MINI MITES RUINING OUR REPUBLIC

The enemy in America are it's career politicians, unelected bureaucrats, D.C.  lobbyists, and overwhelming left leaning media establishment.

Many democratic, republican, and socialist politicos and their agents seem to have little interest in upholding the Constitution. Their game is power, perks and establishing a huge financial portfolio.  Personal freedom and economic opportunities are being  replaced by pc speak, lap dog media puppets and an increasing push for a full on socialist government.

For decades this beast has perfected it's schemes to increase it's political power and personal wealth while replacing the liberty of citizens with handouts. All the red tape invented by government is designed to maintain a status quo which eventually rots the soul of innovation and reduces government to a virtual handout factory & inertia machine. Government programs which re distribute tax money with shiny bits of material goodies stifle civic interest and initiative. Our highways crumble, schools fail and the military gets weaker as a monstrous state of demons undermine the freedoms of the constitution.

Apathetic voters become ignorant voters and drift towards the simplest sound bites in making their election choices. Most politicians have no interest in the "common good" and are soon controlled by the money of lobbyists and the opiate of power. Masses of voters fed on the sweet cake of welfare from cradle to grave, accept government run schools, monthly government issued stipends, and diminished government services. Many people happily vote for demagogues because it's a family tradition or habit of their tribe or social group.

When a clear outsider such as Trump is elected, the ranks of establishment politicians quickly close to block his anti corruption agenda which got him elected. The media gladly joins the establishment especially since Trump thumbed his nose at the celebrity class early in his campaign. Whether his plans are eventually deemed brilliant or silly, it's amazing the speed at which the DC swamp is sucking the life out of Trump's aspirations. His campaign promises reflect the will of those who gave him the winning electoral votes, and the empire of DC could care less about the will of the people. 

The dangerous concern is not about Trump, but the incredible toxic nature of a national government unable to accept changes that have  been re directed to reduce the size regulatory dictatorship, size and scope of  rule. The corruption of American politics will soon have it assuming the tepid nature of failed European States.

I believe America will not end in some dark Orwellian sunset because government will supply endless false rainbows and hopes, but the hollow prediction of T.S. Eliot may sound the demise of our once great republic ... " This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper. "

SNOTTY NOSED ANTIFA/BLM RIOTERS, OLD HIPPIES & ANARCHISTS

A well financed and vocal minority continue to riot and babble the oft failed siren song of socialism.  The new deal, square deal or fair deal of economic equality is a joke, but appeals to millions of naïve or economically ignorant people. Liberal/progressive/socialist politicians and their media manipulators publicize and cheer the cause well beyond it's relevance or value.

Many warring demonstrators wear masks and use physical violence, shouting, and burning to convey their belief and intimidate opposing views. In the case of the college aged participants, many are still financed by parents or government loans and probably don't want to be recognized. These children are convinced  people and businesses should surrender or allow confiscation of their wealth and property for redistribution by a " benevolent " government. The old people in the crowd of demonstrators are old hippies frustrated by their lives and perhaps brain damaged by a lifetime of drug use.

The idea of socialism was invented by Karl Marx and Frederich Engels in the mid nineteenth century. It was based upon the community models of Plato's "Republic" and Sir Thomas More's "Utopia". The theory requires communal or government ownership and control of production and distribution of goods. Except for a few early Christian groups and hippie communes, socialism has never succeeded on any large scale. Even the political hammer of Communism applied in the early twentieth century couldn't satisfy the wants and needs of a large nation. When government gets in the business of controlling the economy we find Russians wanting for toilet paper and Venezuelans starving while North Koreans suffer in a slave state. Cubans drive 60 and 70 year old jalopies around the filthy harbor of Havana and slow down to avoid crowds of beggars because socialism and communism are failed concepts. A few socialist practices have been adopted in the US, but thankfully the free market and capitalism and a free market will reign supreme in the production and distribution of goods and services.

Somehow, latter day political demagogues in Europe and America repackage the fantasy of socialism and preach it to a willing audience of dreamer students, idealists and uneducated people every few decades. Bernie Sanders joined by AOC, her gang and other uber progressives are the latest American political hacks to preach the empty dream of socialism. Some college students and many American haters have used this cause to incite civil disobedience and continually whine over the 2016 election results.

If they gave a damn about education, Soros and other billionaires in conjunction with college administrators would fund programs to expose young students to a real educational opportunity. I think those who believe socialism is the salvation of mankind should stop "talking the talk" and "walk the walk" by spending a few months in North Korea, Cuba or Venezuela.

In 2013 I visited Cuba and found the people cordial, however living in Havana is an experience of crumbling buildings, poor infrastructure, long gas lines, dim streetlights, empty grocer and rationing shops and far too many street beggars. Additionally, a filthy harbor and lines of very old American cars points to another failed version of socialism. Castro and his soviet allies damned this once beautiful Caribbean nation and their good people to decades of poverty and hopelessness.

The Soro's sponsored anarchists along with BLM and ANTIFA mobs seek big changes by violence, fires, bombing, intimidation and looting,  but they will fail.

A VARMINTS STORY

The pack moved slowly and quietly along a hedgerow biting at flies and snapping up fat grasshoppers. It was a small family of four coyotes, two pups and two adults. Soon the yearlings would drift away to find mates and their own lives. These wandering creatures shared the fields and forests with other beasts of two and four legs. Some were deadly adversaries and others were meals. They gorged on the smaller critters and escaped the larger animals. The spring season was a good time. Soon there would be plentiful bird eggs, baby rabbits, snakes, an occasional chicken, and other small critters. Fresh rains would fill the creeks and gullies and provide hydration and bathing places. Like God's other creatures the coyotes spent most of their time in the cycle of surviving; eating and reproducing their own kind. 

The sound of a barking dog froze the pack. As their ears rotated to locate the sounds source they simultaneously broke into a run. They ran noiselessly and with ease. First, out of the open field into tall grass then through several creeks and into an area of heavy underbrush. As they wheeled around a corner one of the pups slid over a small steel trap and was instantly stopped. The other coyotes never looked back as the male pup wailed in a pain he had never experienced before.

The harder the little coyote pulled against the trap the more it penetrated fur and flesh. He snarled, bit, and licked at the trap but nothing changed his entrapment. He rolled over many times and this  only caused him to pant and froth from exhaustion. His pain was a terrible thing. His natural instinct led him to twist and writhe into a furry ball  to escape and hide from the hurt and fear that wracked his body.

Immobilized for hours, the coyote chewed and licked at the lower part of his leg crushed in the steel teeth. He sensed that escaping the trap was a matter of survival but biting at his mangled leg didn't  help.

As the morning blended to a late day of shadows, the small coyote fell into an uncomfortable sleep. Suddenly he was aroused by the sound of twigs and leaves crackling nearby. It was a man and the coyote furiously strained against the trap. He had never encountered this creature but it was big and in his animal mind large beasts posed danger. A large stick whacked down at the coyote but missed.

However, the missed stroke hit the trap hard enough to sever the remaining shards of bones and leg tendons. Free the little critter first drug itself a few yards then furiously hobbled on its three good legs before a second swing missed. Wildly scampering the coyote never looked back as it found sanctuary in deep thorny patch of underbrush. The unleashed and howling hound refused to enter the coyotes refuge. Burrowing deeply into a hovel the coyote remained still until the light of day disappeared.

Rest was good and the festering wound aided by dirt and maggots slowly scabbed over in a few days. Even with his disability he was able to capture enough to eat and he adapted to being three legged.  One day he encountered his family. They sniffed at his stump and only allowed him to trail the pack. His attempts to groom or be groomed within the group were met with snarls.

He was slow, but once again a free creature in the wild. The little coyote would not survive long as he was easy prey for a swift lynx or dog. This could never be a fuzzy Disney tale but a realistic account of one small animal escaping. The young coyote suffered mightily but managed to live as a free animal of the forest. His lifetime was only weeks or months, but as one of God's wondrous creations he somehow escaped a deadly trap.

Measured in years or decades, isn't our remaining life like the remaining time of the little varmint a wondrous gift from God ?

GOODNIGHT BOB.

When she died he spent weeks mourning. After fifty five years he was sad that his companion, lover, and biggest critic was gone. When the sounds of marriage quit the house he suffered a spiritual emptiness for months. The days became quiet and dark without the rhythm and spice of conversation and arguments with his lifetime mate.

Months of silence changed Bob.

In time his loneliness and sadness made him feel weaker, older, and less safe. He spent hours remembering the yesterdays. Their travels, her smell, his silliness blended with a thousand other flashbacks of a long married life. The good, bad, and indifferent memories became a safe place to escape his fear of growing old and dying.

Soon, Bob began talking to inanimate things and they developed a plan to escape growing old and dying.

Sleep time became his favorite time. Following a careful diet and regimen of medicines he knew good slumber produced good dreams. He reveled in the colorful dreams which mixed fantasy with remembrances. His sleep apnea device lent a soft white noise to the experience. But, Bob became increasingly fearful that a natural or violent death was approaching.

His plan was strange but the furniture, lamps, and refrigerator assured Bob it was a good scheme.

Each night Bob double checked the locked doors. Then, he arranged a large jar of holy water, a loaded 38, flashlight, and cell phone on the end table beside his sleep apnea machine. He believed these were his defenses against the evils in the dark. The holy water liberally dispensed would dissolve and destroy any devils or vampires. The small revolver full of hollow points would stop any thug creeping into his bed chamber. The flashlight would illuminate any monsters scratching at the window and his cell phone would quickly bring the cops or firemen.

The plan brought Bob months of security and enjoyable dream times until the insomnia began.

He always consulted his physician when a new pain or health concern arose. They willingly provided pills and tests for high blood pressure, ulcers, diabetes, and hyper tension. Bob felt secure that his doctors had all the remedies. The sleeping pills didn't help. The sleeplessness kept his eyes staring at the ceiling for hours and robbed him of dreams and rest.

As his sleep deprived nights became foggy days, he consulted the sofa, microwave, and ceiling fan. They offered no solutions. His insomnia persisted and deepened.

The lack of rest robbed Bob of his appetite. His mind slowly and steadily lost memories and the habit of performing daily routines. Forgetting to bathe, empty the trash or collect the mail turned his home into chaos. Nobody noticed because he had no family and infrequent friends. He mechanically followed his nightly ritual insuring locked doors, holy water, pistol, flashlight, and cell phone in place. However, night after night sleep and dreams became the exception to hours of staring at the gray ceiling.

The night Bob died the sound of six gunshots alerted the neighbors which brought the police.

In addition to a house full of trash and stink, the investigators were mystified by the bedroom scene. Six bullet holes closely clustered in the ceiling, a very wet bed, the flashlight shining up at the ceiling, and the cell phone in the deathly grip of Bob's right hand. However, the strangest sight was Bob's wide open eyes frozen in a gaze at the ceiling. There was no forced entry and an autopsy found no clear cause of death. Eventually, Bob's death was recorded as natural due to aging.

His final seconds did not witness a human intruder, devil, fire, vampire or beast at the window. All the doors were securely bolted. Bob's last desperate defenses failed to stop the force which seeped through that ceiling. Night after night Bob stared at that gray ceiling seeking sweet dreams. Finally, the great angel of death pierced the gray, descended, and lifted Bob to a goodnight.

    

AMERICA FAILING ?

Is a united nation of sovereign states existing in a land of economic opportunities and personal freedoms dying ?

If so perhaps these are the reasons:

1. We the citizens have allowed government, it's officials and bureaucrats, to become a for profit outfit.  The system is corrupt with self serving lobbyists, enormous & wasteful spending of tax payer money, and tenured "public servants" who serve themselves always before serving American citizens.

2. We the citizens have allowed our pleasures and self gratification to exceed our civic duties. We have grown ignorant of our history and culture. We have been forced to focus on the exceptions to our generally good national record. Powers controlling media, entertainment, and culture have weakened our educational system.

3. We the citizens have allowed our government to develop a system of rewards to anyone and everyone in exchange for political loyalty. Government systems that reward people with money or material goods while beneficiaries are exempted from making any physical sacrifice or financial contribution are immoral. This system is further spoiled by extending the giveaways to illegal immigrants.

Electing a political outsider like Donald Trump was a good step, but was it too little too late to rescue our nation from collapse ? Trump's immense energy and pragmatism bode well in his quest "to make America great again". However, with the deep state of swampy bureaucrats, media leftists, dems and  RINO law makers opposing TRUMP at all levels how can our nation be made great ? The unexpected and deep swell of national support from voters is a great asset for the president, but it is a national shame that the will and agenda of so many citizens is sidetracked daily by the deep pockets of leftist power brokers.

President Trump, his political base, and supporters must demand remedies be made to government to maintain our constitutional and capitalist republic as the worlds bastion of personal liberty and free enterprise with these measures:

1. Institute term limits for members of Congress and the Supreme Court. Old men and women in positions of great power have rob our nation of energy and innovation. Mandatory retirement ages must be instituted to liberate Congress from becoming an old folks home. Also, when career politicians spend too much time courting financial sponsors and lobbyists to win their next term they cheat their constituents of full representation.

2. Highlight, respect and uphold the Constitutions first great order to "insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense". Do this by re building and maintaining the worlds greatest military force and supporting local police with the resources necessary to rid our streets of crime.

3. Secure our borders and require immigrants to learn English, swear allegiance, and adopt the customs, culture and holidays of America. Stop sending foreign aid to enemies or those allied with our enemies.

4. Disband most of the federal governments web of "ABC" agencies and allow states the funding and authority to govern more affairs of it's citizens. In addition to trillions in savings, breaking up the deep state of career bureaucrats in DC will lead to more efficient federal governmental services.

5. Clean up entitlement programs. If a citizen has contributed money to a federally sponsored retirement, education or health plan, made a physical or psychological sacrifice by military or government service, or is 100% unable to provide for themselves, they are entitled to government assistance. Government handouts to illegal immigrants, work capable individuals, and others must be carefully monitored to avoid fraud.

6. Get the federal government out of all the things that can be handled more efficiently at a lower cost by elements of the free market. Health care, rebuilding the nations infrastructure, veterans care, public broadcasting, postal services, and running trains are just a few examples of activities best served by private enterprise.

Americans who voted Trump must be loud and tall in loyalty to the idea of "making America great again". The republic is worth saving for future generations and the agents actively and sometimes violently opposing Trump, cleaning the DC swamp and making government more efficient must be countered and soundly defeated.

   

MUSLIN OR MUSLIM

For a craft project I needed a piece of muslin and some silk so I visited my neighborhood Walmart.

The clerk in the fabric department was surrounded by several aisles of quilting, crochet, sewing supplies, and stacks of rolled cloth. This was the right place so I asked the young lady if she had "any muslin." Her eyebrows suddenly arched and she responded, "what" in a less than friendly tone. I sensed she heard Muslim when I asked for muslin so I expanded my request and clearly stated "muslin cloth". Her expression was still a study in puzzlement as she stated " I don't know nothing about muslin cloth." Finally, I spelled the word "muslin" sensing she might still think I was asking about something Muslim. Her tone and demeanor softened and she finally related that the store didn't carry muslin. Then, I asked about silk. She didn't have any, but cheerfully pointed out several faux silk materials.

I was disappointed that one of my favorite shopping venues couldn't fill my order.

However, I was most intrigued and slightly amused that a single letter in the six letter words of muslin and Muslim could panic, confuse, and possibly anger a sales associate in a major retail store. Muslin is a very old word describing a common fabric and Muslim is a very old word describing a complex culture and religion.

To the very old adage "that words have meaning" I would suggest that some letters within words also make a difference.

MONTEREY MORNING

The church gathering Tuesday noon was unusual, but so were the events a few hours earlier. As a siren droned from an old police cruiser outside the church, people rushed into the white planked United House of Prayer in downtown Monterey Virginia.

Seems it all began about nine on a warm May morning. Ruby Thorn, the town whore, was just leaving the Econo Lodge when a brilliant shaft of light spiraled out of the sky, briefly illuminated her in it's pure white glow then sucked her straight up into the sky. Simultaneously, an alley cat, old man Jorgenson, and a half dozen other people on the town's main street were blasted by a blinding light and sent flying skyward. Some witnesses staggered in fright or fell to the ground as they beheld the unbelievable events of the morning. A few people reported that they saw people shooting through the roofs of homes and cars into the radiant beam of an intense white light.

Inside the church the level of excited chatter was a shock to the normal quietude of the sanctuary. Assistant Pastor Quinn shuffled up three steps to the pulpit and nervously tapped the microphone to quiet the overfilled hall. He cleared his throat and wiped the steady bead of sweat from his brow and spoke. "Folks, what we got here is a divine Rapture. Almighty God has finally signaled his second coming and taken the faithful to be with him in paradise. Best we can calculate about half the towns people are gone and a goodly number of graves out at the cemetery have been emptied." He paused and as he looked down at his scrawled notes, a fresh wave of loud comments and conversation commenced. Mr. Hook the high school science teacher proclaimed "it's that damned global warning,  I tell ya". Another person cried out that "it's the work of Satan", someone else questioned why God would straight away lift up an old whore and alley cat and skip so many good church folk. Quinn continued, "now Deputy Till called the State Police and Governors Office and they claimed to know nothing about a Rapture or any strange goings on anywhere else in Highland County or the state. The National Guard has been mobilized to insure nobody does any looting so you all stay away from places where people have disappeared. We're trying to get together an exact list of everybody that's gone and we need your help to complete our tally. Please see a volunteer in the vestibule before you leave."

"Now my friends let us pray, dear God we thank you for all your blessings and ask that you guide us through this strange day. We don't fully understand your ways but trust your judgment and your holy words of scripture. Bless all our family and friends who you have suddenly summoned as your newest saints, and help all of us who remain so that someday we may join your heavenly family way up in the sky. Dear Lord we ask for your mercy and the forgiveness of our sins on this day of grand revelation."

After a few seconds of meditation Quinn lifted his head as the throng quietly shuffled from the pews and out the door. He realized he would be assuming the role of pastor since Brother Jackson had been swept up in the Rapture. He couldn't suppress his hope that the Church Board would see fit to raise his monthly stipend and at the appropriate time allow him to occupy the recently remodeled parsonage. Of immediate concern as he slumped into his office chair were the phone calls to cancel the upcoming spaghetti dinner and re arrange the months calendar to accommodate those parishioners who had vanished.

The little village was quiet for a few hours. But, as the sun slowly began it's descent behind the western mountains, traffic got busier than normal. Television news crews from Richmond and Washington were setting up for live broadcasts. Insurance claims agents had reached town and quickly rented all the available rooms at local inns and motels in Monterey south to Warm Springs. Volunteers out at the cemetery were filling in the empty holes with fresh dirt. Memorial services were set up for the 118 adults and children taken away in the Rapture. A few people were reviewing life insurance policies of loved ones and discovering the "acts of God" clause. More than a handful of locals were pondering their reactions such as " why not me Lord? " and "thank God it wasn't me!"

The future came without further excitement but the people in the area strove everyday to be better Christians while always keeping an eye on the sky.

        

RED ROSES AND PAIN

I cannot clip or tend my rose bush without hurting myself.

The red roses and their buds are protected by sharp barbs which are difficult to avoid. Though the prick causes temporary pain and a drop or two of blood, it never stops me from trimming the handsome red flowers.

The velvety red hue of my roses reminds me of the flush linked to human romance and passionate pursuits. However, the scarlet color is also associated with bleeding and human suffering. It is interesting, perhaps ironic, that a rose bush of great beauty offers us a message that the space between love and pain is slight. It is so easy in attempting to enhance or hold beauty that pain awaits the slightest handling mistake. More interesting, that the allure to care and develop our roses is done with the full realization that pain may accompany the pampering. We must acknowledge that while we will always return to trim the roses the hurt is always nearby.

Whether our passionate pursuits in life involve love, money, children, a political order, family, art, healing, friends or tranquility we must be mindful that disappointment and hurt are neighbors. One cannot abandon caring for their rose bushes, but one must be ever mindful that passion and pain are partners amid the green leaves of our lives.

    

WHAT IS YOUR COLOR ? ?

As a child of the segregated south I have lived through all the names used to describe persons of dusky skin color. Some were degrading and insulting slurs, however as I recall the progression of acceptable terms during my lifetime they were Negro, colored, black, and African American. I have trouble with several of these terms and offer a change suggestion.

Black is an adjective defining no color from the absorption of nearly all light. My Oxford dictionary also lists completely dark, angry, sinister, deadly, gloomy, sullen, and comic as adjectives synonyms with black. Most people of color I encounter or have known are neither completely dark, angry, sinister, gloomy or sullen. I think all the negative aspects associated with black disqualify it as a collective to describe any people of color. Young children forced to call themselves black must someday make negative associations with the word. As examples; the bad cowboy always had a black hat or black horse. The place where monsters await is always a black hole or completely dark closet. How many innocent children have been haunted and psychologically injured because they had to identify themselves as black ?

I believe Americans share a range of skin colors from nearly white (albino) to very dark. This range includes a rainbow of olive, pink, yellow, red, alabaster, tan, and brown pigmentation shades. Nobody is simply all white, black, red or yellow or should be defined as such. All people are beautiful and unique in the skin God gave them. We need to proceed and define this issue more carefully.

African American is a misleading term in my opinion because few Negroes in America recently immigrated directly from Africa. Also, people in America's "melting pot" should never carry around names with hyphenated nationalities. For decades every race, religion, creed, and skin color have co mingled and procreated to produce an unbelievable variety of skin colors and mixed race combinations, and they're all Americans. One may have an ancestry stretching back to China, Mexico, England, Ethiopia, India, Ireland, Egypt, and a thousand other places in the world, but people blessed with living in the greatest nation on the globe should celebrate America and not mix their identities with other countries or continents. Know your ancestry and celebrate your origins, but don't diminish being an American by attaching a disclaimer to your Americanism. We are a world no longer comprised of roaming tribes identifying themselves by geography, occupation, weaponry, or legends.

While Negro and Negroid scientifically describe dark-skinned people, there are millions of Americans with deep ancestral roots in Africa who are neither black (see earlier paragraph) or dark-skinned. Africans like South Americans, Europeans, Australians, and Asians sport skin colors which cover a wide spectrum of hues. Like the classification Caucasian, the term Negro is too narrow in my view. White is not always good, example, the guy in the white hat is not always the hero, and the white knight is sometimes a thug. Also, Negro contains key letters found in epithets and slang terms used against many people of dark color. The letters mispronounced can easily form a degrading pejorative term.

My choice for defining all of us  is "people of color" because everybody has a unique and beautiful skin color. Rather than saying the black or white guy lets try better choices such as citizen of color, robber of color, soldier of color, or policeman of color. Best to describe someone by their name, but defining someone by a broad term such as a specific color is inadequate, in my opinion. Someone may have smooth ebony skin or a milky white complexion but to infer one is black, African-American or negro, and the other is white or has origins in the Caucasus region is limiting.

I believe our world will be a better, more peaceful place when we stop dividing and defining ourselves by skin color or other tribal identifications. I sincerely think that if a mass blood and DNA analysis were conducted on all Americans, it would show that the 350 plus million people of America are all relatives !

I will refrain from using color to ID people in the future. I hope we can all become Americans of color instead of insisting on the limiting terms we've used in the past. If the winner didn't just fly in from Algeria, he is an American man of color who just won the lottery. If the bad Canadian guy who blew up the hot dog stand just got off a bus from Canada he is properly a Canadian terrorist.

I expect a few may venture the opinion that I'm a stupid old "white" guy, but I'd prefer being labeled a stupid old American guy of color, thank you

.    

BOBBY'S MINDFUL WAR

He wasn't much to look at anymore.

Just a rag of a man wearing thrift store stuff and a face of permanent stubble. His once brilliant blue eyes were now cloudy and one was milky white blind. His mouth was contorted in a permanent frown and his voice was low and gravely. He didn't say much and mostly nodded. He didn't live anywhere, yet he lived everywhere. Under bridges, in falling down abandoned sheds, and sometimes at a homeless shelter if a bed was available and he could manage to co exist without fighting for a few hours. While he existed in the shadow world of the big city, most of the toughs left him alone. It was known he had nothing, was a harmless sot, but would kill or maim anyone insulting his space. Nobody knew his age, but most guessed he was in his sixties close to seventy. 

Sometimes he begged for change at street corners with a sign roughly lettered, "homeless vet". When he got enough change he would buy a burger or a beer. It didn't matter to Bobby. A beer or burger would give him enough energy to move on, find another handout, a place to sleep, and a quiet spot to relieve himself. When handouts were lean, he would dig into dumpsters or hang out at  take away joints. Once in a while he'd score a half eaten handout or bag of somebodies leftovers.

Most people ignored Bobby and for the most part, he probably ignored them. To most observers, he appeared to be just another waif aimlessly wandering the streets. He lived and sought to survive in the moment. Few probably gave a damn that he had a past or future. Bobby simply didn't give a good tinkers damn about anything. But he was part of my history.

Lost in the endless maze of inner city streets I saw Bobby slumped over with his back to a wall. I had seen him several times earlier, but for some reason this day he immediately looked at me as I passed in my car. Briefly our eyes met and I recognized him despite his awful shabbiness. When our eyes joined a reunion occurred and fifty years vanished. He knew me and I knew him. I felt guilty that I had not stopped when I first recognized him. What should I do ?

I remembered we had been kids together. Played and schooled as best pals, fought over girlfriends, and backed each other up in fights over turf, girls, and other inconsequential matters. We knew each other from the past and in a single glance of recognition it all came back. But, what had happened to Bobby ? I knew he had flunked college and got his ass drafted to Vietnam. I recall the local headlines when he got his Silver Star and a bunch of other medals. Then our lives evidently went in different directions, our paths and careers didn't cross and contact was lost for precious decades. Sometimes I would spy an old photograph in a family album or imagine his face staring back at me in a mirror. But, seeing this bum who had been my best bud and a genuine war champion reduced to the rubble and stubble of a tramp was shocking. I don't know why, but I didn't stop when our glances reflected mutual recognition. I drove on while memorizing the street name where Bobby now lived out in the open. I convinced myself to return and re friend my old buddy. Rescue him if I could, but at least offer him something he didn't have. Perhaps a little cash, some clean clothes, a safe place to live with a soft bed and a roof from the weather. I toyed with many noble plans to help. I had the money, but days and weeks passed before I returned to rescue Bobby. I gave myself plenty of excuses telling   myself that while I truly wanted to help, I was strangely repulsed and afraid. 

I really didn't want to leave Bobby to live and die miserably on the streets and finally gathered enough courage to plan a rescue operation.

On a fine sunny day I motored to the corner where I had seen him a few weeks earlier. No Bobby. I circled six or eight blocks of the neighborhood, but no Bobby. At one corner a guy was slumped in a corner outside an abandoned warehouse. I thought, perhaps hoped, it might be Bobby. I parked, carefully locked my car, and fingered the 38 in my coat pocket for security. Before getting too close I could smell the urine and feces stink radiating from the heap. With a "hey buddy" and shoulder tap I roused the guy. I unconsciously wanted to remember the fingers that had touched this creature to insure a through sanitizing later. The curled body twitched and slowly uncurled. A red scarred face emerged. In a snarl I heard, "whatta ya want, I ain't done nothing - I ain't got nothing". The pathetic beast before me was not Bobby, and I suddenly felt threatened. I sputtered "sorry" and dug in my pocket and threw a fiver his way. As I escaped to my car he mumbled "thanks pal".

I circled the area a few more times before deciding to visit a few homeless shelters in the neighborhood. At each place I found the duty manager and asked about a guy named Bobby Benton. I described him as a local fellow about seventy years old who was a highly decorated Vietnam veteran.  "Yeah, everyone knew about Bobby B., he had lots of crazy stories and had terrific nightmares", but nobody claimed to have seen him lately. I checked two local police precincts and asked about missing persons, unidentified John Does at the morgue, or unknowns in lockup. No luck.

Frustrated, I hopped into my car adjusted the air conditioning to super cool and felt content that Bobby Benton had disappeared. I felt lousy that I had not stopped and rescued him the first time I saw him. But, I was smugly satisfied that at least I had tried to retrieve my old pal from his life of misery. I even massaged my aching conscience with the idea that it might be a sin to alter a persons path to personal destruction or fulfillment. As I neared the original spot where I first spied and stared into the eyes of Bobby I imagined seeing him again. I rubbed my eyes as I pulled over to the curb and incredulously approached Bobby. " Hey Bobby Benton, it's your old chum and I'm here to help you". I reached out to lift him to his feet, but he refused to rise. Rather he looked at me real hard.

Finally he said,
"you are the real Bobby Benton, and I am but your shadow from a long ago war in your mind."

 

SO, MERRY CHRISTMAS !

Seems I've heard more Merry Christmas salutations from retail and fast food clerks this season than over the last few holidays. Maybe this dramatic change is related to the earth shattering political events in November, but I could be wrong.

However, it is refreshing to see the president elect using traditional Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah greetings in his "thank you" presentations and other speeches. As past presidents have used their office and speeches as a "bully pulpit" to promote their causes, we can only hope our incoming POTUS will do the same. Perhaps,  the veil of political correctness is lifting a bit as a  Donald Trump presidency approaches, and regular folks feel less intimidated in their holiday speech. Hopefully, the mechanical and generic "Happy Holiday" phrase may become a secondary December greeting.

Obviously, all wintertime religious and civil beliefs which do not endanger ones life, liberty or pursuit of happiness should be tolerated and enjoyed. But, it is nice Mr. Trump is happily declaring the nations most traditional December respects in his public appearances. Hopefully, as he works to get America great again, civil and community leaders will not strive to eliminate nativity scenes, Christmas trees, and menorahs from public places and private property.

Christmas and Hanukkah are significant parts of our national culture and worthy of celebration and remembrance. Whatever one's religious belief or not, these holy holidays are American traditions and part of our civilization. A few years ago Michael Savage (radio talk host) famously declared that our nation can only remain united if we maintain a common culture, language, and set of borders. To attain this goal Mr. Trump faces many challenges, but his "Merry Christmas" greetings are a good start in recognizing and honoring our common heritage.

Without fear of being politically incorrect or insensitive, may I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah.

WHY MANY CELEBRITIES SPEAK STUPID POLITICS ...

In my opinion many of the talented celebrities with beautiful voices, faces, and acting abilities speak stupid politics because they have no well prepared script or lyrics. Also, they have little or no knowledge of history, lack common sense and are addicted to the political correctness of the far left  of the political world.

These artistic folks develop a wonderful stage presence because they memorize lines and practice until the words and body language become a temporary part of their persona. The angelic and soulful singing or dramatic play acting requires talent, repetition, lots of hard work, and most of all a written script. The smooth delivery of a professional thespian or songster is no accident and untrained mortals who try usually collapse with stage fright.

Many of the most professional celebrities rarely do well without their makeup people, directors, and handlers. Their personalities and careers thrive on careful manipulation and help from others. When pushed into the political arena for a comment or speech many sound like uneducated and naive school children. In their world of fantasy, promising to leave America if Trump is elected and saying the most bizarre things will happen is because they have no direction or script.

Because an actor played POTUS in a television series he or she may feel qualified to pontificate their  political views. Because a diva can spark emotion from the coldest heart does not mean she is an informed political spokesperson. Unfortunately, too many celebrity fans base their opinions and beliefs upon every dribbling word from their favorite star or starlet.

Everyone is entitled to an opinion, but the problem arises when so many with little proof or knowledge of politics or history use their popularity to preach nonsense.

REVENGE OF THE MASS MEDIA AND POLITICAL ESTABLISHMENT

The huge "news" businesses and a majority of their "talking heads" and "experts" incorrectly predicted a smashing Clinton victory. They were totally and embarrassingly wrong. Now, to justify their huge error and political point of view, every Donald Trump action and word as President Elect and President will be dissected and analyzed to find anything worth criticizing. It is the revenge of a mass media that couldn't convey their political slant onto the American electorate to produce a Clinton victory.

When I was a student I remember the word objective tied to courses on journalism and news reporting. Evidently, the concept of objective journalism is no longer a required or elective course in colleges. I observe more and more news people framing their reports with their own views or the political views of their corporate bosses and owners.

Anyone can spend a minute or two watching the news and quickly discern the political slant of the piece. Word choices, voice inflection, and facial expressions quickly reveal how a news reader really feels about his subject. I expect opinion pieces to be opinions, but news should be news without opinion. I recall something from school about giving your readers or audience a bunch of "w's" and letting them form their own conclusion or opinion from the basic facts. A good example of sound reporting might be, Mayor Smith drove his Buick into a tree at 3AM along High Street and suffered a broken leg. A bad example might be, Republican firebrand Mayor Smith rammed a luxury city owned sedan into an innocent tree in the wee hours of the morning after all the bars had just closed. He sustained non life threatening injuries and it is not clear if he was administered a blood alcohol test.

The scorn of the mass media will hang over Trump like buzzards over fresh roadkill for the next four years. Beyond reporting the facts the viewing and reading public will be treated to opinions and innuendos far beyond the what, when, where, and who of Trump's daily official and unofficial life. While anyone choosing to be in the public spot light must endure scrutiny, the mass media will  perform a daily cavity scan on everything Trump. In a desperate attempt to regain credibility and justify their initial negative judgement, Trump will be a constant target of scorn and revenge.

While the body of his work as POTUS is yet to be seen, and will likely have it's high and low points, the media will surely stick to the low road. Beware of on going left bias, fake news, and negative reporting from the New York Times, Washington Post, LA Times, NBC, CNN, MSNBC, AP, BBC, and a number of lesser know news outlets and their affiliates.

   

TO WHOM DO BLACK LIVES MATTER ... ?

Given the words and actions of most national black leaders and BLM leaders, black lives really don't matter.

If the BLM organization cared about their black brothers and sisters they would use their energy  in more positive ways than blocking highways, rioting, insulting police, and allowing the destruction of public and private property. Sadly, BLM is all about getting headlines and showing the racism they so passionately claim to hate. Where is the BLM outfit when it comes to positive programs to help distressed black communities ? Where are the BLM protesters and outrage over the hundreds of senseless black on black murders ?

America's mass media cares more about advertising revenue and covering the hours of racial mob violence than actual black lives. Protracted coverage of demonstrations and riots simply adds fuel to the senseless fire of hate and frustration that is the BLM. CNN, Fox, MSNBC and others have spent more resources on covering race riots because they care about ratings and advertising revenues. Of note The Smithsonian Institute recently opened a grand museum documenting the struggles and accomplishments of black America and the mass media gang was largely absent - why ? Is covering a sensational riot more important than publicizing a great exposition showcasing black contributions to our culture ? Maybe not so much.

If Barrack Obama gave a damn, he would be the community leader, he never was, and pressure his Chicago mayor pal, Louie F., Rev. Wright, and all the other Chicago democrats into ending the tragic nightly slaughter of young blacks. However, Barrack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Eric Holder, Jesses Jackson, Al Sharpton and other black leaders would rather bristle over the isolated and sketchy scenarios when a white cop shots  a black man than do the hard work in the inner cities. Ultimately, in the Ferguson, Baltimore, Trayvon Martin case and others, race was a non factor. Nonetheless, Obama and the normal gang of race pimps rush to judgement. They bellow to gain publicity, money, votes for Hillary Clinton, and the chance to build a legacy, but they rarely roar over the fatherless homes, drug culture, unlimited abortions, joblessness, lack of education, and job opportunities that plague every major urban area of our country. These factors are the real cause for violence and disfunction in many urban communities. Their consistent solution to end these problems is to appropriate more money. This allows complacent bureaucrats to waste more money in meaningless programs and handouts which ultimately perpetuate more problems than solutions.

The Black Congressional Congress evidently cares more about staging a ridiculous sit in protest against guns than the lives of young blacks killed every night. Their fury seems to fix blame on inanimate pieces of metal as the most important cause for the senseless slaughter of blacks. Where are their impassioned speeches to the largely democratic and local black leaders of Chicago, Baltimore, Detroit, Philadelphia and other cities to address the real causes of poverty and inner city crime ? John Lewis and other civil rights lions of the past have become cartoon characters shilling empty causes which fix blame everywhere but at the root causes of chaos in many black communities. The BCC finds its easier to blame the NRA, republicans, guns, Bush, Wall Street millionaires, and Trump for all the problems that trouble their congressional districts. Seeking meaningful solutions means really hard community work rather than simply speechifying and preaching. 

As noted in an earlier blog, racism is big business in America. BLM is more interested in publicity, disorder, and making a buck than doing things that really prove their title is more than a clever combination of words.

In my opinion, if black lives really mattered to black & white leaders there would be more quiet constructive work and less hustling to get headlines and cute soundbites for the nightly riot news updates.

     

THE TRUMPIAN THREAT TO WORLD ORDER

In a recent Financial Times article, Phillip Stearns penned an opinion piece entitled, "The Trumpian Threat to World Order". I have one question and one reply for the esteemed UK daily and Mr. Stearns:

QUESTION - What "world order" ?

REPLY - Bully. Isn't it refreshing, perhaps redeeming, that Trump is threatening the terrible state of affairs loosely called, "world order".

Given the migration chaos in the EU, BREXIT, the continuing eruption of violence from the Mid East, rouge nations such as Iran and North Korea frothing, and the Russia/China tag team steadily threatening an inept Obama, isn't it great that someone poses an upheaval to the status quo. If elected Hillary Clinton will simply walk the same walk as Obama, and maintain the funk that has become our GDP, state of race relations, foreign policy, and the alphabet soup of federal agencies that have successfully bottled up improvements in our national infrastructure, energy independence, veterans care, educational system, and armed forces. Her administration will be politics as usual, and haven't we suffered too much of that ? 

If Trump wins in November it could be a great disaster, but as he tells his black audiences, "whatta ya gotta lose" given the trail of broken promises from decades of democrats. In my opinion, for too many administrations, most especially during the Obama Abomination, the USA has been going backwards. Riots and acts of terrorism have become the new normal. A black president who got the Pulitzer Peace Prize for doing absolutely nothing for peace has allowed more murders in his adopted hometown of Chicago than any other president. He has used his bully pulpit to divide races and different economic groups. His previous experience as a "community organizer" has been missing as blacks have suffered more violence, poverty, and unemployment then before he took office. With his highly touted Universal Health Care Scheme, Obama has again shown the utter failure that is socialism when mixed with government bureaucracy on steroids.

Ms. Clinton is a future Obama minus his considerable charisma, spunk, and endearing smile. Her policies will simply extend the unconstitutional and immature path of non leadership played so well by Barrack Obama.

Trump has been a successful and pragmatic business man with incredible negotiating skills. He is neither a pure republican, democrat, liberal, progressive, greenie, socialist, or alien. To his credit he has no political experience except for the whooping he gave 16 or so formidable political heavyweights during the nomination sweepstakes. Despite what many perceive as arrogance, gruffness, bad hair, and profane language,  he is a super star at getting things done, and has a very good track record. Further, he has an enthusiasm and energy that dwarfs the pitiful efforts of Hillary Clinton.

Despite huge chunks of the establishment hurling their incredible weight to insure his defeat, he soldiers on like an energizer bunny. I think it is good that Mr. Trump might pose a threat to the world order because it has been a miserable state of affairs for far too long. Trump's attempt at "Making America Great Again" might just make the world a little better place too.

TRUMPSTERS - BEWARE OVERCONFIDENCE !

While it appears Mr. Biden is not doing or feeling well lately, Trump supporters should be wary of overconfidence.

The Biden campaign will eventually spend many millions on ads and a bundle of sneaky tricks until the November counting. With the nearly universal support of most media, academia, and many incumbent politicians, his election chances are good despite his declining mental acuity. He may seem to be faltering in some polls, but polls are often slanted and proved unreliable in 2016. Also, establishment politicians and millions of bureaucrats of both parties are desperate for a continuance of the deep state status and fear further undoing by a second Trump administration.

Despite TV "expert" pundits, scores of polls, and electoral college forecasts,  there is only one sure way Trump wins again. The great silent majority of "deplorables", Wall Mart shoppers, blacks, Hispanic, church going folks, legal immigrants, and constitutionalists must unite their votes to again denounce the deep state of corrupt democrats and republicans. Both political parties have used their offices and influence  to build more government infrastructure, pad their own pockets with more money and build a wall of political power.

Trump has marches along with the simple slogan "Make America Great Again" and a high level of energy and enthusiasm reminiscent of Ronald Reagan. He is not a politician, but a very successful businessman blessed with superior negotiating skills, zeal, and a keen sense of pragmatism. With his clownish hair and arrogant manner he may seem an unlikely second termer for the White House, but he has proven the perfect non establishment boss since 2016.

Isn't it about time the staid world of republicans and democrats get a strong message that the American people are frustrated with their failures ? Isn't it about time voters fire a few people, and use common sense in reducing the incompetent bungling bureaucracy of our federal government ? 

America needs further relief from bad, inept government and it's habit of broken promises. As we quickly move towards election day Trump's record and direction is positive, but over confidence should not slow the critical momentum or fervor of his campaign or his supporters.

TRUMPS ONLY PATH TO VICTORY.

Donald Trump faces an enormous task in defeating Hillary Clinton and the "establishment"  party politics of the democratic and republican parties.  In order to claim victory in November, he must overcome the following gigantic obstacles:

* The overwhelming Clinton support from practically all print, digital, and broadcast media
   and the continuance of "status quo" of American politics. This includes ABC, NBC, CBS,
   CNN, MSNBC, UNIVISION, BBC, CNBC, CBC, PBS, AP, REUTERS, THE DAILY BEAST,
   HUFFINGTON, AOL, The NY Times, LA Times, Washington Post, USA Today, and hundreds
   of affiliates in the major broadcast and print corporations.

* The massive support of wealth from the "pay to play" schemes of The Clinton Foundation and
   her influence peddling while Secretary of State. Campaign funds which is and will choke the
   airways with Clinton propaganda over the next few months.

* The escape from any prosecution for her serious judgment errors in handling confidential and
   secret government information or the serious national security leaks to our international
   enemies. Obama, his entire Administration, and department chiefs have assisted Clinton in every
   inquiry.

* Turncoat republicans and conservative leaders/commentators who have failed to support the legal
   nominee of the republican party. This list of party traitors include the Bush Family, Ted Cruz,
   John Kasich, and a long list of party leaders mortally afraid in a change to the status quo of their
   political world.

* An electoral college system of selecting a president which has over ruled the popular votes of
   U.S. citizens on several occasions.

Trumps only path to the White House is a SUPER majority of Americans voting for change in 2016.
A majority of votes which will cancel the electoral college. His mandate must defeat the "establishment" and deadly combination of crooked politicians and big money. Socialism and the unnatural growth of government has been choking the Constitution, free market, and liberty of Americans for generations, and it must be stopped.

Trump is an imperfect candidate. However, he is outside the filthy hold of "establishment" politics and in his words and actions really does want "To Make America Great Again." He may fail in reaching all his lofty goals, but he has great energy and a genuine enthusiasm which Clinton lacks.

Vote for refreshing change in 2016 - vote Trump !

BICYCLE DAYS

Back then summer was heaven. A few months of no school, few rules, and fun friends. A magic season despite the heat, chigger bites, bruises, and sun burns.

Unless it was very dark, very rainy, or you were sick or being punished, everyone was an outside kid during those long ago summers. It was "out of the house" time from just after breakfast until the last lighting bug found a safe spot away from our grasp and a glass jar prison. Also, we captured, teased, and tortured turtles, lizards, snakes, toads and other small creatures. War games with toy soldiers arranged for battle and attacked by our BB gun pellets also provided great amusement. Big green June bugs and tiny Japanese beetles were non biting fun things, especially if any girls were nearby. The local creeks were our fishing holes and swimming spot until we saw too many undulating water moccasins. From the banks we observed floating massive lazy carp, graceful water birds, and snagged small perch to feed my moms cats. We combined simple pursuits with lots of imagination in filling our summer days.

Above all our bicycles gave us the most adventure and entertainment. My main friend during this time was Tommy Bunting who lived about a mile away. Tommy, other kids, and my cousins joined in our daily escapades from time to time. Our bikes gave us wings to explore the world beyond our homes.

Bicycles represented our earliest freedom to travel within the limits of parental boundaries and usually beyond. Our bikes were thick tired, one speed, heavy, fender free machines. Their newness and factory shine quickly wore off as we raced through underbrush, and wrecked coming off homemade ramps. Of course we wore no helmets, and miraculously survived numerous planned and unplanned crashes. Our  bicycles were continuously modified with various paint schemes, decals, and noise making contraptions. These two wheeled vehicles were poor relatives to the ten speed, sleek, thin wheeled racers modeled in the Sears catalog, but our bikes could weather any mud hole or unpaved trail.

In the late 50's, Jolliff Road was a two lane paved county byway. Traffic was light so it was easy to bicycle our way to visit friends, local general stores, and our fishing creeks. The roads hard surface was a composite of gravel and cement held together by black tar. On hot summer days the tar became oozy enough to extract and enjoy. We chewed it and rolled fake cigars from the gooey stuff. Even after granny told us it contained old men's spit and squashed animals, we still found it suitable for chewing and modeling. The road had very narrow grassy shoulders and deep drainage ditches. Occasionally, hoods in their hot rods would scream at us as they closely sped by, and this sometimes caused us to careen into the ditches. Aside from a few nasty scratches and bumped heads, it wasn't all bad because valuable soda bottles worth refunds were hidden among the squirmy creatures and trash in the ditches.

Grandfather Ank grew several rows of gladiola flowers in his garden, and allowed us to sell a few in exchange for digging up his potatoes. Older neighbor folks were our best customers. We sold a bunch of the long multi colored blooms for twenty five to fifty cents each. Once we had earned a dollar or two, and combined with pennies from a few refundable thick soda bottles, we headed to one of the local general stores.

All the nearby country stores were owned by couples living close by. Wampler's was the only store on Jolliff Road, but it had a limited stock of snacks and maintained an irregular schedule. Tignor's Store was a little farther away and it carried lots of good things, but it was a very small place and Mrs. Tignor always seemed anxious for us to leave. The very old Warren couple were just out of our biking range and also had a tiny store. Mr. Warren was locally famous for shooting dead a robber years earlier. Kirchmier's near the Hodges Ferry Bridge was a three or four mile ride, but it was the best stocked store, and Mr. Kirchmier enjoyed all his customers including the kids.

However, our most frequent destination was Weatherly's Store. Mr. and Mrs. Weatherly were the ever present operators, and they maintained a nice sized business featuring an old fashioned stove in the middle of the store surrounded by chairs. The building was one of faded wood planks with a brick base and a roof that was shiny silver tin sheets sporting a few rust spots. Inside it always seemed hazy possibly because Mrs. Weatherly was always sweeping the floor. The wooden floor creaked with every step. Their store carried a shelf of car parts, local vegetables, hardware things, milk, gasoline, tobacco items, tools, guns, kerosene, canned goods, knives, work clothes, farm implements, and a great variety of wonderfully packaged snacks and ice cold drinks. They were very friendly to all their customers.

Whenever we visited Weatherly's we found a group of older men, white and colored, sitting around talking, arguing, and puffing away at their cigarettes and pipes. These friendly old geezers were always ready to tease Tommy and I and then chuckle at our shyness and clumsy responses. Some of the men sported walking sticks. A few were accompanied by their old dogs which were lazily stretched out and sound asleep at their feet.

We carefully contemplated our purchases which usually consisted of a sweet or salty packaged snack and an ice cold, brilliantly colored soda. The combinations were endless, and required time and careful study before our choices could be finalized. Mr. Weatherly always asked once or twice if our selections were final, and sometimes we would make a change. While the big Nehi orange and  strawberry drinks were tasty, and the tiny Brownie brand chocolate milk was delicious, my choice was usually the huge Nehi grape soda. Tommy being a year younger than me was sometimes a copy cat, but tended to choose the bubbly 7-Up or Upper 10 drinks. Mr. Weatherly always had a big metal wash bucket full of drinks covered in chunks of ice near the front door. On a hot summer day after the two mile bicycle trip we would be dripping sweat, and the bucket of ice and drinks was always a refreshing sight. Once we made our drink choice, we turned to the rack of packaged snacks and baked items. It was hard to choose between the twin packs of Twinkies, Hostess Cupcakes, large Moon Pies, bags of chips, popcorn or pretzels. I usually chose a sweet item and Tommy liked the salty snacks. Once our choices were completed and paid for we exited to a bench outside near the single gas pump. From this shady spot we watched and tested each others knowledge in identifying car models. After fifteen or twenty minutes of snacking and slurping our drinks we were off again cycling.

On at least one occasion I can recall, we arrived at Weatherly's without any money, and just three bottles worth only a few cents each. Maybe enough money for a piece of candy or chunk of Bazooka gum, but not enough for a big soda and snack. We were far short of the twenty five to thirty five cents needed for each combo. After spending a lot of  time looking, we admitted to Mr. Weatherly that we were broke. He rubbed his forehead, like he was thinking, and then asked if we thought our dads would mind being charged for our snacks. Without any fore thought, we happily said it would be OK. We got our goodies and they were put on our family accounts. I remember my father grumbled   when he squared up his bill on payday. He was unhappy because I forgot to tell him anything about the transaction.

Our beat up bicycles served us well on rutted dirt lanes as well as paved surfaces for a number of glorious summers. Eventually, Tommy and I traded our bicycles for learners permits then occasional use of the family car. My Roadmaster slowly rusted during my final high school year, and was discarded or given away a few years later when I joined the Army. All the general stores and their unique owner/operators have vanished.  A few years ago my boyhood pal, Tommy, passed from this world. While Jolliff Road still exists it has changed. Its a much busier throughway with a more suburban feel than the rural setting I recall.

Those good times are now gone, but the bicycle memories made along Jolliff Road are sweet and enduring.

CATHERINE'S WAY ...

She was past ninety and surely knew death would soon be calling. A month or two beyond her birthday party, her body began to fail. She expressed her fears, but probably realized there was no recovery from the final illnesses which had appeared like a dark shadow.

She said the medicines no longer relieved the deep pain. She described the waves and stabs that hurt inside, and ranged from gnawing to throbbing. Sometimes she mentioned a numbness that would overcome her hands or face. Months earlier she had been to many doctors and hospitals, but evidently their medicines and treatments were no longer useful. The last few physician visits ended with a "you're just getting older Mrs. Joyner" comment delivered with a cheery bedside manner.

For mom, the soft gelatin and thickened juices now caused choking sensations while lacking any taste or satisfaction. Sometimes, she wasn't sure of the time or day and spent most hours drifting from sleep to drowsiness, and then back again. Her old companion, the television, became a confusing mix of  sounds and flashes of light. She had lost the strength to open her eyes, smile, or even speak to visitors and attendants on a regular basis. Her condition went from constant drowsiness to comatose. I suspect she could hear greetings and words of encouragement, but couldn't respond. Now only rarely would she briefly open her eyes or release a soft moan.

I'm sure in dreams she remembered the best of yesteryears. A dear husband, friends, family, happy times, her mother and sisters, soft fluffy cats, a plate of deep fried oysters, the music of chirping birds, a very cold beer, the sweet smell of spring flowers, the sound of hillbilly music, the rain, snow, wind, and deep blue skies full of white puffy clouds. In day and night reveries she could probably recall all the good things of the past for I believe her mind was strong though her body was collapsing. I think many memories and thoughts remained loud and alive in her mind. However, I am sure she felt very alone and deeply afraid, yet curious, about the end of her days. She probably wondered if there was a heaven or happy place full of waiting dear friends, family, old pooches, and kittens.

I'm sure that though she couldn't open her eyes or speak, she could hear conversations near her bedside. Once she probably heard " failure to thrive" and while not understanding exactly what it meant, she knew it wasn't a good thing.

I now believe, Catherine decided to find the strength and occasion to say goodbye in a proper way before her fall from life. Too, she may have wanted someone to open the window so she might hear and smell the outside one last time. This would be unusual because in all her years she rarely requested much of anything from anybody. Years earlier, nurses and attendants were amazed by her humble and gentle ways. She apologized for any attention given by staff, and used please and thank you constantly. Her gentility wasn't a trick, but a genuine trait that was endearing to everyone in her world.

In her solitary state she may have pondered what she would say in her final sentence, and if she could summon the strength to open her eyes and speak one last time. Likely, she realized there could be no plan or preparation for the moment, but only hope that the Good Lord would give her the chance and energy.

On a hot July day quickly converted to thunderstorms,  Peggy, Charmaine and I visited. For weeks she had been nearly comatose, and we stopped trying to rouse her from her deep slumber. Not knowing her mental state or hearing ability we whispered words of encouragement and hopes that she would soon be in a better place, then we sat on each side of her bed. Other than the soft purr of her oxygen, the hollow tinkling of lunch trays echoing up and down the hallways, and the patter of rain outside, the room was quiet. Silently we watched our mother and grandmother. Individually remembering the caring and loving lady lying in the bed, we knew she was breathing her last hours and days of life.

After fifteen or twenty minutes of sitting, trading glances indicated our visit was nearing it's end. As was her custom, Charmaine bent over and softly kissed her grandmother and said, "I love you moo moo." Instantly, mom made a deep gurgling sound, opened her eyes which were still a soft blue, and weakly yet clearly said, "I love you too, please open the window."

We were amazed. As quickly as she had looked at us and spoke her eyes and lips closed. We opened the window and let the summer scent of rain flood into the room. We lingered for a few more minutes and left with tears in our eyes and an odd joy over her brief arousal. Later the next morning about 3 AM, I received the call that all children dread, but must someday receive.

For a long time I thought mom's brief awakening was a miracle or an extra ordinary event, but I finally decided that it was simply Catherine's way. We were happy for the moment and will never forget our dear mom and "moo moo."

                                                                       1921-2011

WALL STREET JOURNAL - DAILY REVELATIONS

While the WSJ generally favors the status quo of politics, every day it publishes new revelations about the corruption of Hillary Clinton and the two major political parties. It also beats down Donald Trump on a daily basis, but since he has no political record the criticisms are more speculative.

Clinton's ever shifting positions when dealings with Russia and the Middle East reveal an individual
comfortable with appeasement. Her incredible record of foreign deals resulting in huge speaking fees for her and Bill Clinton, and the incredible donations to the Clinton Foundation, beg the question of her self interest and enrichment "trumping" national interests.

The total destruction of Bernie Sanders and any Democratic Party opposition begs the question of super delegates and a rigged nomination system. The facts of leaked and sensitive national security e mails from her personal devices shows her poor judgement. Further, the absence of criminal justice from the FBI & DOJ probes clearly highlight the hand of Barrack Obama blocking any prosecution.

The WSJ may eventually endorse Clinton since it is a major part of the establishment and needs the stability of the status quo. But, some of it's writers and articles expose and explain on an impartial basis the history of her flip flops, self serving official actions, and political weakness. Unlike the slavish devotion to all things good about Clinton and universal hate for Trump reported daily in the New York Times, Washington Post, USA Today, and a vast majority of daily newspapers, the WSJ does offer a bit more balance to it's political reporting and opinion pieces.

I strongly recommend reading WSJ commentary and opinion pieces as a balance to the prejudiced views found in most print media.