Why I Love On-Line Shopping

Is it the dream of a lazy shopper or a shrewd one? Call me lazy if you like, however, I shopped on Black Friday in my PJ’s while others were out elbowing little old ladies for the last 6AM special and spewing exhaust into our fragile atmosphere as they dashed hither and yon.

I did most of my shopping through Amazon. One stop shopping. Mostly free shipping and not giving out my credit card number all over the nation. Tracking of shipments is included, return procedure spelled out and recourse if something goes awry. Makes me happy. And, when I wrap, I don’t have to worry about price tags and stickers all over the item. No tags. WooHoo!

Yep, now everyday I wait for the USPS and UPS to bring me my goodies. A little Christmas most every day.

Thanks-Giving

Since I was so whiney the other day, it seems only fitting to post the Sunday before the day a tribute to Thanks – Giving.

I have been blessed in so many ways. I had the warmth and security of a home in my formative years and still have the same home to return to. I had and still have parents who love me and siblings who would admit they loved me if left on the rack long enough. My family was never rich, but my working class dad provided more than adequately for us and all three of us children graduated college with the minimum of a Bachelors degree. Mom cooked, shopped, cleaned and did laundry and rarely complained. She still does. I’m twenty-five years younger and sick to death of it. Not sure how she did it all those years. Our house was filled with laughter and music. Not a bad way to grow up.

In my own home, we’ve not been blessed with riches, but in many ways that is a blessing in itself. We are not slaves to jobs or things. There is great freedom in that. Freedom to appreciate the best things in life. A baby’s belly laugh. Inside jokes that make my daughter laugh so hard she snorts. Snow on the nose of a Labrador. The warmth of a thick afghan. Scents of apple pies, oatmeal bread, chocolate chip cookies. Kisses on the cheek from my ten-year-old boy and strong hugs from my college one. My daughter’s inverted wordings that send us into spasms. A cat curled in your lap as you read a good book.

I have been blessed with church family all my life. People who can drive me crazy, but are loyal and true. Like St. Bernards without the brandy or slobber.

I am blessed to have been born into a country where there are freedoms and opportunities denied so many.

And, I am blessed to be living on this beautiful planet with its rich colors, vibrant breezes, stunning landscapes and ever-changing wonder.

And that Charlie Brown is that Thanks-Giving is all about.

Post Birthday Blues

November 19… Nov. 19….. Nov. 19th ….

OK, perhaps an infantile obsession, but I always loved seeing my birthday in print. Loved being in school on my birthday so I could write November 19th on my papers and later as heading to notes. Even out in the real world, loved writing it on letters, checks, logs… I mean, it is just the coolest of days. :)

I just always loved my birthday. It was the day I was ‘special’.

Birthdays ROCKED!

So, it’s no surprise when I got married and later had kids, I went all out, even stressed out to make sure they had ‘special’ days. Birthdays are a big deal in our house. Everyone’s birthday but mine. And hence, the post birthday blues.

I know pity parties are attended by one, but, every year I’m left wondering - Where did I go wrong? I raised my kids to celebrate birthdays, theirs, their siblings, their father’s… Why then has it evolved to the point where no forethought is brought into mine?

It was always difficult when the kids were little. Self-absorbed alcoholics don’t plan well. Don’t get cakes when they don’t like cake, don’t decorate and don’t think about taking kids to the store to buy mom presents, at least before the day itself. Every year I spend time alone on my birthday while the rest of the family is bonding as they shop for me. So, this year when they were planning to shoot out to buy gifts, I told them to stay home instead. And instead of the cake someone was ‘gonna’ bake, just clean up the kitchen. It is what I wanted more. Unfortunately, the promised cleaning never happened.

The only thing I consistently receive on my birthday are apologies.

Perhaps in making everyone’s day ‘special’, I’ve orchestrated it so efficiently that no one realizes real caring and actual effort goes into process. It doesn’t just happen.

It makes me sad. But more importantly, I am concerned they will adopt more of their father’s style than mine in their interactions. Last year, my eldest was rather cavalier with his girlfriend’s birthday.

How do I make them understand that inconsiderations may be only little pinpricks, but they are wounds that hurt? And years of pinpricks leave one bruised and bleeding.

In Defense of Thanksgiving

I haven’t pontificated on my blog for a while now, been busy with things. Not sulking over election, promise. Just waiting for everything to get all better. *smile*

So, picking a topic, let’s go to how Thanksgiving seems to be the forgotten holiday. Well, not forgotten completely. We’re not going to forget to take the day off work and stuff our faces. But, more like bowled over. Jeeze, how pushy can the hurry of Christmas get?

Perhaps it isn’t like this in warmer climes, but up here in Ohio, many, take advantage of Indian Summer to put up their Christmas decorations. So, what we have in early November are houses at holiday war. One side will have a house with bright pumpkins and cornstalks on multi-colored, leaf strewn lawns while the other is bedecked with gigantic red and green balls, crimson bows, white wire deer and dazzling strings of lights. I have a hard enough time remembering what month it is without all this decoration confusion.

Christmas commercials begin directly after Halloween. Poor Thanksgiving doesn’t stand a chance. I mean how can it stand up to the advertising budgets of commercial America?

I think what really bugs me is a color things. I’m not done with the fall colors yet. It’s too early to usher in deep greens and reds in a backdrop of white. I love those colors, I love Christmas, but Autumn isn’t over yet! I’m not ready to let go of the oranges, rusty reds and multi-shades of tan. And looking from one to another messes with my equilibrium. Danger Will Robinson! Danger!

So, I’m stubbornly keeping my pumpkins and leaf garlands in the yard even though across the street holiday lights are blazing. Even if we have to hang Christmas lights in the finger numbing cold, not a string will be hung before Thanksgiving is over!!!

Clueless Joe

We've certainly had our fill of Joes this election. Joe six-pack, Joe the Plumber, Joe the Schmoe...



But, what is really bugging me is the Joe that speaks up every election season. The stupid Joe. The Joe who thinks the rich guys are all sticking it to them. All business owners are fat cats out to screw the regular guy. A guy who looks for someone in government to come along and redistribute the wealth. A red-blooded American with latent socialist beliefs.



From this you may deduce I was raised in a white collar home of privilege. Nope, couldn't be farther from the truth. I was raised in a Union home. Dad was, and I suppose still is UAW. My grandfather was UMW. I understand unions. I have benefited greatly from unions. Decent income for the family, good health coverage, car discounts, and great retirement benefits for my parents.



I would love for all of us to have this compensation package. Unfortunately, it was exactly these wages and benefits that drove jobs out of America. It was these unions that looked out for themselves and refused to see the bigger picture that doomed the economy. Of course, they didn't do it alone. Corporate greed definitely had their hands in the mess. But, that topic is adequately highlighted this election season.



Face it, we want to be paid top dollar, have great retirement and health benefits AND not pay a dime more for our goods and services.



Therein lies the rub. We can't have both. If workers get paid more, the costs will rise. And if costs rise in proportion to salaries, are we any better off than we were in the first place?



Sure some businesses could cut costs in their hierarchy to fund raises for Joe, however, over 52% of American jobs are provided by small business owners. These are frequently the people who take no time off, cover for workers when they are sick, do not give themselves raises, cannot afford health care for themselves but are expected to provide it for their employees and have invested their entire financial assets into their business. Their business goes under, Joe looks for another job, the owner is out not only a job, but also his or her life savings and their home.



We have raised our family on a frayed and often snapped shoestring. My husband worked over ten years in jobs where he was given no sick leave. You don't work, you don't get paid. It sucked. But it was a job. He also had his own company where any little profit that eked through went to paying our health care. I know what it is to pay that hefty bill every month.



But no where do I feel the government owes it to me to give me health care. Reform the system? Sure. Come up with a humane socialized health care that won't break the bank. I'm all ears. Investigate how insurance companies do their business, that would be congress doing their job.



But, when we are demanding 'our rights' at least be informed enough to know at what cost these benefits come.



For example. Obama is promising to cut the taxes of the middle class and still fund his programs by raising the taxes of business. My husband did some quick math. Our county has a population of 545,931. If every citizen was given a tax break or rebate of say $1,000, that would be $545,931,000. Let's cut it down. There are 217, 788 households making for $217,788,000 if $1,000 were given to each household.

We have over 12,000 businesses with 12 major employers. Assuming the twelve major employers would take on the brunt of this new tax, that would mean 18,149,000 in additional taxes. Additional. And did I mention three of these employers are non-profit tax exempt hospitals, one is a tax exempt city school district and another a tax exempt state university? That leaves one utility, four manufacturers with two in trade. Dividing the total between these seven employers that gives a additional tax burden of almost 31 million dollars. Who can absorb that and stay in business? And even if it could be done, how are they going to fund it? By passing it on to the consumer of course. Does the consumer ever win when business taxes are raised?



Interesting quote sam spade posted on the Southern Maryland on-line forum -

If a rich person wants more than he has - is it greed?

If a poor person wants more than he has - is it greed?



Really, isn't that the question in nutshell? I've been poor. Financially poor due to choices. We decided to have a parent raise our children and not daycare. It was a choice. Our choice. Why should the government bail us out for that? We live on one income. We've had to pay for health care. But through it all, there have been options available to change our situation. We just made choices to put the intangible needs of family first. Government already has in place generous tax breaks for people of low income and those raising children. Free lunch and breakfast for school age children. Food stamps, educational grants and so many other programs to give a leg up to those in the lower economic bracket.



So, this is one poor person saying, get real. We can't have some Utopian economic system where we all get great wages and benefits and costs remain low enough for all to take advantage of the endless bounty capitalism provides.



People who strive, work hard, invest their money, take the risks and suffer the sleepless nights should not be unduly punished for their ambition.



We need to get away from the 'they owe it to me' mentality. Joe, the rich do not owe you success. Government, quit trying to level the playing field with a track hoe. All you'll accomplish is digging a hole so deep that we will never get out.

My Platform

Looking at those photos this morning so upset me, I took a moment to write down my thoughts for what we as a society need to change, enlarge, add or amend.

1. Foster Care for women who choose to keep their baby but have no one to help them through the pregnancy, deliver and settling into parenthood.

2. Health care for the child and mother and prenatal care.

3. Job Training

4, Education so every mother can achieve at a minimum a GED.

5. Job Placement

6. Safe, loving daycare

7. Birth control education - graphic by high school –what is really involved in an abortion, in labor, in being a single parent, in being a father, in adoption.

8. Availability of birth control.I don't like handing it out to everyone, per se, many don’t need or want it yet. I do think it should be available with no questions asked. Better to never be pregnant in the first place than have to make weighty decisions later.

9. A backing off of the topic of sex in TV, movies and music. No, not legislated. But kids are inundated. Can we not write of something else? Things can be funny or dramatic without sex.

10. Protection of women, girls and children.This one is hard to express, but I feel passionate about it. Society used to protect its women. Men used to protect women. Fathers used to protect their daughters. Community used to protect their children.While we women don’t want to be put into some kind of box, the reality is we are prey. It does no good for the rabbit to say he is just as strong as the fox. He isn’t.Our daughters need to know that. There is nothing wrong with good men protection women. Or good women protecting other women. We need to do all we can to assure rapes don’t happen.

11. Self-defense, safety smarts.Girls and women need to learn to defend themselves. We also need to be aware of how predators work so we can guard against them.

12. Stiff penalties for rapists.I don’t know much about this. What would deter a rapist? Are they often able to be rehabilitated? Again, we need to do all we can to assure rape doesn’t happen.

13. Safe places for girls and women to report fears, to ask questions, to find birth control.
Hot lines and centers that aren’t affiliated with pro-abortion or anti-abortion places.

Feel free to add your own ideas.

I have this sense what we need to do is stop looking to government to cure our problems. That these programs might be more efficient if run outside the government. Perhaps funded by grants, not an actual budget item.

I have this old fashioned notion that a great deal of our modern ills come from having moved off the front porch. When people know their neighbors, they can look out for each other. Help when needed. So often now we look to government to be the safety net instead of neighbors or community. I don’t think government makes the best safety net.I think people fall through the cracks because government is so big we assume there must be some program to help them. After all we pay enough in taxes.

OK, shoot the soap box out from under me. Just don’t shoot me. :)

I Don't Understand Why

I don't understand why this is an atrocity

And This is a Choice

I Love Christmas Music

I have been listening to Christmas music. Have been for some time now. I think I began about the time the political ads became a cancer on the airwaves.

There is much that is soothing in listing to the melodies of childhood, for I do not listen to modern carols. No, I plug into the great artists who graced the Goodyear and Firestone albums each year. Bing, Frank, Julie, Andy, Lennon Sisters, Johnny Mathis, Robert Goulet, Steve and Edie, New Christy Minstrels and so many more.

For those of you not from Northeast Ohio, back in the late 60’s to early 70’s, the rubber giants of Akron sold Christmas albums each year in the grocery stores, or somewhere highly available. I was just a tot at the time. Goodyear’s were the best. It was to those albums we baked cookies, decorated the house, checked strings of lights and trimmed the tree. We had a state of the art stereo in a cabinet of pecan finish. Mom will correct me if I have it wrong. There was a compartment for the albums, a turntable where we stacked those precious LP’s and best of all, a red power light in the fabric that covered the speakers. It was this light that fascinated me as a child. It was just like Rudolph’s nose. I remember spending what seemed to be hours fascinated by it.

There was a sliding glass door from which we could watch the snow. A blonde oak piano where mom played carols and Christmas tunes from beautifully decorative sheet music old enough to have been sold for a nickel. Christmas choral and band concerts to perform and attend. Traditions of opening one gift before going to sunrise Church service and the yearly new dress. Memorizing the Christmas story from the second chapter of Luke. The pageants of shepherds in burlap, angel wings of cardboard trimmed with bright silver garland, halos of coat hangers, wisemen’s beards of cotton kept fast with rubber string. Opening gifts Christmas morning and then packing the station wagon to go back to the hills of Pennsylvania to spend the week with the grandparents. A farm still beloved and a house in a little coal mining town that still haunts my dreams.

All this and so much more comes flooding back when I click on Live365. A much better place to spend a few hours than in the midst of a presidential campaign.

Colin Powel Endorses Obama

A surprise, and yet not a surprise that Colin Powel has come out on the side of Obama.

And it is a great relief.

Colin Powel is the one and only man in politics for which I have respect. If he, from his insider position, has examined the facts and feels Obama is the better man for the job, then I heave a great sigh of relief.

I can’t wait until this election is over and we can move on. I hate party politics for the way they focus on the negative and divide our nation.

One thing I have resolved is I am going to be a more active citizen. I will correspond with my elected officials on issues that matter to me. I will think of innovative ways of addressing issues and offer those suggestions. Hopefully, my elected officials will appreciate input. Why should all the ideas come from inside government?

For example, one thing that has been milling around in my brain is foster care for expectant mothers. Young women who choose to keep their baby, but do not have the home support they need could be placed in a foster home with people who will help her with prenatal care, preparing for her child, finances, getting prepared to take care of a child and be a single mother. It is a responsibility I would take on.

But, more on that later.

I hope if Obama is elected, and it appears he will be, Colin Powel will be part of his government.

Teachers Go Too Far

I read this today in an article by Thomas Sowell.

– “The arrogance of third parties, who take it upon themselves to treat other people's children as a captive audience to brainwash with politically correct notions, while taking no responsibility for the consequences to those children or society, is part of the general vision of the left that pervades our education system.”

As a parent, this is exactly how I have felt on numerous occasions. My ten-year-old’s teachers have been filling his head with pro-Democratic rhetoric for the last two years. Teachers I admire as well as teachers I dislike have been abusing their power to indoctrinate impressionable minds into their ideology. This is an abuse of power of the most reprehensible kind. Teachers do hold our children captive in their classrooms. In this state regulated setting, it is not their place to foster their ideals upon our children. They were hired to teach state approved subject matter, not share their beliefs or voting preferences.

If, and I do emphasize if, politics are to be discussed in the classroom, then it needs to be done fairly and in depth. Which opens up an entire cannery of worms. For example, can we really discuss the beliefs of the two parties without bring up abortion? It is a pivotal point.

Last night as we watched the debate, it kept niggling at me that my son was an Obama supporter based upon what his teachers had told him. Should I allow him to remain in the bliss of ignorance or should he be indoctrinated into the real world.

I decided to take the plunge.

I explained what abortion was. This little boy loves babies and the knowledge that people are free to kill them did not sit well with him. I explained many pro-choice advocates do not believe life begins until birth and so do not look upon it as murder. He didn’t buy it.

I hated to have to do that, but I feel his teachers backed me into that corner. It would be wrong for him to continue to believe all about the Obama campaign is sunshine and roses. It isn’t. Not by a long shot.

Some may say that now I am the one who is unduly influencing this child. Perhaps, but he is my child and as his parent, it is not only my right, but more importantly my responsibility to raise him in the beliefs as I see fit. If knowing the whole truth, or as wholly as we can ever achieve, he still decides to believe in Obama, then that is his choice. What I resent are teachers who present only the utopian image.

And, while I am on the subject. This greatly disturbs me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVn59TC2QqM&NR=1

My Muslim faith? I have a great deal of difficulty believing this was just a slip of the tongue. Of course it is possible, however, as a life-long Christian I cannot image ever making that slip. Somethings your subconscious protects you from.

If the man is a Muslim, fine. But don’t hide behind the cross just to get elected.

How to Be a Grasshopper in a World of Ants

I was born a grasshopper in a family of ants. In my family, it’s all about what you do. Never what do you think or feel or believe, no, it’s all about what did you do.

The fable is a familiar one. The grasshopper sings and plays away the summer while the ant works, works and works. Then come winter, the grasshopper freezes its wings off while the ant basks in the warmth of its cozy home eating melted tootsie pops on pretzel crumbs.

I always knew I was the grasshopper and my siblings the ants. I knew I needed to change or come winter they’d slam the door in my face with all the snugness of a thousand ‘I told you so’s’. It’s a battle I’ve been fighting all my life. Then suddenly today the truth dawned on me in all its simplicity.

How can a grasshopper ever be an ant?

Why can’t I just embrace the fact that I am a grasshopper?

In the newer ‘softer and gentler’ version of the story, the ants realize this truth. They take the grasshopper in out of the snow. In return, all through the long cold months of winter, the grasshopper entertains them.

The German Anabaptist ancestral DNA in me screams out to disregard this perversion of Aesop’s moral. Life is all about the work. Don’t allow a clueless culture to convince you otherwise. To be is to do. Dobedobedo.

So, winter is coming. To shut my ancestors up, I suppose I’ll get away from this computer and go do something.

I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do, I do I do….

OK, maybe I don’t really, but it is an intriguing subject. We’ve been getting into watching Paranormal State (A&E, 10pm Mondays). There are definitely more things under heaven and earth than I can explain.

So, who believes in things that go bump in the night? Anyone care to share?

A few weeks ago as we were watching a particularly disturbing Paranormal State, the lights inexplicably went out. Poof, just like that. The light was off at the switch. Of course I explained it away to the kids. The switch must not have been on all the way and it just popped off. However, in 20 years in this house, that has never before happened. Then, the next day a different light was on when I came home that I swore I hadn’t turned on….
dododododododododododododooooooooooo….

To add to the mix, I told my dad the story. He was intrigued and kept teasing my about my spooks. Until… a few days later. Now he’s telling me to take my spooks home with me. In the dead of night a banjo that had sat in the corner of his bedroom for over twenty years inexplicably crashed to the floor. His radio turns on for no reason and the microwave won’t shut off….
dododododododododododododooooooooooo….

So, that got me thinking of my ‘paranormal’ experiences. My grandmother died when I was ten. The night before, in a room full of laughing family, I suddenly knew she was going to die. Then a few days later I was alone in the house and I sensed her presence. I was certain if I stayed where I was, I would see her. Of course I did what any ten-year-old would do, I ran.

My other grandparent’s house was always an unsettling place. Resting between tree clad hills, daylight came late and sundown early. And, my grandparents didn’t believe in any extra lighting. It is an older house, the house of my grandmother’s parents, a bit worse for wear from the damp and coal dust. A place made spookier by grandma’s superstitions. She knew the charms and incantations for getting rid of sickness or warts. Probably passed down by some Scottish granny. But be it the physical properties or the unconventional doctoring, there was just something unsettling about that house. My father told me of how he’d be reading at night and the hairs on the back of his neck would rise, as if he was being watched. The blinds in the back bedroom would fly up for no apparent reason. That room always got to me. If I had to sleep in it alone, I left the light on. Even into my twenties. Later my cousin’s child woke crying, saying he’d seen a face. I certainly didn’t disparage their claim.

Then in my early twenties, my friend and I were housesitting for her sister. Her bedroom was at the top of the stairs, mine all the way down the hall. After we went to bed, I heard her come down the hall and stop in front of my door. I waited for her to knock or come in, but she didn’t. In the morning, she asked me what I wanted in the night. She had heard the same footsteps.

Later that summer a friend of ours left the bar drunk, went left of center and slammed into an oncoming semi. I might have been the last person to see him alive. The night of his funeral we were housesitting again. I sensed his presence so strongly at that house that I knew if I opened the patio curtains, he would be standing there, lost in the darkness, forever separated from humankind.

So, those are my stories. Halloween a little early. What are yours?

Is Kindness a Thing of the Past?

Whether it’s the Wall Street fiasco or the fracas that is an election year, I’m done. Add to the mix three teenagers and a neighbor who finally succeeded in chopping the tops out of my trees on this his fourth covert attempt, and you get one sick to death of it all, worn out by the selfishness that is mankind, bag of bones.

What ever happened to simple kindness? Courtesy? Compassion? Is it so rare that when it does happen it makes the evening news?

Fed up, sick to death, becoming a recluse and moving to Montana.

Journal of an Undecided Voter: Vol. Three

Well McCain came out of left field for me with his VP choice. My first response was, whoa, not another young candidate in the mix with no experience. Then I watched her speech in Dayton and whoa turned to Wow. I LIKE her. Really, really like her.

So, just when I thought I’d gotten the parameters laid out, in comes the dark horse from Alaska. She’s got all the reform and non-partisan ideals I love. A maverick with no obligations to Washington, lobbyist and good old boys.

But, can she run a country? It’s a long way from Alaskan hockey mom to Chief Executive of the most powerful nation in the world. I know in an earlier entry I expounded upon the limitations of a VP in an administration, but with McCain being 72 years old, the possibility of Palin being handed the reins are probably already calculated by Vegas odds makers.

****

That was written last week. She’s certainly taken some hard shots since then. One of the strangest comments I heard was she better not let her hair down or she will be too sexy for male voters. Hillary never had that problem. Nor Geraldine Ferraro and definitely not Margaret Thatcher. Guess she better keep that hair up and glasses on. Wouldn’t do to have an attractive woman with political power.

The worst thing about Palin is that next to her, McCain looks like pathetic white stuffed sock puppet whose movements are controlled by a puppet master’s stick.

Journal of an Undecided Voter Vol. Two

The Democratic Convention is well underway, and no I’m not watching it. Party politics disgust me, rhetoric is nauseating and analysts make me want to shoot the TV. I watch politicians enough to get a feel of their character from body language and unscripted exchanges. Beyond that, they might as well have a bubble above their heads saying – blah, blah, blah.

I’ve been reading some strong comments in condemnation or defense of both candidates. Sways me this way and that, but still no decision.

As to what I wrote about the names, just a little quirk in a Dr Who kind of way. Bad Wolf and all. A name won’t influence my vote in any way. Being a POW does add to the pot. Who better to know the horrors of war than one who’s been there? But it’s just a piece.

Now as to the prevalent Democratic battle cry that McCain would be four more years of Bush. I’m not sold that is the truth. I’ve never seen McCain as the same kind of candidate as George W. other than they are both Republicans. What’s he supposed to say - yeah Bush sucks? That’s not how party politics work. He’s not going to bash the outgoing party man any more than Al Gore was going to say – yeah Clinton’s a skirt chasing whoremonger but I’ll bring dignity back to the Oval Office. The incumbent party candidate’s tongue is tied when it comes to addressing the last four or eight years. Another reason I wish we’d do away with parties all together.

What I do like about this election is the involvement of the populous. Something some people want to attribute to Obama. Horse hockey. There’s a generation out there who has decided to take things into their own hands and that greatly encourages me. They turned out last election because they didn’t like the way things were going. Democracy in action. For when all is said and done, politicians are supposed to be working for us. When millions of voters start caring and paying attention to what’s going on, things change.

So, I am still concerned Obama’s not experienced enough and will try and give the sun moon and stars with no way to pay for it. I am concerned McCain is too old, too entrenched in Republican politics and too dug into Iraq.

Iraq, my feelings…. I want the hell out. Here’s what has bothered me from the start. Everyone knew our reasons for going in were false. The position Bush put Colin Powell in is inexcusable. My belief is this was more of a continuation of a family vendetta than national defense. George Sr. didn’t get Sadam so George W. finished the job. Was he a despot? Or course, but I don’t see us rushing into African nations where people are oppressed and starving to death. But, then, they don’t have oil.

The other thing that has bothered me is the mentality of the region. I don’t believe they want peace. If peace isn’t wanted, all the peacekeepers in the world won’t bring it.

But, there are the economics. We do need oil. We are hooked like an addict on heroin. What if we had changed our ways back in the 70’s when oil prices skyrocketed? Instead we went from Gremlins to Hummers. Stupid, lazy, gluttonous Americans that we are. So here we are. What if we hadn’t been pouring billions of dollars into the region purchasing oil for the last thirty years? Would we even have the terrorist issues? Would they have the funding? Would they have an incentive?

My feelings are we can’t get independent from that region fast enough. If we don’t need them, aren’t in their homelands, aren’t pouring billions of dollars in…. What would foreign policy look like? Oil has dictated our foreign policy for far too long.

I want to be independent from foreign oil. I want to be independent from the world. I want to know we could close our borders and take care of ourselves. I do believe it is time we spent more time looking inward.

Journal of an Undecided Voter - Vol. One

This will be the first entry in my journal of an Undecided Voter. I really have no idea which candidate I will choose come November. When the political surveyors call, I honestly tell them I am completely undecided. Were the election held today, they ask, who would you vote for. I don’t know, I answer. If you assigned a particular candidate a percentage of possibility, what would it be? Fifty percent, I answer, much to their consternation. But, I digress.

So, here’s what's on this undecided voter’s mind – Obama’s choice of running mate. When I read he had finally announced, I went to the most impartial source I knew for information, BBC news. Sideline – if anyone knows of a reason not to view this source as impartial, please enlighten me.

Joe Biden. Interesting on so many levels. Not one of which makes me feel better about Obama as a candidate. I agree it is an admission of his inexperience. Admitting he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the foreign policy arena. Admitting he doesn’t appeal to the most basic sector of the population.

And exactly how is this good old boy, this Washington insider going to aid Obama’s campaign for change? Biden is supposed to help woo the blue-collar vote. But, aren’t we to be voting for President, not the package? I know that’s the way it’s done in politics, but when all is said and done, the signature that matters won't be Biden’s. What guarantee is there that Biden will have any input at all?

And does anyone else see the terroristlike names? Osama Bin Lauden? Bin Lauden – Biden? Barack Hussein Obama? Osama – Obama? Sadam Hussein – Hussein. Ok, Ok, I know they are just names, but still, feels a little weird in the mystic or sci-fi kind of way.

But what disturbs me the most in the selection is what I’ll call the Cheney Syndrome. The inclusion of a pseudo-elected character in the power pool. Face it; we let Cheney get away with a lot of things solely because he wasn’t the President. He acted under the radar. Acted with as much power and authority as the President. I don’t want to get into that scenario again. If a candidate cannot get elected on his/her own merits, they he/she shouldn’t be president.

Joe Biden as a cabinet member may be a great choice, as a VP it causes me great concern. Just who will be running the government? Cheney- Bush (funny how his name came to mind first) at least stood on the same platform. Will Obama-Biden use a bi-level platform, a split stage, individual soapboxes?

I don’t know, it just doesn’t gel for me.

Where Has All the Summer Gone?

The summer is winding down. One more week to do all those things that have been put off. Or, one week to prepare for what is to come.

My youngest is sleeping in a tent out back with thee of his eleven-year-old friends. A very belated birthday party. Then again, he couldn’t be sleeping out if it were December. Last night the yard was littered with pop cans and bodies slain with dollar store foam swords, later to be resurrected into Ninjas or doomed to be Zombies.

Friday we will move our oldest into his dorm. All six of us. Our loaded down van with his brother and sisters will descend upon Mount Union College and move John-Boy into this next phase of life.

The girls are ready to go back to school, to be amongst their friends. But, as happens every year, the cry of ‘where did the summer go?’ echoes with the cicadas. We never made time for those camping trips I’d planned back in May. To go to Kennywood, Lake Erie or even the zoo. So much time spent doing – what? Reading. The kids do spend a great deal of summer time reading. Swimming, though never often enough for my ten-year-old. But too much sitting. At the TV, at the computer. Is it the schedule that creates these void zones? The minutes stuck in-between baseball, play practice, marching band, jobs, church and all the other things that fill pieces of the days?

Will I ever learn to manage those moments effectively? To not be in perpetual limbo? Perhaps, and then again, perhaps not.

Regardless, summer ends this week. Oh, we have the reprieve of Labor Day weekend. Those three days to do at least one of the things you’ve been meaning to do all summer. We really have to get our heads together and decide what it will be.

Eris is Alive and Well

Eris, the Greek personification of discord, survives into the modern world. Not only survives, but is alive and well and wreaking her havoc along highways and byways and high school support groups. Why do some have a pathetic, desperate craving for dissension?

According to tales of old, Eris when barred from a wedding due to her meddling ways, crashed the party and tossed out the apple of discord. The eventual result was the Trojan war. How may apples are still being tossed by suburban Enis’? Bushels full it appears.

Not only does Eris, bring her evils to the party, she brings along her children, the personifications of Quarrels, Lies, Disputes, False Oaths, Pain & Sorrow, Fighting, Battles, Famine, Forgetfulness, Labor, Lawlesness, Ruin, Manslaughter and Murder.

Oh, Eris you favorite of evil, you thrive today. Your spirit infests schools, boardrooms, churches and anywhere people capitulate to the necesitude of creating drama for their own twisted purposes.

I’m beginning to believe one of the greatest blessings art can bring into our lives is the satiation of the ugly human desire for drama. When confronted with a modern Eris, I want to tell them to go read a book, watch a movie or even a soap opera. To quench their requisite desire to embody that woeful goddess by observing others tossing their apples of strife into parties fictional. Fictional beings who cannot be hurt by the results, for though they may live in pages of books or TV screens, the drama of their lives end with the closing chapter or scrolling of credits.

Remembering Mary

On July 10, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, my Aunt Mary died.

I'd like to take a moment and publicly thank God for her life.

Mary was born in 1938 with Cerebral Palsy.
Her parents were told she would never live long past childhood.
She was 70 when her body finally gave out.
Mary couldn't walk, but as a child she crawled across a farmyard to be where her siblings were. Later she used crutches and finally a wheelchair.
She never progressed past the understanding of an older child and yet she knew all about the people and happenings of her world.
Mary never, ever complained. Of the pain. Or that she couldn't do what others did. She did what she could. Beautiful embroidery. Ironing. Drying dishes.
God granted her family's most fervent desire that she never have to be hospitalized or institutionalized.
She died peacefully in her sleep. In her home, with those who loved her silently slumbering around her.
God is faithful. God is good. Blessed be the name of the Lord

In the hours after Mary’s death, I found myself thinking of one of my favorite books, A Christmas Carol.
“I see a vacant seat in the poor chimney corner and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved.”
There is an empty blue chair in the living room. At every meal, one place less will be set. Her crutches, worn from use and delegated to a cobbywebby cubby hole will be carefully preserved.

Dickens quoted: “He took a child and set him in the midst of them.”
Mary was no longer a child when she died, and yet God had blessed her with a childlike spirit.
She found joy in simple things.
She was curious about everything.
And she loved to laugh.

Tiny Tim was
“very light to carry and his father loved him so much that it was no trouble, no trouble at all.”

Mary needed some degree of care all of her life. But for those who cared for her, I believe all will say it was no trouble, no trouble at all.
Mary wasn’t a burden to those who loved her.
Mary never complained about her pain or about not being able to what others did.
She not only was patient in affliction, I don’t think she thought of herself as afflicted.
For those who cared for her, I am sure there were times they wearied of the task. But Mary always did all she could for herself, never demanded and never complained.

Bob Cratchit said of Tiny Tim – “When we recollect how patient and mild he was we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves and forget Tiny Tim in doing it.”
A common admonishment when we were kids was – quit bickering, you’ll upset Mary!
Mom said it many times to Cindy, Wayne and I.
I’ve said it to my kids.
And I’m guessing Grandma and Grandpap said it to Lila, Harry, Mom and Bob.
For three generations, Mary’s inadvertently been a peacemaker.

Mary could get annoyed, angry or frustrated. But those moods never lasted long. She didn't sulk or hold grudges.

One thing Mary definitely was was determined. Mom tells that when she was a child, Mary wasn’t content sitting in the house. She wanted to be where the other kids were. Mary would make her way out of the house and crawl not only across the lawn, but across the road to get to the barn. And this wasn’t some nicely paved piece of asphalt, it was a country road made of rock and cinder with cars whizzing past. My Grandmother lived in mortal dread that Mary would get killed on that road, but nothing would keep Mary down.

Now Mary runs with the angels. After her death, I had a moment when all stopped. I felt I was witnessing from afar the moment when Mary was finally able to run and hug her parents.

It is hard for me to imagine who Mary is now that she has been made perfect. It is more than a healing of physical infirmities. It is also a completion of her mind. It makes me feel a bit shy to think of meeting her again. She won't be as we knew her. She will be a stranger. I know in heaven emotional distance will no longer exist, and yet, I cannot grasp the change. I expect to ponder it for many a year until I meet her again. By then, perhaps I will have gained some understanding.

Youth Mission Trips - Stirring the Pot

Well, today I did it again. Yep, brought up something to stir the pot a bit. Not something I really like doing, but can't seem to stay away from.

The subject of the day is Youth Mission Trips. A dicey practice to question. Who can find fault with kids doing good? Right?

Well...

The work accomplished is applaudable. The bonding irreplaceable. The spirit of caring invoked commendable.

Why then does some of it jar just a bit?

In part, I cannot fathom why funds are raised to send kids halfway around the country to do work for folks when other churches are sending groups right into our own neighborhoods.

I suppose it is a bit the 'vacation' aspects of the trips that grates. The need to travel to far off destinations. Did Ohioans really need to go all the way to South Carolina? Or did it have just something to do with the beach being in close proximity? Were they really experiencing a different culture that travel might justify?

Then there is the perceived need to offer a carrot to tempt the kids to participate. For our groups it's been a trip to an amusement park as part of the package. Is it really ethical to raise funds for a mission trip when part of those monies are going to pay for a day at the park?

And more importantly, aren't we selling our kids short when we assume they won't participate unless there is something in it for them? Are they really that shallow? I don't think so. Sure, if offered a day at an amusement park, most aren't going to turn it down. But, to decide they wouldn't participate unless given a reward is, I believe, selling them short. I happen to believe that they are that dedicated to helping others and that they would do it even if there were no earthly compensation. Being a Christian group, isn't that exactly what we should be teaching and modeling? Helping others even when it means there is absolutely nothing in it for them?

I am getting a little more than tired of the perpetuating of the spoiled child syndrome. We adults complain about kids being self-centered and yet, who made them that way? We did. Often we expect too little of them. Praise too much when they do what is expected. Why should they feel the need to climb to a higher level?

And yet, so many do, despite the adults and to their amazement. Again, selling our kids short. Assuming, if given the choice, they would chose the lazy path.

Why do we limit our kids that way? Is it because we assume they will act in the outside world as they do at home? A logical conclusion. But unfair. Do we act the same at home as we do in the outside world? I doubt it. Most of us have 'company manners'.

So to wrap up this lengthy diatribe, I wish we would cease to sell our kids short. Expect the best and not be surprised when they deliver.

Hey Good Lookin' What'cha Got Cookin'

For a while now, I have been consumed with thoughts of 'SUPPER'. What to make, how to fit it into the evening never all at home schedule, when to begin, when to prepare, when to cook, what to buy. It's been like trying to balance a three ringed circus on a spoon.

Then the other day I had a flash of mommy brilliance. You know those moments of 'so obvious' that come along all too infrequently. I delegated to my kids. Each would be responsible for one night a week. Placing ingredients on the shopping list, preparation, serving, clean-up. What an idiot I've been. They need responsibility, they need to learn to cook and I need released from the prison of supper seven nights a week. My ten year old likes creative cooking, the girls do OK and the oldest needs to learn. My oldest can drive and I believe some kid shopping trips loom upon the horizion.

Of course, I'm hardly free of everything. I will have to organize, teach, prod... But at least some of it gets shifted and I can break out of some of the monotony. Yeah Me!

Back Home Again

Tonight, all will be back home again. The boys came back from their weekend trip to baseball mecca last night. I came home from visiting family and friends in Pennsylvania this morning and the girls are, as I type, flying somwhere over Georgia. Luckily with a much shorter layover in Atlanta this time.

So tonight, for one of the few times this summer, all will be laying their heads upon their own pillows. For the next two weeks, until summer camp begins, all will slumber under our roof.

Then, on August 22, it changes forever. My oldest will leave us for college. Four years of incubation and transition until he is launched upon the outside world. I wonder if he comprehends this transition is as difficult on us as it is on him.

Free Hug Campaign

What an awesome concept! Make a sign and connect with the world.
http://www.transformationteam.net/video/free_hugs_campaign.php

How beautiful, how natural, how freeing, how unsurpirising it was banned.

When I watched the video, my first thought was - I want a hug! My second was, what a set up for a pickpocket. Or a groper. I asked myself, though I would hold a sign and give and take hugs, would I let my daughters do it?

Sigh... I am so grateful so many looked past the caution of what might be wrong with the senerio and forged ahead with all that is good. And, I vow to be more like that.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Yesterday my two daughters (15 & 13) boarded a plane to fly to Florida, all alone. The sensation of watching that jet speed down the runway and take flight with my babies on board is beyond definition. To see that huge machine grow smaller and smaller, knowing my sweet daughters were somewhere inside seemed a breech of physics. They couldn't possibly grow so small as to disappear from my sight. A hundered pounds, plus and minus, of flesh and blood doesn't vanish into the blue sky. It isn't possible.

At the point where the plane was still visable, I experienced such a sense of helplessness. If they had driven off in a car, I could follow. But where they were was completely beyond my reach. No car could take me there, no ladder so high as to climb to them. I could see where they were, but I couldn't reach them.

Beyond my reach. Children beyond a parent's reach. The definition of heartache? Perhaps I have too many children beyond my reach at this moment. A son tearing away maternal bonds as he prepares to enter college in the fall. Another son living so in his own mind unexpected actions knock me off my pins. Daughters disappearing into the blue.

Leaving on a Jet Plane. Keyword - leaving....
(Just realized I quoted another JD song)

OK, Let's Try This Again

Once again, I am attempting to delve into the wonderful world of blog. Past attempts have failed due to tech difficulties, lack of readership or lack of interest on my part. But, in attempt to adhere to the BIC method of writing, (butt in chair) I solemnly swear to add a blog daily. (Left hand up, hand over heart, all fingers crossed) Yeah right. But if someone promises to read, I'll see what I can do about writing.....