keep hearing, Get'er done.
Time,tools and cost. Home improvement is the most frustrating of hobbies. It is also the most satisfying. I love the smell of fresh cut wood and the sound of a hammer. A little sawdust, mixed with sweat, is a poultice for the soul. Tile dust works as well. I've got a world class grape arbor in mind. What will get built is a backyard bargain. No matter, I will enjoy building it and getting it done, on time and in budget !

A reminder

April 1. April fools days. To most people a day to pull pranks on the unsuspecting. I enjoy that custom as well, but April first is more to me. That was my Great Grandfather's birthday. I'm not very good at remembering anyones birthdays, except my own and his. He was born in 1878 and the only Grandfather I ever knew. The others had all passed before my birth. He raised my father, as my paternal Grandfather had passed in 1934. I knew him well and visited with him often. He died in 1968 when I was just fifteen. He was ninety.
Floyd Parker Lester. That was his name and his father was Charlie. There were a few things he had in common with my father other than being his Grandfather. His mother passed away when he was an infant. My Grandmother, my father's mother also died when my father was an infant. Great Grandfather was raised by a sister and my father by this man. Both of them had living fathers that chose not to raise them after their wives passed. Both of these people later remarried. None took their children back into their homes. And both still lived in the same town as their children.
I wasn't aware of all this as a child. Children seldom pay attention to things like that. No one talked about it much either. I just knew him as " Gramp " and that he was my father's grandfather. I knew that he sic [my father] was raised by him and lived in his house growing up. I don't remember Grandmother Lucy, Floyds' wife, but my sister does. I have many fond memories of him. He was a kindly old man, although somewhat grumpy, and had tales to tell. He chewed his cigars, seldom did he light them, and always wore a three piece suit. White shirt buttoned at the neck and carried a cane. He cooked on a coal stove and didn't have television or radio in his house that I was aware of. It was always real warm and kinda dark in there, but in a cozy sort of way.
Many years after his passing I began work on the family tree. It was during this that I became aware of much of what I know of his life. This quest for knowledge began after the passing of my own father. What a shame because he certainly could have told me a lot more. I can search records but you don't always get the true story from that. How much will go unrecorded and unknown ?
I have a few things of his that I cherish very much. I do have photographs and one old postcard. On the postcard he is standing next to a horse drawn wagon. The card says. " Maidstone Taxi ". It was his business but alas it failed. Exactly what went wrong I don't know. I do know he had mortgaged his home for the horses and wagon and lost it all. Following that he lived in the home of his wifes' family. The home was deeded to her as a sort of admonishment to him. That was done to ensure he could not borrow money against that property and lose it. A harsh penalty that must have been difficult to swallow.
I think of Gramp often.

Happy Birthday Gramp !