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 |  Mulling, culling, and musing the confusing... in Blog format. |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I stand in awe of life's predisposition for imploding, swiftly morphing into a churning, perilous vortex that mankind is hard-pressed to navigate, let alone survive. Maintaining a foothold and emerging from the gales unscathed seems wholly contingent upon survivors' personal philosophies, capacity for tolerance, and coping skills. Without these, the vortex becomes the portal to a toxic black void, and man stands naked in the spiralling eddy, awaiting the final flush.** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Monsters Evil incarnate to their kind gives rise, their nourishment found in blood-curdling fear; horror-swept dreamscapes they stalk in disguise, unleashing terror, they draw ever near. Defiled wombs in hell to their kind give birth to seek symbiosis with souls in need; in lost and rejected spirits on earth ~ on their very marrow, such monsters feed. Iced are their fingers and vacant, their stare, black are their hearts, sustained by putrid breath; sucking the lifeblood imperilled souls share to spew forth their spawn of hatred and death. But they may not linger where Faith abides... for Hope's children fear not their raging tides. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The mission of this journal is to examine life issues that precipitate the storms and seek out the balms that soothe the wounds they inflict. It is my fervent hope that philosophically autopsying life issue outcomes will provide comfort in the midst of chaos and a keenly longed-for measure of inner peace. Bear in mind, dear Reader, that the thoughts to follow are only musings and by no means assertions of right or wrong. They are but a reflection of one soul's yearning to ascend from the roots of life to its flowering branches and taste of the fruits found therein. How, if at all, savory their flavors are deemed to be and whether or not they become a staple in one's spiritual diet is left to each reader's own palate. The journey thus begins...
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| Well, so much for ANY pride I took in being a resident of Texas. Today Texas Tea Party Republican Congressman Randy Neugebauer, a tiny American Flag adorning his suit vest pocket and mugging for the cameras at a self-aggrandizing photo op "visit" to the World War II Monument, displayed his monumental arrogance - and infinite cowardice - for all the world to witness. Neugebauer, WHO VOTED TO SHUT DOWN THE GOVERNMENT ONLY DAYS AGO, BERATED A FEMALE PARK RANGER FOR NOT ALLOWING VISITORS INTO THE MONUMENT, DESPITE THE FACT THAT IT IS HER SWORN DUTY TO DO SO WHILE THE GOVERNMENT IS SHUT DOWN. He went on and on in his tirade and criticism of this uniformed Federal Park Ranger for performing her sworn - and mandated by Congressional LAW - duty to keep the Monument closed and guarded because of the Government shutdown NEUGEBAUER HIMSELF VOTED TO FACILITATE. This ignorant, cowardly buffoon, in full view of national media throughout his dress-down of the female Park Ranger in front of throngs of visitors and press representatives/film crews, asked the Ranger how COULD she deny these visitors, who had come from far distances, access to the sacred World War II monument - and when she replied, "I'm really sorry that I have to, Sir", retorted - "The National Park Service should be ashamed of itself !" She replied, "I am not ashamed..." - at which time he cut her off by saying, "Well, you should be!" - and abruptly dismissively turned his back on her and walked away. HOW DARE YOU!!!! Y-O-U VOTED TO SHUT DOWN THE GOVERNMENT... AND THEN HAVE THE AUDACITY TO BERATE A PARK RANGER IN FULL VIEW OF THE PUBLIC AND PRESS FOR DOING THE JOB SHE M-U-S-T NOW DO B-E-C-A-U-S-E of the MADNESS YOU VOTED TO PERPETUATE ON AN ENTIRE NATION? You and Texas Tea Party Senator Ted Cruz, who SPEARHEADED this tyranny and is REVELING in his success at it, should be charged with and tried for treason. It is said that the Anti-Christ will begin his mission by gaining the trust of many - and that is EXACTLY what I contemplate every time thugs in business suits such as you and your ilk pull the kinds of atrocities you are guilty of, no matter how underhandedly you endeavor to deflect your involvement onto others. America does NOT acquiesce to ransom demands - and I pray that President Obama courageously CONTINUES adhering to that policy in the days to come. YOU and your cronies pulled this kidnap/hostage taking of Democracy simply because you're angry that Affordable Healthcare is the SUPREME COURT UPHELD LAW OF THE LAND, and you figure shutting down this great nation's government - and threatening to ruin our economy in two weeks when the Debit Ceiling is on the table - will FORCE hostaged Americans to buckle and give you your way on Affordable Healthcare. Think again. You two are an appalling, malodorous pox on your party, on your country - and on all that is inherently decent and right. Even a relatively long life on earth is but a brief blink of an eye when considered in the context of Eternity - I hope both of you - and your tiny minority of power-drunk, treasonous co-conspirators - are prepared to endure an extremely warm climate in the afterlife NO human may in the end hide from or escape. |
| For each and every one of the 30 to 40 extremist politicians presently driving or otherwise on board the "SHUT DOWN THE GOVERNMENT - WHATEVER IT TAKES TO HAMSTRING OBAMA" Bus - SHAME ON YOU, EACH AND EVERY ONE. You have put an entire nation in the death grip of demagoguery and are strangling the Democracy for which so many have shed blood and sacrificed their very lives. Your motives are NOT pure here - not at all. And there will be a moral reckoning for your behavior and self-serving agendas and actions. You care NOTHING for the public you serve - only for your own, very limited interests. You are disgusting, greedy, self-serving little cowards who have prostituted your sacred oath to your constituents and fellow citizens. And as for Republican Congresswoman Marsha Blackburn and her fellow saboteurs who are presently so arrogantly and openly, downright GLEEFUL about this shutdown and publicly asserting that 'Americans just might come to see how much government they can do without' as a "benefit" of the shutdown - REALLY, Marsha? Tell it to the battlefront soldiers who are not receiving their Hazard Pay and may not for weeks/months to come - and to the thousands upon thousands of Disabled American Veterans and their families whose benefits will be delayed for God only knows how long. Tell it to the party of 100 Honored Veterans who were nearly turned away this morning from the World War 2 Memorial and had to breach fences to visit it due to your antics. Tell it to mass disaster victims who, unless government employees donate services, will be homeless and possibly perish as a result. Tell it to an entire NATION that will face heightened risk of terrorist infiltration/attack while no one is at the helm security wise - and anti-American terrorists who will view our current status as a gaping, mortal wound through which they may blatantly strike at our very heart. Tell it to every single American you are deceiving and manipulating - and royally screwing over for no justifiable reason whatsoever in the name of a stated "purpose" that is a blatant lie. This is not service to your Constituents - this is a treasonous coup - one destined to become a bloody one in the end, at that. You turn my stomach, lady. And so do your bloody-handed, deceiving, conniving co-conspirators and cronies. This can do NOTHING to block the Supreme Court upheld Obamacare plan - and you darn well KNOW that. You're playing with lives and the future of a nation - and care not one whit about the consequences, as long as you do not feel they'll negatively affect you and yours. For the private citizens who align themselves with the scum politicians/lobbyists/private interests who've shut down the government - remember that this includes ceasing to pay Hazard Duty Pay for our troops on the battle lines abroad. Yes, the Emergency Act passed last night will insure they get regular pay - but this is a pittance compared to the Hazard Pay you are allowing your politicians to deny them. You are also participating in their holding an entire nation hostage for RANSOM, pure and simple. Lay the teabags aside for a moment and contemplate what that MEANS in terms of national security in a "Resin-Flying-Through the Mail, Post-911" world. Remember, as well, that your "leaders" in this matter will not personally feel ONE IOTA of the sting of this travesty - they, you see, are "Essential Personnel" and will not lose a DIME of their grossly over-inflated salaries. And let's be real - even if they DID get furloughed, they have tidy nest eggs, accrued while standing on the backs of the citizens they're sworn to protect and serve, to fall back upon. Only our battlefield troops and innocent U.S. citizens will bear THAT burden.... including those impacted by horrendous storms, disasters, etc., not to mention our nation's crucially vulnerable elderly, catastrophically ill, and children. Not only is our national security being held hostage - so, too, will our very economic soundness and foundation - unless your esteemed "leaders" are forced by you voters to relent and for the first time, DO THEIR SWORN DUTY - to fairly work together in a TRULY bi-partisan manner an return to us to the kidnapped Democracy we've paid dearly for for our entire lifetime as a nation - with blood and tears and sacrifice and lives. I urge ALL citizens, DESPITE their political affiliations, to TRULY contemplate the crisis we are presently enduring - as well as the aftershock of the Debt Ceiling hijacking to come on October 17 that will very likely plunge us right back into a recession worse than the one that from which we're presently recovering - to GET IT CHANGED AND FIXED A.S.A.P.!!! SEVENTY-TWO PERCENT of the American public OPPOSES the shut down of our Government for the purpose of blocking Obamacare - and this shutdown will do NOTHING to impede, recall, or otherwise undermine same, as it has already been upheld as fully Constitutional by the Supreme Court AND is already FUNDED. The https://www.healthcare.gov/ website is officially open and actively enrolling those who wish to sign up starting today, as it will CONTINUE to do for the next 6 months of Open Enrollment. Whether you are Republican, Democrat, Liberal, or Conservative - Do NOT let a MERE 30 to 40 extremist Republican, power-intoxicated politicians deny responsibility for and wiggle out of this failed, WHOLLY self-serving political maneuver. EVERY AMERICAN - AND OUR DEMOCRACY - has been hijacked and is being held captive for a "cause" that CANNOT be achieved - we are being cheated and deceived. Wake up and smell the coffee - not one American - even the wealthiest of us, is safe from the catastrophic impacts of this attempted coup in progress. If you think you are - think again. And remember, as you're contemplating this, how Nero himself turned a blind eye and fiddled as the flames burned the once greatest Empire in the world to a heap of ashes, never to rise again. MAKE YOUR VOICES HEARD IMMEDIATELY - AND BACK IT UP WITH YOUR VOTES. On September 11, 2001, Flight 97 passengers did not allow a tiny group of fanatics take us out - neither should we allow a similarly finite, yet every bit as malicious and fanatic, group of politicians perpetuate an even more devastating evil upon us all. They're counting upon our collective societal ignorance and/or indifference to pull this off - refuse to allow it. This may VERY well be the final time you retain the opportunity - AND ability - to do so. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH " Twelve Years Past... Ground Zero Revisited..." Soot and flames that seared God's face and singed the angels' tears; Evil's hate-spawned, murderous waste impales hearts weeping here. Paled, the spirits left alive and still in earth's safe keep, Tossed free and destined to survive the pull of hell's entreat. Even now, the tortured shrieks echo pyred scene, Marred, the passing twelve years each ~ struck with grief, the dream. Bear us up, our Lord on High, as babes swathed in the crib, Evil's mark take from our eyes and to us solace give. Restore the cut and bleeding souls in which these evils stir ~ with healing peace make each heart whole, bathed in love's liqueur. Enjoin our hearts to beat as one; our will renewed and hale, Let us through Your Holy Son resist diseased assail. Even as our hope rebuilds the places hate has lived, Vanquished not, the love that guilds this battered isogriv; Evermore, our minds attuned to God's enlightened plane, Nevermore to nourish bloom of maliced acts and pain... Together gathered, twelve years passed, resolved through each dark night, Hearkening as His Son asks to God's will, held on High. |
Prompt: If you could learn to play a musical instrument, one which you've never played before, which would you choose and why? Were I ever accorded the opportunity to learn and become proficient at playing a musical instrument, of the three that immediately come to mind, I'd say my first pick would be the piano. I suppose it would be considered most common or mundane of the three instruments, however, mastery of playing the piano probably renders you most well rounded as a musician,. therefore representing the best stepping stone toward mastery of other instruments, as well. Granted, the piano is large and cumbersome as far as physical space/mobility is concerned - but it is also the most versatile of all the musical instruments, lending itself to every conceivable type of music from Ragtime to Classical to Jazz to Rock 'n Roll. As a result, playing piano satisfies the widest range of music makers' creative preferences, and is enjoyed just as thoroughly in solitude as it is in public, where it becomes a natural people-magnet and encourages socializing via the most universal form of communication - music. Simply by virtue of their incredibly beautiful music, the two other instruments I would love to learn to play are the harp and the lute. To me there is NOTHING more beautiful than the songs of harps... something about the harp's voice speaks directly to my innermost essence. It makes perfect sense to me that the music of harps is often - almost instinctively, if you think about it - evocative of thoughts of Heaven and Angels... the music of harps instantly transports you, transfixed in its breathtaking embrace, far away from all earthly concerns to a place of solace and peace deep within your very soul. I also love the music of lutes, primarily for the same reasons I do that of harps. But to that I have to add one more aspect most intriguing about the lutes' melodies and for me, packing an even bigger punch - the haunting quality of each note lutes so beautifully issue forth. I remember my baby brother, as a toddler, would be fully intent upon coloring or blocks or some other play pastime while plopped on the floor in front of the television, oblivious to the program being shown... until a commercial came on. Each and every time a commercial interruption occurred, Kirkie would immediately drop everything, tilt his little face toward the T.V. screen, and watch, wholly enraptured, the commercial(s) from beginning to end. The network returning to regular programming immediately broke the spell, and he'd immediately resume to the activity he'd dropped like a hot rock when the commercial(s) came on. I'm much the same way when I encounter music being played upon lutes - arrested in my tracks, transfixed, and spontaneously swept away on the gossamer wings of the long-ago, often ancient tales the lutes have to tell. Sooooo, these are the musical instruments I'd most want to learn to play - and possibly hand bells, as well. Practicality aside and limiting consideration to the beauty of their music alone, the order I've shown here would change, with the piano re-assigned to third instead of first place. Then again... factoring in my advanced years and limited musical instrument potential - I guess I'd better settle for playing a mean triangle!  |
Prompt: What is your worst quality as a human? Describe it in detail, and why you think it's bad. By far, (and trust me, there are plenty to chose from ) my worst human quality is my penchant for becoming wholly and almost instantly emotionally invested in people and all living things (nature and all things of heaven and earth included). I don't see that so much as a bad thing in and of itself, however, it does present problems in life I could otherwise completely avoid. On my own behalf, I do need to say that I'm not pro-actively seeking situations in which to stick my big bazoo, they just seem to frequently pick me out of the crowd.When I do become emotionally invested in someone or something, it's inevitably all or nothing - I'm either "all for one and one for all" IN - or rarely, reluctantly, and semi-resolutely OUT. I cannot, as arguably might often be the wiser course of action, become aware of a problematic issue or injustice, yet simply walk away when my involvement is unlikely to make much difference to - or on behalf of - any of the parties involved. Regardless of how consummately fruitless my efforts to make things better may prove to be, I cannot emotionally "drive by" others' plights and assume someone behind me will stop to help. Which, of course, can be a double-edged sword. You walk a tightrope in such situations, praying you neither sway too far toward nor topple altogether on the side of "what business is it of yours?" versus that of a sweeping "it's not my problem" mentality. For example, once while shopping in a busy store, two little children, their harried mother along for the ride but distracted with something else at the moment, were squabbling with one another. The children happened to be of African American descent, and I was positioned in between them in the aisle when the older child, a little girl of about 6 or so, told her younger brother, "Shut up, [here she used the "N" word], just shut up!". Since I was knee high to a grasshopper, I've been taught that the "N" world is the singularly most filthy word in the English language - worse, even, than the "F" word. Because of the obscene wallop this slur packs, I unfailingly recoil from it any time I encounter its use. I gently whispered to the little girl so that she would not be embarrassed, "Sweetie... you're such a beautiful little girl and that is such an ugly word - you don't mean that, especially toward your baby brother, do you?" She said no, that she was just mad at her brother, and spontaneously told him she was sorry. I told them both they were beautiful children, and their Mommy must be so proud, and since Mommy was now returning to the scene, complimented the little ones to her and went on with my shopping. Later, my Mother and I were yacking on the phone, and something in the conversation prompted me to remember the incident in the store. But after telling her about it, my Mother surprised me by saying I should have said nothing, because since the child using the slur and the child it was directed at were black, their Mother could have gotten angry with me for saying anything to them about the "N" word at all. Mother went on to say that she hears black people, usually youths, call one another the "N" word all the time. Though I responded to my Mother that this did not make the slur acceptable and that the "N" word is a filthy word regardless of the race, religion, or creed of the person uttering it... I also understand that she had a point. You do often hear the word uttered by African Americans these days... but no matter how often or casually it's used, it will always cut through me like a knife, knowing all the ugliness and hatred it represented in my youth - and continues to signify, even today, in the minds and deeds of racists. Sooooo - back on ye old Merry-go-Round in life... better to care and risk a mistake or being rebuked - or to opt "not to get involved" and exit, stage right... and abandon an issue to resolve on its own or grow worse? I know it definitely represents my soft underbelly - and definitely one of my greatest character flaws as far as most are concerned, but in instances where the issue is significant, I'm inevitably guilty, no matter how hard I try, of not acquiescing to the "drive by" approach. I know myself well enough to concede that I'll never change in that regard - but I do endeavor mightily to infuse as much forethought, objectivity, and diplomacy as humanly possible each and every time I do "stop at the scene". ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Let racism finish its dying ~ better the bouquet of its rotting corpse than fetid, murderous breath; more pleasing, the visage of its decay than the festering wounds it inflicts. Let its flesh be eaten by it's offspring; carrion spawned of hate... ricketic bones stripped naked of deceit; symbiotic with doom; even then to find no rest ~ no hope for resurrection. Crushed beneath the heel of humanity until as grains of sand; devoid of hue, inert ~ barren... swept forever from the heart of man. |
Prompt: If you could live forever, would you? Why or why not? Would I want to live forever? Despite having a substantially lesser number of earthly years remaining to my name even if my lifespan is set on "Exceeds Average", my answer is a definitive "no". In my mind, the prospect of immortality of the flesh - and feverish endeavors to make it happen - border on profane on multiple fronts. Though I believe with all my heart that the soul and its life coach, the spirit, do live eternally, so, too, do I believe that the entire concept of the flesh following suit flies in the face of universe's very heartbeat - its rhythmic and ethereal ebb and flow, synchronized for all eternity with God's timepiece, not with man's - that at once wholly defines and resolutely governs the natural world. All things of the flesh are destined to eventually perish so that the souls they house are, God's earthly purpose for them now fulfilled, ultimately emancipated to sojourn on to a different plane hidden away in the incredible and awesome folds of His eternity. When the flesh falls away, the spirit and soul are loosed to soar on toward their God-bestowed destiny. So considered, would not immortality of the body inhabited while earthbound represent an obstacle rather than a blessing? An impediment and a prison rather than simply the soul's earthly home? Secondary to their research in the disease process of progeria (malignanly rapid premature aging), scientists, "while they're in the neighborhood", are seeking potential avenues for reversing the aging process altogether in ALL humans, NOT just those suffering from the disease. ...If possible, it would seem...to the point of physical immortality. I'm no more comfortable with that prospect than I am with man attempting to "create life" - not simply by using God's "ingredients" and manually introducing sperm to an egg, but instead, entirely "from scratch". There are simply certain lines God has drawn in life's sands over which man has no business stepping. I pray mankind doesn't follow in Eve's footsteps - and mightily suffer the consequences of his folly. I do not want to live beyond my time on earth in the "immortal flesh" sense of the word. I've no wish to manipulate or alter the natural Alpha of life's first breath nor the equally significant Omega of its last. In fact, I'd be immensely fearful for humanity's future should we arrogantly insist upon pursuing - and somehow enjoy any measure of success at - wresting the reigns of our earthly ride from God's very Hands. That, perhaps more than anything else, would finally prompt the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to mount up. |
Prompt: What's worse: extremely cold weather or extremely hot weather? No question about the answer to this one, ladies and gents - in the matter of temperature extremes, overly warm is definitely my Achilles' heel. Toss a tad of high humidity into the mix and you're definitely talking 'down for the count'... Though I'm not particularly fond of bitterly cold weather, "bitterly hot" meteorological conditions take an exceedingly greater, embarrassingly swift, sneak attack-type physiological toll on me in such mundane aspects of daily living as, oh, say... functioning like a sober adult able to maintain a level of consciousness and muscle tone remotely on a par with a napping Raggedy Ann doll. When high heat and humidity are the flavor of the day (and in Texas, they generally are from as early as mid-March though as late as early to mid-December), I can be merrily kapoopalating along one moment, engaged in even the most minimally demanding of tasks... and the next moment, find myself sprawled on the ground, bathed in perspiration, shaking like a newborn foal attempting its first steps, decidedly green around the gills and muttering incoherently into tree roots, shag carpeting, asphalt, etc., depending upon where I was when heat exhaustion stealthily sneaked up behind me and smacked me with a two-by-four. I kid you not - I'm the only person you'll probably ever meet who's had a near heat stroke - while swimming in an outdoor pool - on a high 80's summer day - in OHIO! Bunkie, dear and wondrous man that he his, has grown to be a very astute and vigilant observer of my physiological status -and changes in same - even by phone - sometimes on what some would call an almost "psychic" basis when we're not even in contact with one another. I've always been very hesitant to share the fact that severe hypoglycemia and a predispositin to heat exhaustion are two abiding health issues in my life, largely due to the sometimes borderline bizarre symptoms associated with these conditions when things slide so unexpectedly and swiftly sideways. Bunkie and I, however, have come to trust each other so completely that we are one anothers' designated Medical Powers of Attorney, each the sole, even to the exclusion of blood relatives, individual authorized to make end-of-life decisions on each others' behalf should, God forbid, such a situation arise. As a result and up until now - Bunkie is one of only a handful of folks to whom I've disclosed these very personal heath issues... In the twenty-plus years of our relationship, Bunkie has become immensely skillful, rising almost to the level of "psychic" perception, in early detection, recognition, and fortunately - rapid prophylactic intervention, of signs and signals of an impending hypoglycemic and/or hyperthermia crises so subtle that even I have yet to picked up on them. By the same token, I've learned to heed his warnings and intercession measures despite the fact that I've not yet even noticed that I'm in trouble. If he calmly drops what we're doing and puts food in front of me, I consume it without question. Likewise, if he ushers me to a cooled environment and see to it that I'm safely seated or lying down, I go with the flow. Such was the case one muggy Ohio Summer day many years ago, while we were, of all things, swimming in the pool at the condo in which Bunkie back then resided.... It was probably about 88-89 degrees Fahrenheit that day, but also one of the grossly humid "dog days" of August Ohio is known for... they don't say Ohio's State Flower is Mildew for no reason, yannow. The reason Bunkie THOUGHT of us going for a swim to begin with was BECAUSE of his awareness of my vulnerability to such weather. I'd been swimming and splashing and having a high old time when I felt Bunkie's hand on my shoulder, and heard him gently say, "Kelly, let's get out of the pool". I knew by the expression on his face that this was not the time to debate his suggestion and opted, instead, for unquestioning compliance. He immediately walked me back to his condo, and by the time I reached his front door, a bout of heat exhaustion-bearing-down-hard-on-a-heat-stroke and all of its attendant, severe symptoms hit me like a ton of bricks. Having witnessed such episodes in the past, Bunkie calmly assisted me in a wobbly-knee'ed, controlled "sinking" to the floor, and, now assured I would not take a fall, promptly adjusted the thermostat setting in the condo to "Arctic Blast". In the interim, like a moth to light, I pretty much crawled from where I'd originally sunk to the nearest air conditioning vent and proned out with my face planted smack dab on top of it. Bunkie, the dear man, kept watch and made sure my vitals stabilized as the cold air on my face and the major vessels in my neck reversed the heat exhaustion, and I came fully "to" approximately 30 minutes later, none the worse for wear other than the vent-dents temporarily imprinted on my still ghostly pale face. The bottom line for me is - I'd far prefer working/functioning/sleeping in an ambient temperature the vast majority of others finds to be far to cool than one I find to be far too warm. When an environment is too cold, you can always add clothing and warm up. When it is too warm - particularly in a public setting - you're pretty much up a creek sans a paddle. And in my case, you're likely to see me gracefully ( NOT ) face-plant the nearest horizontal surface like an anorexic Q-tip on a windy day. |
| January, 2013 B.C.O.F. Blogger of the Month prompt: "What is your idea of beauty?" *gathers up steaming cup of coffee with French Vanilla cream and sugar, glasses, notepad and pen, (decides a bra and my dentures can be done without for now - ), gently pushes three passively resistant, snoozing teacup pups aside in order to claim a few inches of my desk chair, rolls up sleeves, fires up my computer, affectionately known as "Brunhilda", pops all knuckles and draws in deep, blogging-mode breath....*First, let me say that I LOVE this prompt! It represents an invitation, in many ways, to contemplate the very stuff of life - the fuel, so to speak, that makes the world rotate on its axis... and our societal premise right along with it. For with what, throughout man' history and particularly, it seems, in today's modern world (second, perhaps, only to money), are human beings more keenly and consummately occupied than comeliness in ourselves and others? They say that "money makes the world go 'round", but beauty certainly runs a close second on that front... beauty, if you think about it, is often instrumental in seeking and ultimately obtaining wealth and material goods - as well, many have sadly come to believe, as love. To that end, 'preoccupation with' is fast taking a back seat to 'obsession with' the pursuit of "being beautiful". I remember an episode from Rod Serling's marvelous, immensely ahead of its time 1960's television series, "The Twilight Zone", by which my personal philosophy regarding beauty is flawlessly embodied. It opened with a woman lying in a hospital bed, her head and face, except for her mouth, entirely swaddled in layer upon layer of crisp white gauze bandages. A nurse is attending her, and she is telling the nurse how frightened she is regarding the soon-to-come unveiling of her face. It is disclosed that the patient has undergone numerous previous medical interventions, all having ultimately failed, in an effort to improve her "disfigurement" sufficiently to render her "tolerable" in mainstream society, and that this most recent procedure is her last hope for "normalcy". So horrifying is the patient's countenance to behold, the two agree, (as do her surgeon and other medical staff in aside conversations throughout the episode), that, should this most recent surgery prove a failure, her only remaining options will be suicide (the nurse assures the patient that assistance with this option by medical professionals is available in "cases" such as her own), or banishment to live out her life in a "Colony" of other unfortunate humans "afflicted" in the manner she is. Even though this Colony is far removed from and utterly shunned by "normal" society, the nurse explains, those banned to live there get along quite well and are as happy as possible, given their horrendous birth defects, as far as appearance is concerned. The patient, contemplating these options, seems to be leaning toward the option of suicide should the imminent removal of her bandages disclose that her latest, last-ditch surgical intervention has failed. Enter the Doctor, followed by further conversation between he and the patient re-iterating and supporting what the nurse has told her. (The Doctor, in a conversation with other medicos out of the patient's range of hearing, has already sympathetically opined that if it will be a terrible shame if the surgery has failed, because the patient is otherwise 'such a lovely person'.) As of this time, viewers have yet to see anyone's face in the episode, privy only to the heavily bandaged head of the patient and the disembodied voices and hands of the various medical personnel administering her care. With all that said, the slow, deliberate, unwrapping of the bandages commences... and finally, the face of a strikingly beautiful woman is revealed. There is an audible, shocked gasp on the part of the Doctors and nurses in attendance, the patient's expression reflects her anxiety at what their reaction signifies, and she fearfully asks for a mirror. Viewers see a hand give a mirror to her, she looks into it - and screams, then bursts into tears. Several onlooker's voices, all rather halting due to the 'freak show' they're beholding in the patient's face, offer disingenuous, decidedly pedantic condolences as the Doctor calls for sedation and apologizes that this last surgery has so miserably failed. A new character now approaches the patient... a man who is himself, quite handsome... who takes her hand and offers the patient genuine words of comfort. He is there, he tells her, to urge her to reject the suicide option and chose life. He is there, he explains, to escort her to the remote Colony in which he, himself, has resided since early childhood, and where he promises her she will have a happy and fulfilling life living among "her own kind". The Colony, he relates, is made up solely of people who share her "defects" and will embrace her without prejudice. Only now does the camera finally pan from the faces of the patient and the man from the Colony to those of the doctors and nurses present in the room, still collectively recoiling from the "ugliness" of the patient and the man speaking to her... and only then does the viewer realize that each and every one of their faces, though not exactly alike, resemble a cross between a pig and a human being. Their expressions, in addition to horror, reflect a mixture of repugnance and to some small extent... pity. The message so arrestingly conveyed in this episode is at once powerful and infinitely multi-faceted. By virtue of this masterpiece presentation and as was commendably customary for him, Rod Serling offers up an incredible serving of spiritual nourishment viewers can - and should - cognitively peel, layer by marvelous layer, to its incredible core, fully contemplating every morsel along the way before it is thoughtfully consumed. ...And in its brief, 30-minute lifetime, that episode of "The Twilight Zone" wholly embodies my lifelong philosophy regarding "beauty" - what is is and everything it is not, nor ever could be. In nearly every global society, physical beauty has become a Deity, the throne at which we genuflect and worship in awe. Everywhere you look, from Bravo's "The Real Housewives of..." to the printed press - from hugely popular Baby/Toddler Pageants to just about any aspect of daily life imaginable - beauty and its handmaiden of sex appeal take a back seat to no other human interest, admiration, or obsessive pursuit. The Beauty and Elective Plastic Surgery enterprises, even in this major Recession, are booming - both women and men are beating down the doors in keen, often mindless pursuit of the concoctions and surgeries that will make them more comely and ward off what they perceive to be "beauty's" greatest foe - aging. You can't swing a cat by the tail without hitting evidence of the outcome - an ever-growing, surgical assembly line perfected, cookie-cutter-style bastion of puffed up, duck-bill lipped, fat-suctioned, breast/buttock/chins/cheekbones/etc.-augmented, cat's-eyed, skin-pulled-to-tensile-tautness "beautiful people" who could not pass a mirror without at least a glance at themselves if their lives depended on it. And a group of people absolutely terrified of the most natural - and what should be most appreciated and cherished - phenomenon in life - that of aging and all it can gift to the human soul. In my youth, I remember telling my Mother more than once about a new fella I'd encountered, taken an interest in, and developed a dating relationship with. Often, I now realize, I would additionally tell her how handsome I found him to be. One day, after introducing her to one such man, his eventual departure, and my subsequent assertion to her of how attractive he was, my mother very wisely observed, "Kelly, don't be surprised if others say they don't find him all that handsome. By their standards, he's not super good good looking. You, on the other hand, have a proclivity for seeing inward beauty personified outwardly. People you see as beautiful or handsome are not necessarily physically so - but they are inwardly so and you simply don't distinguish between the two. That's a good thing and I'm proud of you for it." This was not criticism on my Mother's part - it was an astute observation. The fact is... I do habitually see and respond to the inner beauty of people, when it is present, far more often - and far sooner - than I do their outward comeliness or lack thereof. And to my way of thinking, that is how it should be for all of us. Modify my grandmother's genetically bestowed nose? Augment my modest (yet still decidedly perky after all these years - ) bustline? Obliterate wrinkles born of experience? I'd rather brush a shark's teeth. If we cultivate the beauty that dwells within us, we become beautiful in every way that matters, given how fleeting youth and the flesh truly are.. and aging, rather than an arch enemy, becomes the wondrous friend with benefits God intends it to be. Viewed solely through the filter of physical beauty, Abraham Lincoln was not a physically handsome man. Mother Theresa was not a physically beautiful woman, even in her youth. Yet never have two more beautiful people walked the face of the earth. If I can, however falteringly, follow in their footsteps... I'll be a beautiful human being, indeed.
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| For Mike Huckabee, who launched all of this - for the BILLIONAIRE Green Family that is the collective Founder, Owner, and Proprietor of the Kingdom of Hobby Lobby - and, most importantly - for the American Public and all faithful Christians who have been royally SCAMMED... Hmmmm - Hobby Lobby is defying Federal Law because they want to "Stand Up For GOD!" - at least that is what Mike Huckabee claimed when they launched a MASSIVE Forum on Facebook, complete with Hobby Lobby's 40 percent OFF the first item purchased in the Store on Hobby Lobby Appreciation Day. It started at the beginning of the two day Facebook (and God knows where else in this era of Social Networking) Forum and Support Hobby Lobby Pep Rally as a just 'go to Hobby Lobby and demonstrate your support' - that changed VERY quickly into, 'BUY!!! SPEND!!!!! at Hobby Lobby - they need the money for the 1.3 million dollar fines they are incurring for defying the Employee Federal Healthcare Law. Sounds good on the surface - whether or not you personally believe the Morning After Pill is "abortion", ya gotta admire a BILLIONS OF DOLLARS ANNUALLY-earning, monster Corporation like HOBBY LOBBY for taking a public "Stand for God" and refusing to obey the law because they "oppose abortion" and will not pay for the Morning After Pill for their employees. OH......... BUT WAIT A MINUTE........... Having previously shopped many times at Hobby Lobby (which, after THIS debaucle and despite my being an avid crafter, will NEVER happen again)... - I was struck by how much of their merchandise is MADE IN CHINA. CHINA??? You mean... the country whose Government ROUTINELY FORCES WOMEN, MARRIED OR NOT, WHO HAVE CONCEIVED AN "ILLEGAL DUE TO CHINA'S OVERPOPULTION" 2nd CHILD AND CANNOT PAY THE FINE FOR THAT TO HAVE AN ABORTION - USUALLY LATE TERM ABORTION IN CASES WHERE THEY HAD TO TRACK THE MULTI-PARA-PREGNANT-MOTHER-IN-HIDING DOWN - UP TO AND INCLUDING THE NINTH MONTH PRO PREGNANCY???? The Chinese Government has been doing this for decades - it's all over the media, the internet, and even YouTube. So I ask one of the secretly embedded, pro-Hobby Lobby Moderators in the Facebook 'HOBBY LOBBY'S STANDING UP FOR GOD SUPPORT DAY' Forum, "why, given their 'COURAGEOUS stand' against ANY form of ABORTION, INCLUDING (IN HOBBY LOBBY'S OPINION) THE MORNING AFTER PILL, WOULD HOBBY LOBBY CONTINUE DOING BUSINESS WITH CHINA IN TERMS OF SELLING SUCH MASSIVE QUANTIES OF CHINA'S EXPORTED MERCHANDISE (at a top dollar retail price, I might add) ? CHINA FORCES LATE TERM ABORTIONS ON MOTHERS WHO DARE TO CONCEIVE ANY MORE THAN ONE CHILD?" There had been much bantering in the Facebook Forum about the video, "The Silent Scream", (posted on YouTube should you care to watch it) in which a former physician physician utilizes sonography video taken during an actual abortion which shows the fetus trying to move away from the abortionist's cannula in-utero, then open its mouth in a silent scream as the vacuuming cannula makes contact with the fetus. It's a very compelling video, and I therefore posted the questions to the Forum participants, "Which scream is morally louder - the scream of a barely fertilized ova the Morning After Pill makes it impossible to implant inside the uterus - or the scream of the often LATE TERM, SOMETIMES DAYS AWAY FROM BIRTH FETUS as it is murdered, then wrenched from its mother's womb? At first, I was repeatedly ignored as I asked that question over and over - and over - again. Then, finally, the up until then (this forum lasted for two days) seemingly gentle and genteel "Christian", embedded Hobby Lobby Advocator and undeclared Moderator finally responded, saying that ALL STORES SELL GOODS EXPORTED FROM CHINA - WHY SHOULDN'T HOBBY LOBBY? When I responded that NO OTHER STORES ARE DEFYING FEDERAL LAW IN THE NAME OF GOD AND A STAND AGAINST ABORTION, AND THEN WHIPPING UP CHRISTIAN'S FRENZIED SUPPORT AND EXTRA PURCHASES TO HELP DEFRAY THE COST OF IT'S RESULTING FINES, and then asked, 'REGARDLESS of what ANYONE other retailer is doing, why is Hobby Lobby, who is so anti-abortion as to refuse to pay for federally mandated employee insurance because that insurance plan will cover the Morning After Pill, turning right around and making BILLIONS in profits courtesy of huge amounts of goods , THE EXPORT OF WHICH IS OVERSEEN BY THE PRO-ABORTION, LATE-TERM ABORTION-FORCING Chinese Government????? Is it Hobby Lobbb's "Godly" belief that a fertilized American ova represent somehow more valuable "lives" than a Chinese fully formed, late-term fetus? Again - a repeated posting of this question was treated to a repeated, deliberated IGNORING of same. As a matter of fact, the entire Forum audience of commentors, up until then all excited about 'Support Hobby Lobby's Stand For God Day' grew decidedly quiet, much as the mob preparing to stone the adulteress to death in biblical times did after Jesus admonished them, "Let ye who is without sin cast the first stone". Suddenly, the unofficial, "genteel" Moderator's entire demeanor changed - she/he began spewing venom. She/he demanded to know if I ever shopped at any other stores that used exported good from China, and when I responded several times, 'Of course I have, however I will not purchase anything exported from China', she/he became more and more venomous, demanding, 'It's a yes or no question, Kelly - type "yes" or type "no" and click "enter"'!!!!! Obviously, I was supposed to say 'yes' - setting me up for an accusation of being pro-abortion. NEVER MIND THE ISSUE AT HAND - HOBBY LOBBY'S "Stand for God" ONLY APPLIES IN UNTIL HOBBY LOBBY'S T-R-U-E GOD - MAKING BILLIONS IN PROFITS ANNUALLY - IS AT RISK. Suddenly, after a what proved to be parting, particularly vitriolic comment about Liberals and President Obama - (Ohhhh - NOW we're getting down to it, aren't we?) this Forum, along with innumerable sub-forums that had "spontaneously" formed in tandem with it, (the Forum conversational exchange had at this point taken up a HUGE number of "wall" pages in Facebook over the span of two days), the 'Support Hobby Lobby by BUYING There Today!' Hobby Lobby Advocates/Employees/Undeclared Moderators hurriedly packed up their snake venom and DISAPPEARED AS THOUGH THEY'D NEVER EXISTED - EVEN DELETING EVERY SINGLE PAGE OF THE FORUM SO THAT NO ONE COULD GO BACK AND READ WHAT HAD BEEN GOING ON THROUGH NOW ENLIGHTENED EYES. No announcement the Forum was closing - no parting thanks - no wrap-up of any kind other than a mean, WELL beneath the belt shot they did not care to remain long enough to hear any response to - just *POOF* - GONE! .... And right in the middle of 'Support Hobby's Lobby's Standing up for God Day', still that in full swing yesterday, both in real time and online. Did you think we Christians who recognize a scam in the making when we see one are so stupid and shortsighted as to fail to copy and save your pages as you went along? Well - you were wrong. We're going to see to it that what you have done - raking even MORE money in addition to the EXORBITANT income the Green Family already enjoys annually - in the name of GOD and a "stand" against abortion you NO MORE ACTUALLY LIVE UP TO than fly through the air - not, at least where billions of dollars in PROFIT are at stake. HOW DARE YOU, HOBBY LOBBY ???!!!???? Even if you and Mr. Huckabee are not legally caught and prosecuted while your abortion-blood-stained fingers are greedily exploring the cookie jar and in this blasphemous scam (and I'm certain you have a BATTERY of high-priced attorneys working feverishly to make sure that is the case) - I hope the American Public - and the faithful Christians you targeted with your money-seeking blasphemy - see you for what you really ARE: Worshippers at the Alter of Profit, Power, and the Almighty Dollar.... WILLING SUPPORTERS, by proxy, OF MANDATED, FORCED, LATE TERM ABORTIONS. Your "stand" is no more for God and against abortion than Bugs Bunny is a Terrorist. Your "stand" is to defy the Law for PROFIT and generate fervent Christian CUSTOMER ADORATION that will pay for your resulting 1.3 million dollar-per-day Fines... and no amount of Christian music played over the P.A. system in your China-export-merchandise-laden, billions-in-profits-generating, "piously" closed on Sundays Money Changing Temples is going to change that. I KNOW God will adjudicate fines of His own in this matter, Mr. Huckabee and Green Family - life is short. Perhaps God won't wait that long, however - perhaps he will see to it that American Public - and the Federal Government - expose you for the hypocritical events that have unfolded here... and nail you to the proverbial cross. |
| You've been HAD, Christians of America. In the darkest, vilest possible way. Initially, Leader of the Band and Head Cheerleader Mike Huckabee, who assured all that this was a spontaneous, "grass roots" show of support and Hobby Lobby had NOTHING to do with it, cut the ribbon on an intense "flash" campaign to whip up a "Show Your Appreciation for Hobby Lobby STANDING UOP FOR GOD DAY!" on Facebook two short days ago " It started as a "Show up at a local Hobby Lobby and show your support for the Green family and Hobby Lobby's "MORAL:COURAGE" in defying Federal Healthcare laws because the BILLION dollar Corporation is being fined 1.3 million dollars daily for 'standing up for God!' campaign... Next thing you knew, it morphed into "SHOP at Hobby Lobby on Hobby Lobby Appreciation Day (today) to show your Christian Support!" Miraculously, Hobby Lobby, who was, we were told, NOT behind the "rallies" at all - coughed up a coupon that was uploaded to the Facebook "Stand With Hobby Lobby Day" Forum for FORTY PERCENT OFF THE FIRST ITEM BOUGHT AT HOBBY LOBBY BY ALL "SUPPORTERS". Moderators planted strategically throughout the VAST "Stand With Hobby Lobby!" Forum and sub-forums that cropped up on Facebook faster than a greased monkey with bladder issues gathered together and herded the Christian Shopping Sheep, preached and pontificated to them the lofty Mountaintops of Corporate Profits, and whipped the fervent masses into a Bible thumping frenzy, spoon-feeding them sixty-eleven kinds of scientific documentation allegedly explaining why the Morning After Pill amounts to abortion and "murder of an unborn child" - and even a Forbes Magazine article on how "godly" and "generous to charities the pious, fervently anti-abortion Green family is supposed to be... The family itself, you see, according to the Forbes' article, was unwilling to disclose what amounts they have donated to what charities, so Forbes took an educated guess. When I presented the FACT that Hobby Lobby makes billions of dollars annually by selling merchandise LARGELY imported by China - who's government MANDATES LATE TERM ABORTIONS RIGHT UP TO THE NINTH MONTH OF PREGNANCY - as a means of controlling over-population in instances where Chinese women who cannot pay the Governmentally imposed fines for doing so have dared to conceive a second child - and mentioned, in addition, that barely fertilized ova do not scream when the Morning After Pill prevents them from implanting... but irrefutable medical evidence proves that fetuses, PARTICULARLY late term fetuses - DO move away and attempt to scream they are murdered and then wrenched in pieces from their mothers' wombs at the behest of the Chinese Government, -- the embedded, undercover Hobby Lobby puppets had the AUDACITY to defend Hobby Lobby's hypocritical association-for-profit with the abortion-mandating Chinese Government BY ASSERTING THAT A-L-L STORES IMPORT FROM CHINA, so why shouldn't Hobby Lobby? What they conveniently and steadfastly refused to explain is that of all the stores who import merchandise from China - ONLY HOBBY LOBBY HAS THE AUDACITY TO DEFY FEDERAL U.S. LAW, THEN SEEK TO HAVE FAITHFUL CHRISTIANS HELP THEM PAY THE FINES INCURRED AS A RESULT... BY CLAIMING THEY'RE BREAKING THE LAW TO BEGIN WITH BECAUSE THEY REJECT ABORTION AND SHOULD NOT HAVE TO PAY FOR EMPLOYEE HEALTH BENEFITS THAT OFFER COVERAGE FOR THE MORNING AFTER PILL. Apparently, since "everyone else is doing it, Hobby Lobby deems itself justified in stuffing its own pockets as long as it is full term Chinese babies - but not American fertilized ova - who are made the murdered victims of abortion. The MOMENT they were publicly confronted with evidence of this MAJOR scam, i.e. exploiting faithful Christians across this nation by DEFYING THE LAW IN THE FALSELY PROFERED NAME OF "TAKING A STAND FOR GOD"... all the while being IN BED WITH with a foreign government that ROUTINELY mandates forced LATE TERM ABORTIONS...and advised we'd make certain ALL documentation got forwarded to major News Networks for an in-depth investigation of this "grass roots" rally (as well and Mike Huckabee's involvement in it), the entire undercover Hobby Lobby Facebook team, with an at last revealing, parting vitriolic shot at President Obama, packed up their snake oil and got the hell outta Dodge... TAKING THE PAGE AFTER PAGE OF THEIR SCAM Facebook Forum, and all sub-forums WITH THEM. What do you have to hide, Hobby Lobby? Why delete the ENTIRE FORUM minutes after you got called out and identified in Public? And did you presume us to be so stupid as to fail to be repulsed at the very idea of giving you our business and shaking YOUR filthy, abortion-blood-stained hands... or non-revolted by your obviously phoney, immensely-SELF-and-decidedly-NOT-God-serving load of steaming, Pseudo Christian horse manure, AKA your "WE'RE STANDING UP FOR GOD, GUYS!" ploy aimed at stuffing your own, already handsomely wealthy pockets with monetary offsets of your well deserved imposed fines? Then heaping arrogance upon injury, you further presume us so cognitively challenged and enthralled with your scam as to ADDITIONALLY fail to Screen copy and Save each and every unfolding Facebook Page this morally REPREHENSIBLE, 2-day long , Pimp-God-for-Profit, veiled- with- BS- religious -"beliefs" strategically conceived and perpetuated political assault on President Obama... secreted away as it was in the bowels of the boldface LIE that "Hobby Lobby is standing up for GOD"? Or did you, what, Huckabee, Hobby Lobby and the Green family... simply assume you could sling enough Pseudo Christian B.S. tro gett us dancin' in the aisles, waving our hands in the air, and speaking in tongues in a "spontaneous", "grass roots", "non-partisan", religiously fervored, mindless stamped to the nearest Hobby Lobby on a Godly mission to buy, buy, BUY! at Hobby Lobby and show your support of them STANDING UP FOR GOD!" we'd abandon all common sense and with it, the FACTS surrounding you B.S. smokescreen of "piety? When you forsake the Almighty Dollar and "stand up" against government-mandated, wholesale late term abortion in China - THEN come to us adornedin you Robes of Piety, Hobby Lobby & Company. Hopefully, the American public will become aware of this travesty you've pulled and put you out of business long before then. Unless/until that happens, know that each and every ONE of you involved in this scam represent BASEST, MOST MORALLY AND SPIRITUALLY REPREHENSIBLE kinds of liars - those who worship at the Alter of Profit even as they play Christian Music over the PA , close on Sundays, and CLAIM to be standing up for God against abortion. Your hypocrisy REEKS - and your manipulation/exploitation of people of ALL faiths, most PARTICULARLY Christians in this instance, is an abomination. Shame on you, Hobby lobby - shame on you. As I reflect on your little scam, I feel an ever growing need to take a long. hot shower - much as any rape victim longs to do. Pardon the pun - but is simply too apropos to deny - but I hope the Federal Courts nail you lying Opportunists to the proverbial cross. Jesus to the masses - "and what, my Children, have you done for your fellow, suffering human beings, for Me, and For my Heavenly Father of late???" ..."We went on a shopping spree at HOBBY LOBBY, Lord - HIGH FIVE!!!" Sheeeeesh.... |
| Truth to tell, I've experienced more than my share of Close Encounters of the Strange Kind, but most were directly attributable to my chosen professions. Ambulance calls and police work can sometimes take us places we never dreamed the fates would reveal before our disbelieving eyes. The tantamount strangest of these less than enthusiastically regarded life experiences, however, took place long before occupational influences came into play... The involuntary participants in this particular 'ode to the odd' were my 8-year-old baby sister, Darcy, and my then 10-year-old, dufus little self. (I've subsequently, of course, grown out of the "10-year-old" part ~ the jury's still out on the question of my chronic state of Dufosity...) Both of us preparing for school one morning in the small bedroom we shared, I was standing at our bureau brushing my hair and Darcy was situated between me and our bedroom closet door, finishing up the chore of making her bed. As was our customary sisterly, post-breakfast-and-getting-ready-for-school-now routine, we were spiritedly engaged in a bickering bout in which both of us were as - <ahem> - "emotionally invested" as two pre-pubescent she-children can be. Though I can no longer recall the particular bone of contention that had sparked our sibling discourse on this morning, I'm certain it was one of monumental significance in those days to an abundance of little girls in our age group... like what boy liked us or one of our school chums, whose turn it was to clean out the cat box, or who swiped whose bubble gum and never gave it back. You know ~ the really meaty stuff of pre-adolescent existence . Mother and our toddler brother, Kirk, were out in the Living room, watching the Morning News & Weather on television because a massive thunderstorm, with our small city hunkered down in its very epicenter, was raging all around us outside. So distracted were Darcy and I with our domestic discord that we took little note of the gargantuan lightning bolts catapulting from a black sky to lance the the earth like a technicolor barrage of side-spiked spears hurtling to and fro in a celestial Chariots of the Gods battle scene. Nor, even, were we cognizant of the butt-kicking storm's voiced bellows of thunder immediately following each extremely close lightning strike. As our fuss-fest escalated toward its zenith, so, too, did the storm to which we'd thus far remained oblivious, reach it's own. I had just delivered some snappy verbal retort to one of Darcy's assertions, then paused, awaiting her floridly-pink-cheeked comeback. Instead, her anticipated retort was usurped by a two loud loud clicks, the first sounding like ed like a highly amplified snapping of fingers, the second sounding like a resounding, single clap of hands in a large, empty room. On the heels of the two loud clicks came a single, choked-off, exceptionally strident bell ring emitted from our old-fashioned, desk-top type telephone in the hallway... followed immediately by, dead silence throughout the house as the storm continued throwing its tantrum outside. This prompted me to turn away from the bureau and toward Darcy to inquire what those sounds were, and to ascertain, as well, why she'd gone quiet... and there she stood, mouth agape, eyes as large as saucers, transfixed, with the pillow she'd been fluffing now clutched in her white-knuckled hands, gaping at something I did not initially see. Following the direction of her gaze with my own, I swiftly realized why she was frozen in place... Between the two of us, hovering in mid-air about 4-1/2 feet above the floor, was a pulsating, approximately 10-12"-circumferenced, rhythmically expanded, then shrinking, then again expanding in size, translucent and glowing, electric blue sphere of what I can only to this day describe as pure, pulsating "energy". I vividly recall standing there, unable to move, staring at the otherworldly sphere and actually able to see my sister through it, as it hovered soundlessly in the space between us. There followed a paralyzed expenditure of at least 30 full seconds, she and I still frozen in place, staring in disbelief at the unearthly spherical phenomenon between us - as well as through it at one another - before I managed, only via mustering a huge amount of physical effort, to eek out one word from a throat dry as cotton and lips indifferent to my will to speak... "Mommmmm?" "Yes?", came her reply. "Can you come in here... right away?" Still gawking at the sphere, I heard Mother arise and head rapidly toward our bedroom... she instinctively knew, by the tone of my voice, that something was very wrong. And as her footsteps drew near, Darcy and I watched the sphere suddenly jerk about 6 inches to one side, then back to its original position, then 6 inches in the opposite direction, as if trying to "decide" which way it wanted to go... and then sweep off in a trajectory parallel to the ground, instantly vanishing the moment it reached our closed bedroom closet door. Though she arrived too late to see it, Mother did not doubt for one moment what Darcy and I had witnessed... and she, too, noticed the odd, electrified-and-freshened scent that hung in the air of our bedroom in the sphere's wake. We stayed home from school that day - we always took great comfort during particularly fearful,anxious or difficult times, in remaining together with one another as a family. Mother explained that, given the loud clicks, the aborted, exceptionally loud ring of the phone, the residual ozone-type odor, and the phenomenal electrical storm raging at the time, what Darcy and I had witnessed was probably something akin to what was called a "lightning ball" back in the day. "Lightning balls", she explained, were bursts of excess, static electrical energy sometimes formed (and capable of the kind of improbable mobility we'd witnessed) when lightning struck something in very close proximity - in this case, probably the telephone line drop leading into our home - that was incapable of handling such a sizable jolt of power. She also disclosed that our maternal Great Grandmother had a similar experience during a bad thunderstorm - in her case, the lightning ball was larger, hovered just an inch or so above her home's hardwood floors, and actually rolled around the entire first floor of Great Grandma Snow's house. Like the lightning ball we'd just observed, the one Great Grandma Snow witnessed disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, threw no sparks, and caused no burn damage as it coursed its its circuitous route from room arched-entry-room to the next around the the entire first floor, then disappeared within inches of her feet in the parlor, where it had originally taken form. As she always so deftly did, Mother neutralized the anxiety, fear and trauma associated with such childhood experiences by explaining what had likely happened and how rare it was, as well as informing us that the "lightning balls", comprised as they are of excess static electricity, are non-lethal. She also wisely utilized that opportunity to gently reinforce cautionary teaching regarding seeking appropriate shelter in electrical storms, remaining in a car without touching anything if caught outside because the rubber tires ground and protect you, avoiding being the tallest object in any given area when lightning is present, and even when inside, staying away from sources of water such as the bathtub, dish- and laundry sinks, etc., and all other household items served by external wiring or metal plumbing. Of the experience, Mother concluded, "Maybe God and Mother Nature got tired of you two arguing and stepped in to break it up... what do you think?" I think it worked, Mama - I think it worked. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** She gazed upon bejeweled flames of a Yuletide blaze... all the years of loss and pain a ghosted, smoky haze. Blanketed, the earth this night, in silent reverence, fiery tongues the only light in evening's innocence. Mesmerized, her spirit reigned, she watched their molten dance, shimmering in robes of flame, their offspring cast to chance. On undulating waves of heat, her prayers set to wing; naught for herself did she entreat ~ instead, one whispered thing... "Christ, my Savior, born this night so very long ago, receive my heart into Your Light, that Your love I may know." Soon thereafter came sweet sleep, and with it, Angels' songs; heralding God's gentle keep, they gathered nigh in throngs. O'er windswept hills and snowy plain, their chorused voices rose, as they called her home again, in peaceful soft repose. While in her dreams, the fire burned bright for Christmases now past; her soul set free this bitter night... her earthly Christmas last. Beneath the bridge where she'd lain down, her Yuletide fire wanes dim; fading embers on the ground where once a life had been. But in its dying, crimson tears, no pain or sorrows dwell, for by her faith she knew no fear, and lived life full and well. She left no riches here on earth, yet knows wealth beyond measure, for on this night of Jesus' birth, He's claimed her as His treasure. On this night she's found a home that none can take away... dawn will find her at God's throne, rejoicing Christmas Day. |
PROMPT: "What would you like people to say about you when you are gone from this earth?" Having neither married nor had children, in the way of family, only my mother and I are presently alive on earth. There is also, of course, my wonderful Significant Other, Bunkie, but my beloved brother, Kirk, my sister, Darcy, my maternal Grandma and Grandpa Kirkpatrick, and my maternal Uncle Ron have already passed beyond this world ~ and I’ve absolutely no doubt on to a holy and wondrous next. I wish I could say the same for my father and his side of the family, but that’s a horse of an entirely different color... and better expounded upon at some future time, in reverent deference to the glory and beauty of the Holiday Season at hand. So... when my earthly life ends ~ be it a la the much touted and allegedly imminent Mayan Calendar abortion procedure, or, following a reprieve of unknown duration, via a means far less an inconvenience for the remainder of humankind ~ there will be very few remaining earth-sojourning souls who’ll remember me, let alone what I did or did not manage to accomplish in the years granted me on earth. In the face of this reality, I am comforted a goodly amount, however, by bearing in mind that the “Ripples in a Pond” effect holds fast as it applies to we humans ~ a pebble tossed with tenderness, kindness, generosity, or goodwill into the waters of others’ lives sends ripples undulating forth in all directions ~ and often is not only remembered, but destined to positively influence more and more lives as its progeny of ripples disperse gently from their source. How we regard and interface with others ~ sometimes even during a seemingly inconsequential period of time passed and/or interaction with, regardless of how long ago or whether they were family or friends, acqaintances, and in many instances simply the human-to-human equivalent of two ships passing in the night ~ leaves indelible footprints across the existences of our fellow men ~ good or sullied, depending upon how caringly or loutishly we tread there. Whether we’re aware of it or not, this is irrefutably true... consider, for a moment, how many times in your own life a fellow human being has spoken of a fond memory you were responsible for gifting to their hearts, minds, and souls. I often joke that my writing and deeds comprise my sole legacy in this life, and opine (generally when "quite in my cups") that when my epitaph is composed, may the life I've led uphold its contention that I loved very well, that I tried very hard ~ and that the author of the epitaph was not paid for his/her endorsement.  . In all sincerity, though... I fervently hope, when my time on earth is through, that in the hearts and souls of however few, I somehow ignited a spark of love that will glow brightly and far beyond the moment my own heart light is extinguished. It does not have to be many ~ I'll be happy if it is for at least a precious few. |
PROMPT: "Name three things that you would do if you weren't so afraid." This prompt proved to be r-e-a-l-l-y challenging for me. Why, you ask? (Or maybe you didn't, but Im'a gonna tell you anyway -  ) ...I thunked and I thunked ~ and then I thunked some more, (can't you smell the SMOKE? ), and in all honestly concluded, given past experiences, my advancing years and their attendant, diminished numbers/severity of incapacitating trepidations, plus the fact that we're asked in this prompt about what we'd LIKE to do were we not too afraid, I can earnestly assert that there is no longer anything I'd like to do in life that I'm too fearful to attempt. This premise, of course, does not factor in the type of "Oh, HELL, no!" exclusions addressed in my previously shared philosophy regarding activities like skydiving. That's because in these types of instances, it is not fear that precludes me from undertaking the effort; instead it's simply that, while I admire others' passion and/or enthusiasm for such undertakings, I've no interest in personally participating. I simply included all that palavering about face-planting pine trees and massive hemorrhaging in my skydiving post in my customary, albeit seldom successful, habit of endeavoring to plug in humor where talent/ability is sadly lacking... .I guess what I'm saying is that if you manage to make it to your Chronologically Challenged stage and have already experienced a few unanticipated, life-and-death near misses along the way, one grows exponentially less afraid of what events the future holds... be they involuntary or eagerly anticipated and embraced. The figurative fulcrum that keeps your life homeostatically balanced - and your body parts for the most part intact - begins to shift ever so subtly, and you find yourself increasingly adopting an attitude of "Oh, what the hell? You only live once - go for it!" regarding various and sundry, "Try it, you'll like it!" ventures into the unknown. For me, that encompasses not only physical undertakings, but those of self-expression and personal relationships, as well. And believe it or not, fellow Blog Buddies... that is much of what makes later life so grand and exhiliarating. To purloin Einstein's penchant for brevity in postulating mind-blowing theorums: A = T < HLMF (Aging Equals Trepidation Considerably Diminished by Having a Helluvalot More FUN!) |
Prompt: "Name everything you've done that you're proud of." Three events in my life come to mind in terms of situations and outcomes I was honored and proud to be a part of - oddly enough, even though I've never had children, all three incidents involved little ones. One, during my tenure as an E.M.T./Ambulance, was an emergency childbirth of a shoulder breech baby girl in the tiny bathroom of the single, terrified teen mother's apartment. Another occurred during the time I served as a police officer, and involved successfully (thank God Above) administering CPR to a 9 day old infant girl on the hood of my cruiser after stopping the vehicle her father was recklessly operating in what I then learned was actually a frantic race to get his daughter, in full cardiac and respiratory arrest, to the nearest hospital. I never got to meet the first baby nor even learn her name after her birth, due to the fact that she was given up for adoption. I did know the name of the second infant and spoke to her mother 18 years later, learning that "Baby" Jennifer was all grown up, healthy and robust, and a very happy young lady who was already entering college. At the top of this list, in terms of how blessed I felt - and still feel, nearly four decades later, are the children of a little family I was granted the privilege of encountering long ago, right around this most special time of year. Here is the story of... " One Magical Christmas " Life is not simply the cosmic "filling" meant to span a given period of time between birth and death... it is, I think, a miraculous phenomenon we are best served by nurturing and diligently tending from the moment of its first, faint spark. Its roots, when sunk deep into well-worked soil, guarantee full and budding fruition, a bountiful harvest of the fruit it bears, and from that fruit, sweet nectar to be savored with relish by parched and thirsting souls. Human beings are neither shaped nor measured by tangible acquisitions, for these can not be carried beyond this world or held close and cherished by earthbound hearts. It is treasures that cannot be measured in dollars and cents that make us truly wealthy for all eternity... it is their bounty that sees us through our darkest times and carries us on wings to soar above this world and beyond. In sixty-one years, I've been privileged to gather up many such treasures. When I reflect upon them, a precious few shimmer beyond compare. This is the story of the crown jewel of their number, gifted to me one cold and snowy night on the eve of a magical Christmas thirty-nine years now past... I was on patrol in Zone 1, which happened to be the area of town I grew up and still resided in, and was dispatched to a residential burglary in a low income housing complex only blocks from the elementary school I attended as a child. In those days, such housing was nothing like it is today; nowhere near as nice as much of the HUD housing and apartment complexes that presently serve in this capacity. In this particular instance, the housing complex was comprised of numerous, post-World War II military Quonset Huts that had been refurbished to accommodate low income families. On arrival at their domicile, I learned that the charming little family living there was comprised of a 20-something mother and her two children, a dear little 4-year old boy with doe-like eyes, and a precious 5-year old little girl with a radiant, missing-front-toothed smile that could stop your heart mid-beat. Though attired in clothing obviously second hand and a bit frayed and worn here and there, both of these adorable wee ones could have just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Not only were they outwardly comely... an exquisite beauty shone from deep within they AND their mother, clearly evidenced in tangible personification of grace, unassuming dignity, and an abiding demonstration of sincerity, politeness, regard, appreciation, and concern for their fellow man. It was obvious that this Mother was sparing no effort in exemplifying for her beloved children unconditional love for others, self-reliance, self-sufficiency, selflessness, humility, impeccable manners and character, and abiding faith and hope. Their home was very modestly furnished, yet clean, cozy, and inviting. In the living room stood a relatively small, fresh-cut Christmas tree whose marked-down-priced, flawed shaping had been artfully transformed into a thing of pure and innocent loveliness by the home-made green and red construction paper chains, popcorn strings, hand-tied ribbon bows, hand-drawn and fashioned "ornaments", and pine cones collected in a nearby wooded area, then carefully festooned with sparkling glitter. The only thing resting upon the snow white sheet skirting the tree were all the figures of a Nativity Scene ~ Baby Jesus in His manger, Mary, Joseph, cattle, a donkey and sheep in the stable, adoring Angels and Shepherds kneeling outside, and the Three Wise Men approaching on their camels. Several of the once carefully arranged, perfectly centered Scene's figurines had been knocked askew by the intruder as he stole the few meager presents the mother had been able to afford for the kidlets. Additionally, he'd ransacked both the Mother's and the children's bedrooms, stealing $18.00 in cash that Mom had tucked away in a dresser drawer and pilfering both of the children's piggy banks and the money contained therein. It was apparent from the smooth finger-smudges left on the broken window and sill where the burglar gained entry that he was gloved, and it was therefore pointless to request the scene be processed for fingerprints, heaping even more disarray and cleaning chores upon the single, working Mom. So when she asked how long I needed her to leave everything as it was for processing, I went ahead and took some quick photographs of the indoor and outside evidence and cleared the scene, meaning it no longer had to be preserved. Upon hearing this, the very first thing the children did was carefully set all the Creche Scene figurines back to rights. The family's husband and father had left them three years before, and the Mother reported she'd been gone all day at her job as a housekeeper, picked up her children at the sitter's, and then arrived home at around 7:30 PM to discover the burglary. By the time I arrived ten minutes later, it was already growing dark outside and was just beginning to snow. After completing the crime report, I helped her cut up an old cardboard box and snuggly fit several, cut-to-size, corrugated layers into the broken window's frame, then locked it once again as it had been before the breaking and entering. As I prepared to return to patrol, the Mother and the children all gave me a peck on the cheek and a thank-you hug good-bye. They were going to go to Midnight Christmas Eve Services, the Mother told me, and then would be coming home for the rest of the night. I assured her that we'd assign saturated patrol to her area until she could afford to get the window repaired, and the enchanting little girl piped up, saying, " It's okay, Mommie, Santa can still come if the police are watching over us... he won't have to be afraid of the burglar, either! " The Mother answered her that even if Santa couldn't come, they'd still be together for Christmas, called the children's attention to how heavily and prettily the Christmas snow was falling, and told them how much fun they were all going to have spending all of Christmas Day together, making snowmen and snow angels and playing in the snow. I left that humble abode in utter awe... and moved beyond description by the immense measure of quiet, humility-infused grace I'd witnessed therein. And I decided that Santa would visit this home and magical family this very night, come hell or high water. The only store open on Christmas Eve at that hour was a Rexall ~ in those days, the equivalent of a Rite-Aid or Walgreen's, carrying everything under the sun from clothing to lunch meat, bread, snack items, and dairy products, plus your expected inventory of health aids and a pharmacy. I'd learned that the little girl adored baby dolls, Play Dough, and stuffed teddy bears, and the wee feller loved Hotwheels, motorcycles, miniature metal cars, Legos, and sidewalk roller skates. (He'd broken a wheel on his old pair and had asked Santa for new ones). Because I was single and had no children of my own, I'd never really paid much attention to what toys Rexall carried, but I knew they did carry at least some, and was hoping for the best. I made a beeline for the store. And boy, was my wish granted! The place was a virtual Toyland, stocked for Christmas with many toys, candy, cookies, etc., in a far greater selection than what they normally carried. I found a large, bottle-drinking, open-and-close-eyed baby doll set, inclusive of a bassinet that doubled for a darling little bathtub, a receiving blanket, cloth diapers, a one-sie, an additional two sets of clothes, and a rattle and baby bottle. I also spotted several additional outfits with matching bonnets, a rocking cradle and a large baby doll crib sold separately from the starter set, plus a gorgeous stuffed panda and a plush pink teddy bear that was nearly as big as she was. Finally, there on a shelf before my very eyes, I spied a Play Dough press and cookie cutter set, complete with full-sized cans of Play Dough in all four colors, a press for creating all sorts of 3-dimensional "artistry" (including hand-made Christmas ornaments), and a sizable assortment of plastic, primary-color-hued cookie cutters in a variety of shapes and sizes. For the little boy, I found a miniature car racing set, complete with a track that could be configured in multiple ways, and a dozen brightly colored "racing cars" in numerous automobile "makes" and "models". I couldn't resist an off-brand set of similar cars that came with a multi-tiered parking garage and gas station, a toddler-sized, ride-able plastic "motorcycle", a killer Lego Construction set,and a super pair of stainless steel, adjustable foot-plate, leather-strapped roller skates. Quickly gathering up and adding three big, treat-and-small-toys-packed, decorated stockings, two Christmas cards, two adorable piggy banks, a couple of bags of bows and ribbons, and green and red felt marking pens to the top of the pile, I scooted on up to the front register and checked out. I'd called the Dispatcher and told her where I'd be, finishing up some last-minute Christmas shopping, and because our call volume was practically nil, she said take all the time I needed, just keep my portable radio on in case the need to dispatch me to a call arose. It was Christmas Eve and as usual, my city was was quiet as a mouse anyway, so I had no calls waiting when I left the store. From there I radio-requested permission for lunch hour, which was granted. I hustled over to my house, hurriedly removed all price stickers/tags and affixed bright ribbons, bows, and name tags signed by Santa to all the gifts, raided my cash stash, and popped six $20.00 bills into the envelope with its accompanying Holiday greeting card entitled, "Christmas Magic". In the Christmas card for the children was a note from Santa, commending them for loving their Mama so much and being such a good girl and boy, their wonderful manners, how smart and beautiful they both were, and what a wonderful Mommy God had given them, plus two $10.00 bills to put in their new piggy banks. He also told them he was sorry their presents weren't necessarily wrapped because most of his Gift Wrapping Elf Staff was sick in bed with a cold this year. Everything was stashed in my cruiser with another 30 lunch hour minutes to spare when a last-minute thought occurred to me... There was a small turkey thawing in my refrigerator, with loads of eggnog, cranberry sauce, green and black olives, green onions, the ingredients for stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, Christmas cookies, pumpkin pie, and Cool Whip laid in to prepare for myself for Christmas Day... but there was also still time to volunteer for a double shift on Christmas, which was falling on my regularly scheduled day off that year, thus freeing up two other officers with families and children to have Christmas Day off. So who needed a turkey and such? I tossed all the edible goodies in a box and heaved THAT into my cruiser, as well. It was smooth sailing from then on... I called Dispatch, asked her to notify the Watch Commander I'd be volunteering for the double shift tomorrow, and advised her I'd be clearing my lunch hour at the proper time by radio, but might need a little time afterward to finish up a personal matter in my assigned Zone. Again, she told me that mine were the only two phone calls she'd taken in the past two hours and to just make sure I kept my mobile radio on when out of the cruiser. "Away in a flash" my patrol car then flew! (Though, given that the little family lived less than five minutes away from me, it was a brief flash, indeed.) I carefully pushed in the cardboard we'd fitted over the broken window, scrambled through it, and unlocked the front door from the inside. It was nearly 11:00 P.M. by now... the family would be returning from Midnight Services soon. A peek into their refrigerator confirmed that, sure enough, no Christmas bird awaited therein. Perfect! I arranged the gifts under their sweet little tree, sat their stockings on the sofa cushions, stocked the refrigerator with the bow-bedecked turkey and all the fixin's for a Christmas dinner, leaving the Mother's card and note from Santa propped against the turkey, then pyramided the dry and canned goods for the meal on the kitchen table. Replacing the cardboard in the window, I re-locked the door on my way out, made like the all-famous hockey player, and got the puck outta there. On pulling away, though, I spotted something that made me freeze. My fresh tracks in the snow! NOW what? It occurred to me that my footprints were quite small, though; so much so that my fellow officers used to make fun of them when I arrived at a call before they did and left diminutive tracks behind. I broomed away the footprints leading to and under the window as well as my cruiser's tire tracks, but left the prints leading to and away from the front door as they were, using my nightstick to additionally create "sleigh runner tracks" and eight sets of "reindeer paw prints" a short distance from the house. (I didn't have to worry about Santa landing on the rooftop, because it was a rounded Quonset Hut-type roof and it made sense that Santa would, for safety reasons, land his sleigh on the front lawn, instead.) After radioing in clear of my lunch hour, all remained peaceful and quiet for the duration of my Christmas Eve shift, enabling me to park behind a building where I could see their humble abode but not be seen until that dear little family came home from church. Though much too far away from them to hear anything, I could discern two very small and one adult silhouette behind the curtained living room window, scampering back and forth and apparently making quite merry... But God and all His Angels know that of the four people involved in this lovely scenario, it was surely I who experienced the greatest measure of joy. I saturated patrol in their area for the remainder of my shift that evening, during both shifts on Christmas, and on the following night, when I noted that the family's window had been repaired and the cardboard "patch" was no longer there. And though I never saw or spoke to any of these three wondrous, incredibly dear and loving people again, I'm as certain as I am of my own name that they went on to bring much joy, goodness, and love into this world. I also know they gifted me with the most marvelous and cherished Christmas of my entire life thus far... and I'd like to think that for all of them and those they love, Santa Claus will forever be alive and real. That beautiful little family on that long-ago night will always remain my most cherished treasure... in worldly life and for all eternity beyond. |
Prompt - November 28, 2012: If you were going to be stranded on a deserted island, and could bring only five items with you, which five items would you bring? This is an absolutely delicious prompt for me... As far back as age 9 or 10, I can remember packing my little red wagon (yes... I was a child of the 50's and actually had one) with all the "supplies" I reckoned I'd need to go and play "Pioneer Girl" all by myself. These captivating play sessions lasted for entire afternoons and took place in the thickly wooded, grapevined-and-yawning-creviced, nature-burgeoning hill that formed the rear boundary of John Todd Park in my then sleepy little Ohio home town. My passion for spending hours and hours immersed in this solitary pastime arose from three childhood influences, those being: A) My mother's tales of the games and pastimes she thought up and entertained herself with for hours on end as a child during Great Depression (and, in two regrettably protracted, separate instances, while recovering from a major illness and a terrible burn injury), B) My stepfather, before his illness, taking we kidlets out into the woods for marvelous, adventure-infused, brimming-with-sheer-wonderment episodes of exploration, hiking, shelter and fire-building, overnight camping complete with marshmallow roasts, ghost stories, and stargazing, and listening, awestruck and snuggled safely in the warm, downy depths of our sleeping bags, to the woods and all of her children settle in for the night, and C) my adoration of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House series of books, particularly "Little House in the Big Woods". Lest you assume from this disclosure that I must have been a very lonely child, nothing could be further from the truth. I had a bounty of chums who's rough and tumble, jubilant, incredibly fun and utterly carefree company I enjoyed immensely... but there were times, as well, when I equally enjoyed setting off to partake in a lovely interlude of "Pioneer Girl", nestled happily in the glorious solitude of Mother Nature's bosom. Not much has changed in 61 years... I still monumentally relish rare, spontaneously arising opportunities for solitude life accords us, and have never for one moment experienced the emotional angst and suffering most humans do when Cabin Fever sets in. Most of the time, I love and seek out the company of others... but I also firmly believe Henry David Thoreau had a VERY valid point. To that end, based upon the premise that my "stranding" on this deserted island was planned, the items I'd bring with me to a deserted island would be these: 1. A survival kit ( told you a was a "more wishes" kinda girl - ) inclusive of the tools to start a fire, antibiotics, insect repellent, first aid supplies, a means of water purification, a plentiful number of assorted types of vegetable seeds, fishing hooks and line, a tent and blankets, heavy duty waterproof sheeting like that used for greenhouse floors, hammer and nails, a bolt of fabric, a sewing kit, rope, scissors and a sharp cutting instrument - and, of course, a girl's best friend - duct tape!2. My pets and a lifetime supply of food for them. 3. An eternal supply of books, including the Bible, a Dictionary, and a Thesaurus. 4. A lifetime cache of yarn, as well as assorted-sized crochet hooks and knitting needles. 5. A radio within range of one good Oldies But Goldies Rock Station and one good Classical Music Station and an infinite supply of batteries to operate it. Even at my age, I genuinely believe that, armed with my above fantasy stash, I could very likely survive - and rather enjoy, to be honest, being relegated to a deserted island indefinitely. Particularly if it were an island located in a temperate climate and a body of fresh (as opposed to sea) water. And to tell you the truth, my Buddies in Blogging... I might just immensely enjoy giving it a go! |
Prompt: Who is one person who makes your life better? This prompt is a bit daunting, given that there are so many individuals who enrich my life - so much so that choosing just one is a difficult task, indeed. There is, of course, my dear Mother, who's footprints across my life embody the path leading me safely toward the adulthood into which I've come full bloom. There is my Beloved Bunkie (Michael to his regular friends), with whom I've been joyously and unfailingly paired in a loving symbiosis of souls for over twenty years now. The silken bonds of that impenetrable unity shield our union - as well as we, ourselves - us from every force that would see harm done. There are also, of course, my beloved baby sister and brother, Darcy and Kirk, with whom I shared all the tears, laughter, sadness, sorrow, joy, and various and assundry bumps and bruises tossed our way in childhood - and who I came to consider my dearest friends in the adulthood each of us eventually managed to attain. Kirk passed from this world at the far too young age of 33, as later did Darcy, at a similarly tragic young age of 41. Death is but a temporary victor in their cases, however - for they both live and shine brightly on in my and my Mother's beating hearts, their loving spiritual companionship every bit as as vibrantly and everlastingly vital in our existence as it was in the now-decades-past years that their feet, too, walked the earth. This is also wholly true of my beloved maternal Granma and Grampa Kirkpatrick, once more in each others' arms beyond Heaven's gates, yet abidingly alive on earth in countless hearts of hearts. It is the reason that I know - without any semblance of doubt and infused as it is throughout every fiber of my being - that Kirkie, Darcy, and Granma and Grampa are alive, supremely happy and robust, and once more made whole, that brings me to the singular Person who most enriches my life, standing upon a lofty pinnacle higher still than all of the rest - Jesus Christ, our Savior and the Son of God. For so many reasons... in so many ways... and for Whom I hold, now and for evermore, so much unvarnished and unimpeachable love, trust, and awe that can never be vanquished, even by death's coldest assail. There is so much more I could say of the Lord Jesus and His power in and over my entire life. Just a precious few of them are these: " BY ANGELS SENT " She tread upon the razor shards of shattered innocence, witness to the cruelest harms that evil can dispense. Seared by horror's fiery brand and marked for evermore; wandering in a barren land, a virgin child no more. Then came the night that time stood still and shrouded her in fear; demons closing for the kill and drawing ever near. But angels heard her dying cries and gazed upon the soul; tears flowed forth from loving eyes at all that evil stole. From their midst they did send forth a strong and wondrous Man, to guard her and proclaim her worth and challenge Satan's plan. With caring heart and guided hand He nurtured and sustained; with His light the darkness banned, freeing her again. With courage few men can sustain and wisdom beyond measure; He comforted and bore her pain, declaring her His treasure. This soul once driven to her knees, trembling and ashamed; in His embrace at last knew peace, her raging torment tamed. It is to Him her heart appealed - His guidance and His care; in His embrace her soul was healed, and she found solace there. He fulfilled the covenant sealed in blood and innocence; prophesying horror healed with love and tolerance. Through this Man by angels sent comes healing of the soul; torture vanquished, terror spent - a spirit rendered whole. Once again set free to love and be loved in return - in He who's come from God above a fire of goodness burns. With its flame, He sears once more to let its powers cleanse the soul and heart through which hate tore - the suffering now ends. She stands before Him whole and free to flourish in His love; cherished for eternity by One sent from above. ...Thank you, my Savior, Lord, and King - from the depths of a grateful heart - for the miracle of Your holy presence in my life. |
Prompt: If you could be any age again for one week, which would you choose? <breathes deep, cleansing sigh of relief, lowers and rotates head to relieve neck tension, briskly rubs palms together and pops all knuckles, then gracefully positions fingers above keyboard reminiscent of Liberace at his candelabra-ed piano... at which time facial features dissolve into an expression of befuddled confusion, hands still poised in mid air...> What was the question again? ~ Oh, yes, yes, OF COURSE! ' What age would I wish, if possible, to be for one week! ' ( I simply must stop shopping at Brain Farts 'R Us...) I bowed out gracefully on last Friday and Saturday's prompts, primarily because one asked us to speak of our positive characteristics, which promptly (you should pardon the pun) gave rise a huge, cognitive black hole and accompanying attack of writer's block of a magnitude rivaling that of Mt. Rushmore. Hopefully, I do possess a few worthy characteristics, but if so, am not comfortable contemplating or blogging about it/them. I honestly don't know if people "like me" - and if they do, can't imagine why! The second prompt asked us to discuss what three wishes we would ask for if they were offered, and I was vastly disappointed in my knee-jerk temptation to thrice record, "more wishes".  But now we're mercifully back in my comfort zone...First of all, it's intriguing to me that upon reading blainecindy's prompt for today, I automatically thought "retro" as opposed to "future". It now occurs to me that many of my Blog Buddies may have reacted in just the opposite manner. They may be looking forward to make their choice of a desired age as opposed to looking back to a previous one. It will be interesting, as today's Blog entries are submitted, to see what the ratio turns out to be. Being 61 and bearing down hard on 62, I'm sure many would assume I'll select a younger age, due solely to being what society collectively deems to be... <ahem>...'chronologically challenged'. They'd be half right - I would like to return to a younger age, but the reason why has nothing to do with my current Senior Citizen status... I'd dearly love to return to the age of 59, before my back injuries and resulting surgeries. You see, I would not want to, even for so much as one week, surrender the life experiences, memories, and learning my advanced years have brought - I would, however, happily jettison the pain, extreme nightly sleep deprivation, and physical impairment that are now my constant companions in day-to-day existence. Mind you, not for one moment would I say that where I am today is a place I cannot or will not cheerfully bear... far too many people live with far more severe challenges than I am and still lead lives of awesome decency, compassion, and abiding altruism. So much so, as a matter of fact, that onlookers are often blissfully unaware of just how great these amazing folks' burdens in life are - and therefore, the incredible courage, honor, and immense magnitude of character with which they're managed. On one hand, that seems a shame... but on the other, by virtue of their very nature, that is the only way such folks would have it. A Conundrum of the Amazing Kind... ...Aaaaaanyway, that's the age I'd chose - 59. Two years shorter on life lessons, but once more in glorious possession of eight hours a night of peaceful sleep and the ability to do handsprings and ambulate with the swift, sure gait of an 18-year old. That, to my way of thinking, would be the best of both worlds... and I THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART for this prompt, blainecindy ... it's been immensely fun to contemplate! |
Prompt: Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. What do you have to be thankful for? I thank God every day for the many, may blessings He's bestowed upon my life. At the top of the list will forever be my beloved Mother, so strong, wise, inwardly and outwardly beautiful, and forever my hero, who dedicated everything she had and sacrificed even her own health to rear three healthy, loving, happy children in abject poverty. And all along the way, she taught us by gentle example that when it comes to the true riches of life, we would always know wealth beyond measure. She provided us ready access to such treasures by instilling in each of us a solid, foundational premise of right and wrong, decency, consideration, empathy, and compassion for our fellow man and all creatures, great and small. Above all, she taught us to live by the singularly most instrumental mindset for a happy, productive, satisfying, and successful life... "The Golden Rule". Mother not only taught – but lived in accordance with God and His Son's wishes – without deeming it necessary to stand in judgment of others of different races, colors, or creeds than our own. We were taught impeccable manners and etiquette, so much so that we could go to anyone's home or any place public and no one would ever dream of just how humble our abode and environment was, financially speaking. She opened our hearts and minds to the magic of reading and writing, illuminating the path for each of us to find in words the power to go anywhere we cared to go, be anything we wanted to be, attain any goal we set for ourselves, embrace those things which most tenderly touch the heart... and from what one must protect their being in order to take pleasure and happiness from even the most mundane of endeavors. She taught us to appreciate the simple beauty in life and nature, and to love and respect both always. She introduced us to music and encouraged us to explore and come to be passionate about it's progeny of dance, playing instruments, and singing. She introduced us to crafts and hobbies of all kinds so that we might know the joys of creativity and the quiet pride and satisfaction of fashioning something beautiful with our own two hands. She insured that magic, fairies, Santa, and all of their ilk were ever present in the lives of believers - and that nothing and no one other than we, ourselves, could ever take them away from us. She facilitated at every opportunity our chance to witness births of God's creatures and know the wonderment of life anew. She also bore us gently through times of death and loss, comforting us and answering all of our questions frankly – and above all, arming us with the knowledge that death is never the final victor; that good lives continue forever far beyond the grave. And, of course – Mother abidingly armed us with the priceless gift of humor and laughter and the knowledge that both hold the power to cure all ills. In fact, even now, in my adulthood, our family's laughter-filled moments number among those I most cherish. One such instance follows below, and I call it "Holiday on Ice"... *********************** My brother, Kirk, a friend of his, and I were all home to spend the Holidays with my Mother, by then well into her 60's. Despite a ferocious ice storm on Christmas Day, our celebration had been merry, indeed, and we'd decided to prolong the festivities by seeing a Holiday movie the following day. We took Mother's 1970, Chevrolet Impala 4-door that Kirk sardonically referred to as "The Boat", due to the gargantuan size of its deep-floored, roomy interior, and massive exterior proportions, as well. My 6'2" brother and his 5'11" buddy, Chuck, occupied the driver's and front passenger's seats, which they'd scooted as far back as possible to accommodate their long, lanky legs. My diminutive mother and I occupied the back seat, situated behind Chuck and Kirk, respectively. The streets were fairly well salted and cleared of the perilous layer of ice the storm had dumped on us, but the Movie-Plex parking lot was an entirely different story... On arrival, Kirk parked the "The Boat", and all four car doors opened simultaneously as we disembarked. The air bitterly cold and the roof of the car so high, Chuck quipped that he could see only my frosty breath as my vertically-challenged little body exited the back seat on the opposite side of the vehicle while he, Kirk, and I palavered like magpies over-top the car roof, gaily expounding upon whatever we'd been yacking about on the way to the Movie-plex and waiting for Mom's head to pop up and make it a foursome. Eventually, it dawned on us that the fourth head seemed somewhat tardy in so 'popping', and Kirk inquired over the car roof of no one in particular, "where's Mom?". I looked at Kirk, a big, dumb void on my countenance, and he in turn looked across the roof at Chuck, who ducked down to peer through his open door into the back seat Mother had occupied just moments before. Rising again, he announced, "I don't know WHERE she went." "Whaddaya mean you don't know where she went ?", Kirk barked over the rooftop, "Her door's still open... she has to be over there somewhere." (We were in the middle of a huge parking lot, devoid of all but a few, sparsely parked cars, their occupants apparently also attending the movie.) Like some insanely skewered melding of episodes of "All in the Family" with "The Three Stooges Take a Holiday", all three of we young adults simultaneously bent down again, scrutinizing the utterly empty interior of the Impala. "No Mother", we wordlessly agreed with facial expressions, now gawking stupidly at one another through the open doors of the car instead over its roof. We'd all arisen and were staring at each other over the roof again when we heard a wee small, distant voice say.... "I'm down here, you dumb-bells." The three of us once again bent down, and this time we found her.... UNDER the car. With only her left foot wedged beneath the back of the front passenger's seat. I sprint-skittered over to Mother's side of the car to help Chuck extricate her stuck foot, then slide her torso out from beneath the undercarriage of the car. Her facial expression was priceless... and, as Elton John is fond of warbling about sad songs... said sooooooo much. Mostly, I think, it conveyed a rich blend of I can't believe I fell on my butt in the middle of the Movie-Plex parking lot.... shaken, not stirred, with a robust splash of I can't believe three full-grown schmucks, two of whom are the fruit of my own womb, LET me fall under the car without noticing in the FIRST flippin' place! (I was the eldest of the two fruit-of-her-loin schmucks in question, just in case you're lost by now and/or happen to care...) Chuck and I frantically endeavored to restore my bedraggled, semi-frozen Mother to something at least resembling standing on her own steam, slipping on the ice and twice falling down ourselves, clumsily dropping her hapless, frost-covered-limbs-all-askew body in the process. Given that we were parked on an incline, each time she was dropped, Mother swiftly slid right back under the car. Frustrated, she finally bellowed from somewhere beneath the Impala's manifold, "Oh, for GAWD's sake, don't HELP me anymore!" As was my habit in youth, I shrunk back like testicles in cold water when she bellowed thus, prompting Kirk to immediately step into the fray. I must say, though, his initial remark to Mother didn't exactly soothe her... "How the hell did you get down here in the first place?" Still flat on her back, thoroughly winded and sporting a worriesomely harried color upon her frosty cheeks... and staring unblinkingly at the grey-clouded sky... she retorted, "I got my foot caught under the seat, the foot I did have out of the car skidded on the ice, and I fell and slipped right under the car... HOW DO YOU THINK I GOT DOWN HERE??? !!! ???" I timidly asked her if she was injured at all, and she rotated her slush-capped head slowly toward me, bestowing me with an icy stare... "Noooooo... I am NOT hurt. I've just fallen and I can't get up." * T-I-L-T ! * Kirk, Chuck, and I burst into gales of laughter because of the correlation of Mother's utterance with a television commercial of that era ~ which, of course, ticked my still supine Mother off ALL to hell and gone. The more she indignantly flapped, squawked, and sputtered, the harder we laughed, despite innumerable valiant albeit failed attempts to get ourselves under control. Somehow we managed to get her back on her pins, all of us skidding, slipping, skittering, and falling through tear-spurting gales of uncontrollable giggling, and hustled her into the theater. I can't remember much about the film we saw... it was far too often distractingly punctuated by spontaneous, insane giggling anonymously materializing in the darkness ~ immediately met by two chorusing sources of muffled guffawing ~ followed closely by a harsh, hissed-through-clenched teeth, exclamatory remark of "SHADDUP, you three! I said SHADDUP!!!" *********************** ...So thank you, my wondrous, dearest-hearted Mother... you are absolutely the greatest gift I could ever have asked for. And, though I'll never understand why He deemed me worthy of it, I thank God above for blessing me with you. |
Prompt: "The topic is skydiving. Would you do it? Or have you done it?" I've always been the adventurous type, never one to shy away from the unknown, the unlikely, or, for that matter, the unconditionally unplugged. I served in the Military, became the first female ambulance tech on a two-man squad in my home state, and then became my city's first female uniformed patrol police officer. There's much to be said for pushing the envelope... for testing your boundaries... for abandoning one's fears in favor of spreading your wings and drinking deeply of life. That being said... SKYDIVING??? Have you lost your MIND???!!!??? <slaps self, regaining my customary, demure composure...> ...What I MEANT to say is - Skydiving, eh? No, that particular pastime has never been and will never be a candidate for my Bucket List. Why, you ask? To shamelessly purloin and paraphrase the timeless words of Shakespeare, let me count the whys... 1. I'm very fond of all my original, factory issue body parts. 2. I'm already a tad annoyed with God playfully using my Birthdays to say, "I'm stepping on your face" - and see no reason to heap the insult of wholly avoidable scratches, dings, and dents upon the wholly UNavoidaible injury of liver spots, myopia, and cavernous wrinkles. 3. There isn't enough Kahlua and Cream in the WORLD... 4. I don't bounce – I splat. 5. There's only so much top notch Trauma Surgeons can do... 6. I realize and accept that death is a natural part of life... I just don't care to prematurely bring it to pass via face-planting a pine tree. 7. Skydiving strikes me as appreciably less entertaining than pay toilets in a Diarrhea Ward - or a flood in a Fizzy Factory. 8. Humpty-Dumpty got a raw deal. 9. Gravity kicks ass and takes no prisoners. 10. Former U.S. President George Bush, Sr. loves skydiving – and from his loins arose former President George DUHbaya Bush, Jr. Need I say more? I know, I know... skydiving, many will say, is the embodiment of total freedom and exhilaration. For a few amazing minutes, you defy all worldly constraints and revel in the sheer abandonment of your senses. My problem here would be that I'm willing to toss only my TACTILE senses to the wind – my proverbial cookies and Sense of the Common Kind are not up for discussion. I've always felt a special kinship - a "one-ness", more philosophical readers might say, with Mother Earth... but the kind of intimate, symbiotic unity I have in mind has nothing to do with a failing parachute and massive blood loss. So, my Buddies in Blogging, you may safely conclude that skydiving is, to put it in the vernacular of the '70's – definitely not my thing. I find nothing appealing about being shoved out of a plane screeching like a deranged howler monkey, bowels and bladder on Autopilot as terra firma hurtles toward my face, pupils dilated and soon to be fixed, horrified countenance soon to be frozen-in-place-for-National-Enquirer-Autopsy-Room-photo-ops-and-all-perpetuity, mindlessly groping for an AWOL ripcord with one white-knuckled, arthritic hand and with the other, frantically trying to latch on to a bird in order to break my fall. The very thought chills me to the bone. (It also pisses off hapless, clutched-in-the-throes-of-a-mid-flight-human-death-grip birds ' til hell won't have it!) YOU skydive, crazy people! I don't even want to WATCH! <shudder> I'll retire to bedlam... |
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