Ramblings

I had been thinking lately about why some people seem to go farther then others. This seems especially true when one applies the Peter Principle. The Peter Principle has it that we promote the stupid in an effort to get them out of the way instead of firing them. I've been wondering why some people seem so contented with their station in life. (This has at times included me) I wonder why we aren't teaching entrepreneurial skills as well as math in school. I wonder when we began to use one point in a life to determine the value of a human being. I wonder how one is to see the value of the people around them, to spot the good with the bad. I live in the great state of South Carolina. Yes even the same county as the latest news maker, Miss Lauren .
I have watched the teachers of our great state take it on the chin for this gals gaff. I will tell you that I know and am friends with five teachers in Lexington County and not a dumb ass in the bunch! Not one! As for the young lady, the jury is still out on your intellect. I'll tell you that I don't think being in a pageant helps you at all! Your comments were not your own, just some PC talking points that came out in a moment of extreme stress. Time to learn a hard lesson about when to shut up. The idea of being a model doesn't seem to me to be much of an ambition but I guess it pays better then being a mechanic. (I like to think I provide a personal service though) So when does a life end? When do we stop reaching and just plug on to the end that awaits us all? At what point do I stop taking classes and stop trying to better my knowledge not only of my trade but the greater world? I spent seven years working in a state (not this one) office complex as a vending machine / counter person. I was going nowhere and loved every day I spent with those people.
Why?
Continued

Pa Jack

I wanted to talk about another kind of Hero. One of the type that didn't get enough recognition for the jobs he had done over the years. He is Pa Jack, or just Pa. I first met Pa about ten years ago at the funeral of my wife's Mother. Pa was her brother in law. Pa's place is on about eighteen acres of red clay in LA. That's Lower Alabama to all you northern folks. In years past he had a junk yard in his back yard but it was mostly gone by my time. I have a set of heavy springs from it that Pa gave me to hang my swing on so that it would be comfortable. Out back of the yard was a gravel pit that he owned. He sold the sand, clay, and gravel out of that hole for fifty cents a yard to any that would come and dig it. Most people would find a hole of several acres in their back yard to be an ugly thing but I loved walking in the pit when I was there. Pa didn't walk with me by then because of his legs. He had lived a hard seventy seven years at that point but he would tell me where the deer were likely to be and ask about any other tracks I might have seen. He and I watched my beloved Wolverines lose to UCLA early in that season. He consoled me with a quick wait til next week, and then we watched his Crimson Tide. I'm a bit ashamed to say I don't remember who won that game! Pa was also a quiet fan of Auburn when his grand daughter went to school there. The reason for the junkyard was that Pa was a mechanic that worked out of his home. He worked on about anything. He didn't have the modern conveniences that I enjoy so if he needed something special he built it rather then bought it. No job was too large either, He told me of changing car body's out in the yard with the help of a tree and a friend!
Pa and his wife (Miss Daisy) raised three beautiful daughters that all turned out to be good decent loving human beings. They also had a part time daughter in the form of a niece. (my wife) He told the husbands of his girls, "You know where you found her! I spect you to remember where to bring her if you have a problem with her!" I got the niece so he was a lil bit softer with me but I knew not to cross him. One day I got to wondering where he had been and what he had done. Like anybody some of it was good and some bad but Pa answered any question I asked. He told me of going all the way to Ohio to work. Living in the cold to make a dollar about a million miles from what a Bama boy calls the real world, he did what he had to do to survive.
He was a proud member of the war effort in WWII. He wasn't a vet like so many were, but he did what he could. He worked on the aircraft. He installed the bomb sights in the Mitchell's. He may even have set up the sights on the planes used by Jimmy Doolittle and his Raiders over Tokyo. I saw Pa about a month or two ago while there on business, and as I went to leave he once again said to me to hurry back cause he wasn't going to hang around forever. I went to see him this week, any time with him warms my heart. As I placed my pallbearers boutonniere upon his casket I remembered, and I wished for one more football game, and one more talk.

Dog Fighting Two

Sorry it took me so long to get back to all of you but I've been busy, what with being herded around by this cat and all! So to continue; I got to my new home and promptly got into a bit of trouble. Dad raised his voice and I took off around the house and found an empty dog house to hide in. Dad tried to coax me out but I wouldn't come. After a bit he crawled in and hugged me and gave me a treat. I knew it was OK to come out. I've since learned that these people and other animals I share my home with are the best family a girl could have. So I was reading the news the other day (don't look at me that way, of course I can read! You see me writing don't you?) and I ran across the indictment of Michael Vick for dog fighting. I read all nineteen pages of it! It looks like they've got some shady characters willing to spill the beans on him. His lawyers may get him off but the deed as they say is done and the cat is at the food dish! Many southern men think of dog fighting as a sport, much like cock fighting and no big deal. Well it is just like cock fighting, but it's a big deal. Folks get hurt and die because of it. Both animal and human. The money for these endeavors come mainly from the sale and use of drugs. I know because I've seen it and can smell it a rabbits run away! Most damning is the knowledge that he had a rape stand on his property! This is a device that allows a breeder to breed females that are far too aggressive to let a male near them. This is only used for fighting dogs because no honest breeder will breed that kind of female! As far as the breed of dog goes I don't think most American Bull Terriers have evolved to the point that they can be considered any thing but fighting dogs. My test is to see if they are aggressive to humans (it doesn't matter the breed) and if so put them down.
In the case of Mr. Vick and his friends the truly heinous thing is what happens to the dogs that lost or refused to fight. As I heard on the radio this week Mr. Vick should be allowed to compete on the football field this year for the Atlanta Falcons. If he looses then it should be his turn to be electrocuted, or hung by the neck, or body slammed till dead. All of gods creatures deserve the love that I have, but not all creatures are gods.

Dog fighting

For those that don't know me, I'm Reeses the Doberman Pincher. I belong to Tom and Mrs C. Tom (my dad) calls me Beans because I'm a Red Doberman. He likes Cajun food and red beans is a favorite. I'm going to tell you a little bit about my life before I was rescued by the C's, I was trained to be obedient and took many a whoopin if I didn't understand what was asked of me. My master put a plastic garbage bag over my head and nearly killed me because I got into the garbage one night. Now I run at the sight of them though Tom tries to console me. Our job, my family and I was to guard a meth lab in Lexington county. The food was scarce and the love was non existent. As soon as I was able to have babies I was made pregnant by a dog named Brutus. I didn't have any choice in this matter. My pups were taken away at an early age and I've no idea what happened to them. One day the sheriff came to the property with a bunch of men and my master let us out of our kennels. I ran and ran. Hunger followed many days until I was picked up and put in doggy jail. I was in a cage with a lab named Bob that wouldn't shut up....ever! I think he barked in his sleep. I heard that I wouldn't likely be adopted out because of my breed. They only let Doberman rescue society members take us and their homes are full of all the dogs that were bred to fight and otherwise be mean and obnoxious. It soon came to my attention that some of the dogs were killed after a period in the kennels. Mostly the ones that can't be adopted out, like me. I learned that tomorrow was to be the day they put me down. All I could do was cry. About lunch time a man and two women came to see us dogs. Everyone got up and started yelling pick me pick me! I just stood there knowing I wouldn't be chosen but then they opened my cage and took me out! They took me out and left Bob in! I heard the old dogs whisper that the older woman was Miss Jo of the Doberman Rescue and she had brought Mr. and Mrs. C to see me! To make a long story short, I went home with Miss Jo spending the afternoon with her two dogs.At about five pm Mr. C came and put me in is car and took me to his house, the place I now call home. continued....

The Dance

Life it seems is one big dance between the predator and the prey. What most people don't realise is whom is whom. When I hold myself up to the mirror I see the prey, but I know the amount of havoc that resides within my soul. To see clearly I'm the predator..... or am I? The answer is the same for me as it is you, we are both. The degrees differ between the souls and the time of life.... (whats going on) but you can eat as well as be eaten depending on the day and the evil brought by said day. This all has to do with how I choose to view the beings that come into and out of my life. (if you aren't watching your fellow man then you're missing the greatest show on earth) I'd like to talk to you about some folks I've met in the ghetto where I work, some are prey and some are not. First up is a white male named Bill (name changed for his sake)that I think is a slightly deranged Viet Nam vet. Bill is about as self sufficient as anyone I've ever known, growing a wide variety of food on an inner city lot feeding himself and many others. Sometimes he has no choice as his watermelons are easy game. I have several fruit trees growing in my yard from his cuttings and whips. He is most definitely prey to those around him and has the bruises to prove it.
I met a man named Andre' the other day, as he wandered into the shop to get out of the rain. It is most unfortunate but any time a black man comes into our shop without a car you know he most likely has no good in his heart. When it is raining we don't give anyone a hard time as long as they stay out of the way and by the door. So in walks Andre' and he just keeps on coming and chatting all the way. I had some time to kill so I spent a few minutes talking to him. He told me that he was from Angola. He had made it to Texas about seven years prior and was now on his way to the upstate where a job was waiting for him. He was riding the big grey dog (Greyhound) but couldn't stay in the bus station due to the thugs and other elements there. I assured him that he would be safe in the shop until it was time for him to board. He then asked me why those black people didn't work. I told him that some were indeed working but that their work was to prey upon the weak. I can't begin to tell you how excited he was to be going on a new adventure and to have a job waiting. I hope god watches out for him as he is most certainly prey. We have a man that comes in to get water out of our water cooler from time to time. He is a black man with no legs, and so uses a chair to get where he wants to go. He has a business cleaning the wheels on cars in the college area by the bars and restaurants. What he is really up to is panhandling. He will sometimes begin to clean a wheel without asking and get you to give him money to stop. This works well on the lil college girls and the prim office ladies. He intimidates the hell out of them. I guess they're afraid he's going to jump up and chase them? So the local merchants got together and tried to have him run off. Said that he had no business license. No but what he had was a big gun lawyer that liked his wheels clean on his car, also liked the mans company at lunch sometimes. He has a license now! What he didn't have was a way to keep the rain off. I saw him the other day coming in from a gully washer. He looked at me and said he thought he'd drown before getting there. I gave him the umbrella out of my car for the next time he got caught out in the rain. I've no idea whether he is prey or predator.

The madman returns

Well after about three lost posts and a very busy time I've finally got a lil time and google working. I didn't get to do a fourth of July post but will mention that we went to a neighbors for a party. While there I got to talk to Sgt Don of the U.S. Army. The host threw his back out and Don stepped in to do the cooking for the whole crew.... about thirty people. Don will be leaving for a second tour in Iraq about the first of the year. I didn't ask very many questions about tour one because I didn't feel it was right. He did tell me that he was in Mosul in 03. I thanked him for his many years of service and wished him well. He did say one thing that I wasn't able to find the time to ask about.... He was glad to be going back to Iraq as opposed to Afghanistan. He did tell me that he tried to soak up as much history while there as he could. I did ask if the uso packs we send were appreciated and delivered in a timely manner. He replied that the packs were a godsend and the phone cards much needed. He went on to say they really depend on the USO.
In other news my Daughter and Son inlaw were in a wreck, totaling his new Ford truck. Both are ok (thank god) though Daughter was out of work for two weeks.
I'd like to mention a few charactors from the hood where I work but that will be for the next post.

Not worth a bullet

Crystal Ferguson was in the news again this week. She is one of the pregnant crack mothers that got arrested in Charleston in the early ninties for delivering crack to her baby. The supreme court agreed that her privacy was invaded with an illeagle search of her urine for drugs. Medical University of South Carolina tested her and found her under the influance of crack twice. The second time was at the birth of her baby Virginia. The hospital shared the results of the tests with the law and Crystal was arrested for child abuse. She sued and she won a settlement thanks to a bunch of female liberal lawyers that made her their poster child. Fast forward fifteen years and another child. Here we find her living in a trailer in Columbia SC getting a new start. She is home with her younger daughter and a house mate. A man comes into the house and throws gasoline at Crystal that hits a lit candle setting the place on fire. Leaving her to burn to death along with her younger daughter he takes the badly burned female house mate outside and rapes her. The liberal media want to portray Crystal as a victim and an all around good girl. The fact that she was a poor single black mother seems to excuse a lot. One would think that the crack and two children (without dads wasn't enough to wake her up about putting herself and kids in bad situations. I don't blame her for what happened to her on the last day of her life but I know what happens when you lay with dogs.
On another note we had three cars broken into at work thursday night. The glove boxes were open and contents scattered. A hammer was found lying near one of the cars. Just another crack head looking for change and something to sell. The cars were in a fenced in lot with razor wire on top and only accessable at the street. Even still we leave all of the doors unlocked so as to prevent windows from being broken. There is a reason it's called dope! Next time try the door handle!!!
It seems too many people out there arn't worth the price of a bullet.

Sy and others from the distance

I guess I should give you a bit of background before telling you this post. As you can see from the picture on my page I have very poor vision. It was decided that I would attend school at the blind school in my state starting with my fifth grade year. With a few exceptions it was a good move. I no longer had to suffer the daily taunts and picking of the other kids. Also as John likes to remind me, "in the valley of the blind the one eyed man is king." So any way.... I was on a Google list of alums from that school the other day and came across something that really cheesed me off. Under the title of "Thugs" someone had written some very ugly things about a man named Sy. Sy was our gym coach during my time there. He was the wrestling coach earlier then that. This person complained that Sy gave him a bad grade because he wasn't able to do a chin up. Claims Sy told him that he made him sick to the pit of his stomach. Fair enough, now it's my turn.
The first time I met Sy was when he dropped my older brother (also blind) off at the house after having been to a wrestling meet. Sy drove him all the way across a major city, then turning around and going back. My brother wasn't a very good wrestler (too slow between the ears) but he gave it what he could and never quit. Sy liked that in people. So we fast forward a couple of years to the fifth grade and I meet Sy on a professional level. One of the very first things he did was to put me in the pool to teach me the magic of swimming. It took him about two years to overcome my fear of water, never once yelling or getting impatient. Before he was done he had me diving and dragging a dummy off the bottom of the pool. I still have my Red Cross advanced swimmers card somewhere. Sy wasn't the first to try and teach me, he was the last. With his help I did a forward somersault off of the single bar. His arms stretched to catch me if I missed the landing. Climbing to the top of a pole we had hanging from the gym rafters and reaching out to grab a rope and crossing over to it and down. Teaching me the basics of wrestling so I might have some success as I got old enough to try it. I remember him lining us up to explain the use of a jock strap. He told us they were Chinese Nose Guards, and waited to see if someone would really try to put the leg straps behind their ears. I remember asking him about his Red Cross cards, he had one for a fifty mile swim. Not bad for a smoker. He told me that I too could get one of those, and I believed him. I know of his sorrows and losses. I know of his hugs after a bitter defeat to a bitter foe. I know of his making me go out and speak to same foe and shake his hand, acknowledging his effort and sportsmanship. I know that he was one of the ones that began to bring my head up and be confident in who I am. Thank you Sy.

My Baby

Last night I went to see my baby. It was her graduation night. A year late and a pile of tears but it's finished. She like her sister is a rare beauty, though hers is only outward. I have no more words for this my estranged daughter, all has been said. We don't speak and may never. I hope she finds her way in this world; with truth and honor to guide her. I doubt it. My heart breaks for all that could have been, and all that was lost. I see the bad choices and the bad people around you child but I pray you remain gods grace and gods promise as I have named you. I love you!
Dad

Fair Tax

So I went to a political rally for the first time at the suggestion of friend and reader of this Blog, Don. Last night in Columbia SC there was a debate between the hopefuls of the Republican party for president of this great land. They held it at The Koger Center for the performing arts. It is on the campus of The University of South Carolina. Across the street is The Carolina Coliseum. An old Basket Ball arena. On this night the old barn was full of tax reform minded people led by Neal Boortz and friend Sean Hannity. If you know Columbia at all you know that parking in the downtown area is nonexistent so I was expecting a major challenge to attend the event. Not so! About a mile up the road is the State Fairgrounds and Williams Bryce stadium. Lots of parking there! The folks at Fair Tax had a fleet of tour buses running back and forth all night. Never had to wait more then ten minutes for a ride. Mrs. C and I got to the coliseum with little trouble. Once inside we received a free T shirt and ball cap. We then proceded to our seats and found the signs that you see in the pic above. There was a rock band playing on the stage and the place was about two thirds to three quarters full! We got to hear from some of the candidates before the debate across the street. Tom Tancredo, Mike Huckabee, and Duncan Hunter. Hunter is going to receive my vote in the primary. I've known this for a bit but was still impressed with his knowledge of trade and immigration issues. Truth told we wouldn't do bad with any of those three as President. Other speakers were John Stossel of ABC 20 20, Ken Hoagland of Fair Tax, Neal Boortz and his half wit friend Sean Hannity. I was kinda surprised that the media didn't give the rally more time, as big as it was. After a while Neal led a march across the street to the debate in a show of force for the Fair Tax. It was about that time that I had to go home and to bed....you know....beauty sleep and all. I will tell you that I learned a lot and am now a supporter of the Fair Tax. I learned at the rally that Michigan is trying to pass the Fair Tax on a State level. If anyone is interested in the Fair Tax you can follow the link I put in above....if it works... ;) If not then Google Fair Tax, it's what I did.


Update.... Fair Tax emailed me and said there were 8000 plus at the rally. They will have pics and video up in a few days. I didn't provide any because my home connection is dial up.

Another thing that moves me

I love to watch the Osprey fish!

The boogy man

K so I know it was supposed to be about Jackson and race. Then came Virginia Tech. My oldest Daughter called me from San Diego with car trouble today. I'm grateful that her hubby was with her, and I was able to give advice over the phone that helped them out. (be patient there is a point)
I've always worried about the boogy man. Not for me, but in regards to my family. Tonight as I write this my wife is two states away on business and I'm not there to watch her back. Dear Daughter is across the Continent and I can't get to her either though Indigo Red can and I'd ask if I needed him. As children we learn that many things are false. Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, ect ect. We're even taught that the Boogy Man is false. Well we kinda got that one wrong. The boogy man stars in all of the news broadcasts across the land. Some times he's black, or White, or Brown. Some times He's a friend or foe, and some times he is an old friend. I was reading about a gal in (I think) New York that was raped and tortured in her apt for 19 hours before the Boogy Man set fire to the place to hide his crime and left. Oh it was him alright, I'd know the sign anywhere. A creature of the night that appears out of nowhere to inflict pain and suffering on his victim. She used the fire to free herself, but I doubt that the fire will ever purge the memory from her mind. The other day he was at Virginia Tech, hiding in the mind of a tortured soul. May god grant those folks some peace. He has always been around, especially in war zones like Dar fur, Iraq, and Bosnia. He likes the smell of fear and death. He rapes lil girls as he has done in Florida, and kills old men just to watch the show. He seems to show up every day in Iraq, and he stares right into the face of the American military that refuses to blink. He cannot be defeated as he is an eternal being, however he can be subdued and foiled. As we go through this life we must make a choice, to be a victim or victor. When it comes to the Boogy man you must first believe. You must always be willing to fight, as the Israeli professor did by barring the door at the cost of his own life. You must always act!

Lets talk about race two

Day two and Imus was fired. Yes I'm psychic but didn't need it to see that one coming. D.A. Mike Nifong apologised today to the three young men he tried so hard to convict of rape. The "victim" didn't. I still don't know why Miss Crystal Gail Mangum doesn't face charges her self. Must be the stereotype again. No-one wants to be guilty of thinking it, and bringing a poor black stripper up on charges won't look good. good thing those fellas had a few million laying around for defence counsel. States Attorney General Roy Cooper dismissed the charges and called them innocent. Strong words from the prosecution. Nifong is in the fight of his life for his law license. So now the stereotype brings us to the right Reverend Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson. Boy I can just see the stereotype clawing at the door! Al as we may remember was the man that came to the aid of one "Tawana Brawley" when she stated she was raped by .... not one not two but... six white men, and held for four days. They found her covered in shit, and racial slurs written on her body in charcoal. Sorry gang, but if I was a white racist rapist with a penchant for writing racial slurs on black victims I'd use an off color.... say maybe WHITE paint? She fingered a local prosecutor named Steven Pagones. I don't know if she fingered anyone else. Turns out she was trying to hide the fact she was skipping school. It's been twenty years and Al still stands by her story. He won't apologise to god himself. Next we go to the right Reverend Jesse Jackson, and his group Rainbow Push, or as it's known in some circles.... Rent a Riot!

Lets talk about race

I keep hearing that we never have an honest discussion about race in this country. Part of the reason is that no-one wants to be told that some of the problem lies within ourselves. I'm going to express my thoughts on some issues that have a racial component. We are going to cover Imus, Sharpton, Jackson, Nifong, The black community, and Myself. Lets go back to Imus one more time, but briefly. What Imus was making fun of was a stereotype of Black Women that is often put out there by Black Men. He had every right to say the things he did, and probably felt there was at least some truth in his words. I hate that such a great achievement in the lives of those women will forever be tainted by his right to free speech. The market should have gotten rid of him years ago. He is now being fired by the people that pay his salary; The advertisers. Gee guys glad you could come on board....... It took how long? Over the years he has taken a whack at everybody so now we have some issue with it? Hmmm. What I find far more troubling is that he feels the way he does. What I find far more troubling is that even I to some degree, and many others are willing to accept the stereotype of not only the Black community but the Latin, and the Muslim. Stereotypes exist because of at-least some form of fact, but how much? So you want us white folks to respect you Black women. Which ones? The ones with the 70% illegitimate pregnancy rate? The ones with the 50% high school dropout rate? The ones that walk over from the bus station and offer fellatio for ten bucks? How about the ones that attend our nations colleges and universities and can't speak the English language! Got a news flash for you, Axe isn't the same thing as ask. Never was, and never will be. Lets not get pissy with the Mexicans for not speaking the English language when we don't require it of the Blacks. Dr. Rice uses her esses where they're supposed to be. Oh and another thing; If Nigger is wrong for us it's wrong for you too! While I'm at it, here's a question... Who kills more black people in the United states? White People or Black? Why am I angry about this? How does the stereotype affect us?
Nifong. Nifong sat on evidence that could clear three man of a horrible crime. Why? What was to gain from pissing off folks that were not only innocent but could buy a real defence. Damn fool likely will lose his license to practice law over what looks like a Ho! Don't like the term? Sorry but if you have the semen of multiple persons in you at one time (was it 3 or 5) and you're a stripper and you're telling people that a man raped you that wasn't even there at the time then by moms definition you'd be a whore. So why did Mike Nifong sit on this case? The answer is the stereotype. Had he dismissed it too soon he would be labeled a racist and begot and worse, would lose the Black vote. By sitting on the evidence he will gain the Black vote. It's all in the timing Mike! You know you have to let these guys go at some point but too soon and you lose. Too late and you lose. Guess what... Too late, you lose. Continued

Nappy Headed Hoes

Yeah I was trying to avoid this whole thing with Imus but tonight became too much to bear. Let me start off by saying publicley that someone should step on Al Sharptons neck. He serves no useful purpose under this sun. Second I'd like to point out that Imus is an idiot, not worth the price of a bullet. What I would say is that he was making humor at a steriotype. One that I hate with a passion. So I thought I'd see the reaction from the Rutgers basketball team as a well thought out and educated response. Instead I get some Black woman saying that she would like to "AXE" him a few things..... Uhh Geez you're supposed to be in college.... I thought you'd kick his ass intellectualy....... Uhhh..... AXE? It's time to delve deeper into this subject, and if it makes you uncomfortable then it might be time to visit the Disney blog or something.

The cup three

I bought this flag just after 9/11. We first flew this flag at the cup leading up to the Iraq invasion. I take it with me to the cup as I have every year. I will retire this flag when we are all home again.

Ohh as promised, here is some of the crack I saw at the cup!

Cup Three

Ohhh Boy! She has left me for that pale skinny guy! I told you he is shallow and a plastic image of a man!
Ohh well. This gal is a lil short but she has a Rolls.

The Cup Two

If you look long enough you can even see a horse or two at the cup.

The Carolina Cup

The "Cup" as we call it is first and foremost a day of horse racing culminating in the 100,000 to win Carolina cup steeplechase race. It's really a show of grand proportions to give a chance to show off the finest in new Easter hats, nice cars, money, pretty bodies and even crack. I will continue to edit this post with new pics over the next few days due to my dial up so don't forget to check back. As you can see, the propper hat is essential for the cup. The butterfly won a blue ribbon. Yes there really are Red Hat Clubs. Don't forget to click on the images.

The yellow peril

I thought you might like a look at our world right now. The tree pollen is so thick you leave footprints in it. Everything has a funny greenish yellow glow to it. I wrote the word Hi on my Navy Blue boat cover.

Iran

So now we witness another mis-step by the Britons. one would think that by this time they would know how to deal with a bully. The fact that Iran has fifteen of your troops precludes you from dealing from the position of strength. It's time to kiss a lil ass until you have your people back. The correct way to handle these matters is to get your people back and then send a message that this will be met with a very strong response in the future. (don't see that kind of shit happening to the Russians) You back your threat with a strong slap in the face. I would sink a large ship of war. Be ready for the retaliation, and be willing to escalate to the point you win! If it means leaving a big smoking hole in the ground then so be it. One must remember the reason for their strength is our weakness; so don't be weak! Ohh and as for the rest of the world? nanny nanny boo boo, I'll stick yer face in doo doo! Or to put it another way... Piss off buggers!

What is Character

I’ve noticed a number of college athletes in the news lately for legal troubles. It seems that even on the better teams and at the better schools there is a problem. You see things like a kid that’s never been in trouble before stealing things from another student. Two incidents of that along with a quarterback that got drunk and then a couple of days later keyed a car over some road rage slight. I wonder what of their character? We know that they know right from wrong in the traditional sense, but what were they thinking? Good character doesn’t mean always doing the right thing. I couldn’t stand up to that harsh light any more then the rest of you, but what of intent? I was watching Bill Oreilly the other night and saw a young woman ranting on about all the nonsense that the left has to offer, even to complaining that we on the right are responsible for a baby getting his testicles crushed. As a conservative Republican I can assure you that I not only wouldn’t crush any testicles but also would work to protect what testicles might be in my vicinity. What was her intent? Did she really believe the shit she was slinging? What did her folks teach her? I’m all for honest dissent as well as honest mistakes. I’m also for forgiveness of mistakes when ones debt is paid but what are people thinking? Does character require thought or do you just perform a certain way because of it? What role does intellect play in character? I’ve known some very stupid people that had a strong moral compass but made mistakes based on a lack of intellectual horsepower. I’ve known some geniuses that didn’t give a damn and everything in-between. I believe the thieves have a chance to redeem themselves, as does the drunk that keyed the car. With age comes wisdom even to the dumbest of us. If it didn’t then you would die; something about natural selection. The young woman spewing her propaganda on the other hand is too sure that she is right. As long as her mouth is open her ears are shut. Character is the combination of what you are taught mixed with experience built over a lifetime. Character is the final measure of your life’s work.

For Don

About this time last year our friend Don told me that spring was when the Bradfords bloomed. Well they have been white for a week now Don. Time to come home.

Changes

Spring has arrived here on my lake O the woods home. The cycle begins anew with buds on the trees and grass turning green. Temps by the middle of the week will be in the seventies, and I'll have an extra hour of light after work. One thing about change is it's constant. I've been going through some changes lately my self. It seems that my one remaining eye has decided to let me down. As most know from my pic I am nearsighted. With those big glasses I could see well enough to drive and get along in this world quite well. To borrow a phrase from Glenn Beck, now "not so much".
It begins to look like my seventy mile a day commute isn't going to continue, so I look for ideas that can keep me close to home yet alow me to make a living. Just another bump in the road. As I contemplate where I'm going and what I'm doing next I found a stupid question. Some folks think there is no such thing as a stupid question but I found it. Here it is..... "If you had it to do all over again, would you?" It doesn't matter what you apply it to the question is still stupid, and here's why. The future of any course we take is not known. The future of any course we don't take is not known. You might have time to reflect on that as you take your last breath, but maybe not. This line of reasoning also affects the question, "Do I dare?" The bigger the risk the bigger the reward, but what of the unknown outcome?

OOPS wrong car

Here is the proto 2009 ZO6 Blue Devil Corvette.

Corvette

Ya know, I get so damn tired of hearing America doesn't make great cars anymore. This leggy beauty would fit nicley in my garage. With 600 horsepower it might have to stay in the garage but what the heck.

Daughters

K so I was watching Fox news tonight and what did I see? almost nonstop Anna And Brittney and Lindsey, ect ect. Some of you know that I have two daughters and that one is a mile of bad road. I love and have loved my daughters equally and with all my heart. As proud as I am of the oldest, my heart breaks for the youngest. The oldest is now a Navy Corpsman on her way to her first post. The younger moves from man to man looking for god only knows what. One of the guys at work showed me the limo photos of Brittney. Yep I saw the money shot! Also saw the C section scar. I'm reminded of a guy I used to know many years ago. I would call him and ask whatcha doin? He would reply, "F*ckin someones daughter, you?" I was young and he was the cool street wise black guy, but one day I asked him what if someone referred to his daughter that way? He replied, "I'll put a foot up his ass!" So the next time you see Lindsey or Paris act out remember, she's someones daughter. And if you've got a spare prayer or two, these girls can use them. So can the dads.

Shrillary and the flag

Pics are of the African American Monument and the Confederate Battle flag on our State House Grounds. Follow up to Indigo Red As most of you know, The Yankee Bitch was here this week. One of the first things she did was to call for the removal of the Confederate Battle Flag from the SC State House grounds. It really isn't my issue but hey, whats one more Yankees opinion. When I first arrived in SC I noticed that they flew the Battle flag on the dome of the state capital. It was tucked under Old Glory and the state flag so I had no problem with their pride in heritage. Also I'm a fan of more states rights and that is what the flag represents to me. In a battle with the NAACP the flag was taken down from the dome and moved to a small flag pole on the main entrance. It now flies in front of the statue of Strom Thurmond. This was a compromise between the state and the NAACP. This compromise was never truly accepted by the NAACP, and they fight to this day for the removal of the flag. In an effort to get the minority vote every Democrat presidential candidate also calls for its removal. The confederate heritage folks have a saying about all of this. So you've made it about race. Now it's off the dome and in your face! While I don't agree with that I do understand how they feel. A compromise was reached so live with it. That flag is their heritage, their monument. Blacks have their own flag that for a while flew on their monument. It's bad enough that the blacks are always using the race card, now we have Hillary too! Outsiders like Hillary And I and the national NAACP have no dog in this fight.

Politicians

I was visiting my buddy Tom at Toms Common Sense. It seems there is a lot of trouble in my former state. They have a Democrat Governor once again, and it reminded me of a time I got to see the great Governor James Blanchard at a function. The function was the appointment of the first Black woman to head the Michigan Dept of Public Health. The appointee was a very large woman named Gloria something or other. I was surprised at her appointment. Not because she was Black, but because she was a Nurse not a Doctor. I in my capacity as employee of the man that ran the concession stand, provided the coffee for the event. ( No I wasn't always the worlds greatest mechanic) I had seen many pictures and video of Jimmy as we called him. He seemed to be a big wide chested man with not one unruly hair on his head. In his blue suit he was right purty!
This was to be my first face to face encounter with a powerful politician. I went into the room where the event was taking place to get a look at Jimmy. What I saw was the State Police body guard carrying a small set of steps into the room. Soon Gloria and a short lil guy that looked like a miniature Jimmy walked up. The lil Jimmy got on the steps and faced the news people while Gloria stood next to him on the floor. On the top step lil Jimmy was taller then Gloria. When Jimmy wasn't on the steps he wasn't taller then a fire-hydrant! No pics were taken of Jimmy without the steps. I began to laugh and was asked to leave.

Things that move me

I don't think I've lost anything in Hawaii, but there is one thing I wish to see before I die.

This is the first of an irregular group of posts titled things that move me. If my friends wish to contribute I'll give you the keys to the blog for this subject.

A nation at war

At this time last year my son in law was representing his country and the U.S. Navy In the super bowl. He was a member of the color guard, carrying the flag of the United States Navy. While I got to see everything from scantily clad girls to Tony The Dancing Bear, the faces of our honor guard were hidden behind the flags.
They had about three seconds of air time. Less time then it took the jets to fly over. Somebody needs to remember that these young men and women are more then just decoration and dressing on the plate of America. Not once or twice but every time you see a young person in uniform you must understand the sacrifice that goes into it. The many hours away from Moms and Dads Sisters Brothers Husbands Wives and Children. The many people that love them. The potential to serve and be killed in a foreign land for people that we don't understand is ever greater. I for one find their few moments of fame to be far too fleeting in the face of all that they do. While I will not rail against the masses for their complacence, I will feel it and do what I can to ensure that every service member knows that someone gives a damn and is watching. We give to you o world the best that springs forth from our being. Our flesh and blood, our beloved. Children with our courage and vision. They will try to guarantee the future for one and all upon this planet. To you that are awake to their plight I ask a prayer. To you that are not, I pray for you!

Spring

I think the Canadians are responsible for this.

Yes that's my boat, and yes thats my dock. Guess it's my snow too! Think Spring gang! Please!

Test

I have not been able to post anything new since the upgrade. One would think one would check it to see if it would work before sticking it to those of us that have to use it!

Heroes once more.

A couple of days before Christmas we had house guests for the evening. My wife's good friend came along with her husband and spent a lil time with us on their way to family for the holidays. The husband is Chief Dave, a twenty year veteran of the U.S. Navy. He recently served on the USS Wasp.
I had the opportunity to chat with him about what he did on board ship, and thank him for his service. I came away with the understanding that this man was all business about his job, and the people under him. What they do on a daily basis can get you dead in a hurry with a mistake. Dave doesn't do mistakes. One of the things he did was to make fresh water for New Orleans after Katrena. One hundred thousand gallons a day! That was half the production of the ship! She stays at nintyfive percent or above ready for action at all times! They can provide fresh water to a city, or land Marines by air or sea as needed. Dave and the people that sail with him are also Heroes. My Daughter, though she doesn't know it is another hero of mine. She signed up for the Navy, and was let go for a medical reason. She went home and to school for two years while getting her waiver, and went at it again! She got hurt in basic but fought through it. Now she is a corpsman. Her perseverance and fight make me proud of her no matter where her road leads. She is my hero. Her new husband, a Navy man of ten years. He takes good care of her, and is my hero. My cousin Joe, twenty two years in Navy intelligence. Enough said. One more tonight...My friend Don who served at a time when it wasn't cool to do so. Thanks Buddy!

Heroes Two

As I've said earlier I'm blessed with many heroes. Either that or I'm badly misguided. Another of my Heroes is My Dad, Tom C. SR. Not because of his Korean war service, though he is the genuine article as Heroes go. Personally I think anyone that jumps out of perfectly good airplanes is nuts, but to each his own. He is my hero for all the time he spent with me and all of the kids in the neighborhood teaching us to catch and hit a ball, and show good sportsmanship. He did this at the end of ten to twelve hour days over many years. He would pull into the driveway and drop his lunch box at the steps as he walked on past the house to the vacant lot next to our house, calling for the ball as he picked up his mit that was already out and waiting for him. In the fall he would teach us to run button hooks and slant pass plays in backyard football. He would throw those passes till every kid had his fill. It must have been a real thrill to have all those kids yelling his name and asking if he would stay out with them. He took the time to teach me the same as all the other kids, never mind that I was blind in one eye and not good in the other. He taught me to shoot a gun as well as I could see. I won the first Turkey shoot I entered in South Carolina. I sent him the paper target to show him.
I was reading the Detroit News the other day. I read an article about three young football players that play for the Michigan Wolverines. All were stars. They spoke of the great privilege they had been given. They spoke of their stardom, and their degrees. They spoke of trips to C.S. Mott Childrens Hospital to visit the kids that help to keep things in proper perspective. When I was eight years old I went blind in one eye. I got a month in that same hospital, confined to bed. I had surgery four times before they gave up. It was too far from home to have Mom and Dad there much. As the Christmas season drew near we got a real treat! Some Michigan players took the time to come and see us. It had been three weeks since I had been allowed to stand or walk without a nurse physically holding onto me. If I had to use the toilet they would seat me before giving me any privacy. So this big and I mean real big man comes and chats with me. He knew I couldn't walk because of fear of a blow to the head. He asked me if I was tired of sitting in the room. When I said yes he picked me up and carried me. We even went outside for the first breath of fresh air I'd had in three weeks. Yep even now the Wolverines are my Heroes. When he brought me back to my room he left me with a Michigan sweatshirt as a Christmas present. Continued

Heroes

I wonder if we take the correct amount of time to think about our Heroes. I'm 44 years old and still have Heroes. Some are obvious, and some are not. I'm fortunate in that my life is full of Heroes.
I'm going to list some of my Heroes and why they are. I'm not going to list them in an order from first to least because Heroes can't be categorized that way. I'm simply going to try to tell you a lil about them and why I hold them in such esteem. To begin this journey you must first understand a lil bit more about me then most folks know. I am the son of the son of a Michigan dirt farmer. I think but am not sure that my Dad finished the tenth grade. There was no eleventh. My Mother was a native of Chicago, her father a carpenter. She was a lady! I am their son. In my Grandfathers house was a picture of John Kennedy, and just a lil ways away the sacred virgin Mary. Kinda odd for a protestant home but I was raised a Catholic. By most standards I'm a spoiled child, even to the point of having at one point seven dirt bikes at one time as a child. Not bad for the son of an auto worker. What most didn't understand or care to look into was that I earned what I got! The hard way! I worked! Dad worked for GM most of my life building Oldsmobiles. I remember getting to watch him in the early years unload the trucks by pulling on a heavy chain, thus dragging the partial bodies off several at a time. He did this twelve hours a day seven days a week to feed and cloth us. It was a helluva long way from his beloved upper peninsula home. Yep that's right! We're Yoopers. My first hero is his Father, William John. As his friends and enemies called him...Jack. Jack was the most respected man in the county for a number of reasons. The Man could do anything! If he chose to fly past on the strength of his arms alone no one would have thought anything amiss. He worked in a rock quarry by day and farmed by night. He was a veteran of the great war, ww1. He spent his time as a cook. To him the thing was he served. All of his sons would serve as well, some with great distinction. One of Jacks friends had an episode with too much booze one night and ended up on his front porch with a rifle, staring down the State Police. They were going to shoot him. Jack walked up to him and asked him to put the gun down. He refused. Jack then told the man he was coming to take the gun, and help the man get through this trouble. The man told him...."Jack, I'll shoot you if you come near. One must remember that Jack was the deciding authority in that county at that time. He told the police to stand down. He then walked up to his friend. Half way between the road and his friend, the man put a round from his .22 rifle through Grandpa's right calf. Jack stopped and said, "Don't do that again! Don't make me loose my temper with you! He then went on and dis armed the man. That same man was with my family the day we buried Jack many years later. He echoed the words of my own Father; The greatest man I ever knew. There are a thousand stories about Jack, and if Super man was 5'6 and 140 pounds Jack was him. Continued...

Christmas Eve

Today is Christmas Eve. The wife and I went out to run some errands and pick up a few last minute items. Also stopped to deliver a present to the barn. I see the Horses are ready for Santa. On the way back home I noticed the crowd was getting bigger at our neighborhood tavern. Wife and I got to talking about that. It seems they will be open tomorrow afternoon. She then told me about the Gay men that she has known for many years. It seems that on Christmas they often get together for potluck suppers at their bars. It has to do with many of them being disowned by family, so they get together with the only family they have. Each other. It’s not going to be so different at the tavern down the street. The reasons one might find them alone on the holiday are as many and varied as the people you will see there. In our lil tavern everyone knows someone else there, and there is no shortage of Christmas spirit. As my good friend Don once said to me, “Evil lurks in the heart of man, not the haunts of man.” Over the years we have had many guests over for Christmas dinner. Friends that had nowhere else to be and no one to be there with them. They have always been a welcome addition to our table, especially with both of us being so many hours from our families. Tomorrow when you get together with your families, remember those that are close to you that might not have a place to be, or someone to be with. As for me, I think I’ll pop in to the pub and have a round with the folks in there. Just to share a Merry Christmas.

Colin Powell

I wonder if anyone else caught any of that interview that Colin Powell gave I think Bill Schieffer? He sure sounded like a surrender monkey to me. I don’t mean that I disagree with everything he had to say, but it was close!
I remember a time when as a young boy my class went on a field trip to the lake that was set aside for our school. It was a day trip in the fall so there was to be no swimming. We were there to work planting trees and doing other conservation type things. It was during a time of goofing off just before lunch that a bunch of us had gathered on the old rickety dock to look into the water of the lake. One of our number, a kid named John had gotten careless with a brand new compass that his mom had bought him just for this trip. We heard KE plunk! And I watched the compass sink down to the bottom of the lake. Now at this time the water was quite cold and we had no change of cloths so going in wasn’t an option. Also John was terrified of the water. He became very upset over the loss of his new toy. I wanted that compass and devised a way to get it. I then stated my intentions to John. He was less than thrilled that I was going to go get the compass and keep it for my own. I explained that I was the only one that could get the compass and if I didn’t then no one would have it. He then said to me that if I would get the compass for him that he in return would give or do some other great thing. I agreed. I then went and got a stick wit a three-twigged fork in it. I stripped to the waist and leaned into the water as far as I could go while having two other boys hold my legs. I took the stick and very gently snagged the compass and brought it up. When I gave it back to John he then asked me what might he have to do for it? I told him that because we were friends he should thank me. Had I been of less then honorable intentions I would have kept it because I wanted it.
Back to Colin. I’m sure he was a good soldier and seems at times to know a great deal. So here he was talking about us losing in Iraq. Lets define our goals before we us the losing word. He said more troops wouldn’t help. On that point we agree. He then says we need to get involved with Iran and Syria so that they will help us win this thing. General, if I may be so blunt…… They …..Want to keep the compass and they’re not our friends and they are certainly not honorable!

This too goes with the series for John.

Remembering the face of a liberator
By CHRISTY M. COX
Guest columnist
OTTAWA — Encouraged by his beautiful wife of 56 years, he proudly rolled up his sleeve to show me what time cannot erase.
I asked him if I could touch his arm, run my fingertips across the number burned into the skin: 725858. Under the middle “5” a roughly etched triangle identifies him as a Jew.
David Shentow spent his teenage years in Hitler’s concentration camps. He was born in Poland, raised in Belgium and long ago emigrated to Canada, where he met and married Rose.
They are a handsome couple, passionate about each other and life, perhaps in a way one can only be after you’ve lost everything you’ve ever loved, when you’ve faced years waking up in anticipation of your own death.
Something else the Shentows have an almost holy reverence for: the United States of America.
It’s interesting how reality offers meaningful perspective.
While some of our own elected officials, various national media and pundits, as well as the usual Hollywood bright lights, accuse our country, our president and our troops of everything from greed and stupidity to torture and murder, here is a marked survivor of real evil who calls the United States a “great liberator.” I guess when you’ve been to hell and back, you’re not given to hyperbole and hysterics.
On April 29, 1945, David Shentow thought he was dead. He had somehow managed to survive years of abuse and starvation first at Auschwitz and then at Dachau, but now, with nothing left of him, there was no way death would wait as an enraged Nazi beat him mercilessly with a club. He doesn’t know how many hours he lay unconscious.
He was surprised when he did wake and found himself as he says, “still clinging to life.” But the camp was different. Except for the moans of his fellow prisoners, all was quiet. The SS guards were gone, their sentry boxes abandoned.
And then music to his ears: the rumblings of a tank headed toward him. When the tank stopped and the turret was opened, Mr. Shentow looked upon a smile that would hold his imagination and his heart for the rest of his life. It belonged to a young African-American soldier.
“Hi, young fella!” the American GI said, “How are you doing?” He then threw the bewildered captive the only thing he had on hand at the moment — a stick of gum.
“This was the moment of my liberation!” Mr. Shentow tells me. “The day of my birthday. I had just turned 20 years old.”
The Nazis murdered Mr. Shentow’s parents and his two sisters, along with his youth. But “an American soldier gave me back my life,” he says.
Yes, the American soldier.
The same who now stands on the front lines in Afghanistan and Iraq.
The one who fights for the same cause of freedom as those American patriots who went before, who volunteers to protect us from an enemy bent on nothing less than our obliteration.
Mr. Shentow’s arm: 725858. That crooked triangle. For me, forevermore, it is now, also, the symbol of the policy of appeasement.
The world hoped for the best in 1938 and looked away while Hitler marched on.
Today, the Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad calls the Holocaust a “myth,” wants Israel wiped off the map and says that “anybody who recognizes Israel will burn in the fire of the Islamic nations’ fury.”
I’ll take him at his word. We’ve been down this road before. Only now our expectations are different.
We expect instant satisfaction, demand immediate victories. CNN and The New York Times stand ready to dub any U.S. military operation a “quagmire” within the space of days.
There are no instant fixes for what we face in Iran, Syria, Iraq, North Korea.
We all want — indeed pray for — diplomatic solutions. But “solutions” must not include appeasing evil, “feeding a crocodile, hoping it will eat you last,” as Winston Churchill put it. It must not include abandoning the battlefield when the war has not yet been won. It must not demand instant victories; only a steadfast commitment to success.
It’s lonely at the top. But the bottom line is that the United States has the resources and moral fortitude to fight — and defeat — the forces now conspiring against the Western world.
Certainly much of the world resents this fact, and the more tragic fact is some Americans who think peace should come at any cost now view our country as the aggressor — a country they work to bring to its knees.
I wish they could see Mr. Shentow’s arm.
Ms. Cox served as director of communications for the S.C. House from 1998 to 2005 and as chief of staff for Speaker David Wilkins. She currently serves at the U.S. Embassy in Ottawa. The views expressed here do not represent official U.S. policy.

Illusion or delusion.

The story I'm about to tell you is true. As with everything else here if it weren't I'd tell you so. The reason I tell this and maybe more story's is for the benefit of John so that he may be something more then an atheist.
We begin by getting in the truck to go to work on a clear summer day. I'm not in my big Blue Ford with the monster tires this day. I have had a breakdown and am left with using my Mother in laws GMC four wheel drive to get to work till I get some time to fix mine. For background her truck is a 1978 GMC 1500 with a 350cid engine. The truck is white with a white shell on the back. At the time I worked as a mason tender, stacking block and mixing mud to make basements and brick walls. I had gotten my lil bro Craig a job with my company. We took turns driving to the town we worked in. At that time we worked in a town called Okemos Michigan. It is a bedroom community of Lansing and East Lansing. Yes I even did some landscaping for the head coach of Miami Dolphins Nick Sabin. He was the defensive coordinator of Moo U in those days. (otherwise known as the Michigan State Spartans.... See the green hat on Michael Moores fat head)
One must understand that I'm very nearsighted in the one eye that I have left. I've always had Coke bottle glasses and made up for it with cat fast reflexes. I'm also going to give real street names for those that choose to view the rout I took that a.m.
I had picked up my lil bro and headed north on Cedar st to Jolly road. I turned right onto Jolly and headed east. The next road was the last semi major in town that went north south. It was called Aurelius road, and was about a half to three quarters of a mile away. Jolly went from four to two lanes about the time it got there. We were running late as I had left late from getting the kids up. I was speeding, about 50 in a 45 mph zone. An odd feeling came over me that I've had a time or two before. As I was driving I saw superimposed on my vision a sight that wasn't there. I saw the death agony of a young Black woman! As I pulled back from the scene, I saw that I had hit a Chevy Chevette broadside with the truck. The woman inside didn't stand a chance. I saw her face as I hit her. I saw her eyes open and looking at me in shock. I saw her neck break.
As fast as I'd seen this terrible vision it was gone. Replaced by the real vision of the road..... and a lil white car in the turn lane ahead of me. As I got to the intersection I slammed on the brakes and swerved to the left. A lil white Chevette turned left into the path of my truck. My Bro Craig impacted the windshield. I missed her! I missed her by the hair on my young chinny chin chin! I saw the terror in her eyes as we went by. We had ten or so miles to go to get to work so I kept driving. After a while Craig asked how I knew? He said that I made my move a split second before she turned in front of us, and had it been him with his perfect vision she would be dead. I just knew, and I don't know any more.

I found this plate on the front of a late sixties era Chevy truck. A yellow dog in the Carolinas is a very common sight, We grow them wild down here. They are related to the Dingos and Russian step dogs. It is believed that they came over on the land bridge that used to exist. The saying as told to me by Daddy Bob was that this fool would vote for a Yellow Dog if the dog was running as a Democrat. Some peoples problems are very evident.

Vicky's page

On the day I met Bill's sister nothing much out of the ordinary happened. I had gone to his house and there she was. End of story.... So I thought. A few chance encounters later and I realized that she didn't shy away from the kid with the massive glasses, even made a point of starting a conversation. It didn't take long before I thought she was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. Most of the guys used to make fun of her because she was like nothing any of us had ever seen. Jet Black hair to the middle of her back, and lil wire glasses offset by a black leather bikers jacket and her own dirt bike. The Fonz wasn't going to do any better. I don't know how it happened but we became friends, then good friends, and then something more. She was my first real girlfriend. It was she that taught me the finer points of how to bury a bike into a berm low and get a good holeshot coming out. She took over my paper rout while I went off to wrestle for school glory and a couple of medals along with two blown knees. When I couldn't walk she would come see me. We had part of a summer and on through the next. Then she gave me the news that she was going back to California to live with her mother. It seemed that dad was moving and she didn't want any part of being a farm girl. I was at the time crushed. We said our goodbyes and moved on. Over the years she was never more then a step or two away from my mind. When I was racing motocross I thought of her often, and wondered if I would ever see her again. As time went by I was about to take a new job working for an old friend at a huge office complex. About a day or two before I was to start my new job I went to my Mothers house to pick up what then was my only daughter. I got to the house and found Mom softly weeping. When I asked her what was the matter she gave me that days paper. It told of a young woman that worked at the complex I was about to go to work at. She was killed in a jeep rollover while out four wheeling with friends. I knew for sure it was her when I read the names of her two brothers and where they lived. She had at that time a husband and child. I don't know what the plan is but there must be a plan. This sort of thing doesn't happen without a reason. She and her friendship are to this day a treasure of mine. There was one more Jeep incident but I survived it.

Life's people still

So it’s the season again. I always have a hard time about this time of year. The reasons vary from the simple to the complex. They range from the people and places that are no longer in my life to the ones that still are but are very distant. It is the one time of the year I don’t like living in the Deep South, something about the power of snow falling to cleans the soul. For whatever reason cold rain doesn’t suffice. It was a December about eight years ago that I experienced my toughest year, but that is another story. I got an e-mail from my sister Kate; she sends me mail by the score. This one told about there being three types of people in everyone’s life. It had to do with time frames that one interacted with others. Said something like a reason, a season, or a lifetime. It got me to thinking about even more of my life’s people, and what might have been or should never have been. About a million years ago, when I was about thirteen or fourteen I met a couple of people that were only to be there for a season. I use the term season a lil bit loosely because I believe God has longer seasons then we. Anyway to begin the story, I used to collect Baseball cards. Along with my wrestling, it was my passion. I had Mickey Mantle and a Babe reprint, and a Mark Fydrich; the man that talked to baseballs. The friend that got me started in all of this had long since gone God only knows where. My collection was getting kinda stagnant. One day a friend told me that a new boy had moved into the last house on our street two blocks away, and he was a collector. It was my first ever meeting with a kid from California. He didn’t seem different to me, but they aren’t at that age. He was just a slight bit older and a lot more confident about most everything. It was Bill LeFever that convinced me that it was worthwhile to ride the city bus an hour to another city and spend the day in dusty old bookstores looking at Baseball cards and old books. I had no idea such places existed, but when I found out! I would forget to eat while searching out Edgar Rice Boroughs Books or the rare Mantle card. Bill and I were never real close. We had our time, but it was when we could squeeze each other in. Never the less, I’m grateful for the things he taught me in the year we had together. I am most grateful for the introduction to his sister. Continued.

Family

With yesterday being Thanksgiving here in America, I took the time to reflect on the holiday. It's a celebration of family, as much now as it ever was. My wife and I didn't travel this time, work got in the way. We spent the day together cooking our feast and watching the Lions lose another football game. It's a tradition.... with the Lions that is. Never have so many sucked so badly for so long. Bill Ford ought to get a lifetime achievement award. Ahh I digress...
Anyway I got to thinking about my family and what they mean to me. As most of you know I have two kids, an ex wife, and a wife. I include the ex because you can never be rid of them when you have kids. My mother once told me that when you marry someone you marry the whole family. She was telling me I was making a mistake. I did much better the second time around. My oldest was taking her boyfriend to her moms family's house for the meal, I recommended that they stop and get him a bottle. He has no Idea what he is in for. So after to obligatory phone calls to the relatives I had time to think of my extended family. A bottle isn't needed with them in most cases. My family was blessed to have a small weekend cottage on a lake. Every once in a while we could get all of the friends I had to come and spend some time. That was special time for family. I liked to get up early and walk down to the water with a cup of joe just to watch God work his magic upon the coming day. It was just such a morning when I was joined by my lil brother Craig. He had brought his wife up for one last time. He broke the news of their divorce to me on that dock. I hugged him and told him we would get through it together as we had everything else. On another morning I was joined by brother Mikes daughter Rae. She was the first to hug me and wish me a happy fathers day that year. I can think of many people that I consider family from that place and time. My family is always growing, it now includes people that I've never actually met. I have a friend in Minnesota that I've never met, yet she always sends me cards and thoughtful notes that remind me that I'm important in her life. A couple more in Washington State, a bunch in Canada, Texas, and on the road. (Don)
I have a neighbor couple that I'm so close to that they just have to be kin! D and I along with Ted and Judy would sometimes spend the whole evening and half the night just puttering around the lake and chatting about everything. Ted is one of only two or three people that I would ask for advice on this earth, and is my only older brother. It is because of these people that the ship of my life can weather the storms that blow in from time to time. To all of my family, know that I think of you with love and hope the best for all of you during the coming Holiday season.

Blog that Bird

I got mine, how bout you?


Ten fortyfive AM The bird went on with lots of Hickory. Dinner will be in about three hours. Out door temp is 61 and sunny on its way to 70' F. Lake is going up and I'm happy!

Bird update! YUM!

Lifes people #5

Well as you can see I'm still here so that means I didn't get up and start swinging. I did however get up and ask him what the hell he did that for! Turns out that while he was at Paris Island becoming a Marine his girl was seen with the neighbor boy....The one with glasses! Well dude I hate to break it to yah but you got the wrong one. I aint dating her! Period! Now seeing as your kinda new in the neighborhood, (only a couple of years) you might not have noticed that we all grew up together! Your girl and I have been friends since kindergarten! "Ohh sorry! Say, you wanna punch me in the face to make it even?" "No, I think I'll pass for now. They started to get in their cars when Richey came back. He came running down the street waving a three foot piece of pipe and screaming that he was gonna kill somebody! I then sent Craig to stop him while I reminded Jeff the Marine that we all were in the middle of a road and he was drunk! He and crew got into cars and split. We took a sec to get our wits about us when I heard the sound of hot Oldsmobile come skidding to a stop. Mike outs with a 16 gauge shotgun and starts looking for someone to shoot. Richey says "ohh yeah I went and called Mike." We then took Rich and Craig home and went to have round two with Jeff. Remember I don't use my fists when in a fight. Backing up a few years we have the event that shaped us as friends and neighbors for all time. Tom C had managed to get a date to the Junior High prom with the prettiest girl in school. (yes even a blind squirrel gets a nut once in a while) My hobby then was riding my dirtbikes and racing anyone that wanted a whuppin. One afternoon I had Rich and Craigs lil brother on my bike riding him around the field behind my house. He was six and kinda the neighborhood pet. He pestered me like all lil brothers do till I took him for a ride. I would put him in front of me so I could hold his helmet in place with my chin and off we would go. I then saw my Dad waving to me to come home, it was time to go get my shoes for the Prom. I dropped "Putt Putt" (we called him that because that was the noise he made when playing with cars) off and told him I would give him a longer better ride when I got back. He thanked me and trundled off on his bike making motorcycle noises. After getting my shoes we drove past the house to get some Burger King. Coming home the road was closed with emergency vehicles. I ran as fast as I could to see what was the matter. When I got to the scene Craig came running over to me crying that Putt Putt was dead. I looked out to see the sheet someone had covered him with and then I saw his shoes in the road. It seems he snuck off to follow big brother Rich to the convenience store across the busy highway. Rich had to turn and face the highway as he was going into the store. It was then that he saw Putt ride out into the first lane of a forty five mph highway. He had just enough time to yell for him to get back, then the truck hit him. To this day I wonder what kind of a man you would have grown into Dennis.

Lifes people #4

As bad as it seemed, rollovers and jeeps would have a place in my life at least once more. I was lucky. I remember being the kid with the self esteem problem in Junior high. It effected almost every facet of my life then. Girls were no different, though lord knows I tried. For some reason I was never able to see what others saw in me, only what I saw. What I saw was a scrawny half blind kid scared half out of his mind about everything. Most of the kids that were on my street were a year or two younger then me, least the ones that lived close. We were an exceptionable close group and will always be, even though we seem to have lost touch. I remember hanging out and partying one night after bowling league when one of the guys asked me for advice about something kinda personal in his life. I had no answer and told him as much. The dumbest of the bunch then piped up and said " What do you mean you have no answer? Your the big man! You're supposed to have an answer!" I've always thought of myself as one of a group and never knew how much I was counted on. "You never know just how you look through other peoples eyes." Again the song Pepper. A little about the one with the question I couldn't answer. He was the younger brother of two boys that lived down the street. We were always together, the three of us till the event. After the event it was mostly the younger and I till we grew up. We shared some awful and traumatic moments Craig and I. I love and miss him to this day. One of the first things I remember was him and a bully named Richard (I also knew) at the elementary school on a Saturday. Richard was going to kick his six year old ass just because he could. When I got there Craig was in tears and scared out of his mind. Richard was bigger then me but a year younger. I told him to go away before I kicked his ass. He listened, thank god! Craig was my lil brother ever more. It was him that skipped school and walked four miles to be with me on the day I had my worst fight. It was his voice I heard the day I had another bully in a Judo sleeper hold and was saying goodbye! Matt you owe your life to someone that you never even knew. One Friday night we went walking to the lil park not far from our houses when a car skidded to a stop and a guy got out and asked if I knew him, he then told me his name and punched me in the face, knocking me on my ass. I didn't know him from Adams house cat. Here we were, me on the ground with Craig on top of me whispering in my ear. He had seen my glasses go flying, and knew I couldn't see a damn thing without them. What he said to me..."Dude there's about ten of them and some have knives. Richie ran (his older brother) and its just you and me. Your boy is a damn U.S. Marine! If you get up were both dead but I'll put my back against yours as long as I can. He meant it! Continued.

Again lifes people.

So we've come a long way since then. There was a gun involved on that day, lucky for me it was a replica .44 semi auto .177 caliber bb pistol. Had it been real I'd be dead from a chest wound. As it was we were both kicked out of school. Him to return after an exam with a shrink because of the gun, me after my mandatory three day rest. I was asked if I might not be happier going to school somewhere else.....Please. I would rather have my testicles removed with a spoon than go back to school there, so off I went. First stop was a place called re-entry school. There were only four weeks left of the first semester and I needed credits. It was learn at your own pace which helped me to get the time I missed skipping school and getting high in the woods. In that four weeks I believe I read every thing William Shakespeare wrote! It was years before I could ever stomach the theater, but don't miss the Scottish play if anyone has the balls to perform it.
After Re-entry was a highschool for kids that got into lots of fights, and drugs, and alcohol, ect ect. It was run by of all things a Canadian, I think his name was Brian. We were in an old two story elementary school in the very center of town. (the ghetto)
The neat thing about this place was pretty much everything. You had to get past an interview with the Canadian to get in. Once in it was learn at your own pace and you could test through any class without taking it. At seventeen and working a full time job I was right where I wanted to be. It wasn't church. We had dope and whisky some mornings to start our day. We then went in and went to work. Real work. Everyone was on a first name only basis, teachers too. I find it interesting that for a bunch of thugs our chess club was full of the finest I've seen play the game. I was on the lower rungs of that ladder. One of the oddest things about the place was even our nerds could whip your ass. In the time I was there I never got into a fight. I never even saw a fight. I did see and help to defuse a situation or two, but never a fight. The leader of the kids in school was a Mexican (i think) named Bob. Big Kid with long black hair and a body the gals all admired. I remember him as the man that made the soup. On my first day there I got out of my car across the street and heard my name yelled along with a heads up! I looked up to see a football coming right at me from about fifty yards away. I caught it and then walked toward the guy that threw it. I threw it back when I was close enough not to embarrass myself. I then asked how he knew my name. He told me that Brian, the Canadian had told him I'd be coming that morning. He never let anyone enter the building without feeling welcome, every morning. One morning early in my senior year I got to school and there was no Bob. We were met by Brian and asked to go to the student lounge. It was there that we learned that he had been killed in an accident over the weekend. He and friends were out getting high and four wheeling and rolled a Jeep. Bob was in the back without a seat belt. He fell out and was crushed. The whole damn school played football that morning, and cried. Continued

More of lifes people

I remember leaving the small confines of our little school for a major high school. Went from a class of less then twenty to a class of over 1200 kids. With that many people it takes time to work your way around the pecking order. What I found out was one hundred fifteen pound half blind kids are pretty low on the order. I could hardly stand to go to school because every day was going to be a fight. If you didn't stand and fight you simply got beaten for the fun of it. Anyone that knows me knows I don't back down even when scared so I gave some lumps as well as got. One day in the locker room a kid threw a stick of old gum that hit and stuck under my left eye. It's the only eye I got left so I went over to have a word of prayer. He was a good bit bigger then me and willing to have at it right then and there. Some of his friends intervened, telling him I would be to easy and not to hurt me. It pissed me off to be thought so lightly of but hell I didn't have to fight that day. Turns out he used to run a small gang uf hoodlums in Junior High. No body with sense messed with him. I don't remember how it happened but we somehow became best friends. Our friendship has had many ups and downs over the years, I even worked for him on a few occasions. Almost thirty years I've known him, sharing our hopes dreams fears and tears. In a couple of weeks He and his wife will drive the thousand miles to spend a lil time with my wife and I over Thanksgiving. I love you Mike.
Some of the kids I fought with were never going to be friends, they were mean and way beyond cruel. I can remember how badly I wanted to kill some of these jerks. One day I got into a fight with one of these clowns for stealing a purse from one of the girls that used to hang around Mike and I. Mike as usual asked me if I wanted him to handle it. I said no. One must remember that after breaking my hand on Rodney's head years before I didn't hit people with a fist. I let him start it and then damn near killed him. That started another phase in my life with some real characters. Continued

Lifes people

I don't mind the sun sometimes. The images it shows. I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes. Cinnamon and sugary like softly spoken lies. You never know just how you look through other people's eyes.
Words from the song Pepper. By the Butt Hole Surfers.
I got a letter from an old school mate today. Got me to thinking about my distant past and some of the people that inhabited my circle then. I went to school with this person in Junior High. I was the boy your mom always warned you about back then. Second best wrestler on the team, (I wrestled High School in Junior High) Smoked a lot of tobacco and weed. Drank what I could get my hands on. Spent a lot of time around second and third base. I don't remember having been much of a humanitarian in those days. Hell I even remember going after those that annoyed me because I could. I remember one kid in particular that used to pick at me and then run like hell. He made a fool out of me many times. He had my help. One day I finally caught him and made him face me. I told him I wasn't going away til he made me. He said "Alright but you've forced me!" He then knocked me on my ass and ran. I was up and caught him in about four steps (don't know how that happened) spun him around and laid a haymaker on what was supposed to be his nose. He ducked his chin and I heard my right hand break against the top of his head. I think about him on and off over the years, and remember the lessons he taught me. Some I didn't understand til years later. When last I heard from him he greeted me as a friend. I'm grateful for his forgiveness cause it was more then I deserved. Knowing what I know now, I'd have found another way to deal with his obnoxious behavior. There was something wrong between his ears and I didn't take the time to deal with it. Rod I'm sorry. Wish I had it to do again, I'd have left smaller footprints on your lawn. Hindsight is hell. So I get this letter from a gal I went to school with, and in it she thanks me! Thanks me for the kind words and support I gave her when things weren't good for her. I remember some of our talks, but god knows there should have been more. She hung out with among others the boy I mentioned earlier, and a few other kids that were at best weird and at worst nuts. Looking back on it I could have been a better friend. I'm sorry to you as well Beatrice. Continued.....