So, I have always been curious about the assassination of John F. Kennedy. For me, it's all about motive or lack thereof. Assuming Lee Harvey Oswald did in fact kill Kennedy, why did he do so? A concrete motive has never been offered, just speculation. And to me, that's the greatest unsolved mystery of the crime.
The way my mind works has always intrigued me. Random thoughts of "enlightenment" pop into my head on a fairly regular basis. Suddenly something that has puzzled me makes sense. I'm not going to tell you I've solved the mystery of whether Oswald really did kill Kennedy. If he did, I have no idea if he acted alone or as part of a hit team. Conspiracy theories? Never been a big one on those either, but here I go offering one up.
Who had motive to kill Kennedy? Maybe the Russians over the Cuban Missile Crisis / Cold War? There's a tie to Oswald there. He did defect, then return. He was into Marxism. A case could and has been made that he killed Kennedy on behalf of the Russians.
The mafia / mob has been mentioned as a possibility although I fail to see where Oswald was tied into that organization. The Kennedy brothers were going after organized crime though, so we cannot dismiss this notion out of hand. Oswald just doesn't seem a fit here though. Neither does someone else I will mention shortly.
Who else had motive?
Hmm ... Who might have been against the Civil Rights movement and have been shown to have ties to Marxism?
The Democrat Party?
Kennedy was a Democrat although by today's standards he would have been classified a Republican. Both Houses of Congress were controlled by the Democrats in 1963 but many congressmen were less than thrilled about the changes being wrought by the Martin Luther King, Jr. led Civil Rights movement, especially those congressmen from the south. Desegregation of schools and life in general was not warmly welcomed by Southern Democrats. Voter laws being enforced were met with harsh resistance. If the Civil Rights movement was not met with approval then when John and Bobby Kennedy intervened to have MLK, Jr. released from an Atlanta. Ga. jail thereby winning the endorsement of Martin Luther King, Sr. and an estimated 75% of the Black vote ... well, they may have signed their own death warrant. Is it coincidence the 3 primary players in that specific event were all assassinated? Even if you believe in coincidences, that's off the charts.
Can you imagine if proof surfaced that the 3 assassinations were linked and evidence pointed to the Democrat Party being responsible?
Consider the factors at play then ... and now; Marxism, racism,and Rosicrucianism / globalists.
That would be; Lee Harvey Oswald, James Earl Ray and Sirhan Sirhan.
More coincidence? I don't know... As I looked into this today I began to wonder about it all.
Did you know all three men reportedly spent time in Mexico as well? Yet, more coincidence?
If I can uncover this in a couple of hours of research, the question is why hasn't there been an official inquiry to investigate if all three assassinations were linked?
Maybe I'm crazy, but maybe I'm not. And frankly, I don't know which would be worse.
If I turn up missing, check the Clinton Body Shop for my remains, please.
Thursday, June 25, 2020
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
Better People make Better Americans.
In James Kerr’s book “Legacy” there is a phrase used repeatedly that has stuck with me: “Better people make better All Blacks”. The original context inferred this was about populating the All Blacks with the right kind of people. Be it administration, coaches or players: better people makes better All Blacks. Common sense, right? Weed out those who don’t buy-in and replace them with those who are all-in. As I finished reading the book I came to realize it’s so much more than that.
2020 has been a perfect storm conspiring against humanity in the United States. Better People make Better Americans. Only we have never had the chance to put this into practice. At a time that desperately calls for relationship building we face quarantines and a myriad of measures that distance us from one another. When a handshake or hug seems logical in the healing process only lawbreakers who gather together and those among them who physically lash out at others have unfettered human contact.
And those who protest protective restrictions in place to combat Covid-19 do so more because of the luxuries being denied than a true belief they are not necessary. The perceived risks of contacting the corona-virus are outweighed by their desire to go clubbing, out to eat and otherwise gather in large groups for entertainment and discretionary spending purposes. The participation trophy generation and those who awarded participation trophies at their entitled and privileged worst. Yet were their motives altruistic and directed towards solving social unrest instead of promoting social unrest they would be in a far less harsher light.
And the social unrest we are experiencing began with the whiny ass complainers who espoused their civil liberties were being infringed upon by requests or being required to wear a mask in public to mitigate spread of covid-19. Righteous indignation abounds at this moment in those who just read that and feel they are absolutely 100 % within their Constitutional granted rights to pursue life, liberty and happiness sans any restrictions ... or any restrictions government is attempting to apply to them that they disagree with anyway.
Then we have the whole social protests and a rioting scene. The Covid - Warriors think because the government allows protesters to gather en mass and riot they are being duplicitous. If protests and riots can be allowed to happen, why cant we go clubbing and out to eat and hold graduations and play sports? When a salon owner is arrested and jailed but protesters and rioters are not a cry of discrimination goes up.
Never mind that this is an apples to oranges comparison. To my knowledge customers of establishments open in violation of covid-19 guidelines have not been arrested or charged, only owners of these establishments. That would equate to protesters and rioters not being arrested, only organizers being held accountable. Point out the organizers (one is supposed to obtain a permit, correct?) and I am sure the authorities would be interested.
And if we continue with this scenario we find that an establishment's clientele have dispersed after the business has been shut down whereas protesters and rioters have not. Police have then taken action to disperse crowds - made arrests, used tear gas, water cannons, rubber bullets often to little or no avail. Then the protesters, rioters and media lament the use of force in the police attempt to do their jobs. If any intelligent and sane individual objectively looks at these facts they very quickly understand how absurd and illogical both the attempted comparison and actual events playing out truly are.
Is there any real difference between a covid-warrior and the protesters / rioters? No, not fundamentally. Both are refusing to obey governmental authorities and endangering fellow human beings in doing so. Endangering fellow Americans. That's the bare bones FACTS of the matter.
The righteous indignation from covid-warriors who are appalled by the protests and riots rings hollow. I hold more respect for the covid-warriors who also protest and even riot than I do the disingenuous finger pointers trying to make a distinction between being a covid-warrior and rioter.
All this rhetoric only serves to obscure the real issue at hand - Better People make Better Americans.
And I'm not talking about the illegal immigration / open borders situation that allows for an influx of undocumented criminals to flood our country although that is certainly a problem. No, I'm talking about you and me, our neighbors and co-workers. We each need to be better people for the betterment of America.
The memes depicting the participation trophy generation as making up the base of covid-19 warriors and protesters / rioters is almost laughable in that the generation making those claims is comprised largely of those who awarded the damn participation trophies to begin with. Talk about things that make me go ... huh? Or is this more a Homer Simpson, "Doh!" moment?
The combination of covid-19 and protests / riots - be it an organized conspiracy or simply the most unfortunate of coincidences - has brought us to a point in time where traditional means of healing involving the sense of touch and physical feeling is deprived unless one does not follow laws, health orders, guidelines and recommendations.
Emotions are running amok and compounding the problem as people allow their feelings to override their commonsense and intelligence. Response to these adversities has been akin to impulse buying at the checkout lane in a grocery store. That 20 oz bottle of soda pop for $2.00 seems like a good thing at the time despite your having just walked past 2 litres of the same soda pop on sale for $1.79 elsewhere in the store. A rational lucid individual wouldn't make the impulse decision, but some of us just can't help ourselves. Poor decision making seems to be the most problematic contagion we face.
In place of handshakes and hugs we need to find a way to personally connect in an effort to better our self and those we share this country with. Or go full blown on ignoring the government and shake hands and hug one another anyways. Maybe the hippie free-love protests should be revisited? A love-in seems in order right about now. Change my mind.
A Better Me makes for a Better You.
A Better Me makes for a Better We.
Better People make Better Americans.
2020 has been a perfect storm conspiring against humanity in the United States. Better People make Better Americans. Only we have never had the chance to put this into practice. At a time that desperately calls for relationship building we face quarantines and a myriad of measures that distance us from one another. When a handshake or hug seems logical in the healing process only lawbreakers who gather together and those among them who physically lash out at others have unfettered human contact.
And those who protest protective restrictions in place to combat Covid-19 do so more because of the luxuries being denied than a true belief they are not necessary. The perceived risks of contacting the corona-virus are outweighed by their desire to go clubbing, out to eat and otherwise gather in large groups for entertainment and discretionary spending purposes. The participation trophy generation and those who awarded participation trophies at their entitled and privileged worst. Yet were their motives altruistic and directed towards solving social unrest instead of promoting social unrest they would be in a far less harsher light.
And the social unrest we are experiencing began with the whiny ass complainers who espoused their civil liberties were being infringed upon by requests or being required to wear a mask in public to mitigate spread of covid-19. Righteous indignation abounds at this moment in those who just read that and feel they are absolutely 100 % within their Constitutional granted rights to pursue life, liberty and happiness sans any restrictions ... or any restrictions government is attempting to apply to them that they disagree with anyway.
Then we have the whole social protests and a rioting scene. The Covid - Warriors think because the government allows protesters to gather en mass and riot they are being duplicitous. If protests and riots can be allowed to happen, why cant we go clubbing and out to eat and hold graduations and play sports? When a salon owner is arrested and jailed but protesters and rioters are not a cry of discrimination goes up.
Never mind that this is an apples to oranges comparison. To my knowledge customers of establishments open in violation of covid-19 guidelines have not been arrested or charged, only owners of these establishments. That would equate to protesters and rioters not being arrested, only organizers being held accountable. Point out the organizers (one is supposed to obtain a permit, correct?) and I am sure the authorities would be interested.
And if we continue with this scenario we find that an establishment's clientele have dispersed after the business has been shut down whereas protesters and rioters have not. Police have then taken action to disperse crowds - made arrests, used tear gas, water cannons, rubber bullets often to little or no avail. Then the protesters, rioters and media lament the use of force in the police attempt to do their jobs. If any intelligent and sane individual objectively looks at these facts they very quickly understand how absurd and illogical both the attempted comparison and actual events playing out truly are.
Is there any real difference between a covid-warrior and the protesters / rioters? No, not fundamentally. Both are refusing to obey governmental authorities and endangering fellow human beings in doing so. Endangering fellow Americans. That's the bare bones FACTS of the matter.
The righteous indignation from covid-warriors who are appalled by the protests and riots rings hollow. I hold more respect for the covid-warriors who also protest and even riot than I do the disingenuous finger pointers trying to make a distinction between being a covid-warrior and rioter.
All this rhetoric only serves to obscure the real issue at hand - Better People make Better Americans.
And I'm not talking about the illegal immigration / open borders situation that allows for an influx of undocumented criminals to flood our country although that is certainly a problem. No, I'm talking about you and me, our neighbors and co-workers. We each need to be better people for the betterment of America.
The memes depicting the participation trophy generation as making up the base of covid-19 warriors and protesters / rioters is almost laughable in that the generation making those claims is comprised largely of those who awarded the damn participation trophies to begin with. Talk about things that make me go ... huh? Or is this more a Homer Simpson, "Doh!" moment?
The combination of covid-19 and protests / riots - be it an organized conspiracy or simply the most unfortunate of coincidences - has brought us to a point in time where traditional means of healing involving the sense of touch and physical feeling is deprived unless one does not follow laws, health orders, guidelines and recommendations.
Emotions are running amok and compounding the problem as people allow their feelings to override their commonsense and intelligence. Response to these adversities has been akin to impulse buying at the checkout lane in a grocery store. That 20 oz bottle of soda pop for $2.00 seems like a good thing at the time despite your having just walked past 2 litres of the same soda pop on sale for $1.79 elsewhere in the store. A rational lucid individual wouldn't make the impulse decision, but some of us just can't help ourselves. Poor decision making seems to be the most problematic contagion we face.
In place of handshakes and hugs we need to find a way to personally connect in an effort to better our self and those we share this country with. Or go full blown on ignoring the government and shake hands and hug one another anyways. Maybe the hippie free-love protests should be revisited? A love-in seems in order right about now. Change my mind.
A Better Me makes for a Better You.
A Better Me makes for a Better We.
Better People make Better Americans.
Monday, June 22, 2020
Who was Mekhi James?
Who was Mekhi James?
And this is the problem.
BLM protests and riots over the death of a convicted felon, who had just committed yet another crime and was high on a cocktail of drugs. His death, at the hands of a mult-racial group of police officers was horrible and avoidable.
Mekhi James was a 3 year old Black American victim of a gunshot in Chicago. A suspected victim of Black on Black crime. Murdered at 3 years old. Nary a peep from BLM.
Why?
Well their co-founder exposed them as a Marxist trained organization and their cash flows show the money they receive goes to the Democrat party presidential candidates. (A bunch of old White Racists)
The murder of Mekhi James doesn't fit the BLM / Democrat / Marxist narrative. They cannot use Mekhi James death for political gain or profit. They "value" the death of a Black convicted felon who had just committed yet another crime while high on a cocktail of drugs OVER the death of a 3 year old innocent black child murdered in black on black crime.
THE TRUTH HURTS.
Not all Black lives matter to Black Lives Matter.
The BLM movement is a lie.
ALL LIVES MATTER.
ALL LIFE MATTERS including the sweet innocent life stolen from Mekhi James at just 3 years of age.
Sunday, June 21, 2020
Who was Nancy Green?
DISCLAIMER: This was not written by be. I took the information presented below from newspaper accounts and an African-American Culture source. What you will find below was written nearly a century ago.
Who was Nancy Green?
She was born a slave, but rose to become a fascinating American success story. During her illustrious life, she was the original “Aunt Jemima,’’ whose face was on the label of millions of syrup bottles in American kitchens and supermarkets.
Green parlayed her talents to sell a product to millions of Americans at a time when opportunities were few for people of color. With her success, Green is considered an important figure in Black history.
Buried in 1923, Green is perhaps the first prominent Black who was interred at Oak Woods, which was then a segregated cemetery that did not sell plots to Blacks. Another famous Black pioneer, journalist and activist Ida B. Wells-Barnett, was interred at Oak Woods in 1931. Although Oak Woods tried to keep Blacks out in its early years, Blacks in the 1920s and 30s would secure plots through White families and friends,
Green was born into slavery on March 4, 1834 in Montgomery County, Kentucky. As a young nurse, Green moved to Chicago after 1865 to work as a cook and maid for the Walker family, whose children grew up to be the late Chicago Judge Charles M. Walker and Dr. Samuel Walker, a wealthy physician who lived on the city’s North Side, according to an old article in the Defender.
According to several reports, Green was a founding member of Bronzeville’s 165-year old Olivet Baptist Church, 3101 S. King Drive. During that time, the church had 10,000 members according to church officials and several news articles.
As a domestic, Green was known for her homemade cooking and warm, affable personality. She was referred to two businessmen – Chris Rutt and Charles Underwood – who bought the Pearl Milling Company to sell ready-mixed and self-rising pancake flour.
After watching a vaudeville show that featured a character named Aunt Jemima, the two men decided to market a product based on the fictional character. After hearing of Green’s skills and personality, they hired her to help sell their product. The men gave her a booth at Chicago’s World Columbian Exposition in 1893, where Green would help sell 50,000 orders for Aunt Jemima pancake mix.
News reports said Green was such a crowd pleaser that special policemen were hired to keep the lines moving. Green was then proclaimed the “Pancake Queen” and was awarded a lifetime contract with the R.T. Davis Milling Company, which was later purchased by the Quaker Oats Company in 1926.
OBITUARY
September 3, 1923 – The Deputy Coroner holds an inquest into the death of Mrs. Nancy Green, an 83-year-old woman who died when an automobile collided with a laundry truck, overturning on the sidewalk, where Green was standing under the elevated structure at 3100 South State Street. Green was born on March 4, 1834, as a slave in Montgomery County, Kentucky. She came to Chicago to serve as a nurse and household servant for the wealthy Walker family, and Charles M. Walker, the chief justice of the Municipal Court and his brother, Dr. Samuel Walker, raved to their friends about the pancakes that she made. [Chicago Daily Tribune, September 4, 1923]. At the age of 56 she was selected by the R. T. Davis Milling Company to serve as the living symbol for its pancake mix. Nancy Green became Aunt Jemima, and in 1893 the company made the decision to begin a huge promotion of its product at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. According to the African American Registry, “Green was a hit, friendly, a good storyteller … Her exhibition booth drew so many people that special policemen were assigned to keep the crowds moving.” [
The Davis Milling Company received more than 50,000 orders at the fair. Green signed a lifetime contract and traveled all over the country, promoting the pancake mix. By 1910 more than 120 million Aunt Jemima pancake meals were being served annually, roughly equivalent to the population of the United States.
Green was more than a spokesperson for a flour company, though. She was also an organizer of the Olivet Baptist Church, one of the largest African-American churches in Chicago. She raised her voice consistently in her late years to advocate for anti-poverty programs and equal rights. She is buried in Chicago’s Oak Woods Cemetery.
*** I also found a reference to Nancy Green having been the first female African-American millionaire, but could not find supporting references.
So, in the haste to rid the country of references to racism, the Aunt Jemima brand is no longer and I just want the world to know who Nancy Green, aka Aunt Jemima was and the success she achieved before she fades from memory obscured by false accusations that she was racist. Apparently not all Black lives matter equally.
*** I also found a reference to Nancy Green having been the first female African-American millionaire, but could not find supporting references.
So, in the haste to rid the country of references to racism, the Aunt Jemima brand is no longer and I just want the world to know who Nancy Green, aka Aunt Jemima was and the success she achieved before she fades from memory obscured by false accusations that she was racist. Apparently not all Black lives matter equally.
Saturday, June 20, 2020
Judging others..
I’ve been thinking ... and you all know my mind wanders onto different paths. 🤷🏻♂️
I believe many of our founding fathers were Biblical scholars in that they possessed a deep understanding of the Bible. I see this in both their personal writings and in the documents that define and founded our country.
I’ve long been curious about how some of these men were able to discern the potential weaknesses of the government they were establishing and warn against what could destroy it.
I find those warnings being used as a blueprint by enemies within our country today. Even more so, I find admonishments from the Bible being used to destroy this country as well.
We are very judgmental of others.
The Bible tells us not to judge the motives of others, yet that is exactly what we are doing. The Bible also instructs us to judge ourselves first before judging the actions of other Christians.
This is at the very crux of the social issue of racism. Some Black Americans believe they are judged by the color of their skin. Then turn around and judge White Americans by the color of their skin. Just as the Bible counsels against Christians judging non-Christians, is a White American qualified to judge a Black American and vice versa? Certainly not in an internal motivational sense and so we are left to judge action (or in-action, I suppose) just as Christian’s are to judge other Christian’s sinful actions after first judging our own sinful actions. We are to leave judgement of (internal) motivation to God. Only God is to judge our heart.
And the hatred we witness on display? Proverbs 9:8 explains, “Do not reprove a scoffer, or he will hate you; reprove a wise man, and he will love you.” This is not so much about general mental intelligence as it is about familiarity - Christians are not to judge non-Christians by Christian standards. I think a lot of our social problems stem from White’s judging Black‘s as if they were white and vice versa when our basis of judgement should be judging one another as Americans.
(Insert any race, gender or creed in place of black and or white)
Monday, June 15, 2020
Differences: Negatives or Positives
Coaching has exposed me to a lot of people from across the globe. I have no idea how many different individuals I have met through coaching; hundreds certainly, thousands probably.
I have thought if I could be a changing influence on but one, it would all be worthwhile. While that might be a noble thought it is also faulty thinking. At some point I recognized the influence all those people were having on me.
Soccer was a foreign sport to me. I knew nothing about it aside from the objective was to kick a ball into a net. Then my eldest decided to try soccer when he was entering Kindergarten. I assumed at the time this would be a passing thing and he would move to football as soon as that option opened to him. I assumed wrong.
I became a student of the game. I learned from the local high school coach. My circle spread a bit when I met an English gent who conducted team camps. He had a different approach. One of the high school assistants had a German background and I learned something of the German approach. And I took "coaching courses" through USSF and NSCAA.
Then there were the foreign exchange students whom I had the great pleasure and joy to coach. A pleasure and joy because they were different. I learned much from them, but was not attuned to that knowledge in the beginning. They were the foreigners here to learn about American culture and my thought process did not go much beyond that.
Then, as an assistant coach, I watched the head coach try to mold a foreign player into his concept of a soccer player and the clouds opened up, light shone through, angels sang. It was one of the biggest A-ha! moments of my coaching career and I have reaped the rewards ever since. Not just in coaching, but in life.
I had always been a bit of a rebel in terms of coaching soccer. I questioned a lot of things, but trusted the establishment. I was immensely dissatisfied with the USSF "coaching courses" and only slightly less so with the NSCAA offerings. It seemed to me the US Soccer culture worked so very hard to turn out robotic clones of what they perceived a perfect player to be while at the same time strangely admiring and valuing the free spirited creativity and versatility of the players recognized as the world's greatest.
As I watched American high school coaches try to teach soccer fundamentals to this foreign exchange student I began to question why. This kid was talented and knew the game. In my estimation he was easily among the best players in the program. And he had that elusive "flair" that American soccer admired and craved. When he was relegated to the JV team I was disappointed. When I questioned the reasoning I was told his skills were terrible, he was un-coach-able and he'd be a poor influence in that regard on the varsity players.
Definitely not what I saw in the player. By American standards his skills were not very good. His technique was definitely not textbook by USSF / NSCAA standards, but it was extremely effective. In truth, he had a much broader skill set than any player I had seen to date. Just because his skill set was different, he was labeled a weak player and un-coach-able because he went with what he knew worked efficiently and effectively for him ... and therefore helped his teammates.
That was a "A-ha!" moment in coaching ... and in life. I began to look for and often times embrace at least portions of different perspectives. Amazing things began happening.
For instance; XI + I = X in Roman numerals makes no sense, correct? 11+1 = 10 is not a true statement. But if we look at it differently we find otherwise. X = I + IX or 10 = 1 + 9 does make sense. The only difference is perspective.
So, I continue my quest for different perspectives. The media all seems to provide the same perspective on what they report so, I intentionally go looking for different perspectives. What is another side to the story the media is portraying?
I told a friend recently that I love to debate and will even sometimes take a position I do not support or am not in favor off in discussions simply to gain perspective and understanding. I then added "catch me if you can, lol" My sense of humor. smh.
Anyway, I think this is where we find our society now. We have established comfort zones and ideas that everyone needs to fit into the same mold. Believe as we believe. We identify differences as negatives out of hand and so overlook positive differences that can benefit us. And I include myself in this first and foremost. I still have a long ways to go, but do like to think I'm making progress in the process. There's a reason God made us all unique and it isn't so we can change our uniqueness to become clones of one another.
At least I don't think so.
I have thought if I could be a changing influence on but one, it would all be worthwhile. While that might be a noble thought it is also faulty thinking. At some point I recognized the influence all those people were having on me.
Soccer was a foreign sport to me. I knew nothing about it aside from the objective was to kick a ball into a net. Then my eldest decided to try soccer when he was entering Kindergarten. I assumed at the time this would be a passing thing and he would move to football as soon as that option opened to him. I assumed wrong.
I became a student of the game. I learned from the local high school coach. My circle spread a bit when I met an English gent who conducted team camps. He had a different approach. One of the high school assistants had a German background and I learned something of the German approach. And I took "coaching courses" through USSF and NSCAA.
Then there were the foreign exchange students whom I had the great pleasure and joy to coach. A pleasure and joy because they were different. I learned much from them, but was not attuned to that knowledge in the beginning. They were the foreigners here to learn about American culture and my thought process did not go much beyond that.
Then, as an assistant coach, I watched the head coach try to mold a foreign player into his concept of a soccer player and the clouds opened up, light shone through, angels sang. It was one of the biggest A-ha! moments of my coaching career and I have reaped the rewards ever since. Not just in coaching, but in life.
I had always been a bit of a rebel in terms of coaching soccer. I questioned a lot of things, but trusted the establishment. I was immensely dissatisfied with the USSF "coaching courses" and only slightly less so with the NSCAA offerings. It seemed to me the US Soccer culture worked so very hard to turn out robotic clones of what they perceived a perfect player to be while at the same time strangely admiring and valuing the free spirited creativity and versatility of the players recognized as the world's greatest.
As I watched American high school coaches try to teach soccer fundamentals to this foreign exchange student I began to question why. This kid was talented and knew the game. In my estimation he was easily among the best players in the program. And he had that elusive "flair" that American soccer admired and craved. When he was relegated to the JV team I was disappointed. When I questioned the reasoning I was told his skills were terrible, he was un-coach-able and he'd be a poor influence in that regard on the varsity players.
Definitely not what I saw in the player. By American standards his skills were not very good. His technique was definitely not textbook by USSF / NSCAA standards, but it was extremely effective. In truth, he had a much broader skill set than any player I had seen to date. Just because his skill set was different, he was labeled a weak player and un-coach-able because he went with what he knew worked efficiently and effectively for him ... and therefore helped his teammates.
That was a "A-ha!" moment in coaching ... and in life. I began to look for and often times embrace at least portions of different perspectives. Amazing things began happening.
For instance; XI + I = X in Roman numerals makes no sense, correct? 11+1 = 10 is not a true statement. But if we look at it differently we find otherwise. X = I + IX or 10 = 1 + 9 does make sense. The only difference is perspective.
So, I continue my quest for different perspectives. The media all seems to provide the same perspective on what they report so, I intentionally go looking for different perspectives. What is another side to the story the media is portraying?
I told a friend recently that I love to debate and will even sometimes take a position I do not support or am not in favor off in discussions simply to gain perspective and understanding. I then added "catch me if you can, lol" My sense of humor. smh.
Anyway, I think this is where we find our society now. We have established comfort zones and ideas that everyone needs to fit into the same mold. Believe as we believe. We identify differences as negatives out of hand and so overlook positive differences that can benefit us. And I include myself in this first and foremost. I still have a long ways to go, but do like to think I'm making progress in the process. There's a reason God made us all unique and it isn't so we can change our uniqueness to become clones of one another.
At least I don't think so.
Sunday, June 14, 2020
Those were the days!
I am originally from Oak Harbor, Ohio. I've also lived in Upper Sandusky, Columbus (twice) and Shawnee Township (twice). All in Ohio
Growing up my clothes came mostly from Sears and Montgomery Wards. When my "jeans" got holes in them, mom patched them up with iron on cloth patches. Each summer, the patched jeans were cut off, hemmed and made into shorts to be worn for playing in.
For nine months out of the year we played outside. If it was raining hard or there was lightning and thunder, we played in the basement. Maybe we played porch ball, at least until we got caught and scolded for having been doing so. On rare occasions we might be allowed to "play" in our bedrooms - that privilege usually being reserved for when we traded baseball (basketball, football, hockey) cards with friends. We were all future general managers. Some of us more adept than others.
Our zip code was 5 numbers long and we really didn't worry about area codes. For most of my childhood mine was 419 which served all of northwest Ohio. While in Columbus it was 614 which served all of central Ohio.
We could call 228-8463 (TIME) to hear the time and temperature, if our parents allowed us to. You see, the phone company charged for each phone call made. Quite a few of us were on party lines and if the line was in use you had to wait your turn. Yes, we did listen in on other peoples conversations when they were too engrossed not to hear us pick up the line or didn't notice we never hung up. Maybe not cool, but we could learn a lot by eavesdropping.
I was maybe in 5th grade living in Columbus the first time I had fast food. White Castle sliders. So cool because they were small and I could eat 3 of them! The first McDonald's I had was a cheeseburger while in 6th grade living in Lima. A Kewpee became a favorite treat as our world changed and fast food became more common.
Going out to eat was a big deal as a kid. I really do not recall doing it very often at all. York's Steakhouse in Columbus made a huge impression on me. Dad was an executive with Nationwide Insurance and I guess we were moving up in the world. We dressed up as if it were a 5 star restaurant. Our Sunday clothes. The hamburger I ordered seemed to fill the entire dinner plate and the fries overflowed. We got to have a (soda) pop!
Truth be told, if we went out in public, we dressed up. Saturday was groceries day. We primarily went to Big Bear or IGA. It was a family event. Dad in his suit and tie. Mom in a dress and low heels. Us kids, in our second best clothes because the next day was Sunday and we saved our best for church. Dad would moan and groan about the cost of groceries.. I remember one particular Saturday he was beside himself and scolding mother for them having spent over $100.00 on groceries. Never mind that we had purchased 3 full overflowing carts worth of groceries that day. Dad made a concession on meats. We shopped at Hasselbach's and Carfagna's regularly. Each fall dad bought a side of beef and a hog to get us through the winter.
We entertained ourselves. We played all the sports in backyards, driveways and streets. Whatever season it was, that was the sport we played. We also played games like Kick-the-Can, Hide-n-Seek, Pickle, Freeze Tag, Hopscotch and 4 Square for hours on end. We formed a wifle ball league and used fenced in back yards as our parks. We learned our home run trots. Rode our bikes everywhere. To school, to the convenience store for baseball cards, candy bars and gum, to friends houses in the next neighborhood. Hell, sometimes we just grabbed a canteen and rode not having a destination in mind. We'd be gone for hours. And we chased police cars, ambulances and firetrucks on our bikes to see what all the commotion was about.
We collected pop bottles to turn in for refunds. If we got real desperate for money we might sweep someone's sidewalk or porch. Shoveled snow in the winter. The more ambitious of us got paper routes or worked as a subcontractor for a friend who had a paperwork. As we got older mowing lawns became a thing.
Summertime saw us lunching together in someone's garage or on a porch. Whoever was hosting usually fed us toasted (grilled) cheese, or pb&j or bologna sandwiches and Kool-aid. Sometimes we had ground meat sandwiches made from bologna or someone's leftover roast to stretch it. One summer a Schwan's truck came around and the mother's all purchased a juice concentrate - it wasn't as good as Kool-aid, but we endured through it until the last drop throughout the entire neighborhood was gone. Water was another popular option and it often came straight from the garden hose.
We all had curfews. We knew that lunch was at 12:00 noon sharp. The fire siren went off at noon everyday and you best be present. We had wrist watches we wore. A friend or two had pocket watches. 5:30 pm was dinner and again, you were on time for the prayer or there were consequences. We knew better than to complain about what mom had worked hard all day to prepare for us. We just ate it whether we liked it or not. Thankfully my mother was a wonderful cook. We ate then cleared our plates from the table and headed back outside to resume playing.
When the sun set, it was time to be home for the evening. Sometimes you were called home earlier. Some fathers would simply yell for their kids to head home, others had a distinctive whistle, my dad found an old dinner bell somewhere that he used for a time. We each knew the others call to come home and looked out for one another. What was known as the "grapevine" seemed to work at warp speed at such times.
Summer rains were glorious! We swam in the streets in Columbus because the storm water sewers were not adequate in the new developments and the roads flooded. In Shawnee we played in the crick that ran through the neighborhood. Someone got the bright idea of putting a plastic kiddie pool in the rain swollen crick and taking it from one bridge to another bridge at the other end of the neighborhood.
Sprinklers weren't for watering yards as much as they were for cooling off us kids with. Running through the sprinklers was an event and if you got permission to do it at your house? Well. you were the king or queen of the neighborhood for the day. Simple water pistol fights were big. None of these mega soakers that hold 2 liters of water. We were lucky to get 20 short squirts from our gun and then had to run to safe base ( a bucket of water) to plunge our gun in and refill it. Sometimes the garden hose came into play, but all in fun. Some days we just needed more water sprayed on us than a squirt gun could provide so someone grabbed the hose. It soon turned into running through the hose like we would a sprinkler. And yes, once in Columbus we ran through the water spraying our of a fire hydrant. The firefighters actually turned it on for us!
We built forts and had dirt clod fights. We all had BB guns and several of us had bows and arrows. We were generally smart enough not to go to war against each other with those. I did get shot in the back with an arrow one time. Came through the wall of a fort we built. It bruised me but didn't penetrate.
We built ramps to jump our bikes and later on our mini-bikes. We built go-karts and drove them up and down the road. We built lighter fluid cannons out of tennis ball cans and sent flaming tennis balls at passing cars - we lived on a dead end road. LOL. A couple of friends dug a tunnel one summer and it collapsed on them. Everyone survived, but we learned how to support a tunnel with wood beams after that.
That phone I mentioned earlier? We had one phone and it hung on the kitchen wall. Next to it hung the "Board of Education" my father made. The belt was used at times for discipline, but when Dad went for the board of education you knew you messed up big time and were about to be reminded never to do that again. I think we understood discipline was something done for us, not something done to us. And everyone in the neighborhood looked out for everyone else. As kids we had a lot of freedom. Adults seemed to understand that kids were going to be kids and get up to no good sometimes. If we did not endanger ourselves or anyone else it usually wasn't a big deal. Respect other people and their property and we could do pretty much anything we wanted to do. But if we were out of line, whoever the closest adult to the situation was would set us straight and had the full support of the other parents in the neighborhood in doing so. THEN, we went home and were disciplined again. Point made.
After the spankings, if further punishment was deemed necessary we were grounded. There were two levels of grounding. The first was you had to stay in your own yard. Basically mom didn't want to deal with you inside but you were not trusted to leave the yard. So, your friends came to your house and played. The other level of grounding was being restricted to staying inside the house. "You better find something to do or I'll find you something to do" became a feared threat. No one wanted their mother to find them something to do.
I learned to love to read one summer when I seemed to be grounded a good deal. A great uncle had given me a complete collection of Mark Twain books and I spent hours, okay, probably days upon days, reading about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.
It seemed we always had home made baked goods for snacks. And in the summer we had homemade Kool-aid popsicles. Graham crackers with frosting between them were a big thing way before we knew what a Smore was. Water. We drank lots of water. And milk. The milk was delivered to our house each morning and later on a couple three times a week. Pop was a rare treat. The adults had beer or homemade wine.
The first time I was drunk was the summer between 4th and 5th grade. We found dad's stash of vodka grabbed a plastic pitcher with a lid. Poured vodka in and then filled the pitcher with water from the garden hose. Two of us. We were polluted in no time at all. Acting silly walking up and down the road. Singing. I remember singing. I remember mom waiting for us on the front porch her rubber soled shoe in her hand. Women's rubber soled shoes were the answer to a man's belt. Mom wasn't a very good aim. I don't think her heart was usually into spanking us, but she'd get in a lick or two and then utter the most feared sentence known to kids. "wait 'til your father gets home!" Oh no. This meant we had disrespected the love of our fathers life and were going to face his wrath. If you were stupid enough to have committed this infraction early in the day you spent many hours conjuring up all the types of hell that would be visited upon you at 5:05 pm that afternoon. We didn't know the word “trepidation”, but we understood the feeling.
Summers were also for tending gardens (weeding and watering) and harvesting. There's nothing like a strawberry straight of the vine and even better if it is a wild strawberry. Raspberries and blackberries made wonderful jellies and jams. We looked forward to picking because we knew the rewards were going to be delicious.
Saturday night was bath night. We had to be in early. Bath time commenced at 7:00 pm. The smaller kids laid on the kitchen counter with their heads over the sink. Hair was washed and rinsed. Then you sat up onto a towel and put your feet in the sink. The rest of you got washed. That was it until you ate breakfast the next morning and got prepared for church. You better not have a speck of dust anywhere on you Sunday morning.
Sunday mornings were for church. We went as a family. There was Sunday school where everyone gathered for a short worship service before the kids were dismissed to their classes. We would sing another song or two in preparation for future singing performances of the children’s choir during church services. We would then have our lesson and occasionally a craft time. Then a short break (us kids thought of it as recess) before the church service proper began. An hour and a half easy, every Sunday. Pomp and Circumstance befitting of the surroundings and importance of the rituals. Children's sermon followed by the message and then offering. The first Sunday of every month was reserved for Communion. That added another 30-45 minutes to the proceedings. Kids knew to behave in church for your sweet kind loving father sitting right beside you was penting up the inner fire and brimstone of God Himself in anticipation of having to release it at some point that week upon his wayward children.
Then the Benediction and we were out of church for the week! If we were lucky church had ran a bit over as it often did and mother would be worried about the meat she had left cooking in the oven so we'd depart quickly. We would miss out on the social hour after the service. Sometimes these were planned events with coffee and a snack. Punch for us kids. Other times it was just folks catching up with one another. Several generations and branches of families often congregated after church and exchanged news. No social media back then. Limited use of phones.
And we were raised Lutheran which meant on a minimum a potluck or carry-in dinner at least onace a quarter and usually more like once a month. it seemed like any occasion called for a potluck dinner. Meetings, fundraisers or simply just because. These were pretty extravagant affairs. Everyone dressed in their best clothing, the women had all prepared their best recipes and as I recall on more than one occasion the men gathering to make gallons of homemade ice cream. It was a mix of church business and extended social hour.
The school year began after Labor Day and ran until Memorial Day. We walked or rode our bikes to school. Teachers were an extension of the neighborhood and families - you showed them respect and answered with "yes ma'am" and "no sir." If you got out of line they had full authority to discipline you and God forbid you were sent to the principals office for that meant a paddling, a phone call to your parents and then the real discipline once your dad got you back home.
We all packed our lunches and traded items among ourselves. Milk was purchased and it was a big deal to be the milk monitor for the day. We learned to crunch up our potato chips and add them to our peanut butter sandwiches. Apples were common as we didn't have plastic fruit cups. Whatever dessert your mom, sister or grandmother had made was what you got in your lunch. Cookies were good, but homemade brownies from scratch were the best! Frosted or with powdered sugar on them, it didn't matter.
When we got home we were allowed to play outside. Mom always considered it a second recess ... and it kept us out of the house and out of her way while she prepared supper. Not dinner. We ate breakfast in the morning, dinner was lunch and the evening meal was supper. We arrived home from school, changed into play clothes and then raced out the door for whatever neighborhood adventure awaited us that day. We came home for supper and then it was time for homework.
Television? Rarely did we watch TV. 8:00 pm to 9:00 pm was family hour. Things like Andy Griffith, The Beverly Hillbillies, Petticoat Junction, Green Acres, Hogan's Heroes, Bonanza, My Three Sons and the more risque Red Skeleton Show or Dean Martin Show. And Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom was must see TV! Saturday mornings were for cartoons - Tom & Jerry, Looney Tunes, Roadrunner, Rocky & Bullwinkle, Mr Magog. Sunday evening at 7:00 pm was reserved for the Wonderful World of Disney.
I did not like school. It bored me. I did not apply myself. We had two older nuns that lived next door to us and Dad thought it would be a good idea if they tutored me. Oh man. Those two ladies did not take any crap. They were task masters and I soon learned organization and prioritizing. I also learned if I did not want to spend 2-3 hours every evening doing and redoing school work I had to do it and do it better in school or on my own when I got home. Thanks Dad and thank you to the nuns.
Looking back, ... Good Times. We had our rough patches, but we didn't seem to take things personally. We messed up, we knew it. We were held accountable and took responsibility for the mistake. Then it was over and done with. We had bullies and learned to avoid confrontations with them until the issue was forced. Then either individually or collectiveLy we found a way to resolve the issue with the bullies. We didn't all like one another, but we got along. We fought and forgave and repeated the cycle. We learned to settle our disputes among ourselves and almost always cooler heads prevailed. We learned organizational skills through the games we played. We used our imaginations to make up variations of games and change the rules to fit the circumstance and environment. Parked cars were fair game to be bases as were trees or bushes. Power lines might be in play or do overs. Broken windows didn't mean run and hide but knock and apologize. We knew running would have far greater consequences than owning up to the accident. We learned conflicting resolution and negotiation ing through practical experience with one another. We were little shits ... actually mom's term of endearment for us was "dumb shits" and we knew she said it with love. We grew up making mistakes and learning life's ways.
Good times.
Growing up my clothes came mostly from Sears and Montgomery Wards. When my "jeans" got holes in them, mom patched them up with iron on cloth patches. Each summer, the patched jeans were cut off, hemmed and made into shorts to be worn for playing in.
For nine months out of the year we played outside. If it was raining hard or there was lightning and thunder, we played in the basement. Maybe we played porch ball, at least until we got caught and scolded for having been doing so. On rare occasions we might be allowed to "play" in our bedrooms - that privilege usually being reserved for when we traded baseball (basketball, football, hockey) cards with friends. We were all future general managers. Some of us more adept than others.
Our zip code was 5 numbers long and we really didn't worry about area codes. For most of my childhood mine was 419 which served all of northwest Ohio. While in Columbus it was 614 which served all of central Ohio.
We could call 228-8463 (TIME) to hear the time and temperature, if our parents allowed us to. You see, the phone company charged for each phone call made. Quite a few of us were on party lines and if the line was in use you had to wait your turn. Yes, we did listen in on other peoples conversations when they were too engrossed not to hear us pick up the line or didn't notice we never hung up. Maybe not cool, but we could learn a lot by eavesdropping.
I was maybe in 5th grade living in Columbus the first time I had fast food. White Castle sliders. So cool because they were small and I could eat 3 of them! The first McDonald's I had was a cheeseburger while in 6th grade living in Lima. A Kewpee became a favorite treat as our world changed and fast food became more common.
Going out to eat was a big deal as a kid. I really do not recall doing it very often at all. York's Steakhouse in Columbus made a huge impression on me. Dad was an executive with Nationwide Insurance and I guess we were moving up in the world. We dressed up as if it were a 5 star restaurant. Our Sunday clothes. The hamburger I ordered seemed to fill the entire dinner plate and the fries overflowed. We got to have a (soda) pop!
Truth be told, if we went out in public, we dressed up. Saturday was groceries day. We primarily went to Big Bear or IGA. It was a family event. Dad in his suit and tie. Mom in a dress and low heels. Us kids, in our second best clothes because the next day was Sunday and we saved our best for church. Dad would moan and groan about the cost of groceries.. I remember one particular Saturday he was beside himself and scolding mother for them having spent over $100.00 on groceries. Never mind that we had purchased 3 full overflowing carts worth of groceries that day. Dad made a concession on meats. We shopped at Hasselbach's and Carfagna's regularly. Each fall dad bought a side of beef and a hog to get us through the winter.
We entertained ourselves. We played all the sports in backyards, driveways and streets. Whatever season it was, that was the sport we played. We also played games like Kick-the-Can, Hide-n-Seek, Pickle, Freeze Tag, Hopscotch and 4 Square for hours on end. We formed a wifle ball league and used fenced in back yards as our parks. We learned our home run trots. Rode our bikes everywhere. To school, to the convenience store for baseball cards, candy bars and gum, to friends houses in the next neighborhood. Hell, sometimes we just grabbed a canteen and rode not having a destination in mind. We'd be gone for hours. And we chased police cars, ambulances and firetrucks on our bikes to see what all the commotion was about.
We collected pop bottles to turn in for refunds. If we got real desperate for money we might sweep someone's sidewalk or porch. Shoveled snow in the winter. The more ambitious of us got paper routes or worked as a subcontractor for a friend who had a paperwork. As we got older mowing lawns became a thing.
Summertime saw us lunching together in someone's garage or on a porch. Whoever was hosting usually fed us toasted (grilled) cheese, or pb&j or bologna sandwiches and Kool-aid. Sometimes we had ground meat sandwiches made from bologna or someone's leftover roast to stretch it. One summer a Schwan's truck came around and the mother's all purchased a juice concentrate - it wasn't as good as Kool-aid, but we endured through it until the last drop throughout the entire neighborhood was gone. Water was another popular option and it often came straight from the garden hose.
We all had curfews. We knew that lunch was at 12:00 noon sharp. The fire siren went off at noon everyday and you best be present. We had wrist watches we wore. A friend or two had pocket watches. 5:30 pm was dinner and again, you were on time for the prayer or there were consequences. We knew better than to complain about what mom had worked hard all day to prepare for us. We just ate it whether we liked it or not. Thankfully my mother was a wonderful cook. We ate then cleared our plates from the table and headed back outside to resume playing.
When the sun set, it was time to be home for the evening. Sometimes you were called home earlier. Some fathers would simply yell for their kids to head home, others had a distinctive whistle, my dad found an old dinner bell somewhere that he used for a time. We each knew the others call to come home and looked out for one another. What was known as the "grapevine" seemed to work at warp speed at such times.
Summer rains were glorious! We swam in the streets in Columbus because the storm water sewers were not adequate in the new developments and the roads flooded. In Shawnee we played in the crick that ran through the neighborhood. Someone got the bright idea of putting a plastic kiddie pool in the rain swollen crick and taking it from one bridge to another bridge at the other end of the neighborhood.
Sprinklers weren't for watering yards as much as they were for cooling off us kids with. Running through the sprinklers was an event and if you got permission to do it at your house? Well. you were the king or queen of the neighborhood for the day. Simple water pistol fights were big. None of these mega soakers that hold 2 liters of water. We were lucky to get 20 short squirts from our gun and then had to run to safe base ( a bucket of water) to plunge our gun in and refill it. Sometimes the garden hose came into play, but all in fun. Some days we just needed more water sprayed on us than a squirt gun could provide so someone grabbed the hose. It soon turned into running through the hose like we would a sprinkler. And yes, once in Columbus we ran through the water spraying our of a fire hydrant. The firefighters actually turned it on for us!
We built forts and had dirt clod fights. We all had BB guns and several of us had bows and arrows. We were generally smart enough not to go to war against each other with those. I did get shot in the back with an arrow one time. Came through the wall of a fort we built. It bruised me but didn't penetrate.
We built ramps to jump our bikes and later on our mini-bikes. We built go-karts and drove them up and down the road. We built lighter fluid cannons out of tennis ball cans and sent flaming tennis balls at passing cars - we lived on a dead end road. LOL. A couple of friends dug a tunnel one summer and it collapsed on them. Everyone survived, but we learned how to support a tunnel with wood beams after that.
That phone I mentioned earlier? We had one phone and it hung on the kitchen wall. Next to it hung the "Board of Education" my father made. The belt was used at times for discipline, but when Dad went for the board of education you knew you messed up big time and were about to be reminded never to do that again. I think we understood discipline was something done for us, not something done to us. And everyone in the neighborhood looked out for everyone else. As kids we had a lot of freedom. Adults seemed to understand that kids were going to be kids and get up to no good sometimes. If we did not endanger ourselves or anyone else it usually wasn't a big deal. Respect other people and their property and we could do pretty much anything we wanted to do. But if we were out of line, whoever the closest adult to the situation was would set us straight and had the full support of the other parents in the neighborhood in doing so. THEN, we went home and were disciplined again. Point made.
After the spankings, if further punishment was deemed necessary we were grounded. There were two levels of grounding. The first was you had to stay in your own yard. Basically mom didn't want to deal with you inside but you were not trusted to leave the yard. So, your friends came to your house and played. The other level of grounding was being restricted to staying inside the house. "You better find something to do or I'll find you something to do" became a feared threat. No one wanted their mother to find them something to do.
I learned to love to read one summer when I seemed to be grounded a good deal. A great uncle had given me a complete collection of Mark Twain books and I spent hours, okay, probably days upon days, reading about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.
It seemed we always had home made baked goods for snacks. And in the summer we had homemade Kool-aid popsicles. Graham crackers with frosting between them were a big thing way before we knew what a Smore was. Water. We drank lots of water. And milk. The milk was delivered to our house each morning and later on a couple three times a week. Pop was a rare treat. The adults had beer or homemade wine.
The first time I was drunk was the summer between 4th and 5th grade. We found dad's stash of vodka grabbed a plastic pitcher with a lid. Poured vodka in and then filled the pitcher with water from the garden hose. Two of us. We were polluted in no time at all. Acting silly walking up and down the road. Singing. I remember singing. I remember mom waiting for us on the front porch her rubber soled shoe in her hand. Women's rubber soled shoes were the answer to a man's belt. Mom wasn't a very good aim. I don't think her heart was usually into spanking us, but she'd get in a lick or two and then utter the most feared sentence known to kids. "wait 'til your father gets home!" Oh no. This meant we had disrespected the love of our fathers life and were going to face his wrath. If you were stupid enough to have committed this infraction early in the day you spent many hours conjuring up all the types of hell that would be visited upon you at 5:05 pm that afternoon. We didn't know the word “trepidation”, but we understood the feeling.
Summers were also for tending gardens (weeding and watering) and harvesting. There's nothing like a strawberry straight of the vine and even better if it is a wild strawberry. Raspberries and blackberries made wonderful jellies and jams. We looked forward to picking because we knew the rewards were going to be delicious.
Saturday night was bath night. We had to be in early. Bath time commenced at 7:00 pm. The smaller kids laid on the kitchen counter with their heads over the sink. Hair was washed and rinsed. Then you sat up onto a towel and put your feet in the sink. The rest of you got washed. That was it until you ate breakfast the next morning and got prepared for church. You better not have a speck of dust anywhere on you Sunday morning.
Sunday mornings were for church. We went as a family. There was Sunday school where everyone gathered for a short worship service before the kids were dismissed to their classes. We would sing another song or two in preparation for future singing performances of the children’s choir during church services. We would then have our lesson and occasionally a craft time. Then a short break (us kids thought of it as recess) before the church service proper began. An hour and a half easy, every Sunday. Pomp and Circumstance befitting of the surroundings and importance of the rituals. Children's sermon followed by the message and then offering. The first Sunday of every month was reserved for Communion. That added another 30-45 minutes to the proceedings. Kids knew to behave in church for your sweet kind loving father sitting right beside you was penting up the inner fire and brimstone of God Himself in anticipation of having to release it at some point that week upon his wayward children.
Then the Benediction and we were out of church for the week! If we were lucky church had ran a bit over as it often did and mother would be worried about the meat she had left cooking in the oven so we'd depart quickly. We would miss out on the social hour after the service. Sometimes these were planned events with coffee and a snack. Punch for us kids. Other times it was just folks catching up with one another. Several generations and branches of families often congregated after church and exchanged news. No social media back then. Limited use of phones.
And we were raised Lutheran which meant on a minimum a potluck or carry-in dinner at least onace a quarter and usually more like once a month. it seemed like any occasion called for a potluck dinner. Meetings, fundraisers or simply just because. These were pretty extravagant affairs. Everyone dressed in their best clothing, the women had all prepared their best recipes and as I recall on more than one occasion the men gathering to make gallons of homemade ice cream. It was a mix of church business and extended social hour.
The school year began after Labor Day and ran until Memorial Day. We walked or rode our bikes to school. Teachers were an extension of the neighborhood and families - you showed them respect and answered with "yes ma'am" and "no sir." If you got out of line they had full authority to discipline you and God forbid you were sent to the principals office for that meant a paddling, a phone call to your parents and then the real discipline once your dad got you back home.
We all packed our lunches and traded items among ourselves. Milk was purchased and it was a big deal to be the milk monitor for the day. We learned to crunch up our potato chips and add them to our peanut butter sandwiches. Apples were common as we didn't have plastic fruit cups. Whatever dessert your mom, sister or grandmother had made was what you got in your lunch. Cookies were good, but homemade brownies from scratch were the best! Frosted or with powdered sugar on them, it didn't matter.
When we got home we were allowed to play outside. Mom always considered it a second recess ... and it kept us out of the house and out of her way while she prepared supper. Not dinner. We ate breakfast in the morning, dinner was lunch and the evening meal was supper. We arrived home from school, changed into play clothes and then raced out the door for whatever neighborhood adventure awaited us that day. We came home for supper and then it was time for homework.
Television? Rarely did we watch TV. 8:00 pm to 9:00 pm was family hour. Things like Andy Griffith, The Beverly Hillbillies, Petticoat Junction, Green Acres, Hogan's Heroes, Bonanza, My Three Sons and the more risque Red Skeleton Show or Dean Martin Show. And Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom was must see TV! Saturday mornings were for cartoons - Tom & Jerry, Looney Tunes, Roadrunner, Rocky & Bullwinkle, Mr Magog. Sunday evening at 7:00 pm was reserved for the Wonderful World of Disney.
I did not like school. It bored me. I did not apply myself. We had two older nuns that lived next door to us and Dad thought it would be a good idea if they tutored me. Oh man. Those two ladies did not take any crap. They were task masters and I soon learned organization and prioritizing. I also learned if I did not want to spend 2-3 hours every evening doing and redoing school work I had to do it and do it better in school or on my own when I got home. Thanks Dad and thank you to the nuns.
Looking back, ... Good Times. We had our rough patches, but we didn't seem to take things personally. We messed up, we knew it. We were held accountable and took responsibility for the mistake. Then it was over and done with. We had bullies and learned to avoid confrontations with them until the issue was forced. Then either individually or collectiveLy we found a way to resolve the issue with the bullies. We didn't all like one another, but we got along. We fought and forgave and repeated the cycle. We learned to settle our disputes among ourselves and almost always cooler heads prevailed. We learned organizational skills through the games we played. We used our imaginations to make up variations of games and change the rules to fit the circumstance and environment. Parked cars were fair game to be bases as were trees or bushes. Power lines might be in play or do overs. Broken windows didn't mean run and hide but knock and apologize. We knew running would have far greater consequences than owning up to the accident. We learned conflicting resolution and negotiation ing through practical experience with one another. We were little shits ... actually mom's term of endearment for us was "dumb shits" and we knew she said it with love. We grew up making mistakes and learning life's ways.
Good times.
Saturday, June 13, 2020
What Colin Kaepernick needs to do next.
It’s been nearly four years since Colin Kaepernick first sat and then begin kneeling during the playing of the United States of America’s National Anthem and raising of the flag before NFL football games. The man unquestionably had good intentions and a most worthy message to communicate. Unfortunately his choice for how to convey his message has overshadowed the message itself.
Listen to sports talk radio and TV. When people speak of Colin Kaepernick the focus is on his not receiving another chance to play in the NFL because he kneels during the playing of the anthem and raising of the flag. Why he kneels gets very little, if any, mention. When his message is mentioned it is done so in passing and no real discussion about it takes place. The best he gets is some commiseration and sympathy for his self-inflicted plight.
If Kaepernick’s message had been heard, would we have had the protests and riots of the past few days? What has changed since Kaepernick began kneeling except his employment status with the NFL? Not much, if anything pertaining to his cause, the message he wanted to get out because he obscured it by tying it to the flag.
I think Colin Kaepernick could still carry the day, but it will not be easy. He’s proven himself strong in the face of the criticism directed at him. He is to be admired for sticking to his convictions. We can honestly call him a man of principle.
One thing lost in this is the necessity of having white Americans on-board with the changes that need to be made. It ain’t happening without them. And alienating a significant segment of the population via his choice of how to convey his message just wasn’t a good decision. It wasn’t. It just was not.
Four years later and society has not seen change, but what would happen now if Colin Kaepernick were to go public with an announcement proclaiming his message, but stating he would no longer kneel to promote it. No apology necessary. Simply say it’s time to progress his message and make progress in the process. That he recognizes the value of kneeling during the anthem and raising of the flag has lost its effectiveness and he wants to refocus concentration on the message itself.
Colin Kaepernick re-brands himself.
Start today and this week, Mr. Kaepernick. Today, June 14, 2020 is National Flag Day and this week is National Flag Week. Symbolically there could not be a better day for Kaepernick to re-brand himself and resend his message in a different manner.
He goes on a speaking tour raising funds while telling his story. Radio, TV, Podcasts, Universities and High Schools. He donates proceeds to a foundation and or charity he sets up to further educate and promote equality and ... maybe more importantly ... equity among the races.
I think he has a tremendous opportunity to make a lasting impact if he’s willing to once again step forward, take another risk and promote his message in a manner that will unite a broader spectrum of people in his cause. In essence, he has an opportunity to mold the majority it will take to bring lasting change.
These opportunities do not come along frequently. We cannot afford to let them slip away.
Listen to sports talk radio and TV. When people speak of Colin Kaepernick the focus is on his not receiving another chance to play in the NFL because he kneels during the playing of the anthem and raising of the flag. Why he kneels gets very little, if any, mention. When his message is mentioned it is done so in passing and no real discussion about it takes place. The best he gets is some commiseration and sympathy for his self-inflicted plight.
If Kaepernick’s message had been heard, would we have had the protests and riots of the past few days? What has changed since Kaepernick began kneeling except his employment status with the NFL? Not much, if anything pertaining to his cause, the message he wanted to get out because he obscured it by tying it to the flag.
I think Colin Kaepernick could still carry the day, but it will not be easy. He’s proven himself strong in the face of the criticism directed at him. He is to be admired for sticking to his convictions. We can honestly call him a man of principle.
One thing lost in this is the necessity of having white Americans on-board with the changes that need to be made. It ain’t happening without them. And alienating a significant segment of the population via his choice of how to convey his message just wasn’t a good decision. It wasn’t. It just was not.
Four years later and society has not seen change, but what would happen now if Colin Kaepernick were to go public with an announcement proclaiming his message, but stating he would no longer kneel to promote it. No apology necessary. Simply say it’s time to progress his message and make progress in the process. That he recognizes the value of kneeling during the anthem and raising of the flag has lost its effectiveness and he wants to refocus concentration on the message itself.
Colin Kaepernick re-brands himself.
Start today and this week, Mr. Kaepernick. Today, June 14, 2020 is National Flag Day and this week is National Flag Week. Symbolically there could not be a better day for Kaepernick to re-brand himself and resend his message in a different manner.
He goes on a speaking tour raising funds while telling his story. Radio, TV, Podcasts, Universities and High Schools. He donates proceeds to a foundation and or charity he sets up to further educate and promote equality and ... maybe more importantly ... equity among the races.
I think he has a tremendous opportunity to make a lasting impact if he’s willing to once again step forward, take another risk and promote his message in a manner that will unite a broader spectrum of people in his cause. In essence, he has an opportunity to mold the majority it will take to bring lasting change.
These opportunities do not come along frequently. We cannot afford to let them slip away.
Friday, June 12, 2020
Trying to make sense out of the nonsensical.
I'm only going to cite two examples of situations that have arisen from the chaos of these past few days that give cause to ponder just what the hell is actually happening.
In Boston Commons there is a monument honoring the 54th Massachusetts Regiment whose exploits during the Civil War were immortalized in the movie "Glory!" That monument, scheduled to undergo a $1+ Million dollar restoration was vandalized with graffiti proclaiming "Black Lives Matter" and other catchphrases of the movement.
HBO Max has removed the movie "Gone with the Wind" from its playlist despite Hattie McDaniel, who played the part "Mammy" being the first black actress to win an Oscar for her role in the movie.
Neither one of these, among quite a few other recent incidents, make any sense whatsoever to me. Both the 54th Massachusetts Regiment and Hattie McDaniel should be celebrated for their accomplishments and instead their memories have been defiled and removed from public view.
Can anyone explain the rationale behind these moves, please?
In Boston Commons there is a monument honoring the 54th Massachusetts Regiment whose exploits during the Civil War were immortalized in the movie "Glory!" That monument, scheduled to undergo a $1+ Million dollar restoration was vandalized with graffiti proclaiming "Black Lives Matter" and other catchphrases of the movement.
HBO Max has removed the movie "Gone with the Wind" from its playlist despite Hattie McDaniel, who played the part "Mammy" being the first black actress to win an Oscar for her role in the movie.
Neither one of these, among quite a few other recent incidents, make any sense whatsoever to me. Both the 54th Massachusetts Regiment and Hattie McDaniel should be celebrated for their accomplishments and instead their memories have been defiled and removed from public view.
Can anyone explain the rationale behind these moves, please?
Thursday, June 11, 2020
Where do illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens go to live?
Where do illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens go to live?
This is the type of question that rattles around in my mind.
Seriously.
They are not settling in middle class or wealthy neighborhoods.
They are living in already under-served and overburdened areas.
We could discuss how illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens are a leftist ploy to pad the voters ranks in the favor of Democrats.
We could discuss how non-citizens are being given rights reserved for citizens.
We could discuss how millions of tax payer dollars are being delivered to illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens.
How about we look at the impact illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens are having on our poorest US citizens? All the tax payer money being spent on illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens is being diverted away from US citizens in need, sometimes desperate need.
The radical liberals and socialists are pushing harder and harder to "share ever more wealth" that has been proven inadequate to elevate our country's own legal residents out of poverty. I've heard this described as modern slavery with the slave owner being the federal government. Not an unfair description at all.
This brings me back to my favorite question, why?
Why do our poorest citizens tend to vote democrat, leftist, liberal, socialist when the very people they vote for are doing everything they can to not only perpetuate the plight of our poorest citizens, but are actively exploiting and exasperating the situation?
It's time for our under-served and overburdened communities to stand up for themselves, think for themselves and quit being blind and or naive to the duplicitous nature of the Democratic party. You all are being manipulated and are playing right into their hands. They want to hold you down and multiply your ranks to serve their own purposes. And YOU allow them to get away with this crap by voting for them. Break the chain of negativity. Chart a new course. Stand up for yourselves and your country. THINK about the perpetuity of your situation and the insanity of continuing as you have been while expecting different results. It ain't gonna happen. Break the chains of modern day slavery that the Democrat party has shackled you with.
This is the type of question that rattles around in my mind.
Seriously.
They are not settling in middle class or wealthy neighborhoods.
They are living in already under-served and overburdened areas.
We could discuss how illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens are a leftist ploy to pad the voters ranks in the favor of Democrats.
We could discuss how non-citizens are being given rights reserved for citizens.
We could discuss how millions of tax payer dollars are being delivered to illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens.
How about we look at the impact illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens are having on our poorest US citizens? All the tax payer money being spent on illegal immigrants and undocumented aliens is being diverted away from US citizens in need, sometimes desperate need.
The radical liberals and socialists are pushing harder and harder to "share ever more wealth" that has been proven inadequate to elevate our country's own legal residents out of poverty. I've heard this described as modern slavery with the slave owner being the federal government. Not an unfair description at all.
This brings me back to my favorite question, why?
Why do our poorest citizens tend to vote democrat, leftist, liberal, socialist when the very people they vote for are doing everything they can to not only perpetuate the plight of our poorest citizens, but are actively exploiting and exasperating the situation?
It's time for our under-served and overburdened communities to stand up for themselves, think for themselves and quit being blind and or naive to the duplicitous nature of the Democratic party. You all are being manipulated and are playing right into their hands. They want to hold you down and multiply your ranks to serve their own purposes. And YOU allow them to get away with this crap by voting for them. Break the chain of negativity. Chart a new course. Stand up for yourselves and your country. THINK about the perpetuity of your situation and the insanity of continuing as you have been while expecting different results. It ain't gonna happen. Break the chains of modern day slavery that the Democrat party has shackled you with.
The Confederate Battle Flag gets Banned.
NASCAR is banning the Confederate Battle Flag from being flown at their events.
On the surface, this is a good, if long overdue, thing.
To me? Meh.
How about offering an exchange; a Stars and Stripes for every Confederate Battle Flag turned in?
This would take Confederate Battle Flags out of circulation decreasing the number of those available to be displayed.
Banning the Confederate Battle Flag from NASCAR events does not reduce the number of Confederate Battle Flags nor stop their production, it just changes where they are displayed. And when NASCAR fans bring Confederate Battle Flags to events anyway we know TV coverage will show them bringing more publicity to a bad thing. Additionally, it is predictable that anyone openly displaying a Confederate Battle Flag at a NASCAR event going forward will be spoiling for a confrontation and how NASCAR officials handle that will be critical. No need to provide more coverage and publicity for proponents of displaying the Confederate Battle Flag as that would be akin to stirring up controversy ala Colin Kapernick's kneeling during our National Anthem.
Anyway, treating superficial symptoms of a deeper problem is not good enough.
Taking the Confederate Battle Flag out of production is a much stronger message.
From what I have been able to discern there is only one American company still producing Confederate flags for sale and distribution that being:
Alabama Flag & Banner Co.
2720 Governor's Drive
Huntsville, Alabama 35805
1-800-523-3524
sales@alabmaflag.com
As of this writing the front page of their website boldly displays the Confederate Battle Flag.
Lets
Contact this company and in a civilized manner express your displeasure and disgust with their product. Do NOT go all nuclear on them. Absolutely NO VIOLENCE directed at the company, it's ownership or its employees. That would be counter productive and only serve to harden and solidify their current stance. Figuratively hit them where it will have the most impact - financially, their bottom line. Take note of ALL their products and boycott them until they stop producing the Confederate battle flag.
Don't be fooled though. We are still treating symptoms of the problem. If we want to address the hate we must do so with LOVE. We must work to build relationships between the races. We must learn to trust one another. We must learn to respect one another. We must learn to love one another. These are the tenets of Christianity and all other good religions of the world.
Don't be fooled though. We are still treating symptoms of the problem. If we want to address the hate we must do so with LOVE. We must work to build relationships between the races. We must learn to trust one another. We must learn to respect one another. We must learn to love one another. These are the tenets of Christianity and all other good religions of the world.
We need to MAGA ... no, not necessarily to Make American "Great" Again although that would be a by-product of what I propose. MAGA = Make America Godly Again.
Hey! It's not a great saying as God has always been and will always be present in our lives, but we need to emphasize the teachings of God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ in our country. The "Creator" referenced in our Declaration of Independence. If we do that, we will address the root cause of the problem of racism plaguing our society today.
Live the Golden Rule.
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
Black Lives Matter vs All Lives Matter.
Forget all the statistics that clearly show black on black violence claims significantly more lives than white on black violence does.
Step aside from the immediacy of the current social unrest that has seen the plight of black Americans supersede that of all other groups.
Consider for a moment this scenario:
A black man who can truthfully be considered a career criminal is high on fentanyl, methamphetamine, cannabis & morphine dies while being restrained by a racially diverse group of police officers after having committed yet another crime. This tragic death leads to protests and rioting. Burning and looting. The man’s name becomes as well known by people throughout the country and even globally as any of the day. This culminates in a very public funeral the likes and coverage of which are generally reserved for presidents.
A black officer is gunned down while protecting and serving the public during the protests and rioting in honor of the first man. His death is barely reported at all, goes largely unnoticed garnering little attention by comparison. There is no public outrage or demonstrations, protests or rioting over his death. The vast majority of people cannot name him.
If Black Lives Matter shouldn’t all Black lives matter equally?
Why the hierarchy here?
If we were to value one life over the other - which is what Black Live Matters proclaims is the problem - wouldn’t the law-abiding officers life be placed before the criminal’s life?
But that is not the lesson Jesus taught us in dying on the cross along side two criminals, is it? The one criminal repented and was saved. The other? Some believe Jesus’ descent into Hell was to retrieve the soul of the second criminal who died beside him on the cross. The shepherd retrieving the lost sheep once again.
All Lives Matter.
All Life Matters Equally.
All Life is Important and importance knows no rank.
Step aside from the immediacy of the current social unrest that has seen the plight of black Americans supersede that of all other groups.
Consider for a moment this scenario:
A black man who can truthfully be considered a career criminal is high on fentanyl, methamphetamine, cannabis & morphine dies while being restrained by a racially diverse group of police officers after having committed yet another crime. This tragic death leads to protests and rioting. Burning and looting. The man’s name becomes as well known by people throughout the country and even globally as any of the day. This culminates in a very public funeral the likes and coverage of which are generally reserved for presidents.
A black officer is gunned down while protecting and serving the public during the protests and rioting in honor of the first man. His death is barely reported at all, goes largely unnoticed garnering little attention by comparison. There is no public outrage or demonstrations, protests or rioting over his death. The vast majority of people cannot name him.
If Black Lives Matter shouldn’t all Black lives matter equally?
Why the hierarchy here?
If we were to value one life over the other - which is what Black Live Matters proclaims is the problem - wouldn’t the law-abiding officers life be placed before the criminal’s life?
But that is not the lesson Jesus taught us in dying on the cross along side two criminals, is it? The one criminal repented and was saved. The other? Some believe Jesus’ descent into Hell was to retrieve the soul of the second criminal who died beside him on the cross. The shepherd retrieving the lost sheep once again.
All Lives Matter.
All Life Matters Equally.
All Life is Important and importance knows no rank.
I can't believe you brought a black person home!
The year was 1978. Early August around lunch time. Our school teachers were on strike and so we had just held a players led varsity football practice at a local park. My parents had volunteered to cook hamburgers and hot dogs for the team. I made the announcement at practice and invited everyone over.
Everything went well. My mother was an awesome cook and naturally went overboard. In addition to hamburgers and hot dogs cooked by dad on the grill There was potato salad, baked beans, chips, veggies, assorted drinks and a freshly baked chocolate cake. She spent hours preparing for this event.
Ours was a nice house in a nice neighborhood. The school district was generally well to do with small pockets of poverty here and there. It was a diverse community. While predominately white, our schools had blacks, orientals (as they were referred to then), Hispanics, Indians and Native Americans. Probably others ethnic groups were represented as well. I know we had foreign exchange students from Brazil, South Africa and Germany at least.
Religions? Christians in the form of Catholic, Protestant and Mormons, Jewish, Hindu, Muslim and at least one Buddhist or someone who dabbled in Buddhism anyways.
We had farmers, small business owners, factory workers, doctors, nurses, attorneys, custodians, preachers, teachers, restaurant workers, construction workers and any number of other professions represented in our community.
As I said, it was a diverse community, especially for one in 1978.
That doesn't mean there wasn't tension between the different groups represented. There were incidents of racism during my high school years, but the general populace of the school was pretty much against such things.
Then racism hit at home. Not close to home. At - my - home.
You see, we had black players on our football team. When I invited the team over for lunch that day after practice in the park I did not exclude anyone. And since we were friends at school and on the team the black kids came along too. Maybe I was naive or just didn't know any better.
Everything went great at lunch. Mom and dad, my siblings all worked hard to make everyone feel welcomed. It was a good time. The only glitch was mom had tried a new cake recipe that had coffee grounds in the recipe and it was not one of her better ideas. Other than that we ate and talked. Joked around and generally had a great team bonding experience. After a couple of hours things broke up and everyone departed with plans to meet up again later that day at the county fair.
As we finished tidying up the kitchen my mother said to me, "I can't believe you brought a black person home!" Those were her exact words. I was a bit taken aback. What ensued was a discussion - not a heated one, just a discussion about that being the first time a black person had ever been in my parents home. I cannot say they were offended, but they were most definitely shocked. I wasn't told to never do that again either. My parents were simply flabbergasted. My mother more so than my father I think as dad was a salesman and certainly interacted with the black community more than his sheltered housewife did.
I did a lot of thinking in the following days. As I said, I knew racism existed and had witnessed instances in the school among my peers and on athletic teams between teammates, but racists seemed to be the exception and always the majority sided with the victim of racism over the perpetrator of racism.
I thought back to wonder why none of my black friends had ever been over to our home before that day. I had been to theirs on numerous occasions. We ate at the same table for lunch each day at school and socialized together. One thing I realized was my house was not a neighborhood hangout to begin with. Big family and constant chaos. I liked to get out of the rat race that was our daily life and into the calmer atmosphere of my friends homes. I did speak to my black friends about that day. I learned some things including their surprise at being so warmly welcomed into an upper middle class whites home. My folks had hid their astonishment well it seems. They related how they were not always extended such hospitality.
I begin to realize how naive I had been about racism and was worse off for having my eyes opened that day. The purity of life as I knew it was challenged on my home turf. I began to understand racism as not a few isolated incidents at school now and again, but as a constant in my friends lives. I was glad, not proud, just happy that my own family had grown a bit that day in August. Were we racists before? I don't know. I grew to appreciate my bringing a group of friends home that included blacks was the start of better social understanding within our home. The beginning of relationships being built. The beginning of trust being established.
Something good happened that day.
Everything went well. My mother was an awesome cook and naturally went overboard. In addition to hamburgers and hot dogs cooked by dad on the grill There was potato salad, baked beans, chips, veggies, assorted drinks and a freshly baked chocolate cake. She spent hours preparing for this event.
Ours was a nice house in a nice neighborhood. The school district was generally well to do with small pockets of poverty here and there. It was a diverse community. While predominately white, our schools had blacks, orientals (as they were referred to then), Hispanics, Indians and Native Americans. Probably others ethnic groups were represented as well. I know we had foreign exchange students from Brazil, South Africa and Germany at least.
Religions? Christians in the form of Catholic, Protestant and Mormons, Jewish, Hindu, Muslim and at least one Buddhist or someone who dabbled in Buddhism anyways.
We had farmers, small business owners, factory workers, doctors, nurses, attorneys, custodians, preachers, teachers, restaurant workers, construction workers and any number of other professions represented in our community.
As I said, it was a diverse community, especially for one in 1978.
That doesn't mean there wasn't tension between the different groups represented. There were incidents of racism during my high school years, but the general populace of the school was pretty much against such things.
Then racism hit at home. Not close to home. At - my - home.
You see, we had black players on our football team. When I invited the team over for lunch that day after practice in the park I did not exclude anyone. And since we were friends at school and on the team the black kids came along too. Maybe I was naive or just didn't know any better.
Everything went great at lunch. Mom and dad, my siblings all worked hard to make everyone feel welcomed. It was a good time. The only glitch was mom had tried a new cake recipe that had coffee grounds in the recipe and it was not one of her better ideas. Other than that we ate and talked. Joked around and generally had a great team bonding experience. After a couple of hours things broke up and everyone departed with plans to meet up again later that day at the county fair.
As we finished tidying up the kitchen my mother said to me, "I can't believe you brought a black person home!" Those were her exact words. I was a bit taken aback. What ensued was a discussion - not a heated one, just a discussion about that being the first time a black person had ever been in my parents home. I cannot say they were offended, but they were most definitely shocked. I wasn't told to never do that again either. My parents were simply flabbergasted. My mother more so than my father I think as dad was a salesman and certainly interacted with the black community more than his sheltered housewife did.
I did a lot of thinking in the following days. As I said, I knew racism existed and had witnessed instances in the school among my peers and on athletic teams between teammates, but racists seemed to be the exception and always the majority sided with the victim of racism over the perpetrator of racism.
I thought back to wonder why none of my black friends had ever been over to our home before that day. I had been to theirs on numerous occasions. We ate at the same table for lunch each day at school and socialized together. One thing I realized was my house was not a neighborhood hangout to begin with. Big family and constant chaos. I liked to get out of the rat race that was our daily life and into the calmer atmosphere of my friends homes. I did speak to my black friends about that day. I learned some things including their surprise at being so warmly welcomed into an upper middle class whites home. My folks had hid their astonishment well it seems. They related how they were not always extended such hospitality.
I begin to realize how naive I had been about racism and was worse off for having my eyes opened that day. The purity of life as I knew it was challenged on my home turf. I began to understand racism as not a few isolated incidents at school now and again, but as a constant in my friends lives. I was glad, not proud, just happy that my own family had grown a bit that day in August. Were we racists before? I don't know. I grew to appreciate my bringing a group of friends home that included blacks was the start of better social understanding within our home. The beginning of relationships being built. The beginning of trust being established.
Something good happened that day.
Monday, June 8, 2020
Are we being Played?
DISCLAIMER: I readily admit with each passing day it becomes evermore difficult to discern who is telling the truth ... and that might be part of a plan.
United States Attorney General William Barr has announced in addition to homegrown terrorists like Antifa there are foreign based agitators and provocateurs at work in the riots taking place.
I will allow that to sink in for a minute.
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Okay, even the media is picking up on mysterious pallets of bricks appearing on the streets and people riding around in pick up trucks distributing crow bars, rocks, Molotov cocktails and such to rioters. I even saw a report where stashes of pipe bombs were hidden around memorials in Washington, D.C. although those have been discredited.
A Molotov cocktail is not a spur of the moment weapons choice. There needs to be a bit of premeditation to putting one together. People just don't carry them around with them in their pockets. And rocks big enough to break windows aren't just laying around in the street or yards either. And the flashbang grenade thrown into the police presence inside the CNN building? Seriously, where the hell did THAT come from? Not who threw it, but where did the thrower obtain it?
It's pretty obvious there exists an organized effort afoot in the these riots. Especially when we consider the same modus operandi or M.O. can be seen playing out in cities across America.
So, if foreign agents are instigating violence in American streets, that amounts to an attack against the United States on American soil. That would give the President of the United States authority to deploy active duty military troops on American soil to put down the resurrection. The Insurrection Act of 1807 comes into play.
Ponder that for a minute.
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If you follow my ramblings you will know I am NOT a full fledged supporter of President Trump. I do appreciate many things he has done for our country, but I harbor some suspicion and do not fully trust him. I have often wondered if he is not in cahoots with Clinton, Obama and the radical left. Are they all working together orchestrating this chaos for their own benefit?
Think about the ramifications of deploying regular military troops on U.S. soil to put down "foreign agitators and provocateurs" inciting riots. It only takes one or two foreign agents in each city to incite riots. Once sparked, momentum builds quickly and BOOM! full fledged riot - looting, burning, killing is taking place ... only it is largely being committed by Americans who would be facing off against American soldiers.
The National Guard was activated and called in to quell the riots. It worked. If the rioting were any more widespread or the Guard had not been able to quiet things down, would the active duty military been summoned?
How close are we to Civil War II?
Think of the efforts to regulate guns or ban them all together ...
The Second Amendment was put in place so the people could protect themselves from the government. And who wants to confiscate guns? None other than the government. Put Federal troops on our streets pitted against American citizens trying to protest unjust government (police brutality) practices and we are poised for our very own Tiananmen Square, are we not?
I cannot help thinking the good people of these United States are being played.
Is it such a stretch of the imagination that if foreign agents have infiltrated the riots that they might also have infiltrated our government? On the one hand the Democrats / Liberals have gone over the cliff espousing ideas that even defy categorization as "radical" while making the other hand seem palatable. I mean, we have a pompous, bombastic, barely couth President undoing decades of work done by former presidents - and being rightfully cheered for many of his efforts, especially those related to evening the global economic playing field. It also seems many career politicians in D.C. have family tied to foreign companies and governments. How does a poor politician become rich on government wages?
Americans are being sorely divided the likes of which we have not seen since the 1860's.
There's some truly strange going-ons in this country right now.
Are we being played?
United States Attorney General William Barr has announced in addition to homegrown terrorists like Antifa there are foreign based agitators and provocateurs at work in the riots taking place.
I will allow that to sink in for a minute.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
Okay, even the media is picking up on mysterious pallets of bricks appearing on the streets and people riding around in pick up trucks distributing crow bars, rocks, Molotov cocktails and such to rioters. I even saw a report where stashes of pipe bombs were hidden around memorials in Washington, D.C. although those have been discredited.
A Molotov cocktail is not a spur of the moment weapons choice. There needs to be a bit of premeditation to putting one together. People just don't carry them around with them in their pockets. And rocks big enough to break windows aren't just laying around in the street or yards either. And the flashbang grenade thrown into the police presence inside the CNN building? Seriously, where the hell did THAT come from? Not who threw it, but where did the thrower obtain it?
It's pretty obvious there exists an organized effort afoot in the these riots. Especially when we consider the same modus operandi or M.O. can be seen playing out in cities across America.
So, if foreign agents are instigating violence in American streets, that amounts to an attack against the United States on American soil. That would give the President of the United States authority to deploy active duty military troops on American soil to put down the resurrection. The Insurrection Act of 1807 comes into play.
Ponder that for a minute.
*
*
*
*
*
If you follow my ramblings you will know I am NOT a full fledged supporter of President Trump. I do appreciate many things he has done for our country, but I harbor some suspicion and do not fully trust him. I have often wondered if he is not in cahoots with Clinton, Obama and the radical left. Are they all working together orchestrating this chaos for their own benefit?
Think about the ramifications of deploying regular military troops on U.S. soil to put down "foreign agitators and provocateurs" inciting riots. It only takes one or two foreign agents in each city to incite riots. Once sparked, momentum builds quickly and BOOM! full fledged riot - looting, burning, killing is taking place ... only it is largely being committed by Americans who would be facing off against American soldiers.
The National Guard was activated and called in to quell the riots. It worked. If the rioting were any more widespread or the Guard had not been able to quiet things down, would the active duty military been summoned?
How close are we to Civil War II?
Think of the efforts to regulate guns or ban them all together ...
The Second Amendment was put in place so the people could protect themselves from the government. And who wants to confiscate guns? None other than the government. Put Federal troops on our streets pitted against American citizens trying to protest unjust government (police brutality) practices and we are poised for our very own Tiananmen Square, are we not?
I cannot help thinking the good people of these United States are being played.
Is it such a stretch of the imagination that if foreign agents have infiltrated the riots that they might also have infiltrated our government? On the one hand the Democrats / Liberals have gone over the cliff espousing ideas that even defy categorization as "radical" while making the other hand seem palatable. I mean, we have a pompous, bombastic, barely couth President undoing decades of work done by former presidents - and being rightfully cheered for many of his efforts, especially those related to evening the global economic playing field. It also seems many career politicians in D.C. have family tied to foreign companies and governments. How does a poor politician become rich on government wages?
Americans are being sorely divided the likes of which we have not seen since the 1860's.
There's some truly strange going-ons in this country right now.
Are we being played?
Sunday, June 7, 2020
Change. Positive change. It might finally be afoot.
Bare with me on this one ...
I'm really not very good at putting ... "this" ... into words.
I wrote a couple of weeks ago of how I sometimes sense things before they happen. I was feeling edgy, nervous. I recognized in part it was due to the growing social unrest surrounding covid-19, but "knew" there was something bigger just over the horizon.
As we have experienced these last few days, social unrest took a huge dose of steroids and unleashed its madness upon us.
If you follow my ramblings you will know I seek different perspectives, always. I continue training myself to do this so I can better understand how people and situations impact me and seek the good in all situations.
What I was feeling a couple of weeks ago was trepidation. I was agitated, fearful and nervous about something just over the horizon.
Here's something I have learned over time ... and it goes back to my teen years at least; The very same things that bring us fear and nervousness can also generate excitement and hope within us.
That is also what I recognized I was sensing a couple of weeks ago. These past days have been tumultuous for many of us. I found myself doubting whether anything good would come from all this. After all, we have been here and done this before.
The living definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result.
Then something remarkable began happening this week. Amidst all the gloom of hollow narratives like BLM and white privilege being pushed new voices began to emerge to me.
You will not see or hear from these new voices in the media or even the mainstream social media. You're going to have to have an open heart, an open mind and intentionally seek out different perspectives and opinions.
God is at work among us. Always.
There is new leadership emerging and I believe that is the Blessing sent to us from this madness. Change, very positive, change is afoot.
Finally.
It is actually disgust with movements like BLM and the white privilege narrative that is driving this change. And not the expected push back from allegedly racist whites, but true, passionate anger and disgust about these things from within the black community itself.
I am going to seek opportunities to converse with these new voices. I want to learn more about their cause, a very positive cause in my estimation.
One thing they all seem to have in common is a belief, deep belief in God.
Most importantly, I want to be a part of this movement that embraces and accentuates the positives in people. A movement that encourages people to strive to better themselves and the world one day at a time. To not give control of their lives away by blaming others, but to take charge of what they can control, their own life and, yes, be the positive change they want.
We are on the verge of something really good happening. This I sense. This I want. This I will work to promote. With God's help.
Thanks be to God.
Friday, June 5, 2020
Broken Halos
*** I feel sure this writing is likely to piss some readers off. I accept that. My intentions are pure and good. Leave your counterpoints in a calm intelligent fashion in the comments section. We'll see what progress we can make in understanding one another. ***
As raw emotions begin to subside and hindsight comes into focus perhaps progress can be made, but not before confronting a lot of very difficult facts.
Let us begin with the death of George Floyd. We have seen the pictures and videos. It is ghastly to watch the actual death of one human being at the hands of another. Mr. Floyd should not have died that fateful day and especially not in such a heinous manner. Eye's rightfully turned red with rage and hearts turned black with hatred.
Why did this happen?
Why is my favorite question and seeking the why of this incident has led me down an interesting path. Some of what I am about to type will undoubtedly be seen as controversial and met with vile hyperbole at first glance and so I urged caution and patience in allowing the entirety of this writing to unfold.
Why did Derek Chauvin restrain Geroge Floyd as he did for over 8 minutes? This seems a question worth asking. So, too is it worth asking why Thomas Lane, Tou Thao, and J Alexander Kueng stood passively by while this happened. There are are still more why questions to be asked; why did Darnella Frazier, one videographer of the murder, not use her phone to call for help instead of filming the event? And why, on a busy street, did nobody intervene?
I ask these questions not to deflect blame or criticism from Derek Chauvin, but in honest curiosity.
There are going to be a lot of different answers and some of them are definitely not going to reflect the conventional narrative produced by media nor conclusions leapt to by the masses in the raw emotions of the moment. More questions will arise than we have answers for and than time will allow me to address in a blog post.
Why did Derek Chauvin restrain George Floyd with a knee to the neck for over 8 minutes?
Racism and police brutality is the battle cry that has risen up and inflamed the masses.
In researching the incident, and 100% with the benefit of information not readily available to the public in the moment, some interesting facts have come to light. Why was it necessary to restrain George Floyd for over 8 minutes? The official toxicology reports from the autopsy determined George Floyd had fentanyl and methamphetamine in his system when he died, as well as cannabis compounds and morphine. Drugs alter one's state of mind and can be the source of unusual physical strength.
Okay, that information offers a partial reason, but certainly does not excuse the entirety of the officers actions.
The call to EMS came in for a Code 2 response. My understanding of a Code 2 Response is it indicates the need for an acute but non-time critical response. The ambulance does not use lights and sirens to respond. This could support the premise that officers were having difficulty safely restraining Mr. Floyd possibly due to his being under the influence of drugs. The on-scene EMT's sent a second call for a Code 3 response. A Code 3 Response indicates the necessity for use of lights and siren in responding. A definite sense of emergency and urgency is attached to a Code 3 response.
Further, public video clearly shows three of the officers subduing Mr. Floyd before Derek Chauvin is seen as the sole restrainer of him. I have not confirmed the 4th officer is the one who summoned EMS, but it is a logical inference given the circumstances.
While there now exists a plausible scenario (sans justification) for the officers actions and in-actions, I believe a bit more background is necessary before transitioning to seeking answers as to why others on scene did not intervene.
The first EMT's on scene made a rapid decision to "load and go" instead of unloading equipment and attempting to save Mr. Floyd's life on scene. I have personally been "load and go" and will attest to this being an extremely urgent, time is sensitive, response. My life was saved. The on sen paramedics issued a Code 3 call and were met in route to the hospital by a unit from the Fire Department, stopped long enough to load two other personnel to assist in life saving measures and continued to the Emergency Room. The situation had obviously changed in the intervening minutes between the first call to EMS and the arrival on scene of the first EMTs.
So, why did Darnella Frazier or any of the subsequent videographers of this horrible event not intervene? That is for each of those individuals to say. I would think ignorance and lack or training to be culprits. That is not to say any of these people are ignorant. It is to say, they did not know any better. Who calls the cops on the cops. right? Did anyone even think to call the State Police or FBI? Did anyone even consider calling the Minneapolis Police Department to bring awareness to the situation and get a supervisor on scene?
And there were other witnesses to this event. Did you know an off duty firefighter was present? Why did he not identify himself and seek to assist Mr. Floyd? Why did no one present come to the physical assistance of Mr. Floyd? Is not a human life worth the risk of an obstruction charge?
I don't have answers for these why questions. Only those present who watched as Mr. Floyd's life slipped away can speak for themselves. I would like to think I would have intervened, physically so, if necessary to help another human being in such circumstances. I don't know that I would have, but I think I would have.
There are enough broken halos to be shared by any and all those present that dreadful day. Mr. Floyd was no saint, he was in custody for suspicion of passing a counterfeit $20.00 bill and under the influence of a number of drugs several of which have taken lives. If we are honest with ourselves, Mr. Floyd is not highly deserving of the martyr / sainthood status he is being elevated to. Derek Chauvin, Thomas Lane, Tou Thao, and J Alexander Kueng need to answer questions and be held accountable for their actions and in-actions. All who passively stood by video recording or watching need to, in the very least, do some soul searching for by not acting they condoned what they witnessed. Broken halos all around.
I believe Mr. Floyd is very much deserving of posthumous answers for a most undeserving and unnecessary death. And in the light of hindsight I am less than certain Derek Chauvin held nefarious motivation in his heart and intentionally set about to kill George Floyd that day. There exists a balance between these two sentiments and that is where the healing and growth processes begin. We are all in this together and We need to work calmly together to figure this out.
As raw emotions begin to subside and hindsight comes into focus perhaps progress can be made, but not before confronting a lot of very difficult facts.
Let us begin with the death of George Floyd. We have seen the pictures and videos. It is ghastly to watch the actual death of one human being at the hands of another. Mr. Floyd should not have died that fateful day and especially not in such a heinous manner. Eye's rightfully turned red with rage and hearts turned black with hatred.
Why did this happen?
Why is my favorite question and seeking the why of this incident has led me down an interesting path. Some of what I am about to type will undoubtedly be seen as controversial and met with vile hyperbole at first glance and so I urged caution and patience in allowing the entirety of this writing to unfold.
Why did Derek Chauvin restrain Geroge Floyd as he did for over 8 minutes? This seems a question worth asking. So, too is it worth asking why Thomas Lane, Tou Thao, and J Alexander Kueng stood passively by while this happened. There are are still more why questions to be asked; why did Darnella Frazier, one videographer of the murder, not use her phone to call for help instead of filming the event? And why, on a busy street, did nobody intervene?
I ask these questions not to deflect blame or criticism from Derek Chauvin, but in honest curiosity.
There are going to be a lot of different answers and some of them are definitely not going to reflect the conventional narrative produced by media nor conclusions leapt to by the masses in the raw emotions of the moment. More questions will arise than we have answers for and than time will allow me to address in a blog post.
Why did Derek Chauvin restrain George Floyd with a knee to the neck for over 8 minutes?
Racism and police brutality is the battle cry that has risen up and inflamed the masses.
In researching the incident, and 100% with the benefit of information not readily available to the public in the moment, some interesting facts have come to light. Why was it necessary to restrain George Floyd for over 8 minutes? The official toxicology reports from the autopsy determined George Floyd had fentanyl and methamphetamine in his system when he died, as well as cannabis compounds and morphine. Drugs alter one's state of mind and can be the source of unusual physical strength.
Okay, that information offers a partial reason, but certainly does not excuse the entirety of the officers actions.
The call to EMS came in for a Code 2 response. My understanding of a Code 2 Response is it indicates the need for an acute but non-time critical response. The ambulance does not use lights and sirens to respond. This could support the premise that officers were having difficulty safely restraining Mr. Floyd possibly due to his being under the influence of drugs. The on-scene EMT's sent a second call for a Code 3 response. A Code 3 Response indicates the necessity for use of lights and siren in responding. A definite sense of emergency and urgency is attached to a Code 3 response.
Further, public video clearly shows three of the officers subduing Mr. Floyd before Derek Chauvin is seen as the sole restrainer of him. I have not confirmed the 4th officer is the one who summoned EMS, but it is a logical inference given the circumstances.
While there now exists a plausible scenario (sans justification) for the officers actions and in-actions, I believe a bit more background is necessary before transitioning to seeking answers as to why others on scene did not intervene.
The first EMT's on scene made a rapid decision to "load and go" instead of unloading equipment and attempting to save Mr. Floyd's life on scene. I have personally been "load and go" and will attest to this being an extremely urgent, time is sensitive, response. My life was saved. The on sen paramedics issued a Code 3 call and were met in route to the hospital by a unit from the Fire Department, stopped long enough to load two other personnel to assist in life saving measures and continued to the Emergency Room. The situation had obviously changed in the intervening minutes between the first call to EMS and the arrival on scene of the first EMTs.
So, why did Darnella Frazier or any of the subsequent videographers of this horrible event not intervene? That is for each of those individuals to say. I would think ignorance and lack or training to be culprits. That is not to say any of these people are ignorant. It is to say, they did not know any better. Who calls the cops on the cops. right? Did anyone even think to call the State Police or FBI? Did anyone even consider calling the Minneapolis Police Department to bring awareness to the situation and get a supervisor on scene?
And there were other witnesses to this event. Did you know an off duty firefighter was present? Why did he not identify himself and seek to assist Mr. Floyd? Why did no one present come to the physical assistance of Mr. Floyd? Is not a human life worth the risk of an obstruction charge?
I don't have answers for these why questions. Only those present who watched as Mr. Floyd's life slipped away can speak for themselves. I would like to think I would have intervened, physically so, if necessary to help another human being in such circumstances. I don't know that I would have, but I think I would have.
There are enough broken halos to be shared by any and all those present that dreadful day. Mr. Floyd was no saint, he was in custody for suspicion of passing a counterfeit $20.00 bill and under the influence of a number of drugs several of which have taken lives. If we are honest with ourselves, Mr. Floyd is not highly deserving of the martyr / sainthood status he is being elevated to. Derek Chauvin, Thomas Lane, Tou Thao, and J Alexander Kueng need to answer questions and be held accountable for their actions and in-actions. All who passively stood by video recording or watching need to, in the very least, do some soul searching for by not acting they condoned what they witnessed. Broken halos all around.
I believe Mr. Floyd is very much deserving of posthumous answers for a most undeserving and unnecessary death. And in the light of hindsight I am less than certain Derek Chauvin held nefarious motivation in his heart and intentionally set about to kill George Floyd that day. There exists a balance between these two sentiments and that is where the healing and growth processes begin. We are all in this together and We need to work calmly together to figure this out.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Why All Life Matters is Correct, in my opinion.
Some take exception with the slogan All Lives Matter believing it somehow marginalizes their cause that Black Lives Matter. Okay, I accept there can be differing opinions and respect yours. Can you do the same for me?
For the record, I prefer All LIFE Matters.
A small distinction, but one that seems to spur even greater umbrage even than All Lives Matter does within some.
I find that curious.
When I have inquired about why this is, I have not received a clear response. In general, after initial attempts to define the offensive nature of All Lives Matter, the default response has been to proclaim, if you ain't black you don't understand.
So, educate me.
White people joining the BLM movement seem guilt ridden over long-term bullying of blacks by whites. When I inquire if they feel guilt ridden about the plight of the Jews throughout history or of the Native Americans of this country they tell me this is different.
How so? Educate me.
My responses in both cases invariably leads to further attacks upon my character and alleged lack of intelligence. Real answers of substance remain lacking. It makes me feel like BLM means something a little different to each individual answering its call. And then there are outspoken Black Americans who themselves are very critical of the movement. It is far from a consensus movement. It, in fact, appears to be divisive movement even among the Black American community.
Another curious aspect of these conversations has been that not once, not a single solitary time, has anyone asked me why I prefer "All LIFE Matters".
You see, if we are ever to heal this divide, we must get to know one another. We must learn to trust, respect and love one another. That's not a call to gather in a circle, hold hands and sing Kum Ba Yah, although that isn't a bad idea, either. It's a challenge to learn, to recognize and to accept that I am not against Black Lives Matter and include those lives in All Life Matters. I am being inclusive and not exclusive. Which, by the way, seems to be an underlying theme in this mess - a cry for all to be treated equally and fairly under the law and in the eyes of society.
All LIFE Matters.
Furthermore, I like to get to the root cause of problems instead of messing around treating symptoms of problems. The root cause of this matter is as follows:
The problem is SIN, not skin
The answer is found in GRACE, not race
Jesus died for All, not for some.
Our nation needs to turn back to the teachings of Jesus.
May God Bless America and may America Bless God.
All Life Matters ... equally and without levels of distinction, importance or rank.
For the record, I prefer All LIFE Matters.
A small distinction, but one that seems to spur even greater umbrage even than All Lives Matter does within some.
I find that curious.
When I have inquired about why this is, I have not received a clear response. In general, after initial attempts to define the offensive nature of All Lives Matter, the default response has been to proclaim, if you ain't black you don't understand.
So, educate me.
White people joining the BLM movement seem guilt ridden over long-term bullying of blacks by whites. When I inquire if they feel guilt ridden about the plight of the Jews throughout history or of the Native Americans of this country they tell me this is different.
How so? Educate me.
My responses in both cases invariably leads to further attacks upon my character and alleged lack of intelligence. Real answers of substance remain lacking. It makes me feel like BLM means something a little different to each individual answering its call. And then there are outspoken Black Americans who themselves are very critical of the movement. It is far from a consensus movement. It, in fact, appears to be divisive movement even among the Black American community.
Another curious aspect of these conversations has been that not once, not a single solitary time, has anyone asked me why I prefer "All LIFE Matters".
You see, if we are ever to heal this divide, we must get to know one another. We must learn to trust, respect and love one another. That's not a call to gather in a circle, hold hands and sing Kum Ba Yah, although that isn't a bad idea, either. It's a challenge to learn, to recognize and to accept that I am not against Black Lives Matter and include those lives in All Life Matters. I am being inclusive and not exclusive. Which, by the way, seems to be an underlying theme in this mess - a cry for all to be treated equally and fairly under the law and in the eyes of society.
All LIFE Matters.
Furthermore, I like to get to the root cause of problems instead of messing around treating symptoms of problems. The root cause of this matter is as follows:
The problem is SIN, not skin
The answer is found in GRACE, not race
Jesus died for All, not for some.
Our nation needs to turn back to the teachings of Jesus.
May God Bless America and may America Bless God.
All Life Matters ... equally and without levels of distinction, importance or rank.
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