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“Tis the season to be jolly” everyone says. As for me, I’m about as jolly as I get. My attitude about Christmas is such that I have classified myself “A Scrooge”. As I sat in the kitchen, nursing a quickly cooling, cup of coffee, I pondered the question, “Why am I a Scrooge?”
I didn’t need to struggle in an effort to conjure up memories of Christmas’s past; they came in like a flood, so many that I was having trouble sorting them out chronologically.
Just what was it that made the Christmas’s of my youth so much more enjoyable than the ones in my recent past? One by one, I would evaluate my most vivid memories. They were so well remembered, I could plainly recall the aroma of apples, tangerines and bananas, the sweet smell of chocolate, which coated the chocolate drops, the strangely soothing hint of pine resin, extracted by the heat of the bulbs in the strings of lights which adorned the tree in the corner of the living room. The smells didn’t end there. The atmosphere in every room was permeated by a tinge of sulfur from the coal burning in the wrought iron, grated fireplaces.
We didn’t need night-lights; the glow of the banked embers in those fireplaces cast a dim glow through out every room that had one. As the embers cooled, a dark coat of ash would blanket the whole top surface of the grate. From time to time, the gases that seeped from the spent lumps of coal would ignite into dancing, fingers of flame that cast eerie shadows on the walls. A childish imagination could see Santa’s Elves scurrying about, arranging presents, and filling stockings that were hung below the mantel of the fireplace. All I know is, somehow, on Christmas morning, every stocking would be filled from toe to top and not once did I witness the actual event. Sleep always overcame me; no matter how determined I was to stay awake to see Santa Claus arrive.
On Christmas Eve, someone always read “Twas the night before Christmas”. Try as I may, not once was I able to force myself to dream of “Sugarplums”. I didn’t really know what one looked like, how was I supposed to dream about them. I’m not sure, but once I think I heard Santa's sleigh land on our roof. There was a definite thud and a sound I associated with prancing reindeer feet. Real or imagined, I knew that I had to keep my eyes closed. Santa could tell if you were asleep we were told, and if you witnessed his decent down the chimney, he would simply turn around and leave and no one would get any presents. There were Christmas’s when there was nothing under the tree for us and I knew the reason. Someone was awake. I made accusations, but no one would admit their guilt.
On those kinds of Christmas mornings, I wondered why Mom and Dad were so quiet about the turn of events. They never tried to find out who the guilty party was; they just seemed to be overcome with a deep, serious sadness. Of course, we always had our gifts from other family members to open. They gave us socks; underwear, handkerchiefs, and other badly needed items of clothing but no toys and games, dolls and other luxuries. I’m glad to say that that kind of Christmas was rare. As bad as it made us feel; there was always next Christmas to look forward to.
I remember Christmas’s when everyone must have been extra good. Presents were hidden all over the house. Dolls and dollhouses, erector set and a bow and arrow, cowboy outfit with two cap guns, a train set and more family games than you could shake a stick at.
One Christmas morning, I got a real scare. Everyone else had found and opened up their gifts. I was the only one without a present. I reached the point where I had to look back over the year past and try to remember something terrible I must have done, but Dad encouraged me to keep looking. Finally, in the corner, directly behind the tree, I spied the tip of a new fishing rod. My arms were too short to reach it, so I got down on hands and knees and crawled under the tree. It’s a good thing I did, for I might have missed the tackle box that was on the floor. It was a six-foot Pfleuger rod and reel, a matched bait casting, level wind rig, with jewel bearings on the line spool. The tackle box had all the basic necessities, line, hooks, sinkers, floats, and stringer. It was a gift I used and treasured for many years.
My Christmas gifts matured, right along with my increasing age. Whamo Slingshot, Blowgun, 22 Rifle and 16 gauge Shotgun and a 24 inch Schwinn Bike. If you were to ask me the date of the year or how old I was when I transferred my expressions of thanks from Santa Claus to my parents for the Christmas gifts I received, I don’t think I could. Most of the glitter and magic of Christmas vanished for me after that. My expectations became realistic and logical as Christmas time approached. If Dad had been working steady, we could all expect a good Christmas, if not, then we would take our belts up a notch and go on.
Christmas became a Holiday, a time of no school or no work; a time for stuffing one’s face with good food and enjoying the company of good friends or seldom seen relatives. The real reason for Christmas never crossed my mind. I only knew that my spirit seemed a little lighter during that time of year. Sure, I went to Church with my Mother and participated in our Church Christmas Play each year. The part you were asked to play was a status symbol. The longer and more involved the lines were, the more important you were as a person. Commit your lines to memory and practice alone or go to rehearsals and run through the whole play once or twice. What was dramatic talent? No one in our plays seemed to have any. It was like a bunch of robots or puppets were up on the platform. Stiff and formal, words were said in turn, with no feeling. If someone did attempt to inject feeling into his or her lines, it only made everyone else’s part a more glaring defect in the whole production.
Jesus was the doll in the straw filled manger; Mary and Joseph were his parents. Of course, there were the animals, the Shepherds, the three Wise Men, the star in the sky and the Angels, but none of that ever clicked in my youthful mind and made the connection between God and myself as an individual. They were characters in a story and when Santa Claus became disconnected from Christmas for me, so did the characters in that Christmas story.
It has been many years since I’ve really enjoyed a single Christmas celebration. The lights are nice but all the other stuff that goes along with it just dampens my spirit and depresses my soul.
I don’t care for the gift I sometimes get after one of our Christmas Eve gift exchanges. It appears a few days after. I didn’t open a gift box to get it. It came from a hug or handshake or on one of the breathes I took in the general area where someone had coughed or sneezed before I arrived in the vicinity. It made my life miserable for a few weeks. Who can look forward to something like that every year?
I usually end up mad at myself because of my attitude. I hate it when I disappoint someone because I didn’t have the time or will to get out there and fight the crowds and the traffic around a mall or someplace closer, yet just as crowded with shoppers.
I’ve managed to salvage a Christmas or two recently because of being able to shop on-line. Still, it’s not the same as putting my hands on something I believe someone else would appreciate and enjoy, then wrapping it and hiding it somewhere until Christmas morning or evening, depending on what we agreed to do that year.
A gift doesn’t mean much when I ask that person to pick up something for themselves from me even when I reimburse them for what they spent on it. I tell myself, “At least they got something they wanted.” I couldn’t be sure of that fact if I had done the shopping for their gift.
Other don’t do for me what I do for them. I don’t drop hints. I find a catalog for say Sears; you know, one of those little ones they are always sending you with all kinds of tools and special equipment every man would like to have. I sit down, go through it and using a hi-lighter, circle or mark in some way, anything I come across that isn’t too expensive but would be a wonderful addition to my handy-man tool collection. It’s simply my way of writing a letter to Santa without doing any begging.
Somehow, I have this feeling that I’m not alone in my attitude or actions when it comes to Christmas. Funny; that fact doesn’t make me feel any better about myself come Christmas morning and someone I claim to love so much doesn’t have a few gifts to open.
No wonder I boil it all down to “BAH! HUMBUG!
If you thought about it, the name itself would be a clue. Christ-Mass. Since the word Mass is associated with Eucharistic liturgy in the Roman Catholic and some Anglican churches, one might assume that the name had its origins in the Catholic Church. Without doing a lot of unnecessary research toward total accuracy, I'll accept that. OK! So the Catholic Church had the honor of giving it a name.
The word Christ means Anointed, or the divinely chosen one, a name associated with the founder of Christianity; Jesus. In the Jewish faith, the name Christ is interchangeable with the title Messiah. To the Jews of this world, Christmas has no meaning.
So, the name Christmas can be defined as a Musical, Religious celebration of the birth of Jesus, the Christ, the anointed, chosen one of God, the only living God, the same God the Jews worship, Yawah, Jehovah. This is probably more than you ever wanted to know about the subject, since, for so many, little thought is given to the reason the Holiday exists. Some have stated that we who observe the Holiday, have made an error choosing this time of year to celebrate it. Experts, themselves cannot reach an agreement as to exactly when Jesus was born. I wonder, is it important?
We have done far worse to the celebration of His birth. We focus on the fact that Wise men gave Him gifts and concentrate on that one aspect of the historical account. We have chosen a mutant, Pagan Dwarf Spirit to deliver the gifts to our children, and upon him we attempt to concentrate their attention. I doubt that most parents would be able to explain to their own children the relationship between that Jolly Old Elf in the bright red suit and the child displayed in a manger scene. One has no relevance to the other. Who can explain it?
Santa Claus brings gifts to little children who have been "Good".
Jesus is the gift that God gave to everyone, good or bad.
I will be the first to admit that there is something mystical about this season. I believe that the change we see in people is genuine. It seems to go deeper than a transformation of the mind and attitude. Something happens to the human spirit.
So many of my most treasured memories are centered around Christmas. Believe me when I say that it has little to do with the gifts I received. It's almost as if the atmosphere around us is changed. The season's influence penetrates through the pores of our skin. The lights and decorations overpower our sense of sight. The sound of tinkling bells and choirs singing bring an elation, a joy, and everything combines to lighten the heart. Merry and Jolly are two words which describe the feeling best.
I don't care all that much for snow, yet, Christmas, in perfection can only be envisioned under a blanket of snow, pure, clean and covering everything. If you know the Lord Jesus Christ, you think of His pure, sinless life and how the righteousness of that life became your righteousness, covering it, bringing purity to yours, in the sight of God. How can one help but be Merry?
Recently, my daughter and I were having one of our frequent Father-Daughter fat chewing sessions. Don't you parents love to talk to intelligent, young, upwardly mobile offspring? We touched on a variety of subject matters and somehow got into the subject of prejudices. Both of us threw in some relevant facts we had become aware of recently and stated our own personal summaries of how we saw the subject affecting our nation and whether we thought a solution would ever be found to resolve it.
I summed up my own thinking this way. If it were possible to take the sum total of the individuals who live in this country, put them into a gigantic blender and puree their genetic make-up, pour out the resulting combination into molds and create a new kind of human being, both male and female, many or even most of the same problems we see today would still exist. Such is the nature of the human creature.
PREJUDICE: A judgment or opinion formed without due examination of facts. An unreasonable judgment held despite facts to the contrary.
Fear of and hatred of other races, religions, etc. Detriment arising from a hasty and unfair judgment. A biased preconception, bigotry, intolerance.
RACISM: An excessive and irrational belief in the superiority of one's own racial group.
I am thoroughly convinced that if two individuals were isolated on a deserted island, one or both of them would quickly find something to look down their superior noses at the other about.
It is a proven scientific fact that no human being enters this world with built in prejudices, so we can correctly conclude that prejudices are acquired or learned as an individual matures.
Since prejudices are so obviously present within each one of us, can we assume that it is a natural aspect of being human? I've often wondered why it is that human beings have this seemingly natural need to see themselves as superior to someone else? What does it add to one's life that wouldn't exist if it were not for this belief? Is it connected to the basic instinct for self-preservation or an accepted law of nature that says the fittest will survive? Is it a force that is impossible for us to resist and alter?
As best we can determine with our scientific research, no other creature possesses the concept of good and evil. No other creature has the ability to conceptualize their own existence to such an extreme as to believe they have an immortal soul; that some portion of themselves will exist forever. No other creature has the ability to expand their understanding and reasoning ability to the point of believing in a supernatural, spirit realm, invisible to the natural eye. A realm that exists perhaps, on another dimensional plane and we human beings have within us, something so special it enables us to reach out from within and contact that realm, communicate with its inhabitants and gain even more knowledge. Isn't all that simply amazing?
If we as a species are so intelligent, so special, so gifted, so blessed, so civilized, so loving, caring and compassionate, so godly, so wise, so knowledgeable, and so rational in our thinking, wouldn't you think we would have reached perfection long before now?
We, as a species can look back at our recorded history and through a process of comparison conclude that we have made some giant strides toward that goal of perfection. Still, we must also conclude that we are not there yet. Our tendency to be prejudiced toward one another has not declined. If anything, we have found other, more glaring differences between individuals that only contributes to our prejudices.
If God, for some reason not yet revealed to our understanding, was to deem it necessary to come to earth once more in the body of a man, live among us, performed endless miracles before our very eyes and continuously proclaim His heavenly truth within range of our hearing, do you believe the eventual outcome would be different than the first time He did it? How many times must the supreme price for our salvation be rendered? It is evident that once was not enough. What have we done with that first redemptive act of sacrifice? Have our hearts really been changed?
If there is anything the United States of America needs, it's godly, highly moral, intelligent leadership. In my own humble opinion, we as a nation appear hopeless when it comes to the political choices we make. Does this scripture mean anything at all to us today? Eph:6:12: For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. It appears to me that it does not. In the recent past we witnessed for ourselves a demonstration of the truth of that scripture in the highest office our nation can bestow upon any single person. How did our nation react to it? They looked away, ignored its implications, and used their individual state of seeming prosperity as an excuse for condoning said wickedness.
Now, one year after this nations voters elected our first racially mixed man as president; many refer to him as being “Black,” but I see that as an old racist concept, where one drop of black blood means the whole creation is black or as equally racist from another viewpoint, to claim such a person as “one of our own” due to racial pride or desperation in an attempt to lay claim to a portion of his success. In reality, his mixed blood makes him acceptable to both black and white races equally. Now we have another opportunity to help our nation become the greatest example of what a democratic republic can be in this world. One nation, under God. It seems that our eyes do not see evil and our ears cannot hear truth, or recognize a genuine opportunity when it stares us directly in the face. We need to wake up people!
In the beginning, the candidates were many, but some fell by the side of the campaign trial, out of the running. Those that remained, were they the best we could hope for? Will we as a nation, as a people ever learn to take control over our prejudices, to look beyond the color of a man or woman's skin, gender, political affiliations, party platform rhetoric and judge each person by the contents of their heart and by the spirit that holds rule over them? I, for one, didn’t believe it to be possible, but I had a great hope that we might one day.
Why is it that some candidates seem invisible to the voting public? Why do their words seem to fall to the ground with little affect? If we examine them closely enough we will plainly see that either they practice what they preach or that they are only projected images of what they know we want to see and hear, but in reality are nothing like that image. Then, we give what we consider to be due diligence in working out the right choice only to proceed to choose the wrong man. Based on what list of qualifications I cannot fathom.
I believe that God sends us the person He would want to see in the office of our nation's President in every Presidential election. He had a plan, but we won’t cooperate. There is no glowing halo suspended above that person's head. When they speak, there is authority in their words. Their words have authority because they are truth. But truth does not always tickle the ear, yet it is truth all the same. If we cannot believe them for the sake of their words, then believe them because of the works they do. Be a fruit inspector and then decide upon that which is produced. But, we need to see that person’s fruit and in order to do that, they must be voted into office. No tree can bear both sweet and bitter fruit. It is either one or the other. Still, it appears that we keep making the wrong choices.
I am no better at making the right choice than the next person. I don’t seem to be able to take my own advice or listen to the right voice in my head or heart. I looked into the various candidates while there was a large group of them contending for the office early in their campaigns. As soon as I started to lean in one candidate’s direction, he would drop out and grow silent and withdraw into the political shadows. Here is our impending truth.
Hosea:4:6: My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.
Be afraid! Be very afraid. For mankind continues to shoot himself in the political foot or so it does seem.
Poetry Lovers Resource
I do understand that there is a very small number of people that search the Internet for poetry written by novice poets and yet, I do not want to prevent even one poetry fancier from finding even the rarest of works.
So, with that thought in mind I will provide those seekers with a link to one of my other blogs on which I have posted a great many of my own compositions in the hope that they will one day read a few of my offerings.
Thanks if you are one of those seekers.
You folk are so lucky and I'm simply excited to be able to share this event and the resulting family portraits. We are oh so proud. You will be able to see why when I add the photos to this entry. Are you ready?
Hold onto your hat. If you are not wearing a hat then hold onto your hair. These images have tons of velocity to them.
If I'm not mistaken, if you want to see these pixs in full size, just click on them and they should appear before you. Go easy now.
I was not aware of the exact time, nor can I be positively sure as to the day of the week; I can however assure you that the event which would follow in the next few minutes has been indelibly etched upon my faltering mental systems. I may not recall where I filed it but when I do rediscover it, it will stand out from most of the files associated with and included among the small number of such memorable events because the depth of the impression will appear so much deeper than any of the others.
We carried our own cups of freshly poured, piping hot coffee outside and sat down where we normally would around the glass-topped patio table. The retractable awning had been deployed all night long, preventing any possible dew from settling on the afore mentioned table or the chair cushions.
The sun had not yet peeped over the tree line in the distance or the horizon thousands of miles beyond that. It was pre-dawn but there was plenty of ambient light surrounding us.
Maureen lit up a cigarette, drew from it deeply, inhaled and exhaled the smoke into the slight breeze, which thankfully flowed in a direction away from myself. I don't try to get her to stop the harmful habit. She didn't treat me that way back when I was still smoking. I'm the same way about that as I have been with my own personal beliefs. I've been a Christian for 24 years now. She knows and accepts that fact. That's enough for me. I can only hope that she has been paying attention to how I've lived my life since then and that one day, she too will desire to ask Christ into her life as He wills it. I've convinced myself that He will deal with her directly in His own good time...not mine.
The coffee tasted wonderful. That first cup is so special. It has a purpose and it does it well. Slowly, we are becoming fully awake and aware of our surroundings. Few words are exchanged between us. We can hear one another taking deep breaths and enjoying the pure elation of simply being alive at such a time as this.
It was a beautiful spring day, all around us was the grandeur of God's creation. The sights, the sounds, the fragrances; surely it doesn't get any better than this was the thought that lingered in my own mind.
Then, suddenly, the faint glowing orange rim of the rising sun appeared in the eastern sky. Both of us had noticed and remained silent because we didn't want to miss one tiny bit of the experience. Her voice was first to break the silence.
"During most of my working life, whenever I tried to imagine what it would be like to be retired; this is exactly how I imagined it would be."
I can't begin to explain how I felt at that moment. I can only say that I was somewhere beyond "Happy."
I pursued happiness just like our constitution assured me that I had the right to do. I pursued it until it caught up with me one day when I least expected it.
Maureen's words impacted me with the force of a sledgehammer striking a soft, lead plate. It left a circular crater with a raised rim. Truth rushed in and filled the sudden void the blow had caused and I sat back, relaxed and realized that at that moment in time, my world was a giant step closer to completeness.
That's all I've ever asked from life. To know that in some small way, I had contributed to the reaching of a life-long goal of someone I've loved more than myself for all these years.
As the sun continued to climb in the eastern sky, I turned to gaze upon my sweet bride and realized that she was now being bathed in the shining light of our golden years together.
There was at one point in my life, a span of years, during which a day would not pass that my fertile mind did not come up with some composition of words that I felt compelled to record via a method that would result in a copy of it in one form or another.
As you can tell by the run-on sentence above, which appears to have ambition toward becoming a paragraph, I have had little if any formal training pertaining to writing. If anyone reading this post is knowledgeable concerning the proper use of punctuation, they would notice that I am ignorant about its proper use also.
The truth is, I had no business writing anything that may be read by someone other than myself.
I began as most novices do, with pencil and paper. I lost count of the number of three-subject ring binders I filled up with my jotted down words. I filled a small, portable book case with ringed binders and small note pads. After developing a noticeable callus on the first knuckle of the second finger of my left hand using number two pencils, I sought out and purchased an old, manual typewriter to do most of my writing on. I also invested in a small tape recorder that I kept in my car so I could record any thoughts that came to me as I traveled I-75 to and from my daily job up in Sharonville, Ohio five days a week. Using those recorded thoughts to remind me about what I was mulling over as I drove, I would sit down at my typewriter after dinner and compose essays, short stories or poems about any topic, but love poems to my wife were the usual muse.
As my financial situation improved, Maureen and I decided to invest in a home computer. After that, my writing production really progressed. As you might imagine, once I had a computer it wasn’t long before I discovered on-line diaries, journals and the joy of writing a Blog. Hard copies of my writing became a thing of the past. I kept many file folders in my personal documents and kept them backed up on compact disk for safe keeping. I wrote requested compositions pertaining to my family to be read at gatherings such as Christmas, Thanksgiving and funerals of friends and relatives.
On my job as a supervisor in a manufacturing plant, I always carried a small note pad in one of my pockets. I never knew when inspiration might strike and I never wanted to miss an opportunity to write it down. There were times when one of the men I supervised would present me with a challenge. I made it known that I was “A Writer,” a good writer and that I took requests from any and all comers. Once challenged, I would perform without fail and the person I wrote for was suitably impressed with the results. I even surprised myself on several occasions. It seems I did some of my best work when challenged. Most of my treasured works came into existence at those times and I still have those compositions, keeping them close to my heart as personal keepsakes and in their own folder in My Documents Files. I believe all writers have compositions they think of as “my best work.”
What writer hasn’t thought about writing the next great novel at some point? OK! Perhaps not the next great novel but a book about something at least, even poetry. I can remember the day that “my book” came to me. It came in a flash of inspiration; I saw it clearly from the first line to the last. It was the weirdest experience of my life; so weird, it could be classified as “a supernatural event.”
I guess it’s time I revealed my relationship with the God of this universe in this story, after all, if I have accomplished anything as a writer in my life, He gets most of the credit. OK! Being totally honest, I also considered my addiction to tobacco as contributing to my writing endeavors too. When I had my “Born-again” experience and invited God to take over my life and use it for His purpose, He delivered me from so many negative aspects in my nature and yet, He did not see fit to take away my desire for cigarettes until the day I was able to admit; I could not quit without His help. I had often wondered why He had done things that way. I talked to Him about it often but He was mute about the subject. The only reason I gave smoking any credit at all was the fact that when I got serious about needing to stop smoking because it tainted my spiritual witness and was slowly killing me before my predestined time and God helped me quit cold-turkey, I discovered that my writing suffered as a result.
I know…that was a terrible sentence. I hope you could follow my reasoning from it. I’m not going to waste a lot of time going back, trying to edit it. Time is one element of life that I am most unsure about. I’ve squandered so much of it along the way. I’ve given up on writing that book. I have about one quarter of it written, laying in a drawer somewhere but along the way, it lost its importance to me. It also appears that it wasn’t part of His purpose or He surely would have given me a nudge now and then about finishing it.
I may be growing feeble minded but I’m still able to understand that HE was the source of any creative writing abilities I may have possessed in the past.
It was a day or two ago, when I was perusing my Word Document files, looking for something I had not used on one of my Blog posts that the truth was fully revealed to me. I am not half the writer I was back THEN. I can go through my files of hard copies in that forgotten drawer of an old night stand stored in the extra bedroom and trace my development as a writer. Now I wish I had thought to put dates on them. It would help me to sort things out more accurately. As they say in one of those TV ads…”You’ve come a long way Baby!” I must confess; I truly enjoyed the journey.
I know I am old and set in my ways BUT…has anyone else noticed that some people have forgotten the basics they teach in driving school. Maybe I’m wrong, perhaps they don’t teach how to properly make a left turn at an intersection when there no left turn arrow lit but there is a green light for traffic in both directions.
If there is a left turn lane, does some new law I don’t know about state that one must stay behind the broad, white line at the end of the left turn lane, or is it still permitted for one to pull into the intersection and wait for oncoming traffic to clear and then legally make the left turn?
I did a search for information and found a site that related to the state of Nebraska traffic laws. It seems that no one can agree whether it is legal or not in that state or anywhere else. After reading several pages of results on the topic I have concluded that I am correct as to how it should be legally done. SO…onto the real reason I started this composition:
This evening, as I was taking my wife and sister-in-law out to dinner, we approached the intersection of Stevenson Road and Turkeyfoot Road, which is equipped with left turn lanes in both directions. Keep in mind that Turkeyfoot Road (the road I was on) is a five lane road with two lanes in each direction and a center turning lane. The center turning lane changes into a left turn only lane about fifty feet from the intersection.
There was a Water Department pick-up truck in front of me as I pulled over into the left turn only lane and the signal at this intersection was solid green in both directions. The pick-up would not pull out into the intersection and when the light turned red, he moved a few feet, then stopped and waited for the turn arrow. At that point I noticed that he had a cell phone stuck to his ear and suddenly this motto popped into my head. It was perfect I thought for use as an Anti-cell phone use while driving motto. I’ll share it with all of you. Yeah! Like it will get a lot of exposure out there on my three little Blogs that no one ever visits. In spite of that, I’m still going to make the effort to spread this little ditty around. I really believe it will catch on and get results if I can gain the attention of law enforcement in all of these fifty United States of America. Here it is!
When your cell phone is to your ear
Your driving brain is out of gear
TO: The White House and whom it may concern
RE: The current proposed health care plan
I have been a registered Republican for most of my sixty-nine years on this earth. In the last election, I crossed party lines and voted for Barack Obama because I believed he was our best hope for change in our government. Change for the better is what I was hoping for. I am not so sure that President Obama has given us that so far.
Yes! I do realize that The President inherited a too full plate from the Bush Presidency and President Obama deserves a lot of credit for standing up and stepping into the job at hand. I don’t believe he realized what was before him but now he is fully aware of the gigantic task he faces.
I wish there was a way to get the nation behind him and make it easier for him to accomplish what he would like to during his term, but so far, he has not seen his way clear to publishing the important details involved in his plans. I believe that’s all the people want from him; DETAILS.
I too am tired of hearing all the promises; promises that sound so good in the basic outline afforded the public, only to realize that there was more to the latest bill our government had passed through the Senate and Congress, making it the newest law of the land. E.g. I listened to the President’s speech to the nation the night Joe Wilson shouted out “You lie!” At first, I too was outraged at his behavior. Then, when questions were asked about his claim that no “illegal aliens” would be included in his new health care reform, it was revealed that certain other aliens; ones who were not yet legal citizens of this country WOULD be included, I was shocked and angry, perhaps as shocked and angry as those that descended upon Washington soon after, demonstrating their displeasure with President Obama’s new health care plan.
I know many of those individuals that were present that day went way too far with their accusations. What they succeeded in doing was to muddy up the water so much that no one could be sure exactly what was contained in this new health care plan and what wasn’t.
Personally I don’t believe this new healthcare bill will pass “as is” no matter how many times the President gets on TV and attempts to assure us that this bill is what our country needs at this time. He certainly hasn’t convinced me yet.
In my opinion, any person that is considered an alien with a green card and not a citizen yet should not be classified as “AN AMERICAN.” That’s what is being done when the President stands up and says his plan is good for all Americans and is secretly including that group of aliens.
Do you know who George Lopez is? Under the guise of Stand-up Comedy, he draws a crowd of fourteen thousand individuals, whom I suspect is represented by a majority of “Latinos and Latinas” as George identifies them and emotes what he sees as the brown race’s agenda, clearly and openly. I too laugh at his antics but deep down inside, I know he is describing what will one day be the truth in this country should our government continue along its established course.
It is my opinion that illegal and legal aliens are the cause of the state of California’s current bankrupt condition. It is too easy for illegals to slip into the country and become part of the Latino population, sapping funds from the southwestern border states and our federal government at an ever growing rate. What does our government do to stem the ceaseless flow? Nada! (I answered in what seems to be the preferred national language) I grow weary of our official’s attempts to grant illegal aliens amnesty when they should be doing all they can to send them back to where they came from. We do not need to annex Mexico and make it part of these United States. What have they got that we need? Cheap labor! The labor may be cheap but the drain on our total economy is intolerable overall.
We had the opportunity to round up a vast number of aliens during a recent demonstration that involved most of this nation’s largest cities and Washington too. The INS didn’t even show up. To me, that says that no one really cares about the problem.
How is it possible for hundreds of Mexican children to be bused into a Texas border town where they expect to be allowed to attend the local schools and WERE doing just that for a time without anyone trying to check them and bar them for attending. I KNOW it happened. It was covered by some of our reluctant media for reasons I am still unable to comprehend.
Our television news networks have become a battle ground upon which armies fight with verbal weapons which are just as lethal as bullets and bombs. Are you paying attention? Have you noticed that more and more we see people bearing weapons right out in the open at some of these “Tea Party” rallies and some political gatherings. That should cause a certain quantity of alarm among our law enforcement officials but so far, it hasn’t; that I can tell.
Wake up Washington! Get back in touch with your constituents, We the People. We are trying to tell you something important but you are not listening.
A concerned legal citizen
Clarence Bowles
Click on a picture to see full sized image.
The images you see above are representative of my five year journey through the Peach growing experience.
I found a Peach tree sprout growing in a small bed I created in a distant corner of our yard. Our neighbors had a peach tree just over the fence and some of the moldy peaches fell into that bed. Over time, they took root and sent up shoots. When I pulled one of the shoots out of the soil, the peach pit hull was still clinging tightly to the shoot's roots. The soil in that bed was very shallow and I wanted that little shoot to have best chance of survival, so I moved it to the bed along side the east end of our house where I was growing some Pampus Grass Clumps. It seemed to love that location and responded by quickly adding some height and a few sturdy branches with very large leaves.
After two years in that new location I decided it was time to move it to a permanent location where it would not need to be transplanted again and go about the business of becoming a mature, productive tree. I pick the spot to plant it, went about digging a large hole which would be its future home, amended the soil in that hole and then moved it to it new home along with a good sized root ball so as not to disturb the developed roots any more than necessary.
Three years later it was large enough to have the potential of producing some usable sized fruit. During the spring the threat of frost lingered far into the first quarter. The little tree put out some early blooms but the late frost killed them immediately. Later on, as the temperatures continued to climb and stay there, the little tree put out some more blooms and set a lot of bud fruit. I decided that in order to achieve as large a fruit as possible on such a small tree, I would need to thin out most of the small buds and leave only a few to mature to what would hopefully be larger peaches. It seems I made a good decision there.
I tended it carefully through the summer. I feed it with fruit tree spikes driven into the ground around the drip line of the branches and liquid Miracle Grow plant food at the same time I was feeding the other plants that were scattered around the back yard. I sprayed it with a special fungicide liquid I picked up at our local county coop store. It was said to be especially formulated for a variety of fruit trees. I couldn't help but remember all the years our neighbor's tree was attacked by an agressive fungus that turned the developing fruit into shriveled, black blobs clinging to the branches. No one was getting any benefit from that tree.
In the pictures above are two shots of the 60 peaches that little tree produced for me this year. Sixty peaches is no bumper crop but in my opinion it is exceptional for a tree as young and no bigger than this one is. I consider it a good return on my efforts and time.
Today, Gail will clean, peel, cut up, cook and use those peaches to make some pies and cobbler. I'm sure there will be enough for those plans.
I can hardly wait for next year!
