Day 9...
It's Friday night, and I don't have to get up early tomorrow. Does that mean I'll be slacking and not have a big lesson to start your day? Nope. We began a discussion about how your answers to basic questions can change over your lifetime. Let's dig into that more.
From yesterday's quote from Illusions: Where is your home?
Home. Usually we think that's where we currently live, with our family and our "stuff" that makes us happy. Sometimes home is where you grew up, if you still have connections there. Or even just fond memories.
I spent some of my best times in Southeastern PA, with my dad's parents. I feel a strong connection there to this day, despite my laziness in visiting the family and friends I have in the area.
I remember arriving at my Gramma Sweitzer's for the annual Fourth of July week vacation and immediately heading for her cherry tree. She kept the ladder there just for me, knowing it'd be the first place I went. Straight up the ladder, for those delicious fruits that had just started to ripen that week.
I remember standing in the upstairs bathroom at my Gramma Tut's: an old railroad station house, Sells Station in Littlestown. So close to the tracks when the train went by and you were in that bathroom you could feel the room shake. Grampa George was a brilliant self-made man, but he lost TWO garages to the sparks from the coal fires from the tracks. Then there were the miniature partridges he was going to raise and serve in his restaurant The Trotting Inn. Nah, they weren't the prolific breeders he was promised, so I had lots of little pets when I went to visit.
I remember going to Aunt Rosemary and Uncle Sonny's house: another railroad station house, Starner's Station in Gardners. My kitchen today is decorated like hers that I loved so well, with apples. She worked for Musselman's, so she sorta liked apples. We just lost him recently, after a long and happy 83 years. I remember his laugh. He laughed a lot.
As I got older, I had the occasion to go to Harrisburg on business. Made lots of friends in that area, even though we aren't in the same industry now I still count them as close friends. Then there were the race friends, fellow Jimmy Spencer fans strewn from Biglerville to Selinsgrove to Mount Pocono.
I lost one of those good friends recently as well, a wonderful man who is very much missed by the humans and the animals he left behind.
Crap. Now I'm sad. Maybe those memories of home aren't as great as I thought.
Nah, they are. Anywhere you go, everywhere you live, there will be good and sad memories.
I grew up on Lake Norman, here in NC. Lots of good times during high school, family times, Nascar memories. I really didn't mind not living there anymore after we moved to Lexington in 2006. It felt.... incomplete. Without Kathie, and Mike had been away in the Navy, it just didn't feel.... right.
Having moved to be closer to work, I didn't really know many people here. Being kinda homebodies for many reasons, just the circle of work friends was all I had. We had fun times: a hilarious Halloween haunted trail, Karaoke and pool at a redneck bar that was so redneck the smoking area out back was called the Chicken Coop since they had to close it in with chicken wire so people couldn't take drinks off-premises, sparklers in the parking lot at a club in Clemmons on New Years Eve, sushi with Miss Joanie.
This is home now. For now it's just me, the critters, and the woods. Well, and you people on the interwebs. I feel.... grounded here. Safe. Yes, even with the dang rogue possum passing through. Got my garden, my pets, my hobbies, my work, all right here in a ten mile radius.
Three states, more than a few residences. People in and out of my life. Events happening and changing things in the blink of an eye. Good thing I found a place to call home.
Lesson Nine: Think about your "home." Does your childhood home bring back fond memories? How about your first place as an adult, your first real "home" of your own? Do you have someplace special that just feels "right"? Where do you call "home?"
721 days left...
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Friday, September 19, 2014
Day 8
Day 8...
Now that we've figured out who we've surrounded ourselves with, and why the events that shape our lives are happening.... we need to find out who "we" are.
From Illusions: The simplest questions are the most profound: Where were you born? Where is your home? Where are you going? What are you doing? Think about these once in a while, and watch your answers change.
Really? How can "where I was born" change? Are you sure you know what "born" really means? To the enlightened mind, being born doesn't just mean a physical location.
A religious person would say being born again spiritually is a turning point in one's life. Would that not override some hospital room at 4am, with your mother probably screaming in pain and your dad trying not to faint? I think the acceptance of Christ as your Lord and Saviour would certain become a focal point over that. I can check that box off as "changed."
How about those of us who've had "experiences" but don't really quantify them as religious? I feel like a different person from a different place than I did a year ago. I've opened myself to new experiences, new people, new adventures that I probably wouldn't have then. Yup, that one gets a check mark too, I was reborn with a fresh perspective.
Maybe you are one of the people that have lived before, and sometimes don't feel at home in the present day. Ever feel like you were born too late? Songs from the 50s and 60s speak to you? Victorian clothing more your style? Have you read a historical accounting of events and felt drawn to them, like they were familiar? Okay, check that one off for me as well, I'm at least a dozen years too young.
So you see, being "born" can mean different things. You just have to open yourself up to thinking "outside the box." Your experiences have taught you otherwise, but we're learning new things here, so live a little....
Lesson Eight: Think about where you were born. I know you were too young to remember your physical birth, but maybe you had another kind of "entrance" into the world. Have you had a religious experience and given yourself to God? Did you have a breakthrough from some obstacle that was holding you back, and gotten past it? Do you daydream about living in a different time, where you "fit" better?
722 days left...
722 days left...
Now that we've figured out who we've surrounded ourselves with, and why the events that shape our lives are happening.... we need to find out who "we" are.
From Illusions: The simplest questions are the most profound: Where were you born? Where is your home? Where are you going? What are you doing? Think about these once in a while, and watch your answers change.
Really? How can "where I was born" change? Are you sure you know what "born" really means? To the enlightened mind, being born doesn't just mean a physical location.
A religious person would say being born again spiritually is a turning point in one's life. Would that not override some hospital room at 4am, with your mother probably screaming in pain and your dad trying not to faint? I think the acceptance of Christ as your Lord and Saviour would certain become a focal point over that. I can check that box off as "changed."
How about those of us who've had "experiences" but don't really quantify them as religious? I feel like a different person from a different place than I did a year ago. I've opened myself to new experiences, new people, new adventures that I probably wouldn't have then. Yup, that one gets a check mark too, I was reborn with a fresh perspective.
Maybe you are one of the people that have lived before, and sometimes don't feel at home in the present day. Ever feel like you were born too late? Songs from the 50s and 60s speak to you? Victorian clothing more your style? Have you read a historical accounting of events and felt drawn to them, like they were familiar? Okay, check that one off for me as well, I'm at least a dozen years too young.
So you see, being "born" can mean different things. You just have to open yourself up to thinking "outside the box." Your experiences have taught you otherwise, but we're learning new things here, so live a little....
Lesson Eight: Think about where you were born. I know you were too young to remember your physical birth, but maybe you had another kind of "entrance" into the world. Have you had a religious experience and given yourself to God? Did you have a breakthrough from some obstacle that was holding you back, and gotten past it? Do you daydream about living in a different time, where you "fit" better?
722 days left...
722 days left...
Thursday, September 18, 2014
ISIL or ISIS?
I normally don't talk much on Islam as I have a different perspective than many people I know. But I've got something to say about this "ISIL" or ISIS bit that I need to talk about...
I have a dear friend. A woman I consider a sister. She lives halfway around the world. She brings much happiness to her family, friends, animals and customers. Way down on list of things she is: Muslim.
I don't go with the ordinary view that many people have that "all devout Muslims want to kill all non-Muslims." I almost ripped apart a guy in a Facebook group who basically said that my friend is not a good Muslim but a decent person. Don't be judging what you don't know, dood. But maybe he's right? I don't know. I don't know enough about the Quran to know what the "literal" interpretation is. What I do know is my dear friend's heart. So don't be lumping "all" anything in with "all" anything else.
Anyway, back to this "ISIL" or "ISIS" thing... I did get a little perturbed about why the current Administration seems to think "ISIL" is the proper term to use, when it seems everyone else in the world including "ISIS" themselves doesn't. So I did some research. I'm a good little Glenn Beck fan, I find my own facts.
ISIL stands for the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant. ISIS stands for the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. Semantics for some, but then you find out what the Levant means.
In Arabic, the group is known as Al-Dawla Al-Islamiya fi al-Iraq wa al-Sham, or the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham. The term “al-Sham” refers to a region stretching from southern Turkey through Syria to Egypt (also including Lebanon, Israel, the Palestinian territories and Jordan). The standard English term for this territory is “the Levant”.
The group’s stated goal is to restore an Islamic state, or caliphate, in this entire area. Which I guess you notices includes Israel. Some have taken the use of "ISIL" to be a slam at Israel, insinuating that they will be ruled as well. Yeah, good luck with that one.
My gut says it's being called "ISIL" to avoid having anyone with a brain and hearing the "ISIS" being able to figure out that Syria being included would be an admission of the administration's massive FAILURE in that country.
Their president, Bashar al-Assad, has overseen a three-year civil war that has accounted for nearly 200,000 dead, and over 4 million refugees.
Pretty sure we don't need an acronym to tell us what's right there on the faces of the Syrian people.
I have a dear friend. A woman I consider a sister. She lives halfway around the world. She brings much happiness to her family, friends, animals and customers. Way down on list of things she is: Muslim.
I don't go with the ordinary view that many people have that "all devout Muslims want to kill all non-Muslims." I almost ripped apart a guy in a Facebook group who basically said that my friend is not a good Muslim but a decent person. Don't be judging what you don't know, dood. But maybe he's right? I don't know. I don't know enough about the Quran to know what the "literal" interpretation is. What I do know is my dear friend's heart. So don't be lumping "all" anything in with "all" anything else.
Anyway, back to this "ISIL" or "ISIS" thing... I did get a little perturbed about why the current Administration seems to think "ISIL" is the proper term to use, when it seems everyone else in the world including "ISIS" themselves doesn't. So I did some research. I'm a good little Glenn Beck fan, I find my own facts.
ISIL stands for the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant. ISIS stands for the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. Semantics for some, but then you find out what the Levant means.
In Arabic, the group is known as Al-Dawla Al-Islamiya fi al-Iraq wa al-Sham, or the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham. The term “al-Sham” refers to a region stretching from southern Turkey through Syria to Egypt (also including Lebanon, Israel, the Palestinian territories and Jordan). The standard English term for this territory is “the Levant”.
The group’s stated goal is to restore an Islamic state, or caliphate, in this entire area. Which I guess you notices includes Israel. Some have taken the use of "ISIL" to be a slam at Israel, insinuating that they will be ruled as well. Yeah, good luck with that one.
My gut says it's being called "ISIL" to avoid having anyone with a brain and hearing the "ISIS" being able to figure out that Syria being included would be an admission of the administration's massive FAILURE in that country.
Their president, Bashar al-Assad, has overseen a three-year civil war that has accounted for nearly 200,000 dead, and over 4 million refugees.
Pretty sure we don't need an acronym to tell us what's right there on the faces of the Syrian people.
Day 7
Day 7. Week One is complete.
This first week was about the people and events of our lives. The ones we chose. We drew them to us, like hungry moths to a flame. Searching for that someone, that something, that would make our lives better.
I've shared a lot with you this week. I've learned a lot as I did. I've remembered things that made me smile. And oddly, very few that made me want to cry. I guess I'm "over" the bad things to some extent? Not sure exactly what's going on with that, but I'm going with it. I said I was "rolling" recently, and I mean that.
I don't know what's changed, but I am glad for it. I don't want to be "that person" that brings everyone around me down into the dumps. I've never wanted anyone to feel sorry for me, or to wish things were different for me. I dig my own holes, I climb my own mountains. I GOT THIS! Why? ALL IN.
All the people in my life, I was ALL IN. I never go into anything halfway. Always reaching for the brass ring, I lay my soul there for all to see.
All the events in my life, I was ALL IN. I didn't go skydiving or para-sailing thinking something would go wrong, I just went for it.
Did I win? Well, my life isn't over yet, so I can't tally a final score. But I think I'm ahead of the game at this point. I don't think God keeps score anyway, but if He does, I hope he likes a fighter. I guess He does, because that's how he made me.
Lesson Seven: Take a moment tonight to think about the things we talked about the last 7 days. We talked about love, loss, being true to yourself, never giving up. Do you feel differently now about the things you've done, the people you have in your life? Do you realize how lucky you are to be living the lifetime you have? Are there changes you want to make to improve things? Do you even know why you waited to make them?
Silly students. You didn't know how to be ALL IN before now. Let's keep learning.
723 days left....
This first week was about the people and events of our lives. The ones we chose. We drew them to us, like hungry moths to a flame. Searching for that someone, that something, that would make our lives better.
I've shared a lot with you this week. I've learned a lot as I did. I've remembered things that made me smile. And oddly, very few that made me want to cry. I guess I'm "over" the bad things to some extent? Not sure exactly what's going on with that, but I'm going with it. I said I was "rolling" recently, and I mean that.
I don't know what's changed, but I am glad for it. I don't want to be "that person" that brings everyone around me down into the dumps. I've never wanted anyone to feel sorry for me, or to wish things were different for me. I dig my own holes, I climb my own mountains. I GOT THIS! Why? ALL IN.
All the people in my life, I was ALL IN. I never go into anything halfway. Always reaching for the brass ring, I lay my soul there for all to see.
All the events in my life, I was ALL IN. I didn't go skydiving or para-sailing thinking something would go wrong, I just went for it.
Did I win? Well, my life isn't over yet, so I can't tally a final score. But I think I'm ahead of the game at this point. I don't think God keeps score anyway, but if He does, I hope he likes a fighter. I guess He does, because that's how he made me.
Lesson Seven: Take a moment tonight to think about the things we talked about the last 7 days. We talked about love, loss, being true to yourself, never giving up. Do you feel differently now about the things you've done, the people you have in your life? Do you realize how lucky you are to be living the lifetime you have? Are there changes you want to make to improve things? Do you even know why you waited to make them?
Silly students. You didn't know how to be ALL IN before now. Let's keep learning.
723 days left....
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Day 6
Day 6...
Okay, enough with the depressing stuff. We've talked about people we loved and lost, people we wish we'd never met. Events that made us smile, events that made us cry. Let's move on to what these things combined mean for us.
Original lesson, from Illusions: Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.
I choose to honor the memories of those I loved that have passed before me by trying to be the best I can be. I choose to teach others about my experiences with love, in the hope that their hearts will be open and they too can know how it feels to be ALL IN. I choose to place the events in perspective, knowing that all good times and the heights we reach may be shattered like glass with a stone. I choose to learn from both happy and sad, not letting one take my spirit too high nor the other too low.
In one of Richard Bach's other novels, he speaks of relationships and how he believes they can be successful. Never two balloons. Never two anvils. One of each is required. Balance. I believe you can have that and still be ALL IN. It takes work, but anything great is worth it.
I've had the chance to love on many levels. Family. Friends. Children. Spouse. All different, yet all the same. Love doesn't come easy in any form, the tests get harder as we move through the phases. Yet if we learn from the people we love (and the people we don't), if we learn from the events that worked out for us (and the ones that didn't go so well), it gets easier.
Remember your first love, probably when you were a teenager? You thought nothing could ever compare, yet when it ended (if it did) you thought you'd never get over it. Yet, here you stand. Remember your first win at sports? How about your first loss? Yep, got over them both, didn't you? You brought new people, new events into your life.
Lesson Six: What do you choose? Do you take what you gained from the people that you brought into your life and apply it to future relationships? Did you learn from past events to work harder, try a different approach when you start something new? Or did you choose to wipe them all from your slate, and try anew? You have that choice, you know. It's up to you.
724 days left...
Okay, enough with the depressing stuff. We've talked about people we loved and lost, people we wish we'd never met. Events that made us smile, events that made us cry. Let's move on to what these things combined mean for us.
Original lesson, from Illusions: Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.
I choose to honor the memories of those I loved that have passed before me by trying to be the best I can be. I choose to teach others about my experiences with love, in the hope that their hearts will be open and they too can know how it feels to be ALL IN. I choose to place the events in perspective, knowing that all good times and the heights we reach may be shattered like glass with a stone. I choose to learn from both happy and sad, not letting one take my spirit too high nor the other too low.
In one of Richard Bach's other novels, he speaks of relationships and how he believes they can be successful. Never two balloons. Never two anvils. One of each is required. Balance. I believe you can have that and still be ALL IN. It takes work, but anything great is worth it.
I've had the chance to love on many levels. Family. Friends. Children. Spouse. All different, yet all the same. Love doesn't come easy in any form, the tests get harder as we move through the phases. Yet if we learn from the people we love (and the people we don't), if we learn from the events that worked out for us (and the ones that didn't go so well), it gets easier.
Remember your first love, probably when you were a teenager? You thought nothing could ever compare, yet when it ended (if it did) you thought you'd never get over it. Yet, here you stand. Remember your first win at sports? How about your first loss? Yep, got over them both, didn't you? You brought new people, new events into your life.
Lesson Six: What do you choose? Do you take what you gained from the people that you brought into your life and apply it to future relationships? Did you learn from past events to work harder, try a different approach when you start something new? Or did you choose to wipe them all from your slate, and try anew? You have that choice, you know. It's up to you.
724 days left...
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Sean Smith
Born in 1978. San Diego, California. United States Air Force veteran. Married, with two children. Transitioned from military to civil service in 2002. Based in the Hague, Netherlands.
Died September 11, 2012. Benghazi, Libya. An American hero.
Sean was an active online gamer. During game play that night, he sent a message to to a friend: "Assuming we don't die tonight. We saw one of our 'police' that guard the compound taking pictures." His friends probably weren't quite sure how to take that message, I know it would've befuddled me. He should have been safely tucked away inside the American consulate, protected by former Navy Seals Tyrone Woods and Glen Doherty, along with local militia the State Department he and Ambassador Chris Stevens worked for had hired.
The same State Department that listened to a phone call from the consulate ring the line in Tripoli, but didn't answer "because we didn't recognize the number." The same State Department that held operators on the compound where they stood, knowing their friends were dying. The same State Department that sat on their hands in DC and watched the live feed and did nothing. The same State Department who allowed talking points to mislead not only the press but the public into thinking some crappy video that nobody ever heard of was the cause of the "protest" that wasn't a protest. The same State Department that watched their Secretary sit before Congress and ask "At this point, what difference does it make?" when asked about who was to blame.
Some of these State Department employees, past and present, will be testifying in front of a Select Committee of the House of Representative tomorrow. Chaired by Trey Gowdy (R-SC), they are tasked with finding the truth amongst the lies. There are many of the latter, and little of the former has been found thus far.
Pray for the Select Committee members. Pray for the witnesses. Above all, pray for the families of the ones lost. They deserve much more, but will settle for the truth.
The justice sought may never be found, but God's justice finds all who are guilty. Longfellow wrote:
Though the mills of God grind slowly;
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience he stands waiting,
With exactness grinds he all.
May his words be true, beginning tomorrow. Sean Smith deserves it.
Died September 11, 2012. Benghazi, Libya. An American hero.
Sean was an active online gamer. During game play that night, he sent a message to to a friend: "Assuming we don't die tonight. We saw one of our 'police' that guard the compound taking pictures." His friends probably weren't quite sure how to take that message, I know it would've befuddled me. He should have been safely tucked away inside the American consulate, protected by former Navy Seals Tyrone Woods and Glen Doherty, along with local militia the State Department he and Ambassador Chris Stevens worked for had hired.
The same State Department that listened to a phone call from the consulate ring the line in Tripoli, but didn't answer "because we didn't recognize the number." The same State Department that held operators on the compound where they stood, knowing their friends were dying. The same State Department that sat on their hands in DC and watched the live feed and did nothing. The same State Department who allowed talking points to mislead not only the press but the public into thinking some crappy video that nobody ever heard of was the cause of the "protest" that wasn't a protest. The same State Department that watched their Secretary sit before Congress and ask "At this point, what difference does it make?" when asked about who was to blame.
Some of these State Department employees, past and present, will be testifying in front of a Select Committee of the House of Representative tomorrow. Chaired by Trey Gowdy (R-SC), they are tasked with finding the truth amongst the lies. There are many of the latter, and little of the former has been found thus far.
Pray for the Select Committee members. Pray for the witnesses. Above all, pray for the families of the ones lost. They deserve much more, but will settle for the truth.
The justice sought may never be found, but God's justice finds all who are guilty. Longfellow wrote:
Though the mills of God grind slowly;
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience he stands waiting,
With exactness grinds he all.
May his words be true, beginning tomorrow. Sean Smith deserves it.
Day 5
Day 5...
Another day, another lesson. Hope you're enjoying our time, I know I am. I'm trying to approach this by teaching you the way I learned, through personal experiences. Let me know if its working. :)
Let's talk about the events in your life. The ones you have drawn to you, that are in your life because you chose them.
I look back over my half century plus two years, and for the most part smile. I've had some craptastic things happen that put me on my knees, and I've had some wonderful things happen that lifted my heart. All in all, the good does outnumber the bad.
I was there when my daughter took her first breath, and I held mine when I got the news of her death. The times between them? Immeasurable joy. I choose to remember her last phone call, giggling about giving some puppies a bath. I choose to remember her coming home from work at The Landing smelling like french fries. I choose to remember that leopard skin rug she just HAD to have for her room, and protecting it with her bare hands when her BFF Sheena had a bad wine cooler episode. I choose to remember her big hazel eyes that were full of mischief, some of which we never caught her at, I'm sure. Those are the great events I chose. I think I chose well.
My teenage years were.... interesting. In spite of being a really good student, I was also a pretty heavy drinker. Not something most of my family knew, I doubt they even suspected. I had plenty of "events" related to that, including skinny-dipping at the lake and getting caught be the game warden, who threatened to arrest us since three of us were over 18. High school friends pushing the dress code, wearing our "Right in The Nuts/Night in The Ruts" Aerosmith t-shirts after the concert. Awesome events. Awesome memories. I haven't seen most of them for over a decade, but I remember.
The middle of my life was full of fun. Working for an airline, I got to travel a bit. I saw a lot of the country for very little money. Something I never could have done otherwise. I saw Prince at a club in Minneapolis, was awed by the meeting of night sky and lake as I flew over Lake Michigan at midnight, partied with my friends Robin and Cindy at Mama Doris' house on the lake and had MANY an excellent meal. Even the one where Avery ate the shrimp tails in the fajitas. More fun events, shared with friends.
From Illusions: Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.
Lesson Five: Think back on the events in your life. Do you realize how many good times you actually had? Or have the bad times you drew into your life made you sad? Do you realize that you are the master of your own happiness? You will have choices to make, and which path you choose is entirely up to you. Be prepared to face the joy and pain they bring you in equal manner: they are both important in who you become.
725 days...
Another day, another lesson. Hope you're enjoying our time, I know I am. I'm trying to approach this by teaching you the way I learned, through personal experiences. Let me know if its working. :)
Let's talk about the events in your life. The ones you have drawn to you, that are in your life because you chose them.
I look back over my half century plus two years, and for the most part smile. I've had some craptastic things happen that put me on my knees, and I've had some wonderful things happen that lifted my heart. All in all, the good does outnumber the bad.
I was there when my daughter took her first breath, and I held mine when I got the news of her death. The times between them? Immeasurable joy. I choose to remember her last phone call, giggling about giving some puppies a bath. I choose to remember her coming home from work at The Landing smelling like french fries. I choose to remember that leopard skin rug she just HAD to have for her room, and protecting it with her bare hands when her BFF Sheena had a bad wine cooler episode. I choose to remember her big hazel eyes that were full of mischief, some of which we never caught her at, I'm sure. Those are the great events I chose. I think I chose well.
My teenage years were.... interesting. In spite of being a really good student, I was also a pretty heavy drinker. Not something most of my family knew, I doubt they even suspected. I had plenty of "events" related to that, including skinny-dipping at the lake and getting caught be the game warden, who threatened to arrest us since three of us were over 18. High school friends pushing the dress code, wearing our "Right in The Nuts/Night in The Ruts" Aerosmith t-shirts after the concert. Awesome events. Awesome memories. I haven't seen most of them for over a decade, but I remember.
The middle of my life was full of fun. Working for an airline, I got to travel a bit. I saw a lot of the country for very little money. Something I never could have done otherwise. I saw Prince at a club in Minneapolis, was awed by the meeting of night sky and lake as I flew over Lake Michigan at midnight, partied with my friends Robin and Cindy at Mama Doris' house on the lake and had MANY an excellent meal. Even the one where Avery ate the shrimp tails in the fajitas. More fun events, shared with friends.
From Illusions: Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.
Lesson Five: Think back on the events in your life. Do you realize how many good times you actually had? Or have the bad times you drew into your life made you sad? Do you realize that you are the master of your own happiness? You will have choices to make, and which path you choose is entirely up to you. Be prepared to face the joy and pain they bring you in equal manner: they are both important in who you become.
725 days...
Monday, September 15, 2014
Sharyl Attkisson
Untouchable Subjects. Fearless Reporting.
That's the title of her website, and it's absolutely true.
She left her job at CBS after being handcuffed into reporting only the "good news". She's out on her own now, and still blazing a trail.
Two days from now, the House Select Committee will open their hearings on Benghazi. I have real faith that former Federal prosecutor Trey Gowdy will hold accountable those who failed our Nation that night. Four Americans lost their lives and someone is accountable for the lapse in security that allowed it to happen. Yes, the murderers are just that, but there is plenty of blame to go around.
Today, Sharyl added to her great work by releasing portions of an interview with a former State Department official who says documents the ARB (Accountability Review Board) had access to were "cherry-picked". Ones that were damaging to Hillary Clinton and her reportables were culled into a separate pile. Cheryl Mills, Clinton's Chief of Staff, and Deputy Chief Jake Sullivan were coordinating the effort.
Feet to the fire, Mr. Gowdy. I'll be listening. And the world will be watching.
That's the title of her website, and it's absolutely true.
She left her job at CBS after being handcuffed into reporting only the "good news". She's out on her own now, and still blazing a trail.
Two days from now, the House Select Committee will open their hearings on Benghazi. I have real faith that former Federal prosecutor Trey Gowdy will hold accountable those who failed our Nation that night. Four Americans lost their lives and someone is accountable for the lapse in security that allowed it to happen. Yes, the murderers are just that, but there is plenty of blame to go around.
Today, Sharyl added to her great work by releasing portions of an interview with a former State Department official who says documents the ARB (Accountability Review Board) had access to were "cherry-picked". Ones that were damaging to Hillary Clinton and her reportables were culled into a separate pile. Cheryl Mills, Clinton's Chief of Staff, and Deputy Chief Jake Sullivan were coordinating the effort.
Feet to the fire, Mr. Gowdy. I'll be listening. And the world will be watching.
Day 4
Day 4...
So having thought about the people you have in your life that you care about, and the ones that aren't there even though you still love them... how about the ones you released from your illusion? Yes, illusion. You don't really think that every lifetime is real, do you? Only an advanced soul realizes that we are given many lifetimes, all with the illusion that each is the only one. More on that another day...
In my current lifetime, I managed to allow a lot of people in that I wanted to be with me forever. We all know that's not possible, forever is way too long for the human soul to survive here on Earth. I'm optimistic I can meet the expectations of our Creator and rejoin those I loved in another life someday. Without that hope, I'd surely not be the bit of sane I am now. The thought of seeing them again brings me great joy.
With that great joy, I've opened myself up for even greater disappointment. I have to stay on the straight and narrow path that God has set for me, and I know I've walked just a wee bit to the port side my whole life. Maybe I'll be stuck with the people I didn't really want in my life forever instead, the price of making the wrong choices being easier to pay.
I chose poorly several times. I've had people I thought were friends that eventually disappointed me by betraying our friendship. I've had partners who didn't live up to their end of the commitments we made. I grew up with a parent that I felt hated me by their words and deeds every day.
I eventually learned who was "ALL IN" and who wasn't. It's not difficult to tell, but you have to be willing to take that hard look at yourself and others before you can figure it out. You won't like looking for the signs, watching for the betrayals, waiting for that excuse as to why someone failed to keep up their end of your bargain. You'll even be disappointed in yourself, having let someone have enough power over you to hurt you. I truly believe that you can't be hurt if you don't give others the power to hurt you. You control your life, not them.
Part of being "ALL IN" is that you never give up on something or someone. You have to give 100% all the time. You can't just decide that "oh well, things will work out", because they never do. You will get your heart broken, your spirit bashed in, but you will be rewarded:
From Illusions: There is never a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts.
Lesson Four: Critique your choices. Do you have people in your life that you want there forever? Or do you have those for which you just "settle"? Have you given any thought to why you chose poorly, when you do? (It's okay, we all do.) Can you somehow avoid those mistakes by keeping the power to hurt you away from them? This is your illusion, after all. Why let someone else spoil it?
726 days left...
So having thought about the people you have in your life that you care about, and the ones that aren't there even though you still love them... how about the ones you released from your illusion? Yes, illusion. You don't really think that every lifetime is real, do you? Only an advanced soul realizes that we are given many lifetimes, all with the illusion that each is the only one. More on that another day...
In my current lifetime, I managed to allow a lot of people in that I wanted to be with me forever. We all know that's not possible, forever is way too long for the human soul to survive here on Earth. I'm optimistic I can meet the expectations of our Creator and rejoin those I loved in another life someday. Without that hope, I'd surely not be the bit of sane I am now. The thought of seeing them again brings me great joy.
With that great joy, I've opened myself up for even greater disappointment. I have to stay on the straight and narrow path that God has set for me, and I know I've walked just a wee bit to the port side my whole life. Maybe I'll be stuck with the people I didn't really want in my life forever instead, the price of making the wrong choices being easier to pay.
I chose poorly several times. I've had people I thought were friends that eventually disappointed me by betraying our friendship. I've had partners who didn't live up to their end of the commitments we made. I grew up with a parent that I felt hated me by their words and deeds every day.
I eventually learned who was "ALL IN" and who wasn't. It's not difficult to tell, but you have to be willing to take that hard look at yourself and others before you can figure it out. You won't like looking for the signs, watching for the betrayals, waiting for that excuse as to why someone failed to keep up their end of your bargain. You'll even be disappointed in yourself, having let someone have enough power over you to hurt you. I truly believe that you can't be hurt if you don't give others the power to hurt you. You control your life, not them.
Part of being "ALL IN" is that you never give up on something or someone. You have to give 100% all the time. You can't just decide that "oh well, things will work out", because they never do. You will get your heart broken, your spirit bashed in, but you will be rewarded:
From Illusions: There is never a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts.
Lesson Four: Critique your choices. Do you have people in your life that you want there forever? Or do you have those for which you just "settle"? Have you given any thought to why you chose poorly, when you do? (It's okay, we all do.) Can you somehow avoid those mistakes by keeping the power to hurt you away from them? This is your illusion, after all. Why let someone else spoil it?
726 days left...
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Anthony Johnson
Anthony Johnson was a farmer in Virginia in the early 17th century. In 1651 he held a total of 250 acres and owned five indentured servants. Slavery was still thriving near Northampton, and when the time came for his servants to be released, Johnson fought to keep them.
Prior to 1655, owners were only allowed to keep indentured servants for seven years, then they had to be released. Same rules for black and white, upon their release they were granted 50 acres of land.
Johnson filed suit in Northampton County when John Castor left his farm and went to work for Robert Parker. Johnson had told Castor he was extending his time, and Castor left anyway. The lawsuit began in 1654 and in 1655, the court made a ruling that would change our history.
The court ruled that a a black man could own other blacks as slaves. Johnson became the first legal slave owner in the United States.
What? You didn't know that Anthony Johnson was black? History classes never taught his story? Yes, the first legal slave owner was a black man. He was brought to America in 1619 from Angola. He worked a tobacco farm until he was freed, and granted his own lands. During his employment, he survived an attack on the farm by Powhatan Indians and was one of five people of 57 to survive the attack.
In 1670, whites and Indians were granted the right by the colonial assembly to own slaves. Five years after the first slave owner was declared. A black man.
All those years ago, Anthony Johnson set a course that he didn't sail alone. By 1830 there were several thousand black slave owners in the South. After the Civil War, many of them had to free their slaves just as others did. They were responsible for the enslavement of tens of thousands over the previous 100 years.
As we look at current events in the US, we can see shouting about how blacks have been "oppressed", :held back", even references to current "slavery" by whites. "Second class citizens", unable to achieve greater things because of events over 150 years ago. Robbed of proper education, made to live in inhumane conditions. Reduced to taking handouts from the government, unable to care for their families.
Here's a mirror, America. Look closely. Who's holding you back?
Y'all can close your mouths now. You knew I was gonna teach about all kinds of things.
Day 3
So what have we learned so far? We've learned that this is gonna take awhile, a couple years it seems. And that we have control over the people we share our life with and the events that shape us, even though it seems quite the opposite.
Today's lesson is more about those "people" in our lives. You know, the ones you chose to be there? Yeah, them.
I like to think I'm a decent judge of character. You'd think as much crap as had happened to me, I'd be scared to be close to anyone, worried about getting run aground when something bad happened like it always seemed to do. I'm actually quite the opposite. Because, you know, ALL IN.
I don't think we do people any favors when we only accept them halfway into our lives. How can they even begin to be our friends, our family, if they don't have our whole stories? That old saying about "never met a stranger" is true for me: I talk to everyone. I chat up the old ladies in the grocery store. I talk to people waiting in line at the bank. I introduce myself to newcomers at work. I'm sure a lot of them all mutter under their breath about "that crazy woman with the braid" that was talking to them. Know what? I don't care. They're not strangers, just friends I haven't met yet.
I think back on the people that have come and gone from my life. My Pennsylvania Dutch great-grandparents. Man, they were great. Honest people, Pappy who kept beer hid amongst the sarsaparilla in the cellar, Gramma that made sugar cookies the size of her poodle. My NC grandparents. They helped raise me, at a time I needed someone to do that. I hope I didn't get ALL the Jarvis crazy, but I know I have some of it. I also have my Mamaw's cooking and gardening genes. My good friend Sherry in high school. Man, did we have fun hanging out with Mark and Kevin on the weekends, going to see Rocky Horror every Friday and Saturday night for two years plus. My old coworkers from the Broyhill softball team. We had some times, going to Papa's pizza after the games on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and hanging on "the corner" in Newton.
Where are they now? Can't tell you about some of them, a few are returned to the earth from which they came. Do I miss some of them more than others? Not really. Anyone I ever loved, I still love. There are no degrees of love with me. ALL IN, remember?
Lesson Three: Think about those you've had in your life that aren't part of it now. Did they know how you felt about them when you were together? Are you sure? Did you tell them you loved them every day, or did you just figure they knew it? How about the ones that are in your life, are you sure of your footing with them? Things unsaid, grievances unaired, things that can make a wedge of something the size of a pebble. Best thing you can do is chunk that pebble into the pond and get on with loving the one you chose to be in your life. While they're still there.
727 days left.
Today's lesson is more about those "people" in our lives. You know, the ones you chose to be there? Yeah, them.
I like to think I'm a decent judge of character. You'd think as much crap as had happened to me, I'd be scared to be close to anyone, worried about getting run aground when something bad happened like it always seemed to do. I'm actually quite the opposite. Because, you know, ALL IN.
I don't think we do people any favors when we only accept them halfway into our lives. How can they even begin to be our friends, our family, if they don't have our whole stories? That old saying about "never met a stranger" is true for me: I talk to everyone. I chat up the old ladies in the grocery store. I talk to people waiting in line at the bank. I introduce myself to newcomers at work. I'm sure a lot of them all mutter under their breath about "that crazy woman with the braid" that was talking to them. Know what? I don't care. They're not strangers, just friends I haven't met yet.
I think back on the people that have come and gone from my life. My Pennsylvania Dutch great-grandparents. Man, they were great. Honest people, Pappy who kept beer hid amongst the sarsaparilla in the cellar, Gramma that made sugar cookies the size of her poodle. My NC grandparents. They helped raise me, at a time I needed someone to do that. I hope I didn't get ALL the Jarvis crazy, but I know I have some of it. I also have my Mamaw's cooking and gardening genes. My good friend Sherry in high school. Man, did we have fun hanging out with Mark and Kevin on the weekends, going to see Rocky Horror every Friday and Saturday night for two years plus. My old coworkers from the Broyhill softball team. We had some times, going to Papa's pizza after the games on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and hanging on "the corner" in Newton.
Where are they now? Can't tell you about some of them, a few are returned to the earth from which they came. Do I miss some of them more than others? Not really. Anyone I ever loved, I still love. There are no degrees of love with me. ALL IN, remember?
Lesson Three: Think about those you've had in your life that aren't part of it now. Did they know how you felt about them when you were together? Are you sure? Did you tell them you loved them every day, or did you just figure they knew it? How about the ones that are in your life, are you sure of your footing with them? Things unsaid, grievances unaired, things that can make a wedge of something the size of a pebble. Best thing you can do is chunk that pebble into the pond and get on with loving the one you chose to be in your life. While they're still there.
727 days left.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Day 2
Your mission, should you choose to accept it.... well, you sort of already did that, by even knowing to be here reading this. So let's get this thing started...
The only way I know to teach is by example. So I'll show you my mistakes, and you try not to make the same ones. It's okay if you do, I've made some of them over and over myself. The important thing is to never give up, even when you get kicked down. Or when you throw yourself to the ground. Or when you find yourself hanging by a thread. Don't quit. Ever.
From Illusions: Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.
I've been some dark places in life. But for each of those, I've climbed an equal mountain. I've soared with joy at the birth of my kids, I drowned myself with the pain of losing one of them. I've been made to feel like a family member by most of my friends, and I've cried at the loss of beloved grandparents. I've mourned the loss of special men I thought I'd spend forever with, yet my heart is full of hope that somewhere, magic waits for me.
I never wanted any of those things. I never expected anything from life. I realized the good things were gifts. I never knew the soaring of my heart hearing my daughter giggle about giving some puppies a bath would be the last time I heard her laugh. I wasn't sure I'd have the chance to reconcile with my grandparents after family crap got in the way for years, but I did. I certainly didn't expect to be cooking for one at this point in my life, yet there in my freezer is plenty of tasty frozen pizza.
I also realize the bad things are gifts. I wouldn't have the open heart and mind that I value so much if I hadn't been hurt by life. You can't know love without knowing pain. The abuse, the loneliness, the loss. All those things formed me
What did I choose to do with the people in my life? I chose to love them. Well, most of them. The toxic ones, I chose to get the heck away from as soon as I could. I sure didn't know I was drawing them to me. I reckon I needed a shower more often than I realized. But without both the people I love and the ones I didn't, I wouldn't be who I am.
Lesson One: Think about who you have chosen to be in your life. Think about the events that have shaped your life. Did you make good choices? Is there still time to change your mind? Do you need to move past relationships, things that have grown cold? Do you need to get out more, experience things?
Only you can answer those questions, and there are no right or wrong answers. I found mine over the last couple decades. Some little late, but hey, I'm kinda new at this.
728 days left.
The only way I know to teach is by example. So I'll show you my mistakes, and you try not to make the same ones. It's okay if you do, I've made some of them over and over myself. The important thing is to never give up, even when you get kicked down. Or when you throw yourself to the ground. Or when you find yourself hanging by a thread. Don't quit. Ever.
From Illusions: Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.
I've been some dark places in life. But for each of those, I've climbed an equal mountain. I've soared with joy at the birth of my kids, I drowned myself with the pain of losing one of them. I've been made to feel like a family member by most of my friends, and I've cried at the loss of beloved grandparents. I've mourned the loss of special men I thought I'd spend forever with, yet my heart is full of hope that somewhere, magic waits for me.
I never wanted any of those things. I never expected anything from life. I realized the good things were gifts. I never knew the soaring of my heart hearing my daughter giggle about giving some puppies a bath would be the last time I heard her laugh. I wasn't sure I'd have the chance to reconcile with my grandparents after family crap got in the way for years, but I did. I certainly didn't expect to be cooking for one at this point in my life, yet there in my freezer is plenty of tasty frozen pizza.
I also realize the bad things are gifts. I wouldn't have the open heart and mind that I value so much if I hadn't been hurt by life. You can't know love without knowing pain. The abuse, the loneliness, the loss. All those things formed me
What did I choose to do with the people in my life? I chose to love them. Well, most of them. The toxic ones, I chose to get the heck away from as soon as I could. I sure didn't know I was drawing them to me. I reckon I needed a shower more often than I realized. But without both the people I love and the ones I didn't, I wouldn't be who I am.
Lesson One: Think about who you have chosen to be in your life. Think about the events that have shaped your life. Did you make good choices? Is there still time to change your mind? Do you need to move past relationships, things that have grown cold? Do you need to get out more, experience things?
Only you can answer those questions, and there are no right or wrong answers. I found mine over the last couple decades. Some little late, but hey, I'm kinda new at this.
728 days left.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Day 1
Day 1.
A new and revived spirit. Combined with a solid plan, good friends and family behind us, let's start this journey. I'm gonna teach you all to fly, remember? A journey of a thousand steps. Or in our case, I'm going with 730 days.
That will take us to 9-11-2016. Surely that'll be long enough to mend our hearts. By then, we will be a stronger nation. At that time, we will be able to look back at these times and smile. The memory of our pain will be reduced. The agony we feel looking at the graphic images, hearing the stories, that will have passed, right?
Hell no. We will NEVER forget what happened that day. We will NEVER forget what took place in New York City, at the Pentagon, or in a field in rural Pennsylvania. That's one of the reasons I picked 9-11. As an ending, but even more importantly, a beginning. A journey of 730 days, starting today. 9-11 is the perfect day to take the first step in our new "skin", while leaving behind the old tattered and worn out shell. Let the burdens of the past feed off what's left behind, we're learning to fly with new wings.
Part of learning to fly involves remembering. Remembering the bad times right beside the good times. Hopefully we'll have enough of the good to help us get through the bad. I know it doesn't always work that way, but there's a lesson to be learned from it. To say I've had some craptastic things happen in my life is probably an understatement to those who know me. To me, it's just life. There's nothing can be changed to ever undo the past, so I try and learn as much as I can, so I can avoid another bite of the same rotten apple.
I've lost people that meant everything to me, but I've also gained people that are irreplaceable. I've learned that blood does not a family make, but the power of family never goes away. I have realized that my gut instinct is right more often that I gave it credit for, and I hope I've learned to listen to it. I know now that I am capable of anything, I just had to find the courage to try.
I'm making it a personal goal to spend the next 729 days teaching others how to fly. It's harder than I imagined, I wanted to be further into the lessons much sooner than now. But as time passed in early 2014, I realized I couldn't teach anyone something I hadn't finished learning.
Quoting my favorite book "Illusions" again, "How can you tell if your work here on Earth is done? If you're still alive, it isn't." That means I still have time. Time to teach you the lessons it took me over half a century to learn. Hopefully you'll be a better student, which will make me a better teacher. I had to learn it alone, the only teacher I had was a little paperback book that was written 30 years ago. I think that's why it took me so long.
I hope these 729 days will be enough. I'll do my best to teach you something you need to learn. Coz I know you're ready to learn.
Today was Day 1.
A new and revived spirit. Combined with a solid plan, good friends and family behind us, let's start this journey. I'm gonna teach you all to fly, remember? A journey of a thousand steps. Or in our case, I'm going with 730 days.
That will take us to 9-11-2016. Surely that'll be long enough to mend our hearts. By then, we will be a stronger nation. At that time, we will be able to look back at these times and smile. The memory of our pain will be reduced. The agony we feel looking at the graphic images, hearing the stories, that will have passed, right?
Hell no. We will NEVER forget what happened that day. We will NEVER forget what took place in New York City, at the Pentagon, or in a field in rural Pennsylvania. That's one of the reasons I picked 9-11. As an ending, but even more importantly, a beginning. A journey of 730 days, starting today. 9-11 is the perfect day to take the first step in our new "skin", while leaving behind the old tattered and worn out shell. Let the burdens of the past feed off what's left behind, we're learning to fly with new wings.
Part of learning to fly involves remembering. Remembering the bad times right beside the good times. Hopefully we'll have enough of the good to help us get through the bad. I know it doesn't always work that way, but there's a lesson to be learned from it. To say I've had some craptastic things happen in my life is probably an understatement to those who know me. To me, it's just life. There's nothing can be changed to ever undo the past, so I try and learn as much as I can, so I can avoid another bite of the same rotten apple.
I've lost people that meant everything to me, but I've also gained people that are irreplaceable. I've learned that blood does not a family make, but the power of family never goes away. I have realized that my gut instinct is right more often that I gave it credit for, and I hope I've learned to listen to it. I know now that I am capable of anything, I just had to find the courage to try.
I'm making it a personal goal to spend the next 729 days teaching others how to fly. It's harder than I imagined, I wanted to be further into the lessons much sooner than now. But as time passed in early 2014, I realized I couldn't teach anyone something I hadn't finished learning.
Quoting my favorite book "Illusions" again, "How can you tell if your work here on Earth is done? If you're still alive, it isn't." That means I still have time. Time to teach you the lessons it took me over half a century to learn. Hopefully you'll be a better student, which will make me a better teacher. I had to learn it alone, the only teacher I had was a little paperback book that was written 30 years ago. I think that's why it took me so long.
I hope these 729 days will be enough. I'll do my best to teach you something you need to learn. Coz I know you're ready to learn.
Today was Day 1.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
13 years....
September 11, 2001. Out of time.
Most likely you'll read articles about that day. You'll see television shows remembering the victims. Someone might ask you if you remember what you were doing that day. Maybe the subject comes up at work during lunch.
I have one special memory from 9-11. There have been articles written about it. Movies made. That memory is of The Falling Man.
Taken at 9:41 am, a man dressed in dark pants and a light-colored jacket freed himself from a hopeless situation. The Associated Press photographer took 12 photos, as he tumbled through the sky. Knee bent, arms to his sides. Over and over, watching the world spinning as he went down.
To this day, there's no factual information on who it actually was. Many believe it was Jonathan Brinley, a 43 year old employee of the Windows on the World restaurant. No one can be sure, but several people described his clothing that day as a match. Others said it was Norberto Hernandez, but no one is positive.
To me, it doesn't matter who the Falling Man may have been in life. He represents the very thing that makes America great: free will. He died as he lived, on his own terms. Not bound by rules, not held back by convention, he chose to use his free will and make that leap into the sky. He knew the outcome, but it was acceptable, given the alternative. I can't judge him for taking his own life, he had every right to end things any way he chose. He saw freedom, he reached out and grabbed it.
On that beautiful autumn day, where the sky was brilliant blue and you could see forever, even when everything around him was on fire and there was no escape, the Falling Man did the one thing he could. He exercised his God-given right of free will, and leaped to his fate. He played the last card in his deck, instead of waiting 45 minutes for the North Tower to fall. He had no good choices, but he chose for himself.
A quote someone shared with me last year came to mind while I was thinking what to write for today.
"When you fall, God does one of two things: He either catches you, or teaches you to fly."
The Falling Man took that one step further. He chose to fall. By his own actions, he reached deep inside his own soul and asked God "bend me to thy will." He trusted God in his last moments, by writing his own ending. The only question remains is did God catch him, or teach him to fly. Private moments like that are between a man and his Maker. Either way, the Falling Man won.
Faith teaches us to turn things over to God. He is a much better decision maker than any human who has walked the Earth. He trusts us to listen to him. Even when things are at their worst, we can trust in Him. We just have to make that leap. He will catch us. Or teach us to fly.
You can do it too. Let yourself fall. See what His plan is for you. Free will gives you that ability. Go ahead. Try it.
I did. And I was sure up until a few weeks ago that He caught me. I was wrong. He taught me to fly.
Want me to teach you? Today's the day. Let's get started.
While we still have time....
Most likely you'll read articles about that day. You'll see television shows remembering the victims. Someone might ask you if you remember what you were doing that day. Maybe the subject comes up at work during lunch.
I have one special memory from 9-11. There have been articles written about it. Movies made. That memory is of The Falling Man.
Taken at 9:41 am, a man dressed in dark pants and a light-colored jacket freed himself from a hopeless situation. The Associated Press photographer took 12 photos, as he tumbled through the sky. Knee bent, arms to his sides. Over and over, watching the world spinning as he went down.
To this day, there's no factual information on who it actually was. Many believe it was Jonathan Brinley, a 43 year old employee of the Windows on the World restaurant. No one can be sure, but several people described his clothing that day as a match. Others said it was Norberto Hernandez, but no one is positive.
To me, it doesn't matter who the Falling Man may have been in life. He represents the very thing that makes America great: free will. He died as he lived, on his own terms. Not bound by rules, not held back by convention, he chose to use his free will and make that leap into the sky. He knew the outcome, but it was acceptable, given the alternative. I can't judge him for taking his own life, he had every right to end things any way he chose. He saw freedom, he reached out and grabbed it.
On that beautiful autumn day, where the sky was brilliant blue and you could see forever, even when everything around him was on fire and there was no escape, the Falling Man did the one thing he could. He exercised his God-given right of free will, and leaped to his fate. He played the last card in his deck, instead of waiting 45 minutes for the North Tower to fall. He had no good choices, but he chose for himself.
A quote someone shared with me last year came to mind while I was thinking what to write for today.
"When you fall, God does one of two things: He either catches you, or teaches you to fly."
The Falling Man took that one step further. He chose to fall. By his own actions, he reached deep inside his own soul and asked God "bend me to thy will." He trusted God in his last moments, by writing his own ending. The only question remains is did God catch him, or teach him to fly. Private moments like that are between a man and his Maker. Either way, the Falling Man won.
Faith teaches us to turn things over to God. He is a much better decision maker than any human who has walked the Earth. He trusts us to listen to him. Even when things are at their worst, we can trust in Him. We just have to make that leap. He will catch us. Or teach us to fly.
You can do it too. Let yourself fall. See what His plan is for you. Free will gives you that ability. Go ahead. Try it.
I did. And I was sure up until a few weeks ago that He caught me. I was wrong. He taught me to fly.
Want me to teach you? Today's the day. Let's get started.
While we still have time....
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
13 years.... minus 1 day
1 day...
Monday, September 10, 2001. The beginning of the work week for most of America, we shook off the weekend like a pair of old shoes and headed back to the grindstone. Mondays were always busy then for me, the guys would be working to finish up all the maintenance done last week so the owners could pick up their aircraft to depart for parts unknown. Lots of people with kids going to Wake Forest, WSSU, High Point University, etc. would fly into KINT for the weekend, and as football season had just kicked off there was lots hopping at the airport. That would change in a little over 24 hours.
The only personal experience I have with someone closely connected to the events at the Pentagon were from a high school graduation speech in 2005. Frank Huffman spoke at the high school he attended. Same one I graduated from 25 years before. He had a powerful story, which I'll try to capture for you all.
Frank drove his longtime girlfriend Sandy Teague to the airport that morning, on her way to a much needed vacation in Hawaii. They had planned to go together, but as a JAG officer who had just taken on a new assignment he had to cancel. It would be a perfect honeymoon spot later on, they said, as they discussed taking their relationship to the next level. He then reported to his office in a USN building adjacent to the Pentagon. Other than the extra trip to the airport, it was just another Monday. Until 9:37 am.
That's when American Airlines Flight 77 came crashing into the five-sided home of the Department of Defense. As the sirens sounded and every available man and woman rushed to the Pentagon to do what they could to help those trapped inside, Frank joined them. He helped search the building for people he knew that were trapped in their offices, behind doors that were jammed and took several men to break down. In the chaos on the ground, Frank rushed to help. He knew people in the building, and was frantic to help. They were his coworkers, people he worked with daily.
What Frank didn't find out until after noon that day, what news took him to his knees, what horrible fact came to light from a rescue worker giving them updates on what had went on with the attacks? The airline and the flight number. You see, Flight 77 was Sandy's flight. Dulles to Los Angeles to Honolulu. While he was working to free the people trapped inside the Pentagon, the woman he had planned to spend his life with was in the wreckage. And but for his new assignment as a liaison to Vietnam to assist in recovering and identifying MIA and POW remains, he would have been beside her.
Cold chills yet? I had them, that early June day, even in the auditorium packed with parents and graduates.
Frank paused during his story, had a drink of water from a bottle under the podium, then continued. He told of how he and Sandy's family had struggled with the loss. He in particular, since he was THISCLOSE to her and didn't know it. And could have been seated next to her, without what must've been divine intervention.
He finished his speech with a call to the graduates to consider military service. Forget about college, go see the world, learn some skills, show you are proud to be an American. He talked about his Navy fighter pilot friends that painted a pinup girl named Sandy on the nose of their aircraft, in her memory. The same aircraft using in bomb runs just a year after the attack, taking vengeance on the ideology that prompted them.
At that point, the audience was..... dead quiet. Not a peep. I imagined they were not thrilled he had just asked their kids and grand kids to go fight a war where they might too pay that ultimate price. Me? I was proud as hell, and stood up and cheered him. So did Dave. Then another guy stood up. Then another. Before it was done, there were a couple hundred of the thousand or so standing in appreciation for this man's service and for the sacrifice. The sacrifice Sandy made, unwittingly. The same price thousands more paid that same day. Simply because they were Americans.
1 day...
Monday, September 10, 2001. The beginning of the work week for most of America, we shook off the weekend like a pair of old shoes and headed back to the grindstone. Mondays were always busy then for me, the guys would be working to finish up all the maintenance done last week so the owners could pick up their aircraft to depart for parts unknown. Lots of people with kids going to Wake Forest, WSSU, High Point University, etc. would fly into KINT for the weekend, and as football season had just kicked off there was lots hopping at the airport. That would change in a little over 24 hours.
The only personal experience I have with someone closely connected to the events at the Pentagon were from a high school graduation speech in 2005. Frank Huffman spoke at the high school he attended. Same one I graduated from 25 years before. He had a powerful story, which I'll try to capture for you all.
Frank drove his longtime girlfriend Sandy Teague to the airport that morning, on her way to a much needed vacation in Hawaii. They had planned to go together, but as a JAG officer who had just taken on a new assignment he had to cancel. It would be a perfect honeymoon spot later on, they said, as they discussed taking their relationship to the next level. He then reported to his office in a USN building adjacent to the Pentagon. Other than the extra trip to the airport, it was just another Monday. Until 9:37 am.
That's when American Airlines Flight 77 came crashing into the five-sided home of the Department of Defense. As the sirens sounded and every available man and woman rushed to the Pentagon to do what they could to help those trapped inside, Frank joined them. He helped search the building for people he knew that were trapped in their offices, behind doors that were jammed and took several men to break down. In the chaos on the ground, Frank rushed to help. He knew people in the building, and was frantic to help. They were his coworkers, people he worked with daily.
What Frank didn't find out until after noon that day, what news took him to his knees, what horrible fact came to light from a rescue worker giving them updates on what had went on with the attacks? The airline and the flight number. You see, Flight 77 was Sandy's flight. Dulles to Los Angeles to Honolulu. While he was working to free the people trapped inside the Pentagon, the woman he had planned to spend his life with was in the wreckage. And but for his new assignment as a liaison to Vietnam to assist in recovering and identifying MIA and POW remains, he would have been beside her.
Cold chills yet? I had them, that early June day, even in the auditorium packed with parents and graduates.
Frank paused during his story, had a drink of water from a bottle under the podium, then continued. He told of how he and Sandy's family had struggled with the loss. He in particular, since he was THISCLOSE to her and didn't know it. And could have been seated next to her, without what must've been divine intervention.
He finished his speech with a call to the graduates to consider military service. Forget about college, go see the world, learn some skills, show you are proud to be an American. He talked about his Navy fighter pilot friends that painted a pinup girl named Sandy on the nose of their aircraft, in her memory. The same aircraft using in bomb runs just a year after the attack, taking vengeance on the ideology that prompted them.
At that point, the audience was..... dead quiet. Not a peep. I imagined they were not thrilled he had just asked their kids and grand kids to go fight a war where they might too pay that ultimate price. Me? I was proud as hell, and stood up and cheered him. So did Dave. Then another guy stood up. Then another. Before it was done, there were a couple hundred of the thousand or so standing in appreciation for this man's service and for the sacrifice. The sacrifice Sandy made, unwittingly. The same price thousands more paid that same day. Simply because they were Americans.
1 day...
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
13 years.... minus 2 days
2 days...
Sunday, September 9th, 2001. Many Americans did a very American thing that morning. They got up early, had breakfast, put on their Sunday best and went to church. If they were lucky enough to get the kids ready in time, they made Sunday School. Some of them probably ducked in late as the first hymn was playing, and sat in the back, hoping no one noticed. The congregation at St. Paul's Chapel in NYC, tucked between Fulton and Vesey Streets, sat in their pews that morning with no premonition of what would happen in just two days. September 11, 2001 would bring devastation to their very door.
St. Paul's Chapel is the oldest surviving church building in Manhattan, it's been in the business of saving souls and redeeming spirits since 1766. Only ten years later, the cozy building would survive the Great New York City Fire, while the more famous Trinity Church with its magnificent gallery and a quarter of the city burned to the ground. The bloody Brits torched the city after the Battle of Long Island without discrimination.
The congregation in the early days included George Washington, our first President. He prayed there before his inauguration in 1789. He continued to worship at St. Paul's for his years in the NYC capital city. The church wouldn't host anyone so famous in 2001, but would become an important part of the 9-11 events.
The rear entrance of St. Paul's opens onto Church Street, opposite the east side of the World Trade Center site. During the days after the towers were hit, the church found itself with a new purpose. To serve the rescue workers, providing a place of prayer and rest during their long hours. The church became a food distribution center. A makeshift bunkhouse. Volunteers served meals to the rescuers during the 12-hour shifts.
As the months passed, the church became a place for reflection. Family members and the locals brought memorials to the church. They found teddy bears, photographs, and flowers. It became such a center for memorial items they built panels inside to house the items. They now have 400.
Many of the memorials remain in place today. As worshippers enter the sanctuary, they view items brought by strangers in a time of healing. Books, letters, preserved flowers that remind them of that day. A special memorial entitled "Healing Hearts and Minds" displays firefighter and police patches sent in from all over the world. To a little church in Manhattan that stood, while giant towers fell yards away.
People believe an ancient sycamore tree blocked most of the debris from reaching the church. The tree was felled by the massive forces that day, but in such a way as to seem to wrap its arms around the blast. Not even a broken window.
Some faithful see the protection of the tree as a sign that God protected the church that day. Others see biblical signs coming to fruition. Isaiah 9:10 says "The bricks are fallen down, but we will build with hewn stones: the sycomores are cut down, but we will change them into cedars." The sixth sign. You can judge for yourself.
2 days...
Sunday, September 9th, 2001. Many Americans did a very American thing that morning. They got up early, had breakfast, put on their Sunday best and went to church. If they were lucky enough to get the kids ready in time, they made Sunday School. Some of them probably ducked in late as the first hymn was playing, and sat in the back, hoping no one noticed. The congregation at St. Paul's Chapel in NYC, tucked between Fulton and Vesey Streets, sat in their pews that morning with no premonition of what would happen in just two days. September 11, 2001 would bring devastation to their very door.
St. Paul's Chapel is the oldest surviving church building in Manhattan, it's been in the business of saving souls and redeeming spirits since 1766. Only ten years later, the cozy building would survive the Great New York City Fire, while the more famous Trinity Church with its magnificent gallery and a quarter of the city burned to the ground. The bloody Brits torched the city after the Battle of Long Island without discrimination.
The congregation in the early days included George Washington, our first President. He prayed there before his inauguration in 1789. He continued to worship at St. Paul's for his years in the NYC capital city. The church wouldn't host anyone so famous in 2001, but would become an important part of the 9-11 events.
The rear entrance of St. Paul's opens onto Church Street, opposite the east side of the World Trade Center site. During the days after the towers were hit, the church found itself with a new purpose. To serve the rescue workers, providing a place of prayer and rest during their long hours. The church became a food distribution center. A makeshift bunkhouse. Volunteers served meals to the rescuers during the 12-hour shifts.
As the months passed, the church became a place for reflection. Family members and the locals brought memorials to the church. They found teddy bears, photographs, and flowers. It became such a center for memorial items they built panels inside to house the items. They now have 400.
Many of the memorials remain in place today. As worshippers enter the sanctuary, they view items brought by strangers in a time of healing. Books, letters, preserved flowers that remind them of that day. A special memorial entitled "Healing Hearts and Minds" displays firefighter and police patches sent in from all over the world. To a little church in Manhattan that stood, while giant towers fell yards away.
People believe an ancient sycamore tree blocked most of the debris from reaching the church. The tree was felled by the massive forces that day, but in such a way as to seem to wrap its arms around the blast. Not even a broken window.
Some faithful see the protection of the tree as a sign that God protected the church that day. Others see biblical signs coming to fruition. Isaiah 9:10 says "The bricks are fallen down, but we will build with hewn stones: the sycomores are cut down, but we will change them into cedars." The sixth sign. You can judge for yourself.
2 days...
Monday, September 8, 2014
13 years.... minus 3 days
3 days...
September 8th, 2001. A Saturday. I'm sure I was doing my best to sleep in, but probably wasn't successful. Nothing stands out about that day for me, weekends were pretty much catching up on chores, maybe watching some racing on television (since Mr. Excitement Jimmy Spencer was still racing, I didn't miss a race). I really don't remember where I was, or what I was doing.
Abe Zelmanowitz was busy that night. As a devout Orthodox Jew, he certainly was joined in celebrating Shabbat. He would have enjoyed the traditional Saturday afternoon meal with his family, dining on the slightly sweet Challah followed by dishes reheated from Friday's dinner as is Jewish custom. The evening would be filled with companionship and song.
Abe was a computer programmer for Empire BCBS. He worked in a cubicle near his friend, Edward Beyea. They were together every day for many years, but on Saturday the 8th neither knew they would end their lives the same way. On the 27th floor of Tower One.
Abe, described by friends as a "kippa-wearing Jewish-American with a lifelong sense of self-sacrifice and commitment, would stay with his friend Edward until the very end. There was no choice to be made, that was how it was to be.
You see, Abe's friend Edward was a quadriplegic. Abe sent Edward's caregiver out of the building in the first minutes after the plane struck. He would stay behind with Edward, she had a family to get home to. He would make sure they were ready when the rescue team arrived. That help never came.
President George W. Bush remembered Abe's heroism in one of the many post 9-11 speeches he gave. "And we have seen our national character in eloquent acts of sacrifice. Inside the World Trade Center, one man who could have saved himself stayed until the end and at the side of his quadriplegic friend."
Abe Zelmanowitz's remains were identified nearly a year later.
Abe Zelmanowitz, friend of Edward Bey, was laid to rest beside his parents in the Mount of Olives Jewish Cemetery in Jerusalem.
Abe Zelmanowitz, who coworkers said was praying with his Roman Catholic friend before Tower One collapsed, had come home.
3 days...
September 8th, 2001. A Saturday. I'm sure I was doing my best to sleep in, but probably wasn't successful. Nothing stands out about that day for me, weekends were pretty much catching up on chores, maybe watching some racing on television (since Mr. Excitement Jimmy Spencer was still racing, I didn't miss a race). I really don't remember where I was, or what I was doing.
Abe Zelmanowitz was busy that night. As a devout Orthodox Jew, he certainly was joined in celebrating Shabbat. He would have enjoyed the traditional Saturday afternoon meal with his family, dining on the slightly sweet Challah followed by dishes reheated from Friday's dinner as is Jewish custom. The evening would be filled with companionship and song.
Abe was a computer programmer for Empire BCBS. He worked in a cubicle near his friend, Edward Beyea. They were together every day for many years, but on Saturday the 8th neither knew they would end their lives the same way. On the 27th floor of Tower One.
Abe, described by friends as a "kippa-wearing Jewish-American with a lifelong sense of self-sacrifice and commitment, would stay with his friend Edward until the very end. There was no choice to be made, that was how it was to be.
You see, Abe's friend Edward was a quadriplegic. Abe sent Edward's caregiver out of the building in the first minutes after the plane struck. He would stay behind with Edward, she had a family to get home to. He would make sure they were ready when the rescue team arrived. That help never came.
President George W. Bush remembered Abe's heroism in one of the many post 9-11 speeches he gave. "And we have seen our national character in eloquent acts of sacrifice. Inside the World Trade Center, one man who could have saved himself stayed until the end and at the side of his quadriplegic friend."
Abe Zelmanowitz's remains were identified nearly a year later.
Abe Zelmanowitz, friend of Edward Bey, was laid to rest beside his parents in the Mount of Olives Jewish Cemetery in Jerusalem.
Abe Zelmanowitz, who coworkers said was praying with his Roman Catholic friend before Tower One collapsed, had come home.
3 days...
Sunday, September 7, 2014
It's Only Words....
And words are all I have. To take your heart away.
Hellish thing to have to quote the Bee Gees. But here we go....
I'm a word person. I love to talk. I love to write. I love communicating with people. But sometimes, I fail at it. I think I've done that recently. And I have to clarify what I meant. And I have to apologize. I can't ask for forgiveness because I don't think we can ever truly grant that as humans, but I do hope to retain the trust I had earned. I hope I didn't break it..
You see, I sort of made a mistake with my words. I had neither time nor opportunity to fully explain myself. I just whipped out what I was feeling, and the words failed me. I've spent hours now thinking about and trying to explain myself better. I failed. I should have known I was capable of not explaining myself completely: in spite of all the words I use, it's happened before.
When my daughter Kathie was a teenager, she would ask me a zillion questions it seemed. Crazy stuff: "Momma, do you like this new Metallica song?". "Momma, can I go over to Sheena's this weekend?" "Momma, can we make some brownies?" Typical teenage questions, and as a busy, working mom I failed to answer them properly. I make no excuses now, I failed to take the time, more than once, to give a good answer. I committed a sin of omitting how I really felt. My answer most of the time? "I don't care." Short and sweet, and the truth. Then she called me out on it.
She told me once, maybe six months before her death at the too young age of 18, that she thought I didn't care about her. JAW DROP. "How in the world can you say that?" I asked her. "You know how much I love you." Her answer floored me. "Well, Momma, you were always telling me you didn't care about things I asked about. They were important things to me, so I thought you didn't care about me." Yeah. Mind blowing. She put me in my place BIG TIME. She didn't question my love for her, she thought I didn't care. Because I treated the things that were important to her so casually, she thought I didn't care about her. Two very different things, but both important.
I didn't learn my lesson, apparently. Open big mouth, insert big foot. AGAIN.
Conversations happen. Things are said, good times had by all. More conversations happen, even more fun. Chemistry, one might call it. THEN I GO AND OPEN MY STUPID MOUTH. I said I don't kid around about such matters, I am SERIOUS. What the hell I was thinking I could get away with (or not thinking) by not fully quantifying that, I do not know. That's a (pardon the pun) SERIOUS word to be tossing around. Talk about changing the tone from then on. YIKES.
I've spent hours this weekend trying to elaborate, to clarify, to explain, to bring that fragile beginning back from the ledge it's perched on, ready to leap and take all the air from my lungs that have now finally gotten a breath of something pure and beautiful and full of freedom that I don't want to let go of right now or maybe never.
Then it hit me this morning. I fucked up. I didn't learn from you, Kathie. You told me what I did wrong almost 13 years ago, and I did it again. I failed. I failed myself, but more importantly, I failed someone else. Someone that in a short period of time I had developed a trust with, a mutual sharing of crazy thoughts and fears, and I failed. I just tossed out that part about being SERIOUS, I fucked up. And I cannot say how much that pains me now.
In my effort to be honest, I said I was SERIOUS and didn't play games. That is a true statement. I keep everything real. What I should have said was that I am SERIOUS and have every intention of living up to the things I have said, and should opportunities present themselves at some point I would act accordingly. Back up my talk with actions. THAT'S what I meant by being SERIOUS. Yes, I do bare my entire soul for examination. Yes, I said you have to be willing to risk it all to be able to gain anything. Hell, I even said i was ALL IN, and people reading this know what that means.
In spite of having used a million words, I didn't use enough of them in this case, and I FUCKED UP. There, I said it. I try to never say anything that I don't mean with all my heart because you can NEVER take something back, I am now guilty of not saying enough. And I pray I can explain it now. .
Hellish thing to have to quote the Bee Gees. But here we go....
I'm a word person. I love to talk. I love to write. I love communicating with people. But sometimes, I fail at it. I think I've done that recently. And I have to clarify what I meant. And I have to apologize. I can't ask for forgiveness because I don't think we can ever truly grant that as humans, but I do hope to retain the trust I had earned. I hope I didn't break it..
You see, I sort of made a mistake with my words. I had neither time nor opportunity to fully explain myself. I just whipped out what I was feeling, and the words failed me. I've spent hours now thinking about and trying to explain myself better. I failed. I should have known I was capable of not explaining myself completely: in spite of all the words I use, it's happened before.
When my daughter Kathie was a teenager, she would ask me a zillion questions it seemed. Crazy stuff: "Momma, do you like this new Metallica song?". "Momma, can I go over to Sheena's this weekend?" "Momma, can we make some brownies?" Typical teenage questions, and as a busy, working mom I failed to answer them properly. I make no excuses now, I failed to take the time, more than once, to give a good answer. I committed a sin of omitting how I really felt. My answer most of the time? "I don't care." Short and sweet, and the truth. Then she called me out on it.
She told me once, maybe six months before her death at the too young age of 18, that she thought I didn't care about her. JAW DROP. "How in the world can you say that?" I asked her. "You know how much I love you." Her answer floored me. "Well, Momma, you were always telling me you didn't care about things I asked about. They were important things to me, so I thought you didn't care about me." Yeah. Mind blowing. She put me in my place BIG TIME. She didn't question my love for her, she thought I didn't care. Because I treated the things that were important to her so casually, she thought I didn't care about her. Two very different things, but both important.
I didn't learn my lesson, apparently. Open big mouth, insert big foot. AGAIN.
Conversations happen. Things are said, good times had by all. More conversations happen, even more fun. Chemistry, one might call it. THEN I GO AND OPEN MY STUPID MOUTH. I said I don't kid around about such matters, I am SERIOUS. What the hell I was thinking I could get away with (or not thinking) by not fully quantifying that, I do not know. That's a (pardon the pun) SERIOUS word to be tossing around. Talk about changing the tone from then on. YIKES.
I've spent hours this weekend trying to elaborate, to clarify, to explain, to bring that fragile beginning back from the ledge it's perched on, ready to leap and take all the air from my lungs that have now finally gotten a breath of something pure and beautiful and full of freedom that I don't want to let go of right now or maybe never.
Then it hit me this morning. I fucked up. I didn't learn from you, Kathie. You told me what I did wrong almost 13 years ago, and I did it again. I failed. I failed myself, but more importantly, I failed someone else. Someone that in a short period of time I had developed a trust with, a mutual sharing of crazy thoughts and fears, and I failed. I just tossed out that part about being SERIOUS, I fucked up. And I cannot say how much that pains me now.
In my effort to be honest, I said I was SERIOUS and didn't play games. That is a true statement. I keep everything real. What I should have said was that I am SERIOUS and have every intention of living up to the things I have said, and should opportunities present themselves at some point I would act accordingly. Back up my talk with actions. THAT'S what I meant by being SERIOUS. Yes, I do bare my entire soul for examination. Yes, I said you have to be willing to risk it all to be able to gain anything. Hell, I even said i was ALL IN, and people reading this know what that means.
In spite of having used a million words, I didn't use enough of them in this case, and I FUCKED UP. There, I said it. I try to never say anything that I don't mean with all my heart because you can NEVER take something back, I am now guilty of not saying enough. And I pray I can explain it now. .
13 years.... minus 4 days
4 days...
September 7th, 2001. It was a Friday, I'm sure there was the usual Friday night shopping and dinner out on the way home from work. Probably Logan's Steakhouse in Statesville, creatures of habit if nothing else. Yeast rolls with honey butter, the grilled pork chop and shrimp combo, a baked sweet potato and salad with blue cheese dressing to go along. And lots of sweet tea. Just another Friday night.
I wonder what the victims of 9-11 did that weekend. I've often heard that people "know" when they are going to die, and they subconsciously do things to prepare.
Maybe they took their loved ones out to dinner, without knowing their celebration of the end of the workweek would be premature. Maybe some shopping, buying things for the fall season they wouldn't be there to enjoy. Maybe they took their kids to the park after work. Maybe they went to a movie. A few romantic comedies were out that night, maybe they went to see one of those, with the secret knowledge of the tragedy to come. Maybe they went to a high school football game, watching a son take the field for the last time, or a daughter full of school spirit and smiles that would soon turn to ashes.
I'm an optimist, so I'll go with those memories. I don't want to believe they knew the manner of their upcoming deaths, and were spared the horror until those final minutes.
One of the stories I followed after 9-11 was the tale of Todd Beamer, from UAL 93. All I ever needed to know about him can be summed up in his last words to his fellow passengers as they made an attempt to save their lives: "Let's Roll."
Beamer, who was 33, joined a group of men that went against the odds and tried to overtake the cockpit of the Boeing 757 that had been hijacked and was heading back to DC to be crashed into something important. He tried making a phone call on the in-flight GTE system, but ended up route to Customer Service. He told the rep about the hijacking, the knives, the dead flight crew.
The next to last thing he told the rep: "If I don't make it, please call my family and let them know how much I love them." Understandable, he knew the odds were slim and wanted them to have that last memory of his love for them.
His last words weren't to her, they were to his new-found friends on UAL 93. Mark Bingham, Tom Burnett, Jeremy Glick, Lou Nacke, Rich Guadagno, Alan Beaven, Honor Elizabeth Wainio, Linda Gronlund, and William Cashman, along with flight attendants Sandra Bradshaw and Cee Cee Ross-Lyles,
"Are you ready? Okay. Let's roll."
Two months later, President Bush recalled Todd Beamer's words at a ceremony. Bush repeated Beamer's last-heard words, saying, "Some of our greatest moments have been acts of courage for which no one could have been prepared. But we have our marching orders. My fellow Americans, let's roll!"
4 days.
September 7th, 2001. It was a Friday, I'm sure there was the usual Friday night shopping and dinner out on the way home from work. Probably Logan's Steakhouse in Statesville, creatures of habit if nothing else. Yeast rolls with honey butter, the grilled pork chop and shrimp combo, a baked sweet potato and salad with blue cheese dressing to go along. And lots of sweet tea. Just another Friday night.
I wonder what the victims of 9-11 did that weekend. I've often heard that people "know" when they are going to die, and they subconsciously do things to prepare.
Maybe they took their loved ones out to dinner, without knowing their celebration of the end of the workweek would be premature. Maybe some shopping, buying things for the fall season they wouldn't be there to enjoy. Maybe they took their kids to the park after work. Maybe they went to a movie. A few romantic comedies were out that night, maybe they went to see one of those, with the secret knowledge of the tragedy to come. Maybe they went to a high school football game, watching a son take the field for the last time, or a daughter full of school spirit and smiles that would soon turn to ashes.
I'm an optimist, so I'll go with those memories. I don't want to believe they knew the manner of their upcoming deaths, and were spared the horror until those final minutes.
One of the stories I followed after 9-11 was the tale of Todd Beamer, from UAL 93. All I ever needed to know about him can be summed up in his last words to his fellow passengers as they made an attempt to save their lives: "Let's Roll."
Beamer, who was 33, joined a group of men that went against the odds and tried to overtake the cockpit of the Boeing 757 that had been hijacked and was heading back to DC to be crashed into something important. He tried making a phone call on the in-flight GTE system, but ended up route to Customer Service. He told the rep about the hijacking, the knives, the dead flight crew.
The next to last thing he told the rep: "If I don't make it, please call my family and let them know how much I love them." Understandable, he knew the odds were slim and wanted them to have that last memory of his love for them.
His last words weren't to her, they were to his new-found friends on UAL 93. Mark Bingham, Tom Burnett, Jeremy Glick, Lou Nacke, Rich Guadagno, Alan Beaven, Honor Elizabeth Wainio, Linda Gronlund, and William Cashman, along with flight attendants Sandra Bradshaw and Cee Cee Ross-Lyles,
"Are you ready? Okay. Let's roll."
Two months later, President Bush recalled Todd Beamer's words at a ceremony. Bush repeated Beamer's last-heard words, saying, "Some of our greatest moments have been acts of courage for which no one could have been prepared. But we have our marching orders. My fellow Americans, let's roll!"
4 days.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
13 years.... minus 5 days
Hard for me to believe that in 5 short days we will see the 13th anniversary of the 9-11 events. I really thought I would feel.... better by now. I realize every year around this time that I probably won't ever get over it. And I'm glad of that.
I've said before, I wasn't directly involved. I knew "of" the flight attendant from Greensboro that was killed, knowing a number of FA's from my days in aviation and working near USAirways training facility in Winston-Salem. I was "affected" in that I experienced firsthand what I think will be the most shocking part of a post-apocalyptic world: a sky without airplanes.
At the time, I worked for a maintenance facility with a large corporate aviation base, but we also did some airline maintenance. We had contracts with Delta and Skywest, USAirways and CCAir, PSA. We had their on-site reps in our building for weeks on end, baby-sitting and approving work cards. So we were "in" the airline business.
Looking back through the prism of memory, I realize what a beautiful Tuesday morning it would have been. The sun was shining, the sky was that shade we Tarheels call "Carolina Blue". I don't remember any clouds, or wind. It was shaping up to be a gorgeous late summer day, past the heat of the Dog Days of August and the start of school.The weather was an important thing in aviation, it changes the course of your workday. We would have had lots of work coming in, but for an evil plan come to be revealed that morning.
Starting at 846am, and ending less than two hours later, America changed forever. Understandably, the FAA closed our airspace. Planes in the air were given instructions to land immediately. Vice President Cheney gave the order to shoot down any aircraft that was verified as hijacked, but it was too late. Within hours, the skies were empty.
I look back through articles written about the attacks. NYC and the Twin Towers of course get the most attention, but the Pentagon and United Flight 93 were no less devastating. I watched the 9-11 hearings on tv. I've seen the movies, the documentaries, the television specials. I try and watch them each year, because I don't want to ever forget how I felt. I don't ever want to forget how the victims must've felt. Since they were Americans, I hope the one thing they didn't feel was fear. But looking at the response to what happened that September day, I realize that those of us who remain should be the ones who are fearful.
Our government passed up opportunities in the Clinton years to do something about UBL. Instead, Slick Willie blew up a tent with a camel inside and called it a day. They heard rumblings in the years after about "something big". And in typical Federal government fashion, they dicked around and let "something big" happen. And since then, on 9-11-2012, they let something else happen.
Who learned anything from what happened that day? Not the Feds. Not the intelligence agencies. Not the military. They seem no more capable of stopping an attack on America today than they were on that day. They harass grandmas with knitting needles and handicapped kids that might have an Uzi disguised as a crutch. Do people still have to take off their shoes at the airport? Why did that ever even need to be done?
I said earlier I was glad don't feel better in our post 9-11 world. I don't ever want to forget the anger I felt that day. Nothing has changed to prevent it again. 2,977 people gave their lives for nothing, And oh yes, screw you Wikipedia: you can count the 19 hijackers in the death toll if you want, Homey don't play that game.
5 days.
5 days to make a difference and not let what sacrifices those people made be for naught.
5 days to make those military deaths since 9-11 mean something.
I'm doing my part, by reminding people of what it meant to me that day. Share your story. Make things matter again. Don't take being an American for granted. We are still under attack. At home and abroad.
I've said before, I wasn't directly involved. I knew "of" the flight attendant from Greensboro that was killed, knowing a number of FA's from my days in aviation and working near USAirways training facility in Winston-Salem. I was "affected" in that I experienced firsthand what I think will be the most shocking part of a post-apocalyptic world: a sky without airplanes.
At the time, I worked for a maintenance facility with a large corporate aviation base, but we also did some airline maintenance. We had contracts with Delta and Skywest, USAirways and CCAir, PSA. We had their on-site reps in our building for weeks on end, baby-sitting and approving work cards. So we were "in" the airline business.
Looking back through the prism of memory, I realize what a beautiful Tuesday morning it would have been. The sun was shining, the sky was that shade we Tarheels call "Carolina Blue". I don't remember any clouds, or wind. It was shaping up to be a gorgeous late summer day, past the heat of the Dog Days of August and the start of school.The weather was an important thing in aviation, it changes the course of your workday. We would have had lots of work coming in, but for an evil plan come to be revealed that morning.
Starting at 846am, and ending less than two hours later, America changed forever. Understandably, the FAA closed our airspace. Planes in the air were given instructions to land immediately. Vice President Cheney gave the order to shoot down any aircraft that was verified as hijacked, but it was too late. Within hours, the skies were empty.
I look back through articles written about the attacks. NYC and the Twin Towers of course get the most attention, but the Pentagon and United Flight 93 were no less devastating. I watched the 9-11 hearings on tv. I've seen the movies, the documentaries, the television specials. I try and watch them each year, because I don't want to ever forget how I felt. I don't ever want to forget how the victims must've felt. Since they were Americans, I hope the one thing they didn't feel was fear. But looking at the response to what happened that September day, I realize that those of us who remain should be the ones who are fearful.
Our government passed up opportunities in the Clinton years to do something about UBL. Instead, Slick Willie blew up a tent with a camel inside and called it a day. They heard rumblings in the years after about "something big". And in typical Federal government fashion, they dicked around and let "something big" happen. And since then, on 9-11-2012, they let something else happen.
Who learned anything from what happened that day? Not the Feds. Not the intelligence agencies. Not the military. They seem no more capable of stopping an attack on America today than they were on that day. They harass grandmas with knitting needles and handicapped kids that might have an Uzi disguised as a crutch. Do people still have to take off their shoes at the airport? Why did that ever even need to be done?
I said earlier I was glad don't feel better in our post 9-11 world. I don't ever want to forget the anger I felt that day. Nothing has changed to prevent it again. 2,977 people gave their lives for nothing, And oh yes, screw you Wikipedia: you can count the 19 hijackers in the death toll if you want, Homey don't play that game.
5 days.
5 days to make a difference and not let what sacrifices those people made be for naught.
5 days to make those military deaths since 9-11 mean something.
I'm doing my part, by reminding people of what it meant to me that day. Share your story. Make things matter again. Don't take being an American for granted. We are still under attack. At home and abroad.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Benghazi
Benghazi
Amazing how many people have no idea what happened that night. In a sand-filled hellhole town, in a country where the US government thought they knew what was best, a total of four American heroes lost their lives defending a group of buildings that were less well protected than your local bank.
Ambassador Chris Stevens. Kidnapped. Raped. Strangled. Beaten. Drug through the streets like an animal. Left at the local hospital where someone found a phone on him and dialed a number that rang on Tripoli, who heard them describe the Ambassador.
Foreign Service Officer Sean Smith. Died in a smoke filled building. Alone. After phone calls to the embassy in Tripoli went unanswered, because "no one recognized the number".
Senior Security Operatives and former SEALS Tyrone Woods and Glenn Doherty. Provided defensive support from a rooftop for an hour, against a group of radical Islamists. Killed on that same rooftop by mortar fire.
The US government, on multiple levels, has deliberately lied to the world about what happened that night. UN Ambassador Susan Rice parade the network Sunday talk shows, pimping lies about an :outrageous anti-Muslim video" that everyone in Benghazi save one had never heard of. Congressional panel hearings were aired live, and we watched Deputy Chief of Mission -Tripoli break down when he repeated the story. We watched the now former Secretary of State and probably future Democratic Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton rail that it was "just some guys out for a walk and decided to kill some Americans, what difference does it make now?"
Former Federal prosecutor turned Congressman from Trey Gowdy will lead a Select Committee this fall to further investigate this coverup. There isn't anyone I know of in government that I would trust to uncover the truth more than him.
Chris Stevens, Sean Smith, Tyrone Woods and Glenn Doherty. Don't ever forget those names. Be ready to remember the ones Trey Gowdy gives us when this is over. They're the ones whose heads should end up on pikes.
Political Motivations
Political Motivations
My stupid internet radio wasn't working for crap today so I didn't get to listen to my usual 7 hours of talk radio. I had to deal with my own whacked-out thoughts about political stuffs. It was a one-sided conversation inside my head, me arguing the various POVs. That might explain why I came home from work, changed into a comfortable t-shirt and shorts, and poured myself the first drink I've had in months. First one ever in the home I have now. Not sure you all can appreciate what an accomplishment that is, between having had times in the past where I drank TOO much, and where I was afraid to drink because of situations and people around me.
It got me thinking about what actually motivates me politically.What makes me want to go out and vote. What makes me want to volunteer for (or against) someone. What makes me want to write something down that someone else might want to read.
I'm firmly in the States Rights, 10th Amendment camp. HATE Federalism. LOVE the military, support anything and everything to support our soldiers, past and present. Totally believe in strength through power. DICK CHENEY, FTW!Also, CONSTITUTION!!!!
I am NOT a social issues voter.
- I don't care about gay marriage per se:: I do care that the decision isn't being left to the States and is being legislated from the bench. I won't be having a gay marriage, I don't care who does, but I do not want my rights as previously defined to be usurped by it.
- I don't care about a woman's right to choose: I believe in the rights of the unborn. Abortion is not birth control. Keep your legs together, don't have sex, you won't have babies you're not ready for. And bonus, I won't have to help pay for either. Abortion is murder, plain and simple in my little redneck mind.
- I don't care about women's rights: women aren't men. And men aren't women. Well, unless they're trannys, and then I am not sure what anyone has to bitch about. That boat carrying the banner of equal pay for equal work doesn't even have a sail. All things are never equal. Work your hardest and earn what you deserve. If it's not enough, drag your whiney carcass somewhere else. Just remember: sometimes the grass is greener coz it's growing on a septic tank
- I don't care about the environment: that's not something I want some jerk in DC directing. I like my old fashioned light bulbs, TYVM. I have a bunch stored in the pantry, I sometimes change them out even when they don't need it. BECAUSE I CAN!!!
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Listen to the music
Listen to the music...
I like words. You might've noticed I use a lot of them. I'm not a "dollar word" person necessarily, but I like "alternate" words. I have a thesaurus app on my tablet and one bookmarked on my PC. I like using "alternate" words to make people think.
You might or might not know that I'm a published author. Poetry (yikes) from back in my yoot. Nothing as impressive as the current pResident's "Apes and Figs" dealio, but published none the less.
I love song lyrics. Sometimes it seems as if the writer was in your head (or your heart) when they wrote something that touches you. I stopped listening to "music" years ago, now I just listen to lyrics.
You might or might not know that I'm a recorded songwriter. Only one, and get ready for it.... it was recorded as... a bluegrass tune. I'm good with that, I love me some Allison Kraus and Vince Gill. It was only recorded a few times on demo tapes in Nashville in the early 2000s, by three people looking to make the big time. I got a message about 5 years ago that someone was interested again, but never heard from the artist. Since you didn't see me at the CMAs giving props to all my peeps, nobody got famous with it.
I hear lyrics in my head in situations where they fit in, not necessarily appropriately. Sometimes the theme from Star Wars, sometimes the Inspector Gadget song. Yeah, I know. I need help, LOL. But usually, I can reference a song lyric to capture how I am feeling or thinking at important moments.
You probably know my favourite artist is Michael McDonald. Heck, my son is even named after him. The Doobie Brothers stuff was good, his solo work better, and the Motown remakes incredible.
One of my favourites is the remake of You are Everything. LOVE the old R&B. The Stylists? One of the best. Michael does it justice, for sure.
Just stop. And listen.
Today I saw somebody
Who looked just like you
She walked like you do
I thought it was you
As she turned the corner
I called out your name
I felt so ashamed
When it wasn't you, wasn't you
You are everything and everything is you
You are everything and everything is you
You are everything and everything is you
How can I forget
When each face that I see
Brings back memories
Of being with you
I just can't go on living life as I do
Comparing each girl to you
Knowing they just won't do
They're not you
You are everything and everything is you
You are everything and everything is you
You are everything and everything is you
Doesn't even need music for you to hear the passion. The love. The road not taken.
Don't miss your turn.
ALL IN
If you're reading this blog, most likely you have encountered me somewhere on the interwebs before, (or God forbid, you know me in person and have been subjected to the insanity that is my life). You may also have concluded that I am INTENSE. I don't normally apologize for it. Hell, I don't normally apologize for much of anything.
I really really try hard to make sure I don't say (or write) anything that I would want to take back. I don't think you can ever really "take something back". I believe that forgiveness is divine, and meant for a higher power than anyone here on Earth. (*see note below) No matter how much someone apologizes, begs forgiveness, atones for their misdeeds, I don't think it's my decision to grant them absolution. I can't say I won't ever think about what the wrong was, nor can I say I won't hold back just a bit to make sure I don't get burned again. Coz let's face it, we aren't all just bursting at the seams to open ourselves up to pain. All I can do is my very best to trust again. I'm a big believer in trust. I had to learn to trust myself first. That was.... difficult.
You have to be willing to run the risk of losing EVERYTHING, or you gain NOTHING. You have to be able to put aside all your doubts and fears, and jump headfirst into the mud puddle. Hoping it's deep enough. Not caring if you get mud in your hair. Forget about saving a bit of yourself from harm, protecting your heart from further damage (yes, all our hearts are damaged. more on that another time.) Don't think about not getting full credit for a job well done, give it your all.
You cannot love someone fully unless you are willing to give yourself fully to them. You cannot succeed at a career if you aren't giving 100% (I hate that happy dappy 110% crap). You can only achieve the things you want and deserve in life if you don't work for them. Which brings us to my "saying": ALL IN.
I make a concerted effort to be ALL IN. Do I have my slack times? Probably more than I would admit. But I never lose sight of the goal. ALL IN. Do I make mistakes along the way? Good God, yes. And repeat them sometimes, to my own displeasure.
Back to INTENSE... Yes I am, and proud of it. You wouldn't expect anything less of me, and I don't expect anything less of you. Give me your best, and you'll see mine. Give me any less, and well, you probably won't see me. We can all tell when someone isn't giving us their best. We just deny its happening. We don't want to see the failure in them, because that means a failure in ourselves, right? We think that means we need to work hard, love harder, play harder, it MUST be our fault things aren't PERFECT. NEWS FLASH: NOTHING IS PERFECT. We are, above all else, human. We are born imperfect. We die imperfect. What we do in between those times is what defines us. What do we do with that time? We go ALL IN. Knowing we are mortal, knowing we will depart this life with the promise of the next, knowing that we cannot take anything with us in the but the knowledge that we did our best. ALL IN.
I recommended a book last year to many of you, and gave a copy to a friend to pass around. Hopefully its made its way to someone who needed it. One of the many lessons in the Messiah's Handbook: Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they're yours. Yep. Give in to the thought that you can't do something, it's too hard (WAHHHHH!!!!) and next thing you know, it's all over but the crying. Do you really think you'll get anywhere when you give in to failure at the get go?
Your best. That's all I ever ask of any of you. In return, you have my best. Sloppy and sticky as it may be, with cat fur and dog kibble crumbs attached, with a dose of humor that makes it easier to survive, you'll have it.
Because you're worth it.
And so am I.
NOTE: Most people are surprised to find me as a religious person. I have enormous faith, else I would not be the little bit of sane that I am today. You think I'm a few bags of cement short of a patio now, imagine me without faith.
I really really try hard to make sure I don't say (or write) anything that I would want to take back. I don't think you can ever really "take something back". I believe that forgiveness is divine, and meant for a higher power than anyone here on Earth. (*see note below) No matter how much someone apologizes, begs forgiveness, atones for their misdeeds, I don't think it's my decision to grant them absolution. I can't say I won't ever think about what the wrong was, nor can I say I won't hold back just a bit to make sure I don't get burned again. Coz let's face it, we aren't all just bursting at the seams to open ourselves up to pain. All I can do is my very best to trust again. I'm a big believer in trust. I had to learn to trust myself first. That was.... difficult.
You have to be willing to run the risk of losing EVERYTHING, or you gain NOTHING. You have to be able to put aside all your doubts and fears, and jump headfirst into the mud puddle. Hoping it's deep enough. Not caring if you get mud in your hair. Forget about saving a bit of yourself from harm, protecting your heart from further damage (yes, all our hearts are damaged. more on that another time.) Don't think about not getting full credit for a job well done, give it your all.
You cannot love someone fully unless you are willing to give yourself fully to them. You cannot succeed at a career if you aren't giving 100% (I hate that happy dappy 110% crap). You can only achieve the things you want and deserve in life if you don't work for them. Which brings us to my "saying": ALL IN.
I make a concerted effort to be ALL IN. Do I have my slack times? Probably more than I would admit. But I never lose sight of the goal. ALL IN. Do I make mistakes along the way? Good God, yes. And repeat them sometimes, to my own displeasure.
Back to INTENSE... Yes I am, and proud of it. You wouldn't expect anything less of me, and I don't expect anything less of you. Give me your best, and you'll see mine. Give me any less, and well, you probably won't see me. We can all tell when someone isn't giving us their best. We just deny its happening. We don't want to see the failure in them, because that means a failure in ourselves, right? We think that means we need to work hard, love harder, play harder, it MUST be our fault things aren't PERFECT. NEWS FLASH: NOTHING IS PERFECT. We are, above all else, human. We are born imperfect. We die imperfect. What we do in between those times is what defines us. What do we do with that time? We go ALL IN. Knowing we are mortal, knowing we will depart this life with the promise of the next, knowing that we cannot take anything with us in the but the knowledge that we did our best. ALL IN.
I recommended a book last year to many of you, and gave a copy to a friend to pass around. Hopefully its made its way to someone who needed it. One of the many lessons in the Messiah's Handbook: Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they're yours. Yep. Give in to the thought that you can't do something, it's too hard (WAHHHHH!!!!) and next thing you know, it's all over but the crying. Do you really think you'll get anywhere when you give in to failure at the get go?
Your best. That's all I ever ask of any of you. In return, you have my best. Sloppy and sticky as it may be, with cat fur and dog kibble crumbs attached, with a dose of humor that makes it easier to survive, you'll have it.
Because you're worth it.
And so am I.
NOTE: Most people are surprised to find me as a religious person. I have enormous faith, else I would not be the little bit of sane that I am today. You think I'm a few bags of cement short of a patio now, imagine me without faith.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Our True Faces....
One of my favourite authors in Robert McCammon. He wrote some interesting stuff back in the late 70s, creepy thriller stuff, along the early Dean Koontz line. I was into that kind of reading back then (still am actually) so I think I had half a dozen or so of his efforts. One particular favourite remains among my paperback collection AND as an e-book. Swan Song.
One of the earliest post-apocalyptic novels I know of, it's a long read and has kept me awake well into the night every time I've picked it up. I've found a lot of parallels with events in their world and the ones that have shaped my life.
I know what it's like to hold a precious child in your arms one moment, and have them ripped from you while their fingers are deeply entangled around your heart.
I have gazed at unimaginable beauty after watching your world go up in flames.
I've looked deep into the soul of another person and knew I was home.
I have walked to the end of the earth, looking for something, someone, that kept calling my name.
I've realized the hopelessness that is all too much a part of the human condition, and found a way back from it.
I believe in the power of God, and that He protects us all. And loves us unconditionally. Even when we fail him. And especially when we fail each other.
In McCammon's post-nuclear holocaust, characters are afflicted with a condition that causes a growth of skin and flesh to cover their head and face, over time. There is pain involved, some have more and some less. At various times, the growth cracks. And reveals the "new" person inside. With their "true face". Sometimes someone who was unattractive becomes a beauty. Sometimes old scars are healed, both physical and emotional. The heroine of the novel, Swan, is one of the last to be transformed.
There comes a time when the "bad guy" is exposed as what he truly is: evil. Gory details describe how his "true face" is displayed for all to see. He's seen it in the mirror, even before the growth started and consumed his head. He denied it, but he was a monster. Underneath the military brass and polish, he was evil.
I've seen it in our world. I know there are monsters.I've come face to face with them.
There are also angels. I thank God for revealing their "true faces".
They walk among us.
They are us. .
9-11 "Rememberings"
I try and spend the days before 9-11 remembering. Remembering what NYC looked like with the Towers. Remembering the feelings I had as I watched the replays as the first plane hit. Remembering the feeling I had that it wasn't just an accident. Remembering how we watched the second plane go in, and knew we were right. Remembering a mighty strong message from a President who was and is a Patriot. But mostly, remembering the anger. Even before I knew the who and the what, I was angry. I still am.
I was a few years into a new aviation career with a Company I'd done business with for years in KINT, I was their first Technical Librarian (aka the Book Bitch). Good people at Piedmont (now Landmark), and the ties I built to them that day and since are still strong. I was walking back into the building and noticed a few people standing in the Snack Bar, unusual since it wasn't breaktime. I stuck my head in the door, and they said a plane had hit a tower in NYC. I was like "WTF?" so I went in to watch. Tiny little black and white, with a lopsided antenna, local Fox affiliate fading in and out as usual.
After the second plane hit, I knew where I needed to go. To my office, to a phone. You see, my son was in the USN at the time. Stationed safely away in a remote base under a mountain on the East Coast ( not mentioning the name or place, I did that once and got a phone call to stop), he was a CRT. Crypto. That means he probably knew stuff that was going on and couldn't talk about it. But I needed to hear his voice. And I did, in less than an hour. "Mom, I'm fine. We're going in the mountain. I'll call when I can." And he did. Six weeks later. As the battle in Afghanistan was kicking into gear. Which leads me to one of my best "rememberings" of 9-11 events.
Sitting in turn 2 at Charlotte Motor Speedway on a crisp October afternoon. Just after the National anthem. A real President, who did and still loves America announced we had begun military operations in Afghanistan. The crowd went wild is an understatement. I can feel the love of Country still, as i remember the chants of USA!USA! USA! One of our finest hours. Too bad the asshat in charge now has taken us back 30 years militarily and we've watched another Vietnam unfold.
I've had a wish for post 9-11 America. I've wished we could forever feel the way we did on 9-12. Glenn Beck had that right. We were truly all Americans that day. Some days, I'm not so sure that can happen again. But you know me, the eternal optimist. I don't give up, and I believe in my heart of hearts that America doesn't give up. Certain people, maybe. But they can GTFO as far as I care. Liberals who apologize for our greatness, progressives who think we are not exceptional. Just.Go.Away. There's plenty of us here that want to display our great Nation instead of disparaging it. Go hang with your multicultural buddies in Europe. We'll keep the fires burning here.
WELCOME BACK TO ME!!!
The sabbatical is over ! After a LONG time being away, reading up on the important stuff going on in the world and generally edumakatin' myself, I started working on things behind the scenes a few months ago. A dear friend on Facebook has been encouraging me to write, and I've done a few pieces that I shared there. I don't like the idea of someone else getting paid when people read my work, so I didn't go that route. Lone wolf and all that, you know me....
But I am BACK, and by BACK I mean I am EL FUEGO! A lot has changed in the last few years, and I'm back to sounding off on the things that matter to me, and hopefully to you.
So sit back, enjoy a cool drink, and hopefully enjoy the ramblings of one who is definitely NOT A BRICK IN THE WALL.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
paging Gen. Carter Ham, please report to Congress
I am sure Darrell Issa and Jason Chaffetz would LOVE to hear some truth from you as well, sir.
http://www.americanthinker.com/2012/11/sacking_general_carter_ham.html
http://www.americanthinker.com/2012/11/sacking_general_carter_ham.html
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Whistling past the graveyard
move along, sheeple, move along... nothing to see here...
http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2012-11-10/foodstamps-surge-most-one-year-new-all-time-record-delayed-release
http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2012-11-10/foodstamps-surge-most-one-year-new-all-time-record-delayed-release
Friday, November 9, 2012
oh GREAT.....
just when we thought that the DOJ couldn't have a bigger asshat in charge....
http://www.breitbart.com/Big-Government/2012/11/09/Obama-meets-deval-patrick
http://www.breitbart.com/Big-Government/2012/11/09/Obama-meets-deval-patrick
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Bitter much?
yanno.... I understand this guy is bitter about his pretty little wife getting shot in the head and all that... but really, is Gov. Jan "Scorpions for Breakfast" Brewer really who he needs to be pissed at?
http://weaselzippers.us/2012/11/08/classy-husband-of-gabby-giffords-attacks-arizona-gov-jan-brewer-while-speaking-to-the-court-during-sentencing-hearing-for-shooter/
http://weaselzippers.us/2012/11/08/classy-husband-of-gabby-giffords-attacks-arizona-gov-jan-brewer-while-speaking-to-the-court-during-sentencing-hearing-for-shooter/
She's backkkkkkkkkk
WELCOME BACK MY FRIENDS, TO TH SHOW THAT NEVER ENDS...
Well, it didn't end. It just took a huge intermission.
I hope you'll forgive my weakness.
Hoping to kick this back into gear and help rid our Great Nation of the libtards and socialists that THINK they have taken over our government. These asshats have got another think coming if they believe the American People will sit by and watch them RUIN things for us.
Well, it didn't end. It just took a huge intermission.
I hope you'll forgive my weakness.
Hoping to kick this back into gear and help rid our Great Nation of the libtards and socialists that THINK they have taken over our government. These asshats have got another think coming if they believe the American People will sit by and watch them RUIN things for us.
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