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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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Today is the GRAND OPENING of "The Blogging Circle of Friends"! Sending virtual cornucopias BRIMMING with gratitude, respect, and PARAMOUNT praise for its immensely talented founder, blainecindy!!! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Today's Prompt: "What advice or words of wisdom would you like to leave for those who come after you?" I've lived for 61 arduous-but-wouldn't-trade-them-for-the-world years now, along the way encountering, savoring, and tucking away in my soul's hope chest a treasure trove of shining life experiences. Because I never married or had children, and given that I and my mother are presently our family's sole living members, my humble legacy upon journeying from this world to the next will be minimal, indeed. I'd like to think, though, that the relatively few beings who stumble upon and take the time to explore that "legacy" will regard themselves better for the find. I'll not be so egotistically inflated as to view the poetry and prose I leave behind as "words of wisdom"; it is, however, my heart's fervent wish that at least a precious few will meander down the paths I've wandered - and discover in the journey comfort, sweet solace, and a genuine and generous measure of peace. For readers who happen upon my soul's doorstep, I dearly hope they discover inside its cottage keys instrumental for unlocking true meaning in life - keys which throw open the doors of their own hearts, minds, and souls and bear them, minimally scathed, past the thorny thickets in which so many become hopelessly entangled, their lifeblood resultantly hemorrhaging unchecked. As crucial as they are to happiness, tranquility, and boundless joy, these most magical and mystical, elusive instruments are deceptively simplistic - hiding, so to speak, in plain sight. That being the case, they represent perhaps the most singularly difficult treasure in life to acquire. They are the means by which we master conscientious self-appraisal, honest introspection, and the process of unfailingly sifting the chaff from the wheat in the face of any challenge, great or small. This, I believe, is the unassailable foundation giving rise to earnest, all-empowering dedication to nurturing the objectivity/perspective necessary for routinely scrubbing our souls free of the hatred, bias, and bigotry that are mankind's scourge. Such a simple, tantamount-to-true-happiness-and-inner-peace process - yet so difficult, it seems, to grasp and effectively harness in the face of innumerable, malignantly distracting dead ends with which worldly life is fraught. It is not material acquisitions on earth that gift us with lasting solace and satisfaction. Rather, selfless love and unassuming, abiding goodwill constitute the only currency we carry with us beyond the grave. It is not the shrieking gales of arrogance and animosity that caress, heal, and redeem wounded spirits... it is, instead, the gentle, whispering breezes of love and acceptance that embrace and render us whole at last. It is not glory, celebrity, prestige, or the envy of the masses that sustain our existence and nourishes it to full bloom - it is the quiet decency with which a life is led that gifts us with real and lasting peace on earth - and glorious immortality in life beyond earth's bonds. And so, I'd say, this would be my "advice" to my beloved fellow man: Look beyond the material - and into the ethereal - to find life's greatest riches. Scythe boldly through the tentacles of human fallibility and detriment to seek out and know the joy and serenity of sweet-scented meadows beyond. Kick free of the fetters of greed, narcissism, malice, and callousness - and discover in that freedom gossamer wings on which to forever soar. |
| <Glances furtively about at abandoned WDC highways and byways, making certain the coast is clear. Pulls LEGGs pantyhose down over face, activates voice synthesizer, and dashes [well, gimps really fast] through the front door waving big red, rubber ping-pall ball popgun around with dramatic flourish... > "FREEZE, blainecindy !!!" <Startled, her angelic face, bathed in the heavenly soft, wee-hours-of-the-morning glow of her desktop, blainecindy freezes in mid-keystroke...> "Gimme all your PROMPTS! C'mon, hand 'em over! Don't make me ping-pong you in cold virtual blood! " <Curiously nonplussed, her delicate little wrist-guard-attired hands still poised in mid-air above her keyboard, the ethereally beautiful little blainecindy 's lovely, innocent gaze remains fixed upon my panty-hosed countenance. SHEESH, she's a cutey pie! But then, I digress... <blainecindy, still gazing innocently, softly responds...> "Please, Ma'am - may I have some more?" <Momentarily thrown off my game, I roar back, [in a verbal tirade, thanks to the voice synthesizer, that comes out sounding remarkably like Alvin and the Chipmunks on amphetamines...  >"Don't change authors in midstream! Think POE, not DICKENS!!! Now hand over those prompts!!!" <Her gentle gaze unfazed, [how's THAT for alliteration???  ] little blainecindy moves not a muscle, craftily employing her customary, disarmingly beautiful, radiant smile as she utters in that soft sweet voice she's known for...>"Now, you know I could never violate my incomparably high-pinnacled standard of ethics, mores, and card-carrying, all-American-girly-girl honesty, Pop Gun Prompt Bandit! Be gone with your silly self! " [she's obviously no stranger to alliteration, either...  ]<Humiliated at being so consummately vanquished in my own little literary Tableau of the Third Kind, I drop my panty-hosed head in shame, pivopt on my heels, and shuffle on off to Buffalo stage right, my figurative arrow-tipped tail tucked between [two can play the Alliteration Game, thithster!  ] my legs as blainecindy 's final words reach my crimson, stocking-flattened ears...>"And DON'T come back until you've learned civility and a modicum of MANNERS, you entirely fictional, Popgun Prompt Poacher wannabe!!! [does the agonal alliteration ever END??!!??  ] And God bless us, every one!!!"< What IS it with that girl and DICKENS???  >See ya Monday, November 19, 2012, fellow Circloids! ( WHAT??!!?? You haven't SIGNED UP yet ???!!!??? Then click below!!! )
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| Every once in awhile, general funks are randomly dealt to us; times when we just can't seem to cast off or outrun a case of The Royal Blues no matter how mightily we try. Physicians often prescribe Prozac and like chemical concoctions as a cure for these times... I highly recommend the below link. Take 6 minutes to truly and with all-encompassing abandon invite its exquisitely curative power to infuse your heart, mind, body, and soul. Use the Pause, Rewind, and Re-play features to your heart's desire in order to revisit and fully savor every single, wondrous moment of PERFECTION in selection and pairing of music and lyrics with phenomenally beautiful photographs as this incredibly endearing, uplifting, and inspirational story is told. Bookmark it and return often - and ABOVE ALL, if it is at ALL possible, welcome sequels to Rufo's story into your own life with open heart and arms. I promise you... your life will be magnificently better for the telling. |
| “Tonight in this election, you, the American people, reminded us that while our road has been hard... while our journey has been long... we have picked ourselves up, we have fought our way back, and we know in our hearts that for the United States of America, the best is yet to come.” |
| In response to the photo posted below, included with my last Blog entry on October 30th, I yesterday received a Private Rating and Review from an Anonymous WDC member: "And don't forget, spent more money than all of the previous presidents combined." My response to that person's Review commentary was this: "Yeah, it's pretty expensive, cleaning up the mess that GeeDUHbaya Bush got us into. You know... like lying to our faces to whip up post- 9/11 American shock and grief to take us to war against Iraq based upon "irrefutable proof" they were stockpiling nuclear armaments - when all along, his real motive was revenge on Saddam Hussein for the ruination of Bush's father's bid for a second term in Office. It costs quit a bit to pay for all the lifelong injury and trauma, (and FAR too often, military funerals) - endured by America's finest men and women at the power-intoxicated hands of a lying, ignorant and arrogant mass murderer of the loyal troops ordered into an illegal war in the name of political revenge. It cost even more to decisively hunt down and exterminate the man who truly brought 9/11 down upon our nation - the same man GeeDUHbaya said was "neutralized" and "isolated" and therefore no longer regarded as an important target (to deflect, of course, his abject failure to be able to hunt the bastard down and rid the world of his evilness, as President Obama, a TRUE Commander in Chief, has so expediently and capably accomplished in his very first term of office). It's also terribly expensive to reverse the economic hemorrhage and recession brought down on our nation by greed, avarice, and complete betrayal of our workforce by million- and billionaire fat-cat bankers and CEO's exploiting other country's available, cheap labor for their own gain. All the while, of course, fully helped along by Bush's Administration, tax breaks, etc., Bush doing absolutely nothing to call them out and/or staunch the bleeding resulting from their greed-spawned decimation. I'll trust President Obama a million times over GeeDUHbaya AND Mitt Romney, thank you very much. Neither one of the latter could tell the truth standing on a 10-foot a stack of Bibles. As a Viet Nam era Vet, I've no tolerance of Baby Bush - he has the blood of our nation's finest on his hands and achieved that only by lying to a wounded nation sufficiently grief-stricken to erroneously entrust to him our loyal support. Given that we've made the terrible mistake of granting TWO Terms of full authority to run us so horribly aground, I'm more than willing to grant President Obama the same opportunity to finish the task he's so admirably undertaken - standing with us as our feet find purchase in climbing out of the black abyss into which George Bush cast us all." Let me emphatically state that I VERY much respect the view of the Anonymous Reviewer... as a thoughtful fellow human being and for the reasons I discussed in my October 30 post. Our troops and veterans have through the years sacrificed, often to the extent of laying down their very lives, to insure and protect ALL of our freedoms and ALL of our God-given rights, including that of, as citizens of the United States, fervently formulating our own beliefs and opinions and enjoying the freedom to express them without fear of repercussions. My views and position on which Presidential Candidate is by far the best choice to continue leading this nation through the next four, arduous years are simply my own - I do not view others holding differing views any less significant in the overall scheme of our looming destiny. Though I honestly believe it will not be the case, just as I did with great trepidation in 2000 - and did through tears in 2004 - I will respect and honor my fellow American's choice in today's election, even if that choice is Mitt Romney. That is not to say that I will support Romney in continuing to deceive our country as President in the manner he has as a Presidential Candidate... not by a long shot. As was the case throughout the 2009 through 2017 Term of George W. Bush, I will speak out against and resist such tyranny in every responsible, legal manner possible. To do so is the God-given, sacred right of every living adult human being in these great United States... and should be for every human being in the world. I pray to God, though, that America today will not take a giant, incredibly dangerous step backward into the same - if not infinitely worse - disastrously deceitful type of leadership demonstrated throughout the Bush Presidency. I just don't know if my beloved Country, particularly its very backbone of middle class citizens, can withstand another hit of that magnitude... And so today, more than any other of my life thus far, I will pray to the President and CEO of the Universe for His blessing of introspection, wisdom, and unfailing guidance as each and every vote is cast. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Everyone in the United States of America has a right to hold dear and openly express their outlook, personal philosophies, beliefs, opinions ~ and certainly their preference among Presidential Candidates. We have been granted those rights first by God and then, in these United States, by our Constitution and Democratic way of life. Those rights have, continue, and God willing, forevermore will be fiercely defended and sacrificed for by our finest men and women on these and distant shores. For me, there is no greater responsibility than that of casting an informed ballot, particularly where electing or re-electing our President is concerned. I refuse to vote in blind allegiance with any particular political Party. This has been true since my early 20's, when I turned down a then very lucrative State Highway Patrol position offered to me on the spot if I'd only verbally acknowledge that I was a Republican, which happened to be the Party of my state's governor at that point in time. I refused, stating that I vote for the candidate, not for the party. The Post Commander truly wanted to hire me on, and advised me that in the end it wouldn't matter - I could simply SAY I was a Republican in order to meet the hiring requirement, then vote for whomever I chose, as declaring a Party affiliation in a Primary Election did not compel a citizen to then vote along party lines. Though I wanted the job very badly, I politely advised the Commander I would have to decline. Truth to tell, there have been instances through the years when I regarded a Republican candidate for varying positions as the best choice available. In the matter of the 2000, 2004, 2008, and 2012 Presidential elections, however, that is most definitely not the case. My bottom line with those I trust to lead my country is a very simple one; it is the same principle, as a matter of fact, that has guided me well for 61 years in every relationship and endeavor I've encountered: "In matters that impact the lives of myself and fellow Americans, good news or bad, tell me the truth. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, don't make promises you cannot (or do not intend to) keep. Just don't lie to me." Mitt Romney has lied to America - time after time after irrefutably and fully documented time. His latest blatant lie was advising the crucial electoral state of Ohio's Auto Workers that President Obama "sold Chrysler to Italians who are going to build Jeeps in China" at the cost of American jobs. This has subsequently been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt to be an complete and utter prevarication. And this is but the most recent of repeated such indiscretions on Romney's part throughout this election campaign. President Obama's predecessor lied to us, too, Mr. Romney. He did so to play on our post-9/11 shock and grief, whip up patriotic support, and take us to war... perhaps, I've always suspected, to avenge what Saddam Hussein did to his father's political career. I pray to God, given how Mr. Romney's repeated lies have been exposed time and time again, that American voters will not buy into his deja-vous-all-over again empty promises, spawned of a platform of deceit. Barack Obama has his sleeves rolled up at the moment, not campaigning, but instead leading a country now recovering from devastation on multiple fronts - one at the hands of Hurricane Sandy and most of the remainder courtesy of former President George W. Bush. President Obama has throughout his first Term told us the truth, then delivered his full attention, expertise, and remarkable dedication to not only leading, but standing WITH us, as well, as we slug our way back from a terrible recession. I fully intend to give him at least as much time to help us recover as his predecessor was given to run us so terribly aground. May God bless, preserve, and keep our President, our country, and humanity throughout this world. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Day before yesterday, I lost my adored mix-breed, 15-ounce teacup furbaby, Baby Love. It was my fault, which makes her death a thousandfold more difficult to bear. She was sleeping on the couch, as was my 18-year-old, now blind with cataracts, 5 pound little mixed breed, Peanut. Peanut has never once snapped nor bitten in all of her years, but Baby Love, who dearly loved to snuggle up and snooze with Peanut, startled her out of a sound sleep and being blind, Peanut snapped unseeingly at her and connected one tooth with the top of Baby Love's little head. No fracture occurred, only the skin was broken, but it bled profusely and even applying pressure and rushing her to the animal hospital could not save her. Being so tiny, she swiftly went into irreversible shock and even with CPR could not be revived. I had pulled to the side of the highway en-route to the hospital, knowing she was not going to survive, so that I could cradle her and speak to her as I always did and in the way we'd always both so wholly enjoyed. Her dear little gaze never left my own; nor did her lovely little doe eyes ever lose their sparkle as she and I said our good-byes and she gently faded away. Had anyone taken notice of me on the berm, I would have been a terrifying sight... a bloodied, 61-year-old woman sobbing her heart out, holding this minuscule little wonder to her heart and begging out loud for God to let her stay with me. I know it will sound silly to many folks, but I no longer care, because if they cannot understand, they are short-changing themselves on one of life's greatest, most miraculous treasures. Years ago, I came to the understanding that our pets - and all animals - have souls, just as we humans do. Humans who scoff at that idea are so arrogant, I believe, and God's ways are so much greater than our own, that we cannot fathom how this could be... but I believe with all my being that it is true, just the same. The connections that animals make with even the most troubled, flawed, ill, or disengaged human souls among us are simply too all-encompassing and profound to be written off. How else can the purity of the incredible, abiding and unconditional love and comfort with which they gift receptive human souls ever possibly be otherwise explained? There is a cost, of course, as is true of any precious thing in life. That price is immense and dearly - albeit gratefully - paid when treasured little souls such as Baby Love's must leave us far too soon, called back to Heaven for a purpose known only to God and his Angels above. My time granted with this darling little being was less than a year - but I'd not trade a single, precious moment of it for ANY amount of worldly riches, even had I known the gift of her would be mine for such a brief amount of time. I've no shame in admitting that my heart - not only figuratively, but literally, as well - has been aching since her passing as deeply as when I lost my beloved baby brother and then my dear baby sister, also long before their time. Though I've not darkened the doorstep of any church of any kind in decades now, (there's far too much "man" and not nearly enough "God" in churches for me), my spirituality and faith in God are vibrant, strong, and absolutely unshakable. These past two days, even in the throes of innumerable darkest, most tear-filled moments, I've not felt anger toward God for taking Baby Love back to His breast... only profound gratitude for His gift of her to me for the amount of time I was blessed with her. But in my heart of hearts, I prayed He would somehow show me why He reclaimed her so soon, knowing that if I could better understand, I would, in that, find some measure of peace. Then, last night, grief competing strenuously with my old friend, pain, as deniers of sleep, I was inexplicably moved to "drop by" Writing.com. It was unusual for me to come here that late in the evening, but I long ago learned to go with instinct in such matters. So I fired up my somnolent desktop and made the trip in. The first thing I encountered here was a Notebook Update disclosing that doublemeasure 's father had passed away. I'd just recently "met" doublemeasure when he bid upon and won a package I'd donated to a WDC auction, and found, through his Port, him to be a very genuine, very nice man, indeed. I sent him a C-note and words of condolence, then shut down my computer and prayed for God to comfort he and his family. Sleep, however, still would not come - and once again, I felt this inexplicable compulsion to return to WDC. This time - in the form of another Notebook Update - I learned that an adored canine companion of one of my most beloved pals here, kiyasama, had ingested a quantity of rat poison and that kiyasama had rushed him in for emergency veterinary care and was now keeping vigil over him, with next to no hope at all that he would survive. This notification hit me like a full blown tsunami... I think I know, now, why Baby Love had to leave me. Back pain or no, I kneeled to pray this time - with all of my heart that kiyasama 's furbaby would live against all the odds. And when I returned to WDC this morning, thus far the news is good. kiyasama 's doggie slept well through the night and is behaving normally today. His recovery is still tentative, but I'm praying that it will be swift and permanent. I think Baby Love is now he and kiyasama 's teeny little canine Guardian Angel... and that she and God above will see to it that both of them are loved and watched over every single moment of each of their precious lives. Somehow, though I'd not thought it possible, my own grief is more bearable. If you just have faith and believe, God will help you through even the worst of times. Just as strangely, after these events, I've begun to feel as if my time here on earth may now be growing short, as well. It may just be the pain talking, but I simply cannot shake this feeling, even in my dreams. I'm not afraid, though - the events of the past two days have convinced me all the more that earthly life simply gives way to something even more wondrous. And if mine here is, as I suspect, growing very short - I'll leave it in God's knowing hands to carry me on to another new and love-filled place. |
The below comment was written in response to today's post in The Body Language Blog of Dr. Lilliam Glass regarding last evening's Presidential debate between Presiden Barack Obama and Presidential candidate Mitt Romney... Dr. Glass: I'm the last person to take umbrage with your body language observations, however, I did not walk away from last night's Presidential Debate feeling that Mr. Romney won in any way, shape, or form. I took Mr. Obama's downward glances and tightly closed lips as a mighty endeavor on his part to refrain from verbally tearing Romney's nebulous campaign promises to pieces. On many of these occasions, the President could (and perhaps should) have aggressively retorted, "Look, Mitt... it was your man Bush, Jr. who deftly managed to bring this mess down upon the heads of the American public ~ and he who took us to war based upon the known false assertion that Saddam Hussein had ANYTHING to do with 9-11. And Bush managed to pull all of this off - as well as a similarly disastrous second term in office - by whispering the same sweet nothings in American ears that you are endeavoring to sneak past us now. In my first term, I have steadfastly, slowly but surely begun turning our country's woes around. I'm asking the American public to trust in where we are headed and to invest the same amount of time and effort in recovery during my second term as we gave G.W. Bush (many would say via a stolen re-election)to disastrously rent our nation asunder. You're telling our nation what they long to hear... but not explaining at all HOW you would actually bring your promises to fruition. I am telling Americans the perhaps less palatable, nevertheless unvarnished and crucial-to-genuine-recovery truth. This is not the time for smokescreens and diversionary feign of hand... this is a time for buckling in, knuckling down, gritting our teeth, and slugging our way back to a true, non-mortgaged, bedrock-foundational economic recovery." I did not look upon President Obama as the "loser" of last night's debate. I did view him as unfortunately perhaps comporting himself in a too gentlemanly manner, inadvertently portraying himself as somehow less of a warrior than Romney. Americans can refer to the late Ronald Regan as "The Great Communicator" until the cows come home... but the fact of the matter is, Regan earned a very handsome living as an actor before ever becoming the President. It's time Americans stop wasting their votes on ethereal, power-trip- and political-gain-seeking flourish and START voting for genuine honesty, dedication, assumption of personal responsibility, and steadfast accountability. Don't just promise us a rose garden... lead us in plowing our way through the waist-high weeds we'll need to traverse in order to reap the reward of the roses' sweet scent. |
| With the exception of the two or so years my Mother was married to a pharmacist, in the span of my entire life, I have never been what you would call financially well off, let alone wealthy in the material sense of the word. Satellite responsibilities excluded, my salaries have consistently fallen well within the ‘financially comfortable’ category, however, once other familial obligations are factored in… not so much. And I am so okay with that. I’ve worked and paid taxes since the age of 16, (and earned money since the 5th grade, if you count such things as mowing and raking neighborhood yards, passing papers and collecting on newspaper routes, and working in your school’s lunch program to pay for your meals) and always viewed my earnings as income entirely earmarked for my family. At 16 and still maintaining good grades in school, I was working part time as a medical assistant in a physician's office and my earnings covered the down payment on the only home we’d ever owned during my childhood, financed thru HUD and representing for my siblings and beloved Mama long dreamed of, intoxicating freedom from answering to demanding landlords for every scratch and dent and being perpetually subjected to their whims. Hand-me-downs and thrift stores were just fine by we kidlets; Mama had a keen eye for quality at a rock-bottom price and incredible insightful skills at making every penny count. When I, the eldest child, became old enough to bring in funds, Mama never once asked me to contribute my earnings to support our family... for that matter, she never even asked me to go to work at all. (I distinctly recall at age 14 obtaining a mandatory work physical for free and on the Q.T. at our local Health Department so that I could surprise Mama with my very first job, a holiday position as a salesgirl in a woman's dress shop called Jeffrey's, for Christmas. Normally, I'd never go behind Mama's back, but this was for a good cause.  ) Instead, I regarded it as an honor and a pleasure to contribute, given all the years Mama had struggled on her own to keep us together and safe. We did without luxuries like telephone service, a car, etc., and were quite content as long as we had each other, together under one roof. Mama brought us through every hard time and never once utilized government assistance to do so. When other kids treated us badly or made snide remarks about our “have not” status among them, we sincerely felt badly for them for putting material things before the true riches in life… love, devotion, and family togetherness. In our minds it was they – not us – who were truly poor. They were the never-sated slaves of ‘Keeping up With the Jones’; we were the content and happy embodiment of “Little Women” and “Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch”. Even at tender ages, we children knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what we had was a rare and precious treasure no amount of money could ever buy. Compared to the kids who had their own cars, killer wardrobes, and exorbitant allowances, it was we who had what they never seemed to be able to possess. It was we who were genuinely happy and keenly aware of what the only true currency in life actually is...and who genuinely and fully comprehended the wisdom and value of the biblical message embodied by the passage, “Consider the lilies of the field…” Wealth, societal status and/or celebrity, and all of their minions inevitably lose their luster, those most intimately acquainted with them almost always left thirsting, yearning, and consummately unfulfilled. They’ve lost cognizance of the true riches in life, blinded by perpetual, fruitless searches for happiness, contentment, and serenity in a veritable landfill of material acquisitions. If being “well off” dictates transformation into the type of arrogant, narcissistic, scheming, utterly miserable wretches seen daily on “reality, Housewife-type” television shows… or learn about about through the media having meltdowns and battling (and often dying as a result) substance abuse, depression, and the despair of utter isolation even as the masses hold them on high… let me forever remain 'materially challenged'. For it is we who are poor as a church mice who know where meaning, contentment, and genuine happiness are to be found - and how to weather the most powerful storms, even when the world seems hell-bent on moving our cheese. |
| Haven’t written much here of late. My spirit’s creative juices remain intact, but my body has been mercilessly thumping it over the head for months now. I employ every diversionary tool available in my sizable arsenal to counteract the at times overwhelming side effects of chronic, unrelenting severe pain; otherwise, the only remaining option would be to capitulate to self pity and its resulting inevitable, utter defeat. That’s an option I find reprehensible and repugnant. Still, though, the adversary remains unceasingly mighty. Even in the few broken hours of sleep chronic, disabling pain permits, it persists in sneaking in to makes its pervasive dominance known... Last night, I dreamed that in sheer desperation, I requested and submitted to surgery whereby my spinal chord was totally severed. In the dream I was awakening from the anesthesia, and could not understand why my Recovery Room nurse was being so distant and cold toward me. At first, the rush of joy at no longer being in pain displaced any secondary, realistic realizations of what I’d sacrificed simply in exchange for at last becoming comfortably out of pain… a somnambulant state of denial, I guess you’d say. But the nurse completely stripped me of that luxury forthwith when I asked her if I’d done something wrong to trigger her negative attitude toward me. “How selfish can a person be, Kelly?”, she impatiently asked. “My God… there are people who would give ANYTHING to regain what you just blew off simply so you could escape your pain. Maybe you’re so self-involved you don’t mind, but they would give anything to cure their paralysis… to be able to walk…or to even have control over their own bladder and bowels! And you just threw all those abilities away for the sake of stopping your pain. I’m sorry, but that’s absolutely disgusting to me.” Her words stung me to the very core and brought realization and reality crashing down on me like an avalanche. I instantly knew she was indisputably correct on all counts, and the shock I experienced at that point in the dream was so powerful that it jolted me awake, bathed in a cold sweat. I’ve not trusted myself back to sleep since. The remnants of bad dreams are tenaciously clingy little demons, extremely difficult to shake off during ensuing wakeful hours. Given my particular set of circumstances, however, this phenomenon can be looked upon as a positive outcome... I’ve always believed that most, if not all, dreams are subconscious witnesses and arbitrators, bearers of masked and/or disjointed presentations of issues, good or bad, that the conscious mind has yet to resolve. Dreams are rather like opening the subconscious mind’s file cabinets and addressing the contents of folders stored therein. In that way, if the bounty of dreams are thus harvested, the subconscious mind and it’s armament of dreams become an invaluably effective source of backup and support for the busy, often otherwise occupied conscious mind. If my supposition in these matters is correct, last night’s dream has much to positively offer... and I’ve consciously resolved to accept and utilize that gift with unflinching and vigorous earnestness. Chronic pain is a master thief, and constant, acute vigilance must be your abiding sidekick lest the robber purloin your greatest, most vital resource in life… that of your spirit. Each day… and several times per day, when circumstances dictate… I will vehemently deny pain that which is my most cherished, life-sustaining possession. Without my spirit, life is not worth living. And whenever mine is threatened with injury and robbery, until I draw my last earthly breath ~ there will be no surrender. Thank you, God, (and the Sand Man ) … message received. To put it in succinct, albeit somewhat outdated vernacular...it’s on like Donkey Kong.  |
Contest entry in response to the question, "What would you do if you won a million dollars?"... I have always dreamed of establishing a no-kill animal shelter that I'd call Pawprints on Our Hearts. It would provide a safe and loving environment for all animals crossing its threshold. I'd enlist the assistance of animal-friendly volunteers, including older folks, who would enjoy the pet residents' company as much as the pets would theirs. Enlisting the assistance of veterinarians and vet techs willing to provide services at a reduced cost, we would provide spaying and neutering, vaccinations, and general health care for all pet residents. We’d offer these same services to the general public (and allow them to volunteer time caring for our Shelter family in lieu of payment, if they so chose), so that people facing financial challenges would not have to give up their beloved pets. In addition to those services, we'd offer Bathing/Grooming and Pet Sitter services to generate revenue for operating Pawprints. The shelter would provide both a home-like indoor environment as well as safe, enclosed outdoor facilities for both doggies and kitties as weather permitted. We would also provide a separate annex for kitties testing positive but comfortably asymptomatic for illnesses such as feline leukemia so that they would not be euthanized simply because they are positive for the virus. We’d have an in-house physical and behavioral rehabilitation program for pets that have been neglected, abused, injured, and/or otherwise traumatized. The Shelter would actively operate a Pet Adoption program, as well as a Pet Ambassador Program where our gentler charges would be taken to visit the elderly, sick or infirmed, and most of all, children desperately in need of the kind of healing love animals so freely give. I even envision establishing a placement program to match Pawprints pets with physically or mentally challenged adults and children… and perhaps even pre-qualified individuals who are incarcerated, given the miracles that happen when folks in these circumstances bond with a pet that needs them and offers them unconditional love in return. It may sound silly to most people that if I ever acquired a million dollars, this would be the dream I’d use it to pursue. Many would say, “They’re only animals – the money would be better spent on humans.” But I’ve been kicking around this old world for 61 years now, and I know this to be an absolute fact: a society is only as good as it treats the poorest and most vulnerable among us. To my way of thinking, that includes all of God’s creatures. And what I dream of doing would benefit our most vulnerable fellow men, as well… for animals’ unconditional love makes miracles happen every single day in countless human lives. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** September 11th is always a difficult and somber day for me, and given that Bunkie and I are so much attuned to and in sync with one another, he intuitively picked up on the fact that I'd very much enjoy one of our famous "phone dates" and followed through with a call last evening. As is always the case, I enjoyed our gabfest last night immensely... even my Mother frequently observes that she's never seen any other two individuals, particularly a couple together for well over 20 years now, spend an entire day working and/or playing enthusiastically together, then spend hours more reminiscing and laughing and chattering like magpies on the phone that very same evening. She says what truly amazes her is that even though we're geographically very far apart, the bonds of our intertwined spirits, like a fine wine, grow ever more abiding and robust with the passage of time. She's right. We are soul mates in every sense of the word, both certain that our spiritual fusion found genesis in a time and place preceding either of our births into this existence. It is not an awareness we can quantify; nevertheless, both of us believe in what our hearts tell us about the foundation of our union and mutually embrace the supposition as fact. Our hearts truly beat as one. Bunkie did have a bit of bad news to share, though. He knows how fond I've always been of actor Michael Clarke Duncan, who played condemned Death Row inmate "John Coffey" in the movie, "The Green Mile", based on a book of the same title written by incredible author Stephen King. The movie also starred another actor with whom I've long been enamored; Tom Hanks. Hanks stands right up there alongside Kathy Bates, to my way of thinking, as the two indisputably finest, most versatile and diversely talented actors of their time. Michael Clarke Duncan, Bunkie informed me, passed away on September 3. He'd suffered a massive heart attack this past July 13 and lingered for months but unfortunately, at the age of only 54, succumbed a week ago this Monday past. Known to friends as "Big Mike", "Papa Bear" and/or "Hollywood", the 6 '5", 300-pound, powerfully built, phenomenally baritone-voiced Duncan was indeed, a gentle giant. He'd wanted to play football by the time he started High School, but his single Mother, who feared he would get hurt, would not allow it. As a youth growing up in South Chicago, when Duncan was exposed to drugs, gangs, and other slippery slopes that chew youngsters up and spit them out, he steadfastly rejected such influences in favor of focusing upon his schooling. After scotching the football dream, he became keenly interested in acting and perhaps becoming famous, and following High School, embarked upon Community College studies in preparation for a thespian career. Due to a sudden, pronounced decline in his mother's health, however, Big Mike left college in order to care for her. He labored as a ditch digger for a gas company in Chicago in order to support himself and his Mom. By 1998, Duncan had moved to Hollywood and was working as a celebrity bodyguard when he landed a supporting role alongside lead actor Bruce Willis on the movie,"Armageddon". Duncan and Willis developed a very close friendship while filming "Armageddon", and so great was Willis' respect for Duncan's character, talent, and work ethic that he suggested him for the "John Coffey" role Duncan wound up so masterfully portraying in the 1999 film, "The Green Mile". Nominated for an Academy Award and winner of "The People's Choice" and numerous other acting merit awards, however, never seemed to taint or diminish Duncan's quiet, abiding humility and empathy for his fellow man. Many celebrities such as Tom Hanks, Bruce Willis, Jay Leno, etc. were visibly emotional and saddened as they struggled to deliver very touching memorial remarks at Duncan's funeral. Though I thoroughly enjoyed him in every role he played during his too-soon-ended career, it will forever be Michael Clarke Duncan's performance in "The Green Mile" I regard as his most spectacular... and most reflective of his true, real life persona. I'd read the book cover to cover numerous times and long relished it as one of Stephen King's tantamount endeavors, and the movie version, as far as I'm concerned, is by far truest to King's original novel of any of numerous films based upon his other books. All of the actors in "The Green Mile" were superb, but it is Duncan's performance as the pure and innocent, wrongly death-penalty-sentenced "John Coffey" that unfailingly unleashes unabashed torrents of tears, particularly in uttering the below lines in response to Hanks' character, Death Row Prison Guard "Paul Edgecomb", when Hanks agonizes over how he will ever be able to explain to God on Judgment Day why he helped kill one of the Almighty's greatest miracles: " You tell God the Father it was a kindness you done. I know you hurtin' and worryin', I can feel it on you, but you oughta quit on it now. Because I want it over and done. I do. I'm tired, boss. Tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with, or tell me where we's coming from or going to, or why. Mostly I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world everyday. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head all the time. Can you understand? " It is impossible to witness his performance in ""The Green Mile" and not come away certain that it arose from the very depths of Michael Clarke Duncan's soul. I've no doubt that Duncan invested a goodly measure of himself in "John Coffey"... and the essence of the wondrous "Coffey" was just as surely that of Michael Clarke Duncan. There are just some beautiful, magical, and mystical secrets that amazing spirits such as his simply cannot conceal. The earth is a better place for his shining, all-too-brief presence in our midst... just as Heaven is now all the greater for his gentle, huge-hearted presence there. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** " 9-11 " E ven as the day dawned bright, L eprous souls and dark E ntombed us in a murderous night, V iperous and stark. E vil pure, in vengeance steeped, N ecrotic, maliced brew ~ S inister in its deceit, E merging, born anew... P lunging hatred's saber deep through hearts of innocents; T rust purloined from our safe keep, each man's for the next. E mbers' glow in ashes black, impervious to tears... M ourners shaken by attack, B attered and in fear ~ E nduring, though our agony; R esolved, our nation's will ~ T hose who champion evil deeds W ill know the fires of hell. O nward will we carry high T he torch, still burning bright; H onor bound, prepared to die... O ur faith erodes their might. U nstoppable, unwavering, S hared in good men's hearts ~ A loud let freedom's mantra ring, N o foe curtail its spark. D eath was not the victor here as horror stalked this day, O n bended knee, our voices clear, God heard a nation pray. N e'r forgotten, wounds that yawn, yet in the healing, strength ~ E ven as new bright days dawn, triumphant over angst. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** RENEWED IS OUR PLEDGE Hatred cannot strangle freedom ~ liberty yields not to foes... the hearts of good men guarantee them and shield us from terror's dark throes. The quest that gave birth to this nation still courses through patriot veins; the honor that is its foundation still and forever remains. So it has been and ever shall be ~ the righteous shall ever prevail in the sacred pursuit that keeps every man free and vanquishes Satan's assail. For those who have lost precious souls to the fight; for the innocents torn from our midst... renewed is our pledge to defend what is right and our every opponent resist. Marshaled, the warriors who'll march into hell to battle purveyors of fear; rekindled, the embers that serve justice well ~ sustained by our blood, sweat and tears. Where evil men dare to oppress and enslave by spewing forth carnage and grief, there will we triumph over the grave with redemption and final release. From bondage and misery by hating hearts spawned, sweet liberty sets our souls free; its torchlight, the victor o'er tyranny's dawn, burns brightly for you and for me... A beacon hell's master knows not how to kill that lights well the path for just men; aglow with the purpose and force of God's will and cupped in His almighty hand. Gathered there, too, in His loving arms, watching us still from above... safe and protected from all worldly harms are those we have lost and so love. Let not the price each of them paid in our name and those of our children born free be invested or lost to the hatred insane that threatens mankind's destiny. O'er the bomb blasts of malice and wails of despair, hear democracy's heart beating true... earth's peoples and promise gathering to share our grief and commitment anew. Never will we the cowards appease who seek to deprive man of choice ~ this nation will never be brought to its knees, save in prayer and to add to earth's voice... our praise and allegiance to God's promised peace; our faith in His power and might; a mantra of justice to guidance entreat and lead stricken hearts to His light. To this anthem's cadence and worldwide refrain, we'll arise from our knees and march on... brave and defiant in spite of our pain ~ armored well, resolute, and made strong. United, we'll shoulder the burden ~ together we'll heal and fight on... championing the dear cause of freedom for each generation to come. From the fury and fire we'll forge well our swords of justice; pure, swift, and wise; on every man's lips, those sweet, sacred words ~ "liberty ever the prize!" Soldiers for freedom to ever remain, its enemies our bitter foes; until every man has been wrest from the chains of tyranny's terror and woe. 'Til raging flames wielded by sentries of hate are extinguished and purged by God's tears; 'til the last dying screams of oppression abate; no man held hostage to fear... battling 'til then and united beyond ~ undaunted by evil's dark threat; honoring those who before us have gone, their sacrifice our honored debt. We'll never surrender, nor will we rest, 'til the debt is repaid in full measure... 'til all men are granted and share God's behest ~ the justice and freedom we treasure. Only then will hate perish and hell's depths be cleansed; at last healed, the wounds cut so deep... when all mankind's freedom is gained and avenged ~ the world safe in liberty's keep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH " A Decade 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 ten 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 gilds this battered isogriv; Evermore, our minds attuned to God's enlightened plane, Nevermore to nourish bloom of maliced acts and pain... Together gathered, ten years passed, resolved through each dark night, Hearkening as His Son asks to God's will, held on High. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ******************************************************** |
| This past Sunday toward the end of a 48-hour bus tour across Florida, President Barack Obama took the time to stop by the Big Apple Pizza and Pasta Italian Restaurant in Fort Pierce. His reason for visiting was that he wished to commend the advocacy of Big Apple's owner Scott Van Duzer in the area of Blood Donation. Said the President of Mr. Van Duzer's work for increased blood drive interest and donations, "He has galvanized and mobilized the local community and he's educating kids and folks all across the country on this issue." As the President entered the restaurant, the 46-year-old, 6' 3", 260-pound Van Duzer was so thrilled to see him, he first bear-hugged, then lifted Obama right off his feet in an effusive greeting. The stunned President, once his feet again made contact with terra firma, was heard to exclaim, ""Look at that! Man, are you a power lifter or what?". What additionally impresses me all to heck and gone about Mr. Van Duzer is this: he is a Republican. And sure enough, he has been catching a good bit of "you're a traitor"-type flack from Conservatives for so having warmly received President Obama. Furthermore, disgruntled citizens are slamming Van Duzer on his restaurant's "Yelp" page while still others are actually boycotting the restaurant altogether. In response, Mr. Van Duzer commented, "I don't vote party line. I vote who I feel comfortable with, and I do feel extremely comfortable with him." Mr. Van Duzer further stated, “There’s no middle line anymore, and that’s exactly what’s wrong with our country right now." Amen and AMEN, Mr. Van Duzer - you're a man who's acquaintance I'd be honored to make.  |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** During one of my now all-too-familiar, nocturnal bouts of pain-induced wakefulness, last night’s impromptu 4:00 AM session surprised me with an accompanying epiphany. That revelation gifted my soul with sweet psychological homeostasis on a front at which I’ve engaged in battle for years ~ and suffered innumerable gaping wounds. My opponent in these devastating skirmishes, long ago dubbed “Goliath” due to the immense power, finances, and might he brutally wields, once more stirred and declared war on September 4th. In the past, I’ve consistently risen to his challenge and inevitably emerged victorious… but at a terrible price in terms of the stressful aftermath. What I now realize is that, even as he dictates that his underlings in servitude “Do the Right Thing”, Goliath himself routinely and with utter impunity operates with consummate disregard for that concept, smothering those who dare challenge his misdeeds beneath the tonnage of his power and bankroll. Goliath has for years viewed me as some sort of enigmatic upstart… an indigent little church mouse for some inexplicable reason resistant to submission when batted back and forth, along with others of my ilk, between crushing paws. And all along, I’ve been inadvertently handing over his greatest weapon against me… predictability. The giant corporate bully has learned that when push comes to shove, I will inevitably turn away from a legal kill shot in favor of decency, honor, and “Doing the Right Thing". Throughout my 6 decades, I have always lived by a philosophy of “Come, let us reason together” as opposed to going for the jugular in an arena of litigation. That has never been more true than in the case of Goliath… and it has finally dawned on me that his familiarity with that particular trait has become the weaponry he best uses against me whenever he becomes so inclined. But the days of his arrogantly stepping over the line whenever he deems it in his best interest have come to a screeching halt. My revelation last night was twofold: the enemy’s conduct has been abhorrent, launched from a platform of deceit, and blatantly wrongful/unlawful on a plethora of fronts. And why has he begun behaving thus with ever increasing regularity and blatancy? Because he’s huge and financially well armed and has learned that in the end, mice such as myself will settle for a slap on his wrist and nebulous, false assurances the transgression in question will neither be revisited nor repeated. Unfortunately, such outcomes amount to nothing more than fodder in its briefcase as far as this prodigious corporation is concerned. Honor and decency are but a cleverly and insincerely bandied camouflage for inexcusable wrongdoing… and looked upon as well as the soft, vulnerable underbelly of those he tramples in the name of the Almighty Dollar. As of this moment, Goliath, to put it in a context near and dear to your greedy heart, ‘ the buck stops here ’. What you failed to realize is that, even as they labor beneath your boot heels, honest and decent little mice have for years been gathering documentation of and evidence demonstrating beyond a doubt the underhanded manner in which you truly operate behind all the smoke and mirrors. And at least one among them, now with plenty of financial backing, legal expertise, and mountains of carefully and securely preserved evidence to back her up, is about to officially take your misconduct to task. No more loyally protecting your image…no more stepping back from the brink... no more "pass" issuance in hopes you’ll finally get around to making things right. To purloin and paraphrase an infamous assertion made by actor Robert Duval in the film "Apocalypse Now" ~ ' I just love the smell of litigation in the morning ' ... I cannot fathom why I’ve allowed my personal values to be used so callously, repeatedly, and effectively against myself and many others for such a long, stressful, tribulation-ridden period ~ but I intend to waste no more valuable time trying. Amazingly enough, my pre-dawn epiphany regarding the chink in my own armor, rendering that weak spot impenetrable, and earnestly following through with out-and-out litigious war has set me wondrously free in more ways than I can count. The life zeal, inner fortitude, patience, and concrete support in terms of finances, time, and energy now at my disposal have collectively rendered my spirit, so long Goliath’s captive pawn, reinvigorated and once more able to draw deep, cleansing, and renewing stress-free breath. Even so, just in case... I've made absolutely certain that each and every avenue for escape has been blocked and every conceivable crack in the dyke have been sealed off in preparation for the legal battle at hand. Furthermore, I've designated beneficiaries who'll be there to reap the spoils of this war in the unlikely event I don't live to see the battle won. I’ve been liberated from coerced adherence to his malignant, deceitful, oppressive tyranny… from now on, we’ll be playing the game by the true regulations governing the process of “Doing the Right Thing”. Considering that between the two of us us, I'm infinitely more practiced and adept at conducting myself in accordance with such regulations than he, Goliath is definitely going down for the count... regardless of how long it takes. |
| This past Thursday bore witness, at long last, to the fade-to-black demise of the arrogant smirk perpetually sported by 58-year-old retired police sergeant Drew Peterson following the murder of his 3rd wife and highly suspicious "disappearance" of his 4th. A jury of 12 intelligent, sensible, thoughtful peers headed by a 22-year-old Foreman sifted carefully through the People's evidence, as well Peterson's decidedly cocky Defense Team's smokescreens and diversionary personal attacks on victims and witnesses alike... and after 14 hours of careful deliberation, found Peterson guilty of the First Degree Murder of Kathleen Savio in 2004. Peterson's "mob attorney-style" Counselors burst onto center stage in innumerable early-trial press conferences, exuding haughty confidence in an acquittal born of their utterly dismissive regard for the Prosecution's case... and for the murdered Kathleen Savio, the missing Stacy Peterson, and all of their friends and loved ones by proxy. One of numerous examples of their inexcusably glib remarks: When asked, during one of the earlier Pressers, "What about Stacy?" regarding her disappearance and suspected murder, one of the Defense Attorney's tongue-in-cheek response was, "Stacy who???", followed by laughter from the remainder of the Defense Team. At the next press conference, of course, they offered up a consummately insincere apology for the callousness of that remark, claiming they meant no disrespect. Uh, huh... In closing arguments, class-act ( not ) Defense Attorney Joe Lopez mirrored Peterson's insolence by telling the jury that the State's more than 30 witnesses provided "garbage" as evidence. He then proceeded to assert, "The framers of the Constitution would barf on this evidence", and maintained that the testimony of Stacy Peterson's Pastor and Defense Attorney amounted to hearsay no more credible than water-cooler gossip they [the jury] might hear around the office. Even after all was said and done, Peterson's Defense Team demeaned those gathered outside the courthouse who approved of the guilty verdict by pronouncing them "just a bunch of unemployed people with nothing better to do." Well, fellas... looks like your stellar client, the man who publicly pitched to media reps a Reality Show "Win a Date with Drew" competition, then became engaged to marry yet another woman half is age even as the search continued for his 4th wife, also only 23 years of age, who "disappeared" in 2007... has, himself, become 'just another unemployed person with nothing better to do' - for the next 20 to 60 years. The judicial buzz now is that Peterson would have walked had the Court not permitted hearsay testimony to be offered into evidence by Stacy Peterson's Pastor as well as her Divorce lawyer, but I'm not so certain that's true. Though this testimony - basically that Stacy knew Drew Peterson had killed Kathleen Savio and that he'd coached Stacy regarding the alibi she initially offered up for him for the evening of Savio's murder - certainly had an influence on the trial's outcome, it was far from pivotal when all of the State's case was considered. ( Have a listen to well respected jurist Judge Jeanine Pirro's summation of the trial and verdict at the link listed below.) The law that permitted hearsay to be introduced in this particular circumstance, however, is not at all the brand new, selectively created and applied "Drew Peterson Law" his Defense Team would have you believe. The Judge's decision was in compliance instead with a Federal Rule of Evidence known as Forfeiture by Wrongdoing, which has been in force since 1997 and was upheld as Constitutional years ago by the Supreme Court. Come November 26, we'll learn just how how long Peterson's 'unemployment' period will last. For now, its comforting to know that even with a minimum sentence, he'll likely "retire" permanently in prison... and that Kathleen and Stacy's families and friends can finally scrape the malodorous remains of all things Drew from the bottom of their shoes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbsPB7kRbtY http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kY5DZeQxMI&feature=related |
| I just noticed that this Blog has been visited 16,157 times from URL's all over the Net. Holy cow... It's hard to believe that just 15 years ago, I was well into my 40's and completely computer illiterate. I worked for a very large firm in those days, and when the announcement came down that we'd be converting from a massive, paper-driven operation to a 100% in-house server computer system within the short span of 24 months, I reacted like a deer in the headlights. My co-workers, the vast majority of who were appreciably my junior, collectively received the news with something akin to jubilation. They, after all, had been extensively educated in computer/Internet terminology and operation skills by the time they reached middle school. Most had mastered computer operations by the time they mastered reading. I, on the other hand, still viewed the term "booting up" as something you did when it snowed. Adding to my growing state of panic was the fact that, needless to say, the conversion would result in a vastly reduced need for "hands on deck" on the part of my company, and it therefore could well afford - even benefit by - keeping its promise of dismissing any staffers unable or unwilling to become proficient in use of their incoming computer-based system of operation. Yikes. The CRIS-E training entailed being transported to a large, wholly unfamiliar metropolis, comp-ed for all living expenses, and housed in a very nice hotel for the duration. The program schedule was intolerant of tardiness, running from 8:00 A.M. until 7:00 PM daily. (I could have chosen an "8 hour day" course option, however, this meant staying an extra 3 days to complete the training.) By the time my assigned group was due to step to the plate, an alarming number of co-workers had 1. flunked out and abandoned the program and/or 2. returned prematurely from "the front" and promptly resigned. My trepidation grew exponentially. When my mandatory Training session inevitably came, I quickly realized that most of my fellow trainees were genuinely struggling with their new-found evening and weekend partying and drinking freedom versus the appreciable amount of self-discipline and assumption of personal responsibility, sans spouse/significant other back-up, required for successful completion of the program. Our trainers were tough and demanding - and the amount and complexity of the material they presented was daunting, to say the least. Prior experiences completing military and later law enforcement training boot camps rendered this situation, for me, rather akin to slipping on a pair of comfortable old shoes. That, however, was where any edge I had over my fellow trainees ended - and where that of my younger co-workers overtook my own. They feverishly began Day 1 chomping at the bit to boot up. I, on the other hand, sat in their midst staring at my blank-screened monitor, bathed in a cold sweat and already envisioning receiving a "You're a Complete Failure And By The Way, You're Fired, Kelly" notification included with my next paycheck. But, by gawd... I liked my job very much, I was good at it and wanted to continue being thus, and I therefore earnestly resolved to give this the old college try. And lo and behold... it worked. Except for an early-on, heart-palpitation-inducing "fatal error" episode (Good LORD! What sadistic techno-geek came UP with such a scary phrase, bleakly accompanying a massive string of ghost white 0's and 1's, all displayed against the horrifying backdrop of a dead black screen???!!! For techno-virginal, middle-aged hearts such as my own, the Instructor might just as well have yanked me out of my chair and screamed at the top of his lungs, "You killed our computer, you idiot!!!"), not only did I dive head first into the 21th Century... I reveled in it and excelled at it. Firmly ensconced in middle age and frightened as a church mouse, who'da thought it would be there I'd not only find my wings... but actually learn how to spread them and soar? From that point on, there was no looking back. I taught myself how to create my own web pages and grew increasingly more proficient at all things computer and Internet-related. I discovered the Internet and all of its attendant resources. Blogging... Hosting and Web Page Design... Global interaction in Real Time... Education and Research... Live Chat and Surfing... Writing.com - just to name a few. In my fifth decade, I fulfilled a life's dream by enrolling in and completing an Associate Degree in Nursing Program, utilizing the Internet to complete several of its mandatory courses... and to then embark upon pursuing an Associate's-to-Master's. Today I am 61 years old... and have learned that the sky remains the limit for this and all things. All you have to do is work hard, tenaciously persevere at any task worth undertaking, and believe. Adhere to that philosophy and not even the mightiest foe can take you down. |
| Like manna from Heaven, there are some gifts in life that nourish the soul in a manner that no material item ever could. Like manna, they are magical, miraculous, and sustenance for a hungering spirit, given just at the moment it anguishes most. The Review below that found it's way to my mailbox this morning is precisely such a gift. As the response to the Reviewer also recorded below indicates, such gifts are more rare and precious than any other known to the human heart... and finding the words to convey the lasting gratitude they invoke is a nearly impossible task to accomplish. But I believe memorializing them that others might share in their beauty is at least a step in the right direction; hence, this post: "Rhyming poetry is often overlooked in the freedom afforded by non-rhyming free verse and the often rampant use of poetic devices such as metaphors, personification, similes, and others- with no nod to meter or rhyme. As a poet, I have the utmost respect for the form that made Frost, Wordsworth, and even Poe legends - and a poet who can employ this age old medium well. Your poem was formed in the simplest structure - AABB - it didn't deviate and was a classic 4 line verse through-out. What gave this piece relevance was the message; it was not delivered with "run to the dictionary" erudite language - but vibrant emotion - equally as powerful when used well. You woke the heart, you caused the reader to empathize and feel and in the end - this is what great poetry achieves - whatever form or direction taken. This passage was especially lovely and poignant - Beloved babe, you saw me not, and yet I loved you so... throughout my life ~ across each thought ~ your tiny footprints go. From the moment I was told you slumbered deep inside, you drew me back into life's fold and would not be denied. This was a beautiful and skillfully rendered piece and I hope others who have suffered the loss of a child will read it for it's message and it's promise of hope. Much love and many blessings to you and yours Calli" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My response: "Calli, how could I ever truly thank you for your beautiful words? Believe it or not, they brought tears to my eyes, they honestly did. For someone to wholly embrace this poem as you did - from it's Frost-era structure to every nuance it was meant to convey - and distill it's very essence as you have so perfectly done - that, dear lady, is a miracle that has brightens and betters my life beyond measure. It was Megan Kathleen who set my pen to this type of poetry - hers, as a matter of fact, is the very first one I ever put to print and very the reason I joined Writing.com years ago. I knew that many modern readers view forms of poetry such as that of "The Empty Cradle" as old fashioned and outdated, but I'm 61 years old, and though there is a great deal of free verse poetry exemplified here at Writing.com and in most publications today, it was the rhyming, non-forced, gracefully flowing verses of Bronte, Frost, and their ilk with which I fell in love in youth - and remain enamored of even today. There are certain things in life, I believe, that are timeless and everlasting, and these painters of words' poetry has withstood the test of decades as shining examples. Megan Kathleen's memory - and that of all the tiniest angels with her - deserved as much of that beauty and timelessness as I could possibly give them, and "The Empty Cradle" was the result. Their gift, in return, was a peace I'd not known since losing her at last settling over my spirit. Your comments here - and the all-encompassing depth of understanding they convey - are a priceless gift to each and every one of them, and will forever share the deep and special place in my heart where Megan Kathleen nestles as long as I live on this earth. I can never thank you sufficiently for that, but know that I wish with all of my being I could. Have a beautiful day - and a life brimming with abiding peace, joy, serenity, and love.  ~ Kelly Long, "Of Fire Born". ...And one thing I forgot ~ you, dear Calli, are living proof that Angels truly do walk among us.
|
| Hiya, Hutch... I was up most of the night last evening, and, as is often true when the pain intrudes upon sleep, my thoughts carried me back through the mists of time to dear, bittersweet memories of you. And, just as they did upon hearing the horrifying news so many years ago... still, the hot tears come. I drop by O.D.M.P. often in remembrance of you, and just wanted you to know that regardless of how many years have passed, your loss is as keenly mourned as it was that terrible, bitterly cold day in February, 1976. I remember how Jack wept at recalling that day's events, how sickened we were that the gun used to take your life was found hidden in your killer's own infant's diaper bag... and how wrenchingly torn he was over having to protect your killer following his apprehension and transport to the Station to be booked. I always assured him, though, that you would have wanted it that way; you both were men of incredible honor and served accordingly. I know the two of you have met up again... in a much better world far beyond that we mortals inhabit. I'll always try to live out my life in such a way as to be able to see you both once more when my time to leave this earth arrives. Even though he did not have to face the death penalty, the man who stole you from us will still have God to face when all is said and done. For extinguishing such a pure, decent, valorous, and valued life, I'm certain he'll have an immensely high price to pay. You were ~ and will forever remain ~ a hero in its purest sense... a man whose life exemplified honor, dedication, humility, and immense character and inner strength. Friend, confidante, quiet hero, and one who inspired so many... you will never be forgotten, Hutch ~ not ever. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** " WARRIORS OF THE SHIELD " In the quiet of the night and by the light of day, these precious few take up the fight and march into in harm's way. It is these few ~ these warriors all ~ who side by side stand proud, sacrificing for the law the highest price avowed. They and others of their kind, by sworn allegiance pledged, soldiers each for justice blind and by its honor fledged ~ guarding well the no man's land all others fear to tread ... protecting us from evil's hand and to their calling wed. A call that bids them walk the line that marks the rocky ledge where fainting hearts, both yours and mine, are forced unto the edge. Policeman ~ Guardian ~ Sentry ~ Friend ... the vigilant watch they keep is that on which our lives depend, and grants us peaceful sleep. Were it not for such as they, who offer up their lives, who would keep us safe and free ~ who'd make this sacrifice? 'Tis they whose eyes behold all things most cannot bear to see ~ 'tis in their ears the echos ring of mankind's agony. Their hands are those when none else are that cradle at the last souls that evil's touch has marred and wrenched from worldly grasp. Their dedication holds at bay the evil that men do ~ their perseverance finds a way to cope and see them through. Theirs are the tears in private shed for suffering unseen ... their hearts cut deep and wholly bled by victims' tortured screams. Leave them not alone to fight the war that rages on ~ crime, abuse, chaotic blight ~ the battle must be won. Let not one drop of warriors' blood lie spilled for us in vain ~ let not these Warriors of the Shield be forced to know the pain of our indifference or neglect ~ let us instead revere and e'r regard with deep respect their watch o'er all held dear. May each and every warrior know the gratitude we feel ... God be with each and His love show ~ with might as that of steel. ~~~~~~~~~~~ ... Composed in memory of Patrolman Michael Raymond Hutchison of the Mansfield, Ohio Police Department, who the angels carried from the stark, wintry scene of a "Shooting-Officer Down" call into the warmth of Heaven's light and the waiting arms of God ~ a fallen hero whose name joins so many enshrined in The Final Roll Call. In Michael's name and everlasting memory, this poem is dedicated with tears and a grateful heart to every honest, caring, and dedicated man and woman of Law Enforcement throughout the world who, to keep us ever safe, daily risk their all. A heartfelt Thank You to you all ~ each and every one. To Visit The Officer Down Memorial Pages honoring all fallen law enforcement personnel, click on this link: http://www.odmp.org/ |
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