Cuddled behind a dumpster, little Sara watched and waited to see if the big man would keep searching for her. He kicked a few garbage cans over, threw a couple broken bottles against the faded red brick walls of the alley and yelled out “Come here you little brat, if I get my hands on you….”. But Sara stayed crouched in her little hiding place safe and secure from this mammoth man of evil. Tears rolled down her cheeks like the rain off a tin roof. She held the sleeve of her coat to her mouth to muffle any involuntary sounds she might make. The man soon cussing and yelling continued down the alley until he could be heard no more. Shaking and cold, Sara slowly stepped out from her wall of hope and starred hopelessly down the dark abyss where the man disappeared. Clutching a little worn out book in her hand she spoke softly “Mister Jesus, I am so afraid. What do I do now Mister Jesus?” She slowly walked up the alley toward a small building with a cross painted on the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned it gently hoping against hope that it would open. She did not know what the place was but she thought she could wait inside for a few minutes and get out of the cold if only for a little while. The doorknob turned and the door opened. Inside this door was a large room full of wooden benches with a tall table in front. There was a rather primitive wooden crossed tacked to the front of the table.
Sara had spent all of her life in a state orphanage run by Mr. Muncey, the big man now chasing her. She had never been to church but one day, on a Christmas Eve, there was a small group of people that came to her orphanage and gave all the kids candy and a toy. One of the people Sara remembered was named Rebecca and she read a story that has been in Sara’s mind for nearly three years now. It was the story of another little child named Jesus that was born in a manger. Sara had remembered that story and told it to herself over and over again. Nice Miss Rebecca gave Sara another little gift that that day Sara cherished very much. It was the little book that Sara now clutched in her hand, the little worn bible she now protected and talked to. She could not read very well yet but she tried so hard to understand all the words in the little book.
One page she had marked and she read it over and over again. “ For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Mr. Muncey had tried to take her little book many times but something always got in the way. Once he reached over and grabbed it and was going to throw it in the furnace when all the lights went out and he had to go get candles. By the time he got the circuit breaker back on he had forgotten about Sara’s little book and she grabbed it back up and hid it under her mat. Mr. Muncey was a mean man that beat the children for very little reason. Each year at this time there would be gifts brought to the orphanage for the children but as soon as the good people would leave Mr. Muncey would collect all the gifts and go sell them at the local flea market. Mr. Muncey would tell the children that he was doing it for their own good. He would say that there are no free rides in life and that they had better get used to it.
Up on the wall Sara saw a picture of a kind man with long hair and a beard. She did not know why but she somehow felt safe here. The floor was of hard wood, just as hard as the benches but Sara thought she would just stay here for the night. She crawled up one of the front benches and curled up the best that she could. Her long brown hair made a nice scarf around her neck and she pulled her legs up into her coat as much as possible to keep them from going numb. Her breathe was like smoke as she tried to stay warm. “Mr. Jesus, I need you” she mumbled as she drifted into a light sleep. After lying there a few minutes the smoke from her breathe disappeared as the room began to warm up. She felt much more comfortable now and relaxed somewhat on the bench. As her sleep started to deepen she was awakened with a loud pound on the door. “Sara…Sara you little runt I will rip the hide from your back” the voice shouted. Sara sat up and again started shaking. The door began to rattle and move as the voice on the other side began to rant and rave and pound. She could tell the door was beginning to crack as Mr. Muncey kicked at it with all his might. The room began to get brighter and glow and Sara for a moment forgot of the rage behind the door. Suddenly all around the room were very tall people. Their clothes were bright white and some even had wings like eagles on their backs. Two of them stood together at the door side by side. These two were much larger than the others and held large shining swords in their hands.
A gentle hand touched Sara on the shoulder from behind and as she turned there was the man in the picture. ‘Its ok Sara, I am here with you and will not leave you. I need you too Sara” the gentle voice said. She looked up into the face of the man when she was startled by the cracking sound of wood. She turned quickly to face the door as the facing around it shattered into the air. With one mighty kick Mr. Muncey blew the door open. “Alright you little wretch, I promised you a beaten and I am a man of my word” he scowled. His eyes quickly fixed on the two angelic beings in his path and he dropped the board he had in his hand. “What the….hey who are you…what are you?’ he staggered backwards a step or two and then the anger raged within him again. “Get out of the way you freaks, I’m going to bust me a butt” he screamed. The two beings moved forward, one of the swords lifted upward and lunged forward striking Mr. Muncey straight into the heart. There was no blood but Mr. Muncey grabbed his chest and fell to his knees. Sara saw behind him blue flashing lights and two police officers rushed into through the door with guns drawn. They grabbed Mr. Muncey and placed hand cuffs on him. The pastor of the little church came in right behind the officers. One of the officers thanked the pastor for calling them from the church. The 911 call helped them trace the call straight to the church so they were able to get there fast. They said if they had not gotten there when they did, they feared Mr. Muncey would have killed the little girl. Pastor Larken stood there rather dazed for a moment and then spoke in a shakey voice. Officer, I just got here and I did not call you… besides we don’t have a phone here at the church. Little Sara looked back at the picture on the wall and softly whispered “thank you Mister Jesus”.
Written by Terry Lee Richardson
Copyright © December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The Empty Manger
With Christmas just around the corner I thought I would share a little Christmas story I started writing a few years ago and just finished tweeking. I hope you enjoy it. Its a Christian version of "Its a Wonderful Life". Let me know what you think. MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Terry
Charlie walked slowly down the roadside kicking loose stones, and humming Christmas Carols he had heard since he was a boy. “Here comes Santa Clause here comes Santa Clause right down Santa Clause lane” he sang. As he walk he stared up at the flickering ornamental lights on the houses, Santa Clause and his eight tiny reindeer, snowmen with their magical top hats, elves and Christmas trees could be seen through the new snow flakes as they lightly fell. What a wonderful night to be walking around his neighborhood on a chilly Christmas Eve. Soon Charlie would go home to his wife and put the toys around the Christmas tree for his son Shaune and daughter Cindy to find in the morning. Charlie inhaled deeply of the smell of oak firewood burning in the fireplaces. As he watched the smoke from the cold flow out into the night air Charlie yelled out “ Now this is the true meaning of Christmas” as he twirled in circles. Suddenly the lights all went out and the snows stopped falling.
Charlie stood quietly somewhat shocked, hearing a sound behind him he spun around. In front of him stood a tall man dressed in a white suit with golden hair and a fluorescent kind of glow about him. “Charles, do you think that this is all that Christmas is?” the stranger asked. “I think that this is the reason we celebrate and not all that 2000 year old Christian fairy tale stuff” replied Charlie. “Well then Charles perhaps you need to see what the world would have been like had the Savior never come” said the Angel. Charlie unable to speak at first then blurted out “that is all just folk lure and no one really cares.” As the last word left his mouth like the launching bay of a nuclear missile the angel was gone. Suddenly Charlie felt all alone, really alone.
The winds howled and the streetlights were all on but no Christmas lights were to be found. Instead the roads were full of debris and the houses were mostly old and run down. Screaming and yelling could be heard in the homes along the streets. Charlie walked now briskly toward the small building he had called home for 12 years. When he got to the door, he grabbed the handle and pushed but strangely enough the door would not open. Suddenly a loud blast was heard and chips of wood flew from the dime size hole just created in the door causing Charlie to leap behind the shrubbery. A women came to the door in ragged clothes with a cigarette hanging from the corner of her lip and said “Hey bub… you wana good time, show me your money but don’t try to strong arm your way in here or your worm food.” Charlie recognized the women because it was his wife Sheila. “What in the world was happening here? Sheila you know who I am, I am your husband for crying out loud. Now stop this nonsense and let me in” Charlie shouted. Sheila quickly replied, “ What are you some kinda escaped loon? One more step and I will give you a new hole to breathe through” she screamed back as she slammed the door in Charlie’s face. As Charlie turned he saw two men at the door of his neighbor Jim’s house taunting him to come out so they could have their way with him. Charlie was mortified with both anger and fear. As he looked across the street at Pastor Peter’s home, a group of boys were beating poor Peter as he cussed them. Two of the boys went into Peter’s home and dragged his two teenage daughters out to the street. “Dear God what is happening here?” Shouted Charlie. Charlie was never much of a church going man. He went to church on Easter Sunday and maybe once or twice during the year and thought that was enough but now he needed to see a church and a pastor. Charlie ran down the street towards the Billingsville Assembly of God. When he arrived he found a Jewish Synagogue but no sign of the church. Charlie ran from street to street but there were no churches to be found anywhere in the town of Billingsville, only mosques and synagogues.
Charlie slowly shuffled down Main Street to where the live manger seen sat in front of the City Hall. That was always a place where Charlie could bring his family every year to marvel at the craftsmanship of the manger, stables, and Bethlehem Inn set upon the lawn of the City Hall. Tonight was a very different scene however. Tonight there was only a board with the name of accused enemies of the state. A large gallows with six ropes and a fresh coat of red paint with a sign above that read “ Enemies of Rome live on Network Channel 3. Your entertainment Network”. Charlie grabbed the old man sitting on the gallows and shook him. “Where is the manger, where is the baby Jesus, where are the animals?” Charlie yelled in desperation. The old man was startled for a moment and then yelled “HELP HELP… CENTURIANS HELP ME”. Charlie quickly let go and ran off down the icy road slipping and stumbling all the way to the Stallmart Department store. He quickly disappeared inside and began to look around. On the shelves there were no toys or gifts. The Christmas trees and ornaments were gone from the shelves. No reindeer, lighted Santa’s or angels, nothing but clothes, pornographic books and items of necessity. In the center of the store was an auction that was in progress. In this auction were men women and children being sold like heads of cattle. “ Who will give me $1500 for this young female. She will be good for years of hard labor and pleasure to her master” yelled the auctioneer. Charlie quickly recognized her as a friend of his daughters and became ill as he rushed outside and collapsed into the grass. In front of him again was the tall stranger. He knelt down to Charlie on the ground and said “Are you still so sure Jesus didn’t mean anything Charles?” Charlie with tears in his eyes replied sobberly “ But this nation was founded by the people leaving Spain and England to find freedom to worship as they pleased. I don’t understand this Roman stuff”.
In a soft whispering voice the angel said “Charles that trip never happened. The Catholic church never developed, there were never any popes nor were there ever any Protestants. The world as you knew it was formed and molded with a basis on my Lord’s appearance on Earth. Since he never came, freedom never came, the United States was never founded, your constitution was never written and slavery was never abolished. Your sins were never forgiven, evil has been allowed to flourish and you still have the Adamic nature and will perish and burn in an everlasting hell.”
Getting back up Charlie began to cry “ Lord, I am so sorry for what I said. Please God give me another chance and I will always keep the birth of your son sacred. I didn’t mean it God, please send your son back to us I believe he was born and did die for my sins…please”. As he cried into his hands he began to feel the wet cold snow falling into his shirt collar. Charlie stood up and looked around the lights of Christmas were again sparkling in red, green, blue and yellow. With a huge smile on his face he screamed out to the top of his lungs “Hosanna in the highest. Thank you Father for sending us your Son.” Spinning and leaping Charlie headed down to the Billingsville Assembly of God were Pastor Peter was just beginning the watch night service. Charlie was praising and Glorifying God almost without catching a breath in between. Charlie had been given a gift tonight. He asked Pastor Peter if he could come down and give a testimony of what Christmas meant to him. The Pastor was delighted and then another and another spoke up. Charlie saw what it would have been like if Jesus had never come to the earth and the horror changed his life forever. Behind Charlie was a tall stranger in a white suit. He patted Charlie on the back and said “ well done Charlie and a very Merry Christmas to you ” he said as he disappeared into the night like an evaporating fog at sun up.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
Copyright © December 16, 2009
Terry
Charlie walked slowly down the roadside kicking loose stones, and humming Christmas Carols he had heard since he was a boy. “Here comes Santa Clause here comes Santa Clause right down Santa Clause lane” he sang. As he walk he stared up at the flickering ornamental lights on the houses, Santa Clause and his eight tiny reindeer, snowmen with their magical top hats, elves and Christmas trees could be seen through the new snow flakes as they lightly fell. What a wonderful night to be walking around his neighborhood on a chilly Christmas Eve. Soon Charlie would go home to his wife and put the toys around the Christmas tree for his son Shaune and daughter Cindy to find in the morning. Charlie inhaled deeply of the smell of oak firewood burning in the fireplaces. As he watched the smoke from the cold flow out into the night air Charlie yelled out “ Now this is the true meaning of Christmas” as he twirled in circles. Suddenly the lights all went out and the snows stopped falling.
Charlie stood quietly somewhat shocked, hearing a sound behind him he spun around. In front of him stood a tall man dressed in a white suit with golden hair and a fluorescent kind of glow about him. “Charles, do you think that this is all that Christmas is?” the stranger asked. “I think that this is the reason we celebrate and not all that 2000 year old Christian fairy tale stuff” replied Charlie. “Well then Charles perhaps you need to see what the world would have been like had the Savior never come” said the Angel. Charlie unable to speak at first then blurted out “that is all just folk lure and no one really cares.” As the last word left his mouth like the launching bay of a nuclear missile the angel was gone. Suddenly Charlie felt all alone, really alone.
The winds howled and the streetlights were all on but no Christmas lights were to be found. Instead the roads were full of debris and the houses were mostly old and run down. Screaming and yelling could be heard in the homes along the streets. Charlie walked now briskly toward the small building he had called home for 12 years. When he got to the door, he grabbed the handle and pushed but strangely enough the door would not open. Suddenly a loud blast was heard and chips of wood flew from the dime size hole just created in the door causing Charlie to leap behind the shrubbery. A women came to the door in ragged clothes with a cigarette hanging from the corner of her lip and said “Hey bub… you wana good time, show me your money but don’t try to strong arm your way in here or your worm food.” Charlie recognized the women because it was his wife Sheila. “What in the world was happening here? Sheila you know who I am, I am your husband for crying out loud. Now stop this nonsense and let me in” Charlie shouted. Sheila quickly replied, “ What are you some kinda escaped loon? One more step and I will give you a new hole to breathe through” she screamed back as she slammed the door in Charlie’s face. As Charlie turned he saw two men at the door of his neighbor Jim’s house taunting him to come out so they could have their way with him. Charlie was mortified with both anger and fear. As he looked across the street at Pastor Peter’s home, a group of boys were beating poor Peter as he cussed them. Two of the boys went into Peter’s home and dragged his two teenage daughters out to the street. “Dear God what is happening here?” Shouted Charlie. Charlie was never much of a church going man. He went to church on Easter Sunday and maybe once or twice during the year and thought that was enough but now he needed to see a church and a pastor. Charlie ran down the street towards the Billingsville Assembly of God. When he arrived he found a Jewish Synagogue but no sign of the church. Charlie ran from street to street but there were no churches to be found anywhere in the town of Billingsville, only mosques and synagogues.
Charlie slowly shuffled down Main Street to where the live manger seen sat in front of the City Hall. That was always a place where Charlie could bring his family every year to marvel at the craftsmanship of the manger, stables, and Bethlehem Inn set upon the lawn of the City Hall. Tonight was a very different scene however. Tonight there was only a board with the name of accused enemies of the state. A large gallows with six ropes and a fresh coat of red paint with a sign above that read “ Enemies of Rome live on Network Channel 3. Your entertainment Network”. Charlie grabbed the old man sitting on the gallows and shook him. “Where is the manger, where is the baby Jesus, where are the animals?” Charlie yelled in desperation. The old man was startled for a moment and then yelled “HELP HELP… CENTURIANS HELP ME”. Charlie quickly let go and ran off down the icy road slipping and stumbling all the way to the Stallmart Department store. He quickly disappeared inside and began to look around. On the shelves there were no toys or gifts. The Christmas trees and ornaments were gone from the shelves. No reindeer, lighted Santa’s or angels, nothing but clothes, pornographic books and items of necessity. In the center of the store was an auction that was in progress. In this auction were men women and children being sold like heads of cattle. “ Who will give me $1500 for this young female. She will be good for years of hard labor and pleasure to her master” yelled the auctioneer. Charlie quickly recognized her as a friend of his daughters and became ill as he rushed outside and collapsed into the grass. In front of him again was the tall stranger. He knelt down to Charlie on the ground and said “Are you still so sure Jesus didn’t mean anything Charles?” Charlie with tears in his eyes replied sobberly “ But this nation was founded by the people leaving Spain and England to find freedom to worship as they pleased. I don’t understand this Roman stuff”.
In a soft whispering voice the angel said “Charles that trip never happened. The Catholic church never developed, there were never any popes nor were there ever any Protestants. The world as you knew it was formed and molded with a basis on my Lord’s appearance on Earth. Since he never came, freedom never came, the United States was never founded, your constitution was never written and slavery was never abolished. Your sins were never forgiven, evil has been allowed to flourish and you still have the Adamic nature and will perish and burn in an everlasting hell.”
Getting back up Charlie began to cry “ Lord, I am so sorry for what I said. Please God give me another chance and I will always keep the birth of your son sacred. I didn’t mean it God, please send your son back to us I believe he was born and did die for my sins…please”. As he cried into his hands he began to feel the wet cold snow falling into his shirt collar. Charlie stood up and looked around the lights of Christmas were again sparkling in red, green, blue and yellow. With a huge smile on his face he screamed out to the top of his lungs “Hosanna in the highest. Thank you Father for sending us your Son.” Spinning and leaping Charlie headed down to the Billingsville Assembly of God were Pastor Peter was just beginning the watch night service. Charlie was praising and Glorifying God almost without catching a breath in between. Charlie had been given a gift tonight. He asked Pastor Peter if he could come down and give a testimony of what Christmas meant to him. The Pastor was delighted and then another and another spoke up. Charlie saw what it would have been like if Jesus had never come to the earth and the horror changed his life forever. Behind Charlie was a tall stranger in a white suit. He patted Charlie on the back and said “ well done Charlie and a very Merry Christmas to you ” he said as he disappeared into the night like an evaporating fog at sun up.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
Copyright © December 16, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
In My Neighborhood at Christmas...kinda
Well as you may have guessed I do not live in the sprawling suburbs of Chicago. It’s just a little ole community here in Pace Florida. Never heard of it? How about the township next door, Pea Ridge? Now you have to wonder if a fellow stood at a hill and relieved himself while a surveyor was looking around thinking what "can I call this place?". I supposed you get my drift…this is a small town.
I like to walk the neighborhood in the mornings with my little Papillion (that’s a pedigree dog with papers for all you country folks) for my exercise and because my carpets stain easily. I believe she is the only dog in the neighborhood that is not part pit bull. I have only seen a few Christmas lights this year but I think that’s because it runs up the gas tab on the generators. There are a few yard decorations out and much to my amazement they are rather festive. I especially like Santa’s Reindeer frolicking across the lawn with a hunter and his Browning 7MM locked and loaded close behind. To simulate a festive light look you should see those tracer lights flickering all the way to Rudolph’s heart. Brings a tear to my eye and a growl to my belly.
Of course as you round the first bend you are awestruck by ole Saint Nick himself sliding off the roof of a home. A jolly ole elf with a snow white beard and nearly as round as he is tall all dressed in red with a blue southern cross with white stars across the back reading “God Bless Robert E Lee”. Below him he has dropped his gifts from him gift bag and you can still read the labels... Remington, Smith and Wesson, Ruger and Coleman. Now you haven’t lived until you have seen a camouflaged 1987 Ford F150 4X4 with a 12 inch lift kit all decked out in red white and blue LED Christmas lights with a life like replica of Rudolph strapped to the hood, why even the red nose glows. Through the window of that mobile home I can see a beautiful 4 foot Christmas tree, ok looks more like a white pine but hey it’s the thought that counts. It’s all decked out with Christmas balls, small Jack Daniels bottles and 12 gauge shotgun shell garland all around it. There is a beautiful red and green sign that looks like piled snow rolling down it that reads “If you’re found here tonight you will be found here in the morning”.
Talk about purty, you aint lived till you seen a singlewide trailer with lighted wheels that look like they are turning and the whole trailer all outlined in lights. I bet the mortgage company shows up every few days to see if they are moving. Back the pickup truck up to the hitch and I bet they make them pay three months in advance for lot rent.
Now here is where I draw the line, there is no way you can strap a set of antlers on a pit bull and convince me he is a reindeer. Eight pit bulls pulling a 72 Chevy truck bed trailer does not a slay make. And you can’t convince me that a pot bellied old man in a red faded suit with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, a six pack of cold bud under his arm, firing a Remington 12 gauge pump shotgun yelling Merry Christmas is a replica of a Norman Rockwell painting but it does get interesting when a squirrel runs out in front of them.
Ok… so maybe I exaggerated a little bit …alright a lot but... that’s funny right thar I don’t care who you are. Have a great day.
I like to walk the neighborhood in the mornings with my little Papillion (that’s a pedigree dog with papers for all you country folks) for my exercise and because my carpets stain easily. I believe she is the only dog in the neighborhood that is not part pit bull. I have only seen a few Christmas lights this year but I think that’s because it runs up the gas tab on the generators. There are a few yard decorations out and much to my amazement they are rather festive. I especially like Santa’s Reindeer frolicking across the lawn with a hunter and his Browning 7MM locked and loaded close behind. To simulate a festive light look you should see those tracer lights flickering all the way to Rudolph’s heart. Brings a tear to my eye and a growl to my belly.
Of course as you round the first bend you are awestruck by ole Saint Nick himself sliding off the roof of a home. A jolly ole elf with a snow white beard and nearly as round as he is tall all dressed in red with a blue southern cross with white stars across the back reading “God Bless Robert E Lee”. Below him he has dropped his gifts from him gift bag and you can still read the labels... Remington, Smith and Wesson, Ruger and Coleman. Now you haven’t lived until you have seen a camouflaged 1987 Ford F150 4X4 with a 12 inch lift kit all decked out in red white and blue LED Christmas lights with a life like replica of Rudolph strapped to the hood, why even the red nose glows. Through the window of that mobile home I can see a beautiful 4 foot Christmas tree, ok looks more like a white pine but hey it’s the thought that counts. It’s all decked out with Christmas balls, small Jack Daniels bottles and 12 gauge shotgun shell garland all around it. There is a beautiful red and green sign that looks like piled snow rolling down it that reads “If you’re found here tonight you will be found here in the morning”.
Talk about purty, you aint lived till you seen a singlewide trailer with lighted wheels that look like they are turning and the whole trailer all outlined in lights. I bet the mortgage company shows up every few days to see if they are moving. Back the pickup truck up to the hitch and I bet they make them pay three months in advance for lot rent.
Now here is where I draw the line, there is no way you can strap a set of antlers on a pit bull and convince me he is a reindeer. Eight pit bulls pulling a 72 Chevy truck bed trailer does not a slay make. And you can’t convince me that a pot bellied old man in a red faded suit with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, a six pack of cold bud under his arm, firing a Remington 12 gauge pump shotgun yelling Merry Christmas is a replica of a Norman Rockwell painting but it does get interesting when a squirrel runs out in front of them.
Ok… so maybe I exaggerated a little bit …alright a lot but... that’s funny right thar I don’t care who you are. Have a great day.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Do You miss Christmas Past?
The title makes you think back doesn’t it? Remember when you were a child (well some us have to really stretch that brain to go back that far)? Some of my fondest memories were of Christmas decorations in the 60’s and 70’s of the previous century (wow, now this really does make me seem old).
In Panama City Florida in the late 1960’s I remember a downtown quite different than today. The McDonalds on Harrison Ave had large neon lighted golden arches to the right and left of the restaurant. On Saturdays the local firemen would come to the McDonalds with a fire truck for the youngsters to ogle over because in those days, the firemen and policemen were our hero’s. There would be a fireman dressed out in a Santa Clause suit sitting on a large chair with a velvety red throw over it giving out sacks of goodies. These sacks were made by the firemen on their own time with the help of the local scout troops. They contained crème filled chocolate drops WITH NO WRAPPERS, an apple, an orange, and numerous nuts in shells. McDonalds would donate food and beverages to the scouts and firemen who toiled there all day long until the goodie sacks were exhausted. It was a great feeling to be part of that as a boy scout and I am sure at least as much for the firemen.
I remember two weeks before Christmas the local fire departments driving through the neighborhoods with sirens and lights blazing because a jolly old elf came to call on the back of a Fire Engine. He would toss candy out to all the kids in the neighborhood as he passed by their homes. We would ride behind the trucks on our bikes with no helmets, no knee and arm pads, no lawyer in our pockets, with playing cards clothes pinned to our spokes for pop pop engine noise yelling at that top of our lungs at old Saint Nick to throw some more candy to us.
The lights on the houses were those really large light bulbs nailed along the edge of the eves. You might see a large tree or two with them wrapped all around them as well. Large plastic Santa’s and manger scenes filled the yards with excitement. Nothing was blown up during those holidays except maybe a mail box or two from the old M-80 fire crackers which are now designated in the same class as dynamite.
Carolers roamed the neighborhoods in those days singing from door to door. Grateful occupants would reward them with cups of hot cider and hot Christmas cookies fresh from the oven. Doors were left open if it were a warmer Christmas with just the wooden screen door for protection from the almost no existent gangs and drug crazed thugs. There was plenty of time to enjoy the carolers since TV only consisted of two channels for most, ABC and NBC with CBS if the weather was just right.
It’s a wonderful life was a treat because you could only see it once a year. There were no video recorders, DVD players or T vo’s to record it or play it. Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and real Christmas specials were a treat. Live TV shows like The Andy Williams Christmas Special, Bing Crosby Christmas Show and always Ed Sullivan with many Christmas songs performed by wholesome artists with respect and reverence.
The majority of the homes in those days had real Christmas trees inside decorated with popcorn strings, gingerbread cookies, hand cut paper snow flakes from school crafts, and always an Angel at the top of the tree. The only artificial trees were REALLY artificial. They were silver aluminum trees with a motorized light bulb at the base with a rotating plastic round lense with four different colored panels. When these panels came across the light bulb the shiny silver tree turned from yellow to red to blue and to green and was quite beautiful. Both of my grandmothers owned such a wondrous device as these.
People in those days knew their neighbors. They knew them all down perhaps six or seven houses down both directions and would drop by from time to time during the holidays for a visit carrying a cake, cookies or a freshly made pie. Maybe that is why people stuck together more. Because they met their neighbors and it became person to them. Today, if we even know the last name of the person living to our immediate right or left we are doing well. The personal touches are gone. The innocence of that age are gone.
We have insulated ourselves to our TV’s and computers so much today that we no longer have a need for human companionship. Perhaps that is one reason there are so many messed up people in our townships today. So many alcoholics, drug addicts and mentally oppressed and depressed people. Isolationist may be a great part of why we are in the mess we are in with our government. We depend too much on someone else to decide our fate. We depend too much on someone else to protest a crooked politician. We depend too much on someone else taking the time to go to the court houses and capitals to let them know we won’t stand for their corruption anymore. Christmas’s in our country have changed…. because we have changed. Have a great day.
In Panama City Florida in the late 1960’s I remember a downtown quite different than today. The McDonalds on Harrison Ave had large neon lighted golden arches to the right and left of the restaurant. On Saturdays the local firemen would come to the McDonalds with a fire truck for the youngsters to ogle over because in those days, the firemen and policemen were our hero’s. There would be a fireman dressed out in a Santa Clause suit sitting on a large chair with a velvety red throw over it giving out sacks of goodies. These sacks were made by the firemen on their own time with the help of the local scout troops. They contained crème filled chocolate drops WITH NO WRAPPERS, an apple, an orange, and numerous nuts in shells. McDonalds would donate food and beverages to the scouts and firemen who toiled there all day long until the goodie sacks were exhausted. It was a great feeling to be part of that as a boy scout and I am sure at least as much for the firemen.
I remember two weeks before Christmas the local fire departments driving through the neighborhoods with sirens and lights blazing because a jolly old elf came to call on the back of a Fire Engine. He would toss candy out to all the kids in the neighborhood as he passed by their homes. We would ride behind the trucks on our bikes with no helmets, no knee and arm pads, no lawyer in our pockets, with playing cards clothes pinned to our spokes for pop pop engine noise yelling at that top of our lungs at old Saint Nick to throw some more candy to us.
The lights on the houses were those really large light bulbs nailed along the edge of the eves. You might see a large tree or two with them wrapped all around them as well. Large plastic Santa’s and manger scenes filled the yards with excitement. Nothing was blown up during those holidays except maybe a mail box or two from the old M-80 fire crackers which are now designated in the same class as dynamite.
Carolers roamed the neighborhoods in those days singing from door to door. Grateful occupants would reward them with cups of hot cider and hot Christmas cookies fresh from the oven. Doors were left open if it were a warmer Christmas with just the wooden screen door for protection from the almost no existent gangs and drug crazed thugs. There was plenty of time to enjoy the carolers since TV only consisted of two channels for most, ABC and NBC with CBS if the weather was just right.
It’s a wonderful life was a treat because you could only see it once a year. There were no video recorders, DVD players or T vo’s to record it or play it. Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and real Christmas specials were a treat. Live TV shows like The Andy Williams Christmas Special, Bing Crosby Christmas Show and always Ed Sullivan with many Christmas songs performed by wholesome artists with respect and reverence.
The majority of the homes in those days had real Christmas trees inside decorated with popcorn strings, gingerbread cookies, hand cut paper snow flakes from school crafts, and always an Angel at the top of the tree. The only artificial trees were REALLY artificial. They were silver aluminum trees with a motorized light bulb at the base with a rotating plastic round lense with four different colored panels. When these panels came across the light bulb the shiny silver tree turned from yellow to red to blue and to green and was quite beautiful. Both of my grandmothers owned such a wondrous device as these.
People in those days knew their neighbors. They knew them all down perhaps six or seven houses down both directions and would drop by from time to time during the holidays for a visit carrying a cake, cookies or a freshly made pie. Maybe that is why people stuck together more. Because they met their neighbors and it became person to them. Today, if we even know the last name of the person living to our immediate right or left we are doing well. The personal touches are gone. The innocence of that age are gone.
We have insulated ourselves to our TV’s and computers so much today that we no longer have a need for human companionship. Perhaps that is one reason there are so many messed up people in our townships today. So many alcoholics, drug addicts and mentally oppressed and depressed people. Isolationist may be a great part of why we are in the mess we are in with our government. We depend too much on someone else to decide our fate. We depend too much on someone else to protest a crooked politician. We depend too much on someone else taking the time to go to the court houses and capitals to let them know we won’t stand for their corruption anymore. Christmas’s in our country have changed…. because we have changed. Have a great day.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The Christmas Gift
Well we are well on our way to a Christmas Day count down so I am throwing in a Christmas Story I wrote a while back. Hope you enjoy it.
It was an uncommonly cold Christmas here on the Gulf of Mexico. Corporal John Downs was trying to keep warm by the small fire built in the courtyard of Fort Gaines. He knelt down with his tin mucket of strong muddy coffee and sat it once again over the red coals of oak and pine. The smoke rose high above the cold stone walls of the small fort into the strong winter wind blowing just above the stone barrier walls. Guard duty was a lonely job, not exactly the type of position John had envisioned when he signed up with the Confederate States Army last spring. He had a vision of grandeur, as he would march gloriously across a bloody battlefield for The Confederate States of America, the great state of Alabama and Robert E. Lee into a blaze of Glory. Not to be stuck down here in this God forsaken marsh land to protect Mobile Bay from the Yankee Navy.
This had been a very bad year for the confederacy, only last month losing Chattanooga Tennessee to General Grant and the Union Army. John still wonders how President Davis could have ever let General Bragg be in charge of the Army of Tennessee to begin with. The man was obviously a fool. If only he could have been there, he could have showed those Yankees what for. Well time for another pass along the long wall on the gulf side. What he wouldn’t give to be down in the officer’s barracks sipping Kentucky bourbon and smoking a fine Virginia cigar right now. This would be the saddest Christmas John had ever known, he thought, no family, no real friends, no Christmas feast, no gifts and no fiddle music. John really missed his old rose wood fiddle on quiet nights like this.
Suddenly John heard a noise on the beach in front of him, he turned, took a defensive stance with his fifty-four-caliber Enfield musket and yelled, “Halt, who goes there, approach and be recognized”. The figure of a tall man slowly came forward in the dim moonlit night. He was wearing a dark wool suit with a short brimmed hat, a bowed tie and oddly enough no overcoat on such a bitter cold night as this. Not exactly what John was accustomed to seeing out here in the middle of no-where. “Merry Christmas John” the tall stranger said. “Do I know you suh?” John replied. “John I have a message for you, would it be alright if I come in and shared your fire?” John was somewhat panic stricken, he knew he should call the Officer on watch but somehow it just didn’t seem right this time. “Come around to the gate friend, and I will vouch fo ya entrance” replied the nervous and shaken southern born Corporal. Strangely enough, the gate guards were in agreement with John on seeing no harm in allowing the stranger to enter the fortress. John walked back across the gate archway, the steel plates of his brogan shoes clacking like a horse crossing a wooden bridge with each step he took on the red brick floor. The stranger was close behind and oddly enough walking a silent soft step. As John arrived back at his post it was time for the changing of the guard and his replacement acquired his frozen perch upon the wall. John once again walked over to the small fire and picked up his smoke painted mucket to sip the hot liquid once identified as coffee.
“How have you been doing tonight John? ” asked the stranger with concern in his voice. “I’m doing all right I reckon. This ain’t exactly like the stretch of Alabama I’m used ta, there ain’t no wah hea and this shore ain’t Christmas.” Replied a weary John. “John, it does not matter where you celebrate the Saviors birth my friend. Do you know the Christmas story of Jesus?” the stranger asked. “Yea I heared about it in church back home. My ma made me attend every Sunday whether I wanted to or not” was the reply of John. The skies were very clear and crisp this night, as the light in the fort grew brighter.
A star high above began to shine especially bright illuminating even the black 50 pound long range ordinance rifles mounted at the forts Gulf side walls. “John, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, he was without sin. He healed the sick, raised the dead, and John, Jesus died for you and the sins you have committed in your life. Did you know that?” gently spoke the stranger. “yea, I heared about all that, but I reckon I believed it was just a yarn. How do you know all this anyway? Who are you?” retorted a now very nervous John. “John your mother has been praying for you. She is so concerned that you will not make Heaven your home. She has petitioned the throne of God in your behalf. My name is Joshua and I am an Angel sent of God. Do you have a bible John?” asked the stranger. “ yes suh, I got one I been toten here in my havasack my ma ma give me.” Came John’s teary reply. “Get it out John and turn to John 3:16. It reads For God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John you are whosoever my young friend. God loves you and all you need do is accept him in your heart, ask him to forgive you for your sin and you shall be saved.” Joshua explained. John was overwhelmed by these words. How could God love him so much and yet in his heart he knew the words of this angel were true. John fell to his knees and cried out “Jesus, I’m sorry I been so miserable and bad. I repent Lord, please forgive me, I want to go to heaven, I give my life to you Lord.” As John opened his eyes he felt like he was a new man. He had so much joy in his heart now; it did not matter that he had nothing to eat but stale bread and old coffee.
It did not matter that he was cold and alone from his family. What matters is that on this Christmas day in 1863, John received a gift more precious than gold. He received eternal life. “Angel this has been the greatest Christmas ever, Angel? Angel? Where did you go?” John shouted looking around but there was no sign of his angelic visitor. John ran to the huge oak and iron gates and asked the guard if he had let the visitor out. The guard said he had seen no one all night. Returning back to the place he last saw the visitor John looked down and saw one snow white feather. He picked it up and placed it in his little testament. With tears in his eyes John thought, as much as his dear ma ma loved him, Jesus must love him so much more to send one of his angels to speak to him. John’s heart was strangely warm and full.
With a huge grin from ear to ear, John walked over to the casemate where two other soldiers were trying to keep warm over a small smolder pot and began to tell them of his visitor and the change he had experienced. John opened his bible and began to read out loud Luke 2:11 “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord.” As John read under the light of a dim candle lantern, more soldiers gathered around and listened intently to the story of Jesus. There were no fiery preachers, brush arbor meetings, or heavy religious services tonight. There was only the love of a savior and the open hearts of soldiers and yet tonight there would be another six conversions before dawn. On this night, the celebration of the Saviors birth, there would be re-births here on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico in a little insignificant brick and mortar fortress called Fort Gaines. Where unknowingly in only nine months a Union Navy column of war ships would bombard this sleepy little Fort and send John and his comrade’s into the arms of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. This was truly the greatest Christmas gift.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
Copyright © Dec. 6, 1998
It was an uncommonly cold Christmas here on the Gulf of Mexico. Corporal John Downs was trying to keep warm by the small fire built in the courtyard of Fort Gaines. He knelt down with his tin mucket of strong muddy coffee and sat it once again over the red coals of oak and pine. The smoke rose high above the cold stone walls of the small fort into the strong winter wind blowing just above the stone barrier walls. Guard duty was a lonely job, not exactly the type of position John had envisioned when he signed up with the Confederate States Army last spring. He had a vision of grandeur, as he would march gloriously across a bloody battlefield for The Confederate States of America, the great state of Alabama and Robert E. Lee into a blaze of Glory. Not to be stuck down here in this God forsaken marsh land to protect Mobile Bay from the Yankee Navy.
This had been a very bad year for the confederacy, only last month losing Chattanooga Tennessee to General Grant and the Union Army. John still wonders how President Davis could have ever let General Bragg be in charge of the Army of Tennessee to begin with. The man was obviously a fool. If only he could have been there, he could have showed those Yankees what for. Well time for another pass along the long wall on the gulf side. What he wouldn’t give to be down in the officer’s barracks sipping Kentucky bourbon and smoking a fine Virginia cigar right now. This would be the saddest Christmas John had ever known, he thought, no family, no real friends, no Christmas feast, no gifts and no fiddle music. John really missed his old rose wood fiddle on quiet nights like this.
Suddenly John heard a noise on the beach in front of him, he turned, took a defensive stance with his fifty-four-caliber Enfield musket and yelled, “Halt, who goes there, approach and be recognized”. The figure of a tall man slowly came forward in the dim moonlit night. He was wearing a dark wool suit with a short brimmed hat, a bowed tie and oddly enough no overcoat on such a bitter cold night as this. Not exactly what John was accustomed to seeing out here in the middle of no-where. “Merry Christmas John” the tall stranger said. “Do I know you suh?” John replied. “John I have a message for you, would it be alright if I come in and shared your fire?” John was somewhat panic stricken, he knew he should call the Officer on watch but somehow it just didn’t seem right this time. “Come around to the gate friend, and I will vouch fo ya entrance” replied the nervous and shaken southern born Corporal. Strangely enough, the gate guards were in agreement with John on seeing no harm in allowing the stranger to enter the fortress. John walked back across the gate archway, the steel plates of his brogan shoes clacking like a horse crossing a wooden bridge with each step he took on the red brick floor. The stranger was close behind and oddly enough walking a silent soft step. As John arrived back at his post it was time for the changing of the guard and his replacement acquired his frozen perch upon the wall. John once again walked over to the small fire and picked up his smoke painted mucket to sip the hot liquid once identified as coffee.
“How have you been doing tonight John? ” asked the stranger with concern in his voice. “I’m doing all right I reckon. This ain’t exactly like the stretch of Alabama I’m used ta, there ain’t no wah hea and this shore ain’t Christmas.” Replied a weary John. “John, it does not matter where you celebrate the Saviors birth my friend. Do you know the Christmas story of Jesus?” the stranger asked. “Yea I heared about it in church back home. My ma made me attend every Sunday whether I wanted to or not” was the reply of John. The skies were very clear and crisp this night, as the light in the fort grew brighter.
A star high above began to shine especially bright illuminating even the black 50 pound long range ordinance rifles mounted at the forts Gulf side walls. “John, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, he was without sin. He healed the sick, raised the dead, and John, Jesus died for you and the sins you have committed in your life. Did you know that?” gently spoke the stranger. “yea, I heared about all that, but I reckon I believed it was just a yarn. How do you know all this anyway? Who are you?” retorted a now very nervous John. “John your mother has been praying for you. She is so concerned that you will not make Heaven your home. She has petitioned the throne of God in your behalf. My name is Joshua and I am an Angel sent of God. Do you have a bible John?” asked the stranger. “ yes suh, I got one I been toten here in my havasack my ma ma give me.” Came John’s teary reply. “Get it out John and turn to John 3:16. It reads For God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John you are whosoever my young friend. God loves you and all you need do is accept him in your heart, ask him to forgive you for your sin and you shall be saved.” Joshua explained. John was overwhelmed by these words. How could God love him so much and yet in his heart he knew the words of this angel were true. John fell to his knees and cried out “Jesus, I’m sorry I been so miserable and bad. I repent Lord, please forgive me, I want to go to heaven, I give my life to you Lord.” As John opened his eyes he felt like he was a new man. He had so much joy in his heart now; it did not matter that he had nothing to eat but stale bread and old coffee.
It did not matter that he was cold and alone from his family. What matters is that on this Christmas day in 1863, John received a gift more precious than gold. He received eternal life. “Angel this has been the greatest Christmas ever, Angel? Angel? Where did you go?” John shouted looking around but there was no sign of his angelic visitor. John ran to the huge oak and iron gates and asked the guard if he had let the visitor out. The guard said he had seen no one all night. Returning back to the place he last saw the visitor John looked down and saw one snow white feather. He picked it up and placed it in his little testament. With tears in his eyes John thought, as much as his dear ma ma loved him, Jesus must love him so much more to send one of his angels to speak to him. John’s heart was strangely warm and full.
With a huge grin from ear to ear, John walked over to the casemate where two other soldiers were trying to keep warm over a small smolder pot and began to tell them of his visitor and the change he had experienced. John opened his bible and began to read out loud Luke 2:11 “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord.” As John read under the light of a dim candle lantern, more soldiers gathered around and listened intently to the story of Jesus. There were no fiery preachers, brush arbor meetings, or heavy religious services tonight. There was only the love of a savior and the open hearts of soldiers and yet tonight there would be another six conversions before dawn. On this night, the celebration of the Saviors birth, there would be re-births here on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico in a little insignificant brick and mortar fortress called Fort Gaines. Where unknowingly in only nine months a Union Navy column of war ships would bombard this sleepy little Fort and send John and his comrade’s into the arms of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. This was truly the greatest Christmas gift.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
Copyright © Dec. 6, 1998
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Today I have a Rant !
Ok, I don’t know about you guys but I am getting sick and tired of the press and so called press screwing up peoples lives. Case and point... Tiger Woods. Now Tiger apparently had a domestic squabble not unlike any other married couple from time to time. The difference is one of the scums of the earth tabloids (National Enquirer) decided to chase him down to the ends of the earth looking for a so called affair. I personally don’t thing he had one but even if he did... it's none of their business and we all know how reputable that fish wrapper is. So… instead of reporting on the fighting in Afghanistan or Iraq or hunger in Darfur we have to hear a play by play from Fox News where Tiger jumped in the ole SUV at two-ish in the morning and had a little fender bending on his property. The news anchor further stated his wife came out to rescue him with a golf club in her hand and had to smash the window to get him out. Now how odd that she should have a golf club in the garage at 2 am she says. Oh let me think…. HE’s A GOLF PRO MORON; he probably has a whole garage of golf clubs. So what… who cares... get a life media.
If the terrorist are bent on blowing something up in America, I would like to put a little suggestion in their suggestion box. Take a nice copy of the tabloids and draw a huge red target on them. Put them in an envelope and mail them to the Taliban. I seriously doubt their offices will be missed. Now here is where I start across that fine line. Next take a few ACLU business cards with addresses and paint a red target over them and mail them to the Taliban as well. Now they may not take the hint but I will certainly feel better. Have a great day.
If the terrorist are bent on blowing something up in America, I would like to put a little suggestion in their suggestion box. Take a nice copy of the tabloids and draw a huge red target on them. Put them in an envelope and mail them to the Taliban. I seriously doubt their offices will be missed. Now here is where I start across that fine line. Next take a few ACLU business cards with addresses and paint a red target over them and mail them to the Taliban as well. Now they may not take the hint but I will certainly feel better. Have a great day.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thanksgiving Triggers the Season
Yup, the turkey is in the fridge and game is on. I was watching the news this morning and they covered opening at Best Buy. I don’t think so. Lets see, you arrive at Best Buy Thanksgiving day at 2:00PM and wait patiently for 15 hours in line so that you can get a lap top computer for $200 which would have normally cost $400. You have now given up your family time, you have probably already filled your depends three times, you have lost your football time because your little battery operated TV doesn’t work on the new digital transmissions, you have the beginnings of a cold because it got down to 32 degrees last night and last but not least you fell asleep at 5:55AM and 154 people moved in front of you. Yeah this was worth that $200 savings now you fire up that Tim Taylor Ou ou ou.
Anyone notice the Salvation Army bell ringers out a little early this year? I thought it was kind of tacky myself... ringing that bell in the Easter Bunny suit. There will be new songs written this holiday season in honor of our new regime… I mean cabinet. It’s been a be CZAR year hasn’t it. Here are a few hits….
(Formerly God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen) God rest ye merry gentlemen in alleys in a box, you lost your jobs and families now all you have are socks…
(Formerly We Wish You a Merry Christmas)We wish you merry health care we wish you merry health care we wish you merry health care or we throw you in jail. A tax be to you, who ever you are... a tax for your health care or you will see bars.
(Formerly The Grinch) You’re a mean one Mr. Barack you are wishy washy and your slick. You can’t make a good decision, our debt is trillions thick…Mr. Barack you’ve fooled us with your trick.
(Formerly Winter Wonderland) Well the jobs outside are frightening, food lines are not enlightening. And most have no where to go, unemployment grows unemployment grows unemployment grows.
(Formerly Frosty the Snowman) Obama the Kenyan was a TV savvy guy, with a prompter in front and a quick word hunt you would believe his every lie. There must have been a shortage of good sense in peoples brains... cause when the votes were tallied up acorn had stolen the reigns. Oh Obama the Kenyan appointed many czars with government health care more debt everywhere and your cash for clunker cars.
Yup it will be a season to remember. Instead of Christmas gifts this year I’m giving everyone a nice little envelope. It will contain a pink slip that simply states "I’m sorry but due to the current recession, I am having to let you go as a gift recipient. I wish you the best of luck in finding your next gift." Have a great day guys.
Anyone notice the Salvation Army bell ringers out a little early this year? I thought it was kind of tacky myself... ringing that bell in the Easter Bunny suit. There will be new songs written this holiday season in honor of our new regime… I mean cabinet. It’s been a be CZAR year hasn’t it. Here are a few hits….
(Formerly God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen) God rest ye merry gentlemen in alleys in a box, you lost your jobs and families now all you have are socks…
(Formerly We Wish You a Merry Christmas)We wish you merry health care we wish you merry health care we wish you merry health care or we throw you in jail. A tax be to you, who ever you are... a tax for your health care or you will see bars.
(Formerly The Grinch) You’re a mean one Mr. Barack you are wishy washy and your slick. You can’t make a good decision, our debt is trillions thick…Mr. Barack you’ve fooled us with your trick.
(Formerly Winter Wonderland) Well the jobs outside are frightening, food lines are not enlightening. And most have no where to go, unemployment grows unemployment grows unemployment grows.
(Formerly Frosty the Snowman) Obama the Kenyan was a TV savvy guy, with a prompter in front and a quick word hunt you would believe his every lie. There must have been a shortage of good sense in peoples brains... cause when the votes were tallied up acorn had stolen the reigns. Oh Obama the Kenyan appointed many czars with government health care more debt everywhere and your cash for clunker cars.
Yup it will be a season to remember. Instead of Christmas gifts this year I’m giving everyone a nice little envelope. It will contain a pink slip that simply states "I’m sorry but due to the current recession, I am having to let you go as a gift recipient. I wish you the best of luck in finding your next gift." Have a great day guys.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
A Proclamation
Happy Thanksgiving my friends. Isn't it a shame we no longer have the strong spiritual leaders in our government our ancestors had? Thanksgiving will pass for most as simply a day to spend around a table with family and friends and then football on TV, nothing more. We have long forgotten the GREATEST GENERATION and thier sacrifices to make us safe. We have long forgotten our Vietnam vets that spent many Thanksgivings in country eating rations out of a can so that communism would'nt come calling to our door. I might add many now are mentally a mess with little or no help from the country they defended. We have long since forgotten the men and women of Desert Storm.
I dare say the Thanksgiving of 2001 was quite different in the households of America than today. Isn't it a shame it takes a national disaster to draw us back to God, if only for a few fleeing moments. We have a president who left behind his Christianity claims with his campaign, we have a congress bickering and fighting over personal financial gains like two boys in a marble fight. We have a senate that nearly daily floats to the top of the news with corruption like curdled milk. We are working on thowing teachers and mentors in prison for even mentioning God in thier classrooms. How can the ACLU even sleep at night with the damage they have done. Today we have a lot to be thankful for but what we have the most to be thankful for is that God almighty has not judged and sentenced this great nation for turning its back on Him. May God continue to have mercy on us. Happy Thanksgiving to all and GOD BLESS YOU.
Terry
I dare say the Thanksgiving of 2001 was quite different in the households of America than today. Isn't it a shame it takes a national disaster to draw us back to God, if only for a few fleeing moments. We have a president who left behind his Christianity claims with his campaign, we have a congress bickering and fighting over personal financial gains like two boys in a marble fight. We have a senate that nearly daily floats to the top of the news with corruption like curdled milk. We are working on thowing teachers and mentors in prison for even mentioning God in thier classrooms. How can the ACLU even sleep at night with the damage they have done. Today we have a lot to be thankful for but what we have the most to be thankful for is that God almighty has not judged and sentenced this great nation for turning its back on Him. May God continue to have mercy on us. Happy Thanksgiving to all and GOD BLESS YOU.
Terry
A Proclamation.
The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consiousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.
In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.
Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the Unites States the Eighty-eighth.
The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consiousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.
In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.
Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the Unites States the Eighty-eighth.
By the President: Abraham Lincoln
William H. Seward,Secretary of State
William H. Seward,Secretary of State
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Ghosts of Christmas Pasts... part 2
Needless to say grandma lived in a very old house. The glasses we used where pear shaped and deep ruby red or dark green. She also had a set of red, blue, green and yellow metal cups with a matching silver pitcher she used for serving lemonade. I later found one glass and a set of metal cups very similar to hers and from time to time drink from them just for the memories. Her daily silverware was stainless steel with wooden handles. She had a set of fine silver in a wooden box but that was just for special occasion, like Christmas. I have tried to find some like the wooden handle set but with no luck.
The smells from that kitchen were incredible. She would bake for us and cook for us incredible meals and desserts. From time to time I get out her old recipe for a Japanese Fruit cake and make it, just to revert back in time if only for a little while. There was usually a large bowl of her Ambrosia in the refrigerator (that’s a fruit salad with shredded pineapple).
I can also remember her old pipes whining and clunking when you turned the water on in the kitchen. You could even hear those groans when you turned on the water facets in her old claw foot bath tub in the bathroom.
Of course Christmas being her favorite time of the year when her family was coming. grandma broke out the decorations for the occasion from the attic. She had a wood burning fireplace in the living room that had been converted to gas logs. Of course in Miami it was not very often she ever had to fire them up. She painted the whole fireplace white to match the walls. Her decorations adorned the fireplace and its surrounding areas like a Macys storefront display (did I mention that was one of her favorite stores in Miami?). She had a snow white Christmas tree with a snowy texture with red, green and blue ball ornaments neatly and methodically placed on the tree with a cozy little tree skirt comforting the many packages beneath it. There were two foot tall toy soldiers guarding each side of the fireplace with Santa and his reindeer keep watch over the entire display. A string of bright red, green, blue, orange and white flame like lights twinkled around the fireplace with Christmas cards on the mantle and mirror above the mantle. The ceilings were mahogany color was tongue and groove lumber with large wood beam rafters crossing every 5 feet or so. When someone was upstairs you could look up and tell to within a foot or two exactly where they were walking.
During WWII my grandmother took in borders to survive and she still had an old gentleman who we only knew as Mr. Temple (later we found out he was John Temple, a chef) living in a small room on the bottom floor. He was a quiet old gentleman tall and slightly bent over with thinning dyed light brown hair. He wore a pair of terminator looking sunglasses everyday as he and his cane shuffled out the door to the bus stop down the road. We never really knew where he went but you could set your clock by him. When my mother was a little girl he would bring her little gifts from time to time and was just a nice man.
Well on Christmas Eve we made merry like the rest of the world with good food and eggnog and at the end of the evening we were all ushered out to our rooms in preparation of the arrival of Santa Clause. My older brother and I knew the truth but we kept the allusion for the younger siblings. We slept in the upstairs bedroom on a large queen bed next to the Florida windows. Of course it was Miami so the windows were opened. It wasn’t like the smaller cities like Panama City where I grew up, where the streets were rolled up at dusk in those days. Miami was alive 24/7 and you could hear the heart beat of the city through those windows. Often that heart beat was Hispanic, both the music and the language of some of the surrounding neighbors. I still remember one particular song on grandma’s old AM radio we played up there. What’s New Pussy Cat, that song always brings back Miami memories. Grandma was a smoker and a collector of cigarette lighters. We found a whole box of them and ran through them until we found a couple that worked. We used those little lighters to east down the stair case into the living room. Of course there on the couch was grandma sound asleep. While this presented a challenge, it was not a deterrent. We very carefully unwrapped most of our gifts one by one and checked out our new found treasures. WOW… we done good. It’s still to this day hard to believe my parents were able to get all those toys to Miami on the top of that station wagon for five kids. I remember grandma waking up and of course like every good grandmother, she would shhhhhhh us so mom and dad didn’t know we were up and close her eyes back. As far as I know, she never spilled the beans. Yeah she did make us give up the lighters but that was ok... we knew where the stock pile was and no we never started any fires (by the grace of God only).
It was always hard to head back to the panhandle after a visit to grandmas. Isn’t it strange we never caught on that the bundle on the roof going home with all our toys was the same size as the bundle on the roof coming up with just our luggage? Well as you can imagine at the time to come back home mom cried, grandma cried, we cried, dad remembered the bills for Christmas and he cried. Like most kids, the only thing that made the trip back home worthwhile was the fact we were going to get to go home and play with our new toys with our friends. I just can’t imagine kids today having these kinds of stories to tell their grandchildren. It most definitely is a different world we are living but I am so grateful for my ghosts of Christmas past.
The smells from that kitchen were incredible. She would bake for us and cook for us incredible meals and desserts. From time to time I get out her old recipe for a Japanese Fruit cake and make it, just to revert back in time if only for a little while. There was usually a large bowl of her Ambrosia in the refrigerator (that’s a fruit salad with shredded pineapple).
I can also remember her old pipes whining and clunking when you turned the water on in the kitchen. You could even hear those groans when you turned on the water facets in her old claw foot bath tub in the bathroom.
Of course Christmas being her favorite time of the year when her family was coming. grandma broke out the decorations for the occasion from the attic. She had a wood burning fireplace in the living room that had been converted to gas logs. Of course in Miami it was not very often she ever had to fire them up. She painted the whole fireplace white to match the walls. Her decorations adorned the fireplace and its surrounding areas like a Macys storefront display (did I mention that was one of her favorite stores in Miami?). She had a snow white Christmas tree with a snowy texture with red, green and blue ball ornaments neatly and methodically placed on the tree with a cozy little tree skirt comforting the many packages beneath it. There were two foot tall toy soldiers guarding each side of the fireplace with Santa and his reindeer keep watch over the entire display. A string of bright red, green, blue, orange and white flame like lights twinkled around the fireplace with Christmas cards on the mantle and mirror above the mantle. The ceilings were mahogany color was tongue and groove lumber with large wood beam rafters crossing every 5 feet or so. When someone was upstairs you could look up and tell to within a foot or two exactly where they were walking.
During WWII my grandmother took in borders to survive and she still had an old gentleman who we only knew as Mr. Temple (later we found out he was John Temple, a chef) living in a small room on the bottom floor. He was a quiet old gentleman tall and slightly bent over with thinning dyed light brown hair. He wore a pair of terminator looking sunglasses everyday as he and his cane shuffled out the door to the bus stop down the road. We never really knew where he went but you could set your clock by him. When my mother was a little girl he would bring her little gifts from time to time and was just a nice man.
Well on Christmas Eve we made merry like the rest of the world with good food and eggnog and at the end of the evening we were all ushered out to our rooms in preparation of the arrival of Santa Clause. My older brother and I knew the truth but we kept the allusion for the younger siblings. We slept in the upstairs bedroom on a large queen bed next to the Florida windows. Of course it was Miami so the windows were opened. It wasn’t like the smaller cities like Panama City where I grew up, where the streets were rolled up at dusk in those days. Miami was alive 24/7 and you could hear the heart beat of the city through those windows. Often that heart beat was Hispanic, both the music and the language of some of the surrounding neighbors. I still remember one particular song on grandma’s old AM radio we played up there. What’s New Pussy Cat, that song always brings back Miami memories. Grandma was a smoker and a collector of cigarette lighters. We found a whole box of them and ran through them until we found a couple that worked. We used those little lighters to east down the stair case into the living room. Of course there on the couch was grandma sound asleep. While this presented a challenge, it was not a deterrent. We very carefully unwrapped most of our gifts one by one and checked out our new found treasures. WOW… we done good. It’s still to this day hard to believe my parents were able to get all those toys to Miami on the top of that station wagon for five kids. I remember grandma waking up and of course like every good grandmother, she would shhhhhhh us so mom and dad didn’t know we were up and close her eyes back. As far as I know, she never spilled the beans. Yeah she did make us give up the lighters but that was ok... we knew where the stock pile was and no we never started any fires (by the grace of God only).
It was always hard to head back to the panhandle after a visit to grandmas. Isn’t it strange we never caught on that the bundle on the roof going home with all our toys was the same size as the bundle on the roof coming up with just our luggage? Well as you can imagine at the time to come back home mom cried, grandma cried, we cried, dad remembered the bills for Christmas and he cried. Like most kids, the only thing that made the trip back home worthwhile was the fact we were going to get to go home and play with our new toys with our friends. I just can’t imagine kids today having these kinds of stories to tell their grandchildren. It most definitely is a different world we are living but I am so grateful for my ghosts of Christmas past.
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Ghosts of Christmas Past....part 1
As we begin to mature toward the winter of our life (you like that? Sounds better than getting old doesn’t it?) we start to cherish our memories more. Today I have such a time as that. Two days ago my grandfather of 91 yrs passed away. He was the last of that generation in my family. The reality is my generation is getting closer and closer to being the old white haired lady and man sitting on the porch in a woven seat high back rocker sipping coffee.
Thinking about my grandfather brought memories back about another grandparent who lived in Miami. My mother’s mother, she was a grand lady. More of a sophisticated woman with fiery red hair living in a two story home in what now is known as little Havana. I can still remember the Christmas of 1968 when we all piled into our 1960 Chevrolet Impala station wagon ( four boys, one girl and the parents was quite a large group in that wagon) with a HUGE pile of luggage on the roof with a tarp over it. In that time it never occurred to me why we took so much luggage but Christmas from mom and dad took a lot of space. Fighting, kicking and yelling we sailed down Hwy 98 toward grandmas. Not exactly over the river and through the woods, it was a long ride in that wagon because it was not cold that particular Christmas and there was no air conditioning in that day. In fact the further south we traveled the warmer it got and the more active we boys got. If I heard it once I heard it a hundred times. “Don’t make me stop this car and come back there”. We weren’t making him do anything; if he came back there it was on his head…and our BUTTS. Yup spare the rod and spoil the child was tattooed on his favorite belt.
Now you guys of AARP era remember back in those days there were no MP3 player, CD players or even cassette players. Nope, we had little reel to reel players. I had a bunch of tapes I recorded music from my record player on and laid down in the back floor board of that Chevy listening to it passing the time. We would stop on the way for little picnics of sandwiches and soft drinks mom had packed. It was great fun actually; there were many parks on Hwy 98 in that day and actually some pretty nice scenery. Of course we have lost that with high speed interstate travel. Of course who hasn’t crossed the Suwannee River without singing “♫ Way down ♫ upon the Suwannee River,♫ far far away ♫”. My wife and I still do that.
And do you guys still remember Hwy 41 and the Tamiami Trail? It was a long ride through the swamps of the Everglades with very deep ditches on both sides. Many times we came upon a tow truck pulling a car out of one of those deep ditches. Not a pretty sight but to kids, exciting to watch. I remember going through there during wild fires (which happened a lot even back then) and the smoke being so thick traffic was slow and all you could see was tail lights for miles and miles.
Well there was never a time of more excitement than when we came to the first signs of mass civilization….Miami. My grandmother lived on North West 2nd Street in what at that time was a very comfortable southern style coconut tree filled neighborhood. Her home had a small white cinder block wall in front with an elevated yard. Her home was a solid white wood off grade building with green trim and Florida windows (remember those with the multiple pains of glass?) and green awnings over every window. She had a small one bedroom apartment in the back she rented out. I can see her now as we piled out of that station wagon; she stepped out of the door and started down those green painted concrete steps to see her babies.
Inside her home was a vision from the past and present. Her Florida room was the first room you arrived in. Wicker furniture place elegantly around with bright multi colored topped tables. Her living room had a Victorian flare with sofa, chairs and lamps (of which I have in my living room right now). She had glass beads dangling down between the living room and hallway next to the stair case to the bedroom/storage area upstairs. Next to that stairway was an old curved phone table with a lamp and an old rotary dial phone. Through that hall was her elegant little dining room with mahogany and cherry table, chairs, china cabinet and server. There were wide blade wooden blinds throughout the home and a gentle breeze seemed to always pushing through them.
My favorite room was her kitchen. It was locked into the 50’s in style and so comfortable. You could smell the large bowl of fruit on the little white iron kitchen dinette. Next to it on the wall was black clock that looked like a cat with its tail wagging marking time. Her stove was a large double oven gas stove that required matches to light its top burners. On one of those burners was a tea kettle. Many many mornings my brothers and I got up before dawn to come to that kitchen and find grandma sitting at her little dinette with a cup of Folgers instant coffee in her hand dressed in her robe with what looked like a paper towel wrapped around her permanent with bobbie pins to protect it during sleep. That was her favorite and when we were in Miami... it was our favorite as well. She had those dainty china cups with dark green around the rim and gold on the top of the rim with very small handles. We always spooned in plenty of sugar and crème in our coffee (ok I still do...live with it). I would give anything to find a set of that china today just for the memories.
End of part 1
Thinking about my grandfather brought memories back about another grandparent who lived in Miami. My mother’s mother, she was a grand lady. More of a sophisticated woman with fiery red hair living in a two story home in what now is known as little Havana. I can still remember the Christmas of 1968 when we all piled into our 1960 Chevrolet Impala station wagon ( four boys, one girl and the parents was quite a large group in that wagon) with a HUGE pile of luggage on the roof with a tarp over it. In that time it never occurred to me why we took so much luggage but Christmas from mom and dad took a lot of space. Fighting, kicking and yelling we sailed down Hwy 98 toward grandmas. Not exactly over the river and through the woods, it was a long ride in that wagon because it was not cold that particular Christmas and there was no air conditioning in that day. In fact the further south we traveled the warmer it got and the more active we boys got. If I heard it once I heard it a hundred times. “Don’t make me stop this car and come back there”. We weren’t making him do anything; if he came back there it was on his head…and our BUTTS. Yup spare the rod and spoil the child was tattooed on his favorite belt.
Now you guys of AARP era remember back in those days there were no MP3 player, CD players or even cassette players. Nope, we had little reel to reel players. I had a bunch of tapes I recorded music from my record player on and laid down in the back floor board of that Chevy listening to it passing the time. We would stop on the way for little picnics of sandwiches and soft drinks mom had packed. It was great fun actually; there were many parks on Hwy 98 in that day and actually some pretty nice scenery. Of course we have lost that with high speed interstate travel. Of course who hasn’t crossed the Suwannee River without singing “♫ Way down ♫ upon the Suwannee River,♫ far far away ♫”. My wife and I still do that.
And do you guys still remember Hwy 41 and the Tamiami Trail? It was a long ride through the swamps of the Everglades with very deep ditches on both sides. Many times we came upon a tow truck pulling a car out of one of those deep ditches. Not a pretty sight but to kids, exciting to watch. I remember going through there during wild fires (which happened a lot even back then) and the smoke being so thick traffic was slow and all you could see was tail lights for miles and miles.
Well there was never a time of more excitement than when we came to the first signs of mass civilization….Miami. My grandmother lived on North West 2nd Street in what at that time was a very comfortable southern style coconut tree filled neighborhood. Her home had a small white cinder block wall in front with an elevated yard. Her home was a solid white wood off grade building with green trim and Florida windows (remember those with the multiple pains of glass?) and green awnings over every window. She had a small one bedroom apartment in the back she rented out. I can see her now as we piled out of that station wagon; she stepped out of the door and started down those green painted concrete steps to see her babies.
Inside her home was a vision from the past and present. Her Florida room was the first room you arrived in. Wicker furniture place elegantly around with bright multi colored topped tables. Her living room had a Victorian flare with sofa, chairs and lamps (of which I have in my living room right now). She had glass beads dangling down between the living room and hallway next to the stair case to the bedroom/storage area upstairs. Next to that stairway was an old curved phone table with a lamp and an old rotary dial phone. Through that hall was her elegant little dining room with mahogany and cherry table, chairs, china cabinet and server. There were wide blade wooden blinds throughout the home and a gentle breeze seemed to always pushing through them.
My favorite room was her kitchen. It was locked into the 50’s in style and so comfortable. You could smell the large bowl of fruit on the little white iron kitchen dinette. Next to it on the wall was black clock that looked like a cat with its tail wagging marking time. Her stove was a large double oven gas stove that required matches to light its top burners. On one of those burners was a tea kettle. Many many mornings my brothers and I got up before dawn to come to that kitchen and find grandma sitting at her little dinette with a cup of Folgers instant coffee in her hand dressed in her robe with what looked like a paper towel wrapped around her permanent with bobbie pins to protect it during sleep. That was her favorite and when we were in Miami... it was our favorite as well. She had those dainty china cups with dark green around the rim and gold on the top of the rim with very small handles. We always spooned in plenty of sugar and crème in our coffee (ok I still do...live with it). I would give anything to find a set of that china today just for the memories.
End of part 1
Sunday, November 22, 2009
There are Truely Angels Walking Among Us
This past week was a tough week as usual trying to drum up some business but I got a treat I never expected. I met a lady who brightened up my day and week in one visit. Her name is Annie and she lives here in Pensacola in a modest home in an average neighborhood. She moved here from the cold northern country some years ago and had a son in the US Navy who has long since retired. When I approached her she was in her garage packing what appeared to be garage sale items. We struck up a conversation which quickly leaned toward her hearts mission. She told me the items left in her little garage where items left from a garage sale for our troops. I of course was curious and inquired a little more but not too much to make her uncomfortable. This sweet heart of a grandmother lit up like a neon sign when she talked about our boys and girls in the military as she called them.
Annie was only about 4 1/2 feet in height with snow white short hair. She had long lost her girlish figure and was no longer a queen of the latest fashions. Her home was decorated with furnishings from the 1970’s and 1980’s era. What some would call clutter she would call merchandise in waiting and there seem to be an abundance of it. Even her aging automobile had long lost its luster but was still in good operating condition as was its owner.
Annie asked me to follow her into her little home and only stopped for a moment, turned and with a slightly suspicious grinned asked “Now your not going to come back later and rob me are you?” I assured her I was on her side, told her about the Patriot Guard, Christian Motorcyclist Association and ABATE of Florida all of which I was a member of and how we fully supported our military. She turned back quickly and said “ok, come on then to my war room”. This war room as she called it was a bedroom about 12 ft by 12 ft. The walls were lined with shelving units full of her supplies. One has boxes of small soaps, small shampoo’s, razors and assorted toiletries. Others contained candies, gum, magazines and so forth. She even had a small purse that contained dollar bills which she placed a few into every box she completed.
There were postal boxes everywhere and one nearly complete package was on a small card table in the middle of the room. She opened the box and told me how she filled it with everything she possibly could that would aid in the comfort of our soldiers so far away. She also volunteered at a local blood bank and they gave her small bags used for blood pressure kits She used those as small shaving kits. She said that when she closed the zipper on that kit, if she could poke her frail little finger into it, there was room for one more piece of candy or gum. She does get some donations but more times than not she pays the price for the shipping and many items in the cherished boxes from home. I told her I would be making some calls and doing my part in contributing to this most worthy cause.
As I was turning to leave she handed me a business card and I learned of another duty of this angel. Annie also volunteered at the Navy Air Museum here in Pensacola at one of the exhibits. She stands on the replica street of the early 1940’s and tells of life during World War II. This dear lady does more for our country than 80 percent of it’s younger citizens. What an example she is, what a patriot this white haired granny has become. There truly are angels walking among us.
Annie was only about 4 1/2 feet in height with snow white short hair. She had long lost her girlish figure and was no longer a queen of the latest fashions. Her home was decorated with furnishings from the 1970’s and 1980’s era. What some would call clutter she would call merchandise in waiting and there seem to be an abundance of it. Even her aging automobile had long lost its luster but was still in good operating condition as was its owner.
Annie asked me to follow her into her little home and only stopped for a moment, turned and with a slightly suspicious grinned asked “Now your not going to come back later and rob me are you?” I assured her I was on her side, told her about the Patriot Guard, Christian Motorcyclist Association and ABATE of Florida all of which I was a member of and how we fully supported our military. She turned back quickly and said “ok, come on then to my war room”. This war room as she called it was a bedroom about 12 ft by 12 ft. The walls were lined with shelving units full of her supplies. One has boxes of small soaps, small shampoo’s, razors and assorted toiletries. Others contained candies, gum, magazines and so forth. She even had a small purse that contained dollar bills which she placed a few into every box she completed.
There were postal boxes everywhere and one nearly complete package was on a small card table in the middle of the room. She opened the box and told me how she filled it with everything she possibly could that would aid in the comfort of our soldiers so far away. She also volunteered at a local blood bank and they gave her small bags used for blood pressure kits She used those as small shaving kits. She said that when she closed the zipper on that kit, if she could poke her frail little finger into it, there was room for one more piece of candy or gum. She does get some donations but more times than not she pays the price for the shipping and many items in the cherished boxes from home. I told her I would be making some calls and doing my part in contributing to this most worthy cause.
As I was turning to leave she handed me a business card and I learned of another duty of this angel. Annie also volunteered at the Navy Air Museum here in Pensacola at one of the exhibits. She stands on the replica street of the early 1940’s and tells of life during World War II. This dear lady does more for our country than 80 percent of it’s younger citizens. What an example she is, what a patriot this white haired granny has become. There truly are angels walking among us.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
LEST WE FORGET THEM
LEST WE FORGET THEM
Remember me for I have remembered you.
When I layed behind the fence at Gettysburg
And the mini ball found its target true.
Remember me for I have remembered you.
As I bled in the ditches of France.
And the bi-planes over me flew.
Remember me for I have remembered you.
While I crawled along the beaches of Normandy
The enemy I did wearily pursue.
Remember me for I have remembered you.
Through the jungles of Korea I moved silently.
Doing what my country had asked me to do.
Remember me for I have remembered you.
In country I gave all for my nation.
The nam claimed my body and mind too.
Remember me for I have remembered you.
The deserts I stormed without question.
While the threat of scud missiles grew.
Remember me for I have remembered you.
Road bombs ripped my humvee beneath me
My duty to God and country I pursue.
Remember me for I will remember you.
Your freedom I secured with my blood.
Remember I went so you wouldn’t have to.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
Copyright November 11, 2009
Dedicated to all the veterans of the United States Armed Forces
“We remember you and Thank you”
Friday, November 6, 2009
“Doctor’s Visits..I’m certainly not here for a Visit”
Sitting in a doctor’s office waiting on someone can make time stop dead. You read everything around you and it’s usually Women’s Day (I now know what to do about that bloating problem I mean besides stop eating). You get to hear all about everyone’s problems whether you want to or not. I have to admit I seriously doubt the little old granny killed her husband of his tabacky spittin but you never know. I moved down four chairs just in case. Then there is the coughing and hacking person who says “Man this flu is killing me” yup you guessed it, moved another five seats down. I am getting rather close to the door and thinking of waiting in the car. Did you ever notice how uncomfortable the chairs are in doctors offices? I have that one figured out as well. That is so the men can’t sleep and snore. You could put those puppies in your living room and be sure company will not overstay their welcome.
Don’t you love how you can get a 9:00am appointment and the doctor doesn’t even get into his office until 10:30am? They always have that back door to come in through so you can’t see their golf clothes when they come in. Next time you wonder if his mind is on his work, when he turns his back yell FOUR and see if he ducks. If he does, politely excuse yourself as a bogie and leave.Thats the real reason that doctors wear the scrubs with shoe covers. They cover up there Ping golf polo shirts and golf slack along with spiked golfing shoes. Anytime now I expect to visit a hospital that is adjacent to an eighteen hole country club golf course.
I supposed I should have gotten a pack of surgical face mask to come to this office. “How you are doing today ma am?” she replies “Hack cough sneeze gag…fine thank you”. Well you know they aren’t fine by the accompanying sound effects. There needs to be a receptionist at the door like coming into an auto garage. “ Sir please wait for the electronic door seal to depressurize and step into the chamber… I mean room”. That way those of us who are only there as the ride can escape unscathed. Now I am going to make you worry… here it is. All these sick coughing gagging and sneezing patients just came in grabbing the same door knob you grabbed and sat in the same chair you sat in. Ok….feel free to express paranoia. I once worked for a company in Panama City that had potential customers come by and shop. I had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman who shook my hand wearing surgical gloves. He browsed our merchandise and upon entering his automobile three his gloves in the parking lot. I was soooo tempted to run up to him grab his hand one last time, thank him for coming by and slamming his door and watching him scream.
As you can tell I am getting really bored in my wait here. Can you believe it, at these medical care prices and no coffee? What kind of doctor would not have coffee in his office to help his clientel’s drivers to stay awake? I’m sure Obama will make sure a coffee pot will be in every office after his health bill passes. It will make administering the morphine easier for your cost efficient self termination procedure.
Uh oh, someone accidentally let the room get to cool and I feel a nap coming on with a full arsenal of snoring and mumbling. Silly mortals, don’t they know who they are fooling with *YAWN*.? Its too late, save the women and children….I…cant….stop ….it ….knowwww zzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZ
Don’t you love how you can get a 9:00am appointment and the doctor doesn’t even get into his office until 10:30am? They always have that back door to come in through so you can’t see their golf clothes when they come in. Next time you wonder if his mind is on his work, when he turns his back yell FOUR and see if he ducks. If he does, politely excuse yourself as a bogie and leave.Thats the real reason that doctors wear the scrubs with shoe covers. They cover up there Ping golf polo shirts and golf slack along with spiked golfing shoes. Anytime now I expect to visit a hospital that is adjacent to an eighteen hole country club golf course.
I supposed I should have gotten a pack of surgical face mask to come to this office. “How you are doing today ma am?” she replies “Hack cough sneeze gag…fine thank you”. Well you know they aren’t fine by the accompanying sound effects. There needs to be a receptionist at the door like coming into an auto garage. “ Sir please wait for the electronic door seal to depressurize and step into the chamber… I mean room”. That way those of us who are only there as the ride can escape unscathed. Now I am going to make you worry… here it is. All these sick coughing gagging and sneezing patients just came in grabbing the same door knob you grabbed and sat in the same chair you sat in. Ok….feel free to express paranoia. I once worked for a company in Panama City that had potential customers come by and shop. I had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman who shook my hand wearing surgical gloves. He browsed our merchandise and upon entering his automobile three his gloves in the parking lot. I was soooo tempted to run up to him grab his hand one last time, thank him for coming by and slamming his door and watching him scream.
As you can tell I am getting really bored in my wait here. Can you believe it, at these medical care prices and no coffee? What kind of doctor would not have coffee in his office to help his clientel’s drivers to stay awake? I’m sure Obama will make sure a coffee pot will be in every office after his health bill passes. It will make administering the morphine easier for your cost efficient self termination procedure.
Uh oh, someone accidentally let the room get to cool and I feel a nap coming on with a full arsenal of snoring and mumbling. Silly mortals, don’t they know who they are fooling with *YAWN*.? Its too late, save the women and children….I…cant….stop ….it ….knowwww zzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZ
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Death of a Hero
Here is a little story I wrote a few years back. Let me know what you think yea or nea.
Terry
Terry
The Death of a Hero
There were so many burst overhead that Joshua was nearly too frightened to hold his weapon. He had never dreamed of such fear when he was back home in Mississippi. He was from a small town in the country called Silver Creek. The population was only about 600 on a good day but right now it was like New York City to young Josh. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small picture of his family and stared at it intensely. His tears gently slid down his checks and splashed on the little photograph. He really missed those early mornings with his mother frying bacon in the kitchen while his dad hollered upstairs for the boys to get up. Another explosion burst into the trees behind Joshua and he heard the faint sounds of men breathing their last breaths all too near to his position. With the constant gun fire and shell explosions he hoped he would not hear that voice that caused his legs to tremble. He hoped that he could just stay here and crunch down low to the ground and wish it all away. But the voice came and his heart beat into his throat to the point that he could feel every beat just below his neck.
“Attention to orders” shouted the first sergeant. “Company rise” were the words so feared by all. “Fix bayonets” screamed the nearly hoarse first sergeant again. Joshua’s hand was shaking so that he had to use his other to steady it while he attached the bayonet and locked it down. Under his breath he began to pray. “Our Father which art in heaven, hollowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” He spoke every word as though they would be his last. Joshua could see the line of the enemy and he knew that their numbers were three times greater than his comrades in arms. At this point he knew that God was his only hope. He never wanted to be here but he came because he knew that if he did not fight this war here and now, this great enemy would be at the doorsteps of his home and family. He could not bare the thought of his mother, father and siblings being murdered unarmed and helpless. He wondered in the years to come if anyone would even remember what he had done. Well no matter, today he was going to charge as the sergeant ordered. Today he would defend the family and friends at home. Today he would give his life so that those he loved could keep freedom and their lives.
Joshua remembered much of his days in the little church down town. He remembered how he gave his life to Christ because Christ had selflessly given his life for Joshua. Joshua suddenly had a peace come over him. As he began to march forward he knew he was doing the right and honorable thing and that soon he would be with his Lord in paradise. As he walked forward he did not feel the hot lead pierce his heart. As he sunk to the ground he clutched the picture to his blood soaked chest and gurgled his last words on this earth. Oh Jesus ….
Joshua did make a difference, for his battle was to protect his love ones. Perhaps you knew of Joshua, for he fought in the American Revolution, Civil War, The Spanish American War, World War One, World War Two, The Korean War, The Vietnam War, The Gulf War, Iraq and Afghanistan. God bless you Joshua’s everywhere that fought for us a grateful nation. We honor you this day, on this Memorial Day.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
Copyright © May 31, 1999
Trichar384@aol.com
There were so many burst overhead that Joshua was nearly too frightened to hold his weapon. He had never dreamed of such fear when he was back home in Mississippi. He was from a small town in the country called Silver Creek. The population was only about 600 on a good day but right now it was like New York City to young Josh. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small picture of his family and stared at it intensely. His tears gently slid down his checks and splashed on the little photograph. He really missed those early mornings with his mother frying bacon in the kitchen while his dad hollered upstairs for the boys to get up. Another explosion burst into the trees behind Joshua and he heard the faint sounds of men breathing their last breaths all too near to his position. With the constant gun fire and shell explosions he hoped he would not hear that voice that caused his legs to tremble. He hoped that he could just stay here and crunch down low to the ground and wish it all away. But the voice came and his heart beat into his throat to the point that he could feel every beat just below his neck.
“Attention to orders” shouted the first sergeant. “Company rise” were the words so feared by all. “Fix bayonets” screamed the nearly hoarse first sergeant again. Joshua’s hand was shaking so that he had to use his other to steady it while he attached the bayonet and locked it down. Under his breath he began to pray. “Our Father which art in heaven, hollowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” He spoke every word as though they would be his last. Joshua could see the line of the enemy and he knew that their numbers were three times greater than his comrades in arms. At this point he knew that God was his only hope. He never wanted to be here but he came because he knew that if he did not fight this war here and now, this great enemy would be at the doorsteps of his home and family. He could not bare the thought of his mother, father and siblings being murdered unarmed and helpless. He wondered in the years to come if anyone would even remember what he had done. Well no matter, today he was going to charge as the sergeant ordered. Today he would defend the family and friends at home. Today he would give his life so that those he loved could keep freedom and their lives.
Joshua remembered much of his days in the little church down town. He remembered how he gave his life to Christ because Christ had selflessly given his life for Joshua. Joshua suddenly had a peace come over him. As he began to march forward he knew he was doing the right and honorable thing and that soon he would be with his Lord in paradise. As he walked forward he did not feel the hot lead pierce his heart. As he sunk to the ground he clutched the picture to his blood soaked chest and gurgled his last words on this earth. Oh Jesus ….
Joshua did make a difference, for his battle was to protect his love ones. Perhaps you knew of Joshua, for he fought in the American Revolution, Civil War, The Spanish American War, World War One, World War Two, The Korean War, The Vietnam War, The Gulf War, Iraq and Afghanistan. God bless you Joshua’s everywhere that fought for us a grateful nation. We honor you this day, on this Memorial Day.
Written by Terry L. Richardson
Copyright © May 31, 1999
Trichar384@aol.com
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Dog and the Bone...updated version
The Dog and the Bone
The original version
A dog once had a large bone that his master had given him. As he trotted off to enjoy it, he went across a bridge across a river. He looked down into the water and saw another dog.
The other dog was also carrying a bone in his mouth. The dog stopped to look. The other dog’s bone was bigger than his bone. He dropped his bone and lunged for the other dog’s bone. His bone fell into the water with a splash. The dog fell into the water and struggled to shore. As he climbed out of the water, he realized how stupid he had been.
Moral of the story : It is very foolish to be greedy.
The Dog and the Bone
The modern day version
A dog once had a large bone that he worked hard for digging through trash cans, climbing under fences and at last digging up numerous holes to at last make his find. As he trotted off to enjoy the labors of his hard work he went across a bridge across a yard with many fat and lazy dogs that had only small meatless bones. They dropped their bones and lunged for his bone and took it from him because in this society everyone should have a fare share of everyones bone. Because the dogs in the yard taunted him and told him he should be ashamed for owning such a large bone, the dog slowly walked home realizing how stupid he had been.
Moral of the story : Be careful how you vote in 2010
The original version
A dog once had a large bone that his master had given him. As he trotted off to enjoy it, he went across a bridge across a river. He looked down into the water and saw another dog.
The other dog was also carrying a bone in his mouth. The dog stopped to look. The other dog’s bone was bigger than his bone. He dropped his bone and lunged for the other dog’s bone. His bone fell into the water with a splash. The dog fell into the water and struggled to shore. As he climbed out of the water, he realized how stupid he had been.
Moral of the story : It is very foolish to be greedy.
The Dog and the Bone
The modern day version
A dog once had a large bone that he worked hard for digging through trash cans, climbing under fences and at last digging up numerous holes to at last make his find. As he trotted off to enjoy the labors of his hard work he went across a bridge across a yard with many fat and lazy dogs that had only small meatless bones. They dropped their bones and lunged for his bone and took it from him because in this society everyone should have a fare share of everyones bone. Because the dogs in the yard taunted him and told him he should be ashamed for owning such a large bone, the dog slowly walked home realizing how stupid he had been.
Moral of the story : Be careful how you vote in 2010
Monday, October 5, 2009
A River Hunting Trip...Benny Hill Style
A River Hunting Trip…Benny Hill style
As the opening of hunting season gets ever closer, I am reminded of a trip on the Apalachicola River a few years back that would have been good material for Benny Hill or America’s Funniest Videos. My Dad, brothers and male members of our family for many years took a few days off to run up the Apalachicola River for the opening day of Squirrel Season (yes those little tree rats are fun to hunt and good to eat.. taste like chicken of course) and we also enjoyed a few days of good old fashion brim and catfish fishing. This one particular year I decided to bring my new 8MM camcorder. Of course it was only slightly smaller than the full size VHS system but hey I thought back then the fact it only weighed 10 pounds made it light and portable. Now my boat was only 15 ½ ft long and only had a 25 horse Mariner outboard motor but I thought it was a 200 ton barge and loaded it as so.
The first thing I just KNEW I had to have along was a 1200 watt Coleman generator. After all how was I going to run my TV, radio and lights without a generator? It fit nicely in the front where a passenger would have been comfortable. Next you can’t have a nice generator without a TV, so.. my 10 inch color TV came along for the ball games and Miami Vice (I told you it was a few years ago). Hmmm.. gotta put that TV on something.. oh yeah.. I now loaded up my portable picnic table and a couple comfy chairs. Gotta cook all those tasty fish… time for a Coleman propane stove, a couple of lanterns and a 5 gal propane tank. Now that should take care of the kitchen. It’s time for the tent. I of course needed plenty of room for my brothers, dad and gear so I loaded up my Coleman 8 man tent with a couple cots and sleeping bags. Man I am going to be comfortable when I camp. Next was a box of food that would feed 146th US Armor Division for two weeks, after all we might get hungry. Add four rod and reels, two brim busters, two tackle boxes, a few guns and cases of ammo and I am ready to go.
Jed Clampet would have been proud of that loaded down boat. Wait….now I have a problem, I have no place for a passenger OR me to sit. Had to do a little stacking and load tying but wa la.. a place for me (the passengers will have to catch the next boat). I slowly towed my barge down to White City to the Howards Creek Landing and positioned my ole 65 Keiser Jeep truck on the boat launch. People must have really been impressed because a crowd started gathering as I was getting ready to descend to the small creek leading to the great Apalachicola River. WAIT…forgot to take the strap off the boat and raise the motor foot…there.. ready to go.
It was at that time a rather rugged individual stepped up named Catfish who controlled his (by all appearances..contagious) laughter long enough to offer up a suggestion. “Son, you ain’t gonna launch that boat without unloading it first are ya? If you don’t you’ll sink her fer shore.” Hmm…yeah backing down it just might happen that way so I proceeded to unload a few hundred pounds of gear. People must have gotten bored because they began to disperse still snickering of course. I finally figured that should do it and I got back in my ole Jeep and down she went to natures’ beckoning arms. Successfully she bobbed in the cold waters of the little creek so I pulled her back close to the shore and started loading her up again.
Alright, I am ready for a fun filled week of fishing and hunting. Time to push off. Nope, believe it or not you just don’t push off 800 pounds of equipment from the shore line. Great… now my boots are soaked having to walk and two that load to deeper water but my barge is afloat. My brother and dad are in my dad’s boat (yeah they caught that nasty laughing bug that is going around too) and decided to run behind me to pick up survivors…I mean monitor my progress. It’s at this time that I realized I should have cranked that boat motor at home before going to the river after a summer of sitting under the carport. Another hour lost to cleaning and probing around the carburetor but she is now running and ready to scream up that river. We putt putt down the creek through the no wake zone to the opening of the great Apalachicola. Ahhh… nature calls me…I throw the throttle forward in anticipation of the cool river breeze in my face and suddenly a tsunami wave of water rips through the air straight into my face from the bow. I pull the throttle quickly back because I now realize my barge will not get on plane with my little 25 horse power motor and heavy load. I have now learned another valuable wet lesson. Oh well slow and easy I go and we take a 30 minute boat ride in only three and a half hours.
Unloading was not as much fun either since the river was low today and the bank was about four feet higher than the boat. We did manage to get it unloaded, set up and had a great week as anticipated.
Now you would think this would be a great place to end this story but it ain’t gonna happen. When we started heading back to the loading ramp I decided to take some nice video of the beautiful river surrounds in a somewhat documentary style. As my barge putted back down the river I video taped everything I could see. Now I was coming up on the boat ramp and putting the old girl to the bank so I could go get my trusty Keiser Jeep. I put the ole Keiser in four wheel drive because it would get the most traction that way…pulling up my fully loaded barge. Now my logic was this. Launching the boat would have sunk it because it went straight down the trailer into the water with so much weight but coming up the trailer I wouldn’t have that problem because I am now coming OUT of the water. Besides, I was tired and ready to go home. So I put my trailer in the water, got inside my boat, lined her up and drove her as far up the trailer as I could. Now I jumped out of the boat and went to the trailer to start to crank her the rest of the way up. By this time again a crowd of admirers were gathering no doubt to congratulate me on a plan well calculated. I had my load all but four inches to the crank when there was a sudden sound of SNAP and my beloved barge quickly launched back into the creek like the USS Drum. Yes I said USS Drum and for those familiar with the vessel, yes the USS Drum is a submarine… as was my beloved boat that day. I unloaded as much submerged equipment as possible, retied another rope to the wench and then suddenly remembered my beautiful nature ride through the Apalachicola wonderland. My camcorder was right where I left it, on the floor of the boat. As I reached into the water and pulled it up with streams of water exiting its casing, I got a bigger belly grabbing, gut wrenching laugh out of my audience than Chevy Chase got in Christmas Vacation. Oh well, $1200 bucks down the drain but..I still have the video. Have a great day.
As the opening of hunting season gets ever closer, I am reminded of a trip on the Apalachicola River a few years back that would have been good material for Benny Hill or America’s Funniest Videos. My Dad, brothers and male members of our family for many years took a few days off to run up the Apalachicola River for the opening day of Squirrel Season (yes those little tree rats are fun to hunt and good to eat.. taste like chicken of course) and we also enjoyed a few days of good old fashion brim and catfish fishing. This one particular year I decided to bring my new 8MM camcorder. Of course it was only slightly smaller than the full size VHS system but hey I thought back then the fact it only weighed 10 pounds made it light and portable. Now my boat was only 15 ½ ft long and only had a 25 horse Mariner outboard motor but I thought it was a 200 ton barge and loaded it as so.
The first thing I just KNEW I had to have along was a 1200 watt Coleman generator. After all how was I going to run my TV, radio and lights without a generator? It fit nicely in the front where a passenger would have been comfortable. Next you can’t have a nice generator without a TV, so.. my 10 inch color TV came along for the ball games and Miami Vice (I told you it was a few years ago). Hmmm.. gotta put that TV on something.. oh yeah.. I now loaded up my portable picnic table and a couple comfy chairs. Gotta cook all those tasty fish… time for a Coleman propane stove, a couple of lanterns and a 5 gal propane tank. Now that should take care of the kitchen. It’s time for the tent. I of course needed plenty of room for my brothers, dad and gear so I loaded up my Coleman 8 man tent with a couple cots and sleeping bags. Man I am going to be comfortable when I camp. Next was a box of food that would feed 146th US Armor Division for two weeks, after all we might get hungry. Add four rod and reels, two brim busters, two tackle boxes, a few guns and cases of ammo and I am ready to go.
Jed Clampet would have been proud of that loaded down boat. Wait….now I have a problem, I have no place for a passenger OR me to sit. Had to do a little stacking and load tying but wa la.. a place for me (the passengers will have to catch the next boat). I slowly towed my barge down to White City to the Howards Creek Landing and positioned my ole 65 Keiser Jeep truck on the boat launch. People must have really been impressed because a crowd started gathering as I was getting ready to descend to the small creek leading to the great Apalachicola River. WAIT…forgot to take the strap off the boat and raise the motor foot…there.. ready to go.
It was at that time a rather rugged individual stepped up named Catfish who controlled his (by all appearances..contagious) laughter long enough to offer up a suggestion. “Son, you ain’t gonna launch that boat without unloading it first are ya? If you don’t you’ll sink her fer shore.” Hmm…yeah backing down it just might happen that way so I proceeded to unload a few hundred pounds of gear. People must have gotten bored because they began to disperse still snickering of course. I finally figured that should do it and I got back in my ole Jeep and down she went to natures’ beckoning arms. Successfully she bobbed in the cold waters of the little creek so I pulled her back close to the shore and started loading her up again.
Alright, I am ready for a fun filled week of fishing and hunting. Time to push off. Nope, believe it or not you just don’t push off 800 pounds of equipment from the shore line. Great… now my boots are soaked having to walk and two that load to deeper water but my barge is afloat. My brother and dad are in my dad’s boat (yeah they caught that nasty laughing bug that is going around too) and decided to run behind me to pick up survivors…I mean monitor my progress. It’s at this time that I realized I should have cranked that boat motor at home before going to the river after a summer of sitting under the carport. Another hour lost to cleaning and probing around the carburetor but she is now running and ready to scream up that river. We putt putt down the creek through the no wake zone to the opening of the great Apalachicola. Ahhh… nature calls me…I throw the throttle forward in anticipation of the cool river breeze in my face and suddenly a tsunami wave of water rips through the air straight into my face from the bow. I pull the throttle quickly back because I now realize my barge will not get on plane with my little 25 horse power motor and heavy load. I have now learned another valuable wet lesson. Oh well slow and easy I go and we take a 30 minute boat ride in only three and a half hours.
Unloading was not as much fun either since the river was low today and the bank was about four feet higher than the boat. We did manage to get it unloaded, set up and had a great week as anticipated.
Now you would think this would be a great place to end this story but it ain’t gonna happen. When we started heading back to the loading ramp I decided to take some nice video of the beautiful river surrounds in a somewhat documentary style. As my barge putted back down the river I video taped everything I could see. Now I was coming up on the boat ramp and putting the old girl to the bank so I could go get my trusty Keiser Jeep. I put the ole Keiser in four wheel drive because it would get the most traction that way…pulling up my fully loaded barge. Now my logic was this. Launching the boat would have sunk it because it went straight down the trailer into the water with so much weight but coming up the trailer I wouldn’t have that problem because I am now coming OUT of the water. Besides, I was tired and ready to go home. So I put my trailer in the water, got inside my boat, lined her up and drove her as far up the trailer as I could. Now I jumped out of the boat and went to the trailer to start to crank her the rest of the way up. By this time again a crowd of admirers were gathering no doubt to congratulate me on a plan well calculated. I had my load all but four inches to the crank when there was a sudden sound of SNAP and my beloved barge quickly launched back into the creek like the USS Drum. Yes I said USS Drum and for those familiar with the vessel, yes the USS Drum is a submarine… as was my beloved boat that day. I unloaded as much submerged equipment as possible, retied another rope to the wench and then suddenly remembered my beautiful nature ride through the Apalachicola wonderland. My camcorder was right where I left it, on the floor of the boat. As I reached into the water and pulled it up with streams of water exiting its casing, I got a bigger belly grabbing, gut wrenching laugh out of my audience than Chevy Chase got in Christmas Vacation. Oh well, $1200 bucks down the drain but..I still have the video. Have a great day.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Cell Phones..I'm Just Sayin....
Cell Phones..I’m Just Sayin…
Today I am an enquiring mind. I want to know why we don’t have more options with our cell phone technology. There are buttons on the side, all over the inside cover, a camera on the outside and even a keyboard hidden away. So… why don’t we have a technology that allows us to click on recession mode. Now on this setting a new screen pops up. “Do you want to screen your debtors now?” it asks. Why yes I would and now I have a new menu. “Please chose an excuse on the following screens” it would say. Ah yes which one did I use last month oh yeah now I remember. I push number 12 and the sample screen comes to life..”Im sorry but I am not available.. sniff..sniff..right now because I have a highly contagious strain of the celluswine flu. This strain..cough cough is highly contagious and can be transferred through cellular tower transmissions. Have a nice day.” Nope used that one in July, how about number 3..”Im surry bud I dot a bat told, doon try to leebe your number tause im too sick to tall ou back.” Well that one didn’t work last month on Gulf Power and probably wont work this month on maw bell. Hmmm.. there it is… the perfect excuse…number 39..”Shhhhh…I’m in a bank hold up..I can’t talk right now…what?? Me?? NO PLEASE NOT ME…click.” Yeah that one was good for three weeks, the Visa people were scared to call back for two months.
Now there is another function I would like to see added to the cell phones. Shock and talk, yeah that’s right I want a little electrode on the ear piece of that phone that senses when you are in a car. The little timer goes on when you first start using it. You have two minutes to say what you need to and than… ZAPPP. I guarantee you it will be more fun riding down the rode watching a moron deep in conversation with his or her smoochums and suddently they rip the phone from their ear and turn it off. Think of the entertainment value alone. Of course then someone needs to sell a remote transmitter that’s good for about 50 yards that will activate that electrode. Can you imagine the fun you would have at the movies or in backed up traffic?
Of course no cell phone wish list would be complete without the dropped call cash exchange. Now with this little software package every time your call is dropped your cell phone carrier has to drop a buck in your account. With my carrier (wont give the name but sounds like P dobble) I figure I could have free cell service and make an extra ten grand a year.
Here is a thought, ever wonder why cell phones opponents warn of brain cancer because the cell phones are so close to your brain and yet its ok to have that radiation strapped to your side where it is so close to your future family endeavors…just saying. I think I will make a cell phone holster for my ankle. Have a great day.
Today I am an enquiring mind. I want to know why we don’t have more options with our cell phone technology. There are buttons on the side, all over the inside cover, a camera on the outside and even a keyboard hidden away. So… why don’t we have a technology that allows us to click on recession mode. Now on this setting a new screen pops up. “Do you want to screen your debtors now?” it asks. Why yes I would and now I have a new menu. “Please chose an excuse on the following screens” it would say. Ah yes which one did I use last month oh yeah now I remember. I push number 12 and the sample screen comes to life..”Im sorry but I am not available.. sniff..sniff..right now because I have a highly contagious strain of the celluswine flu. This strain..cough cough is highly contagious and can be transferred through cellular tower transmissions. Have a nice day.” Nope used that one in July, how about number 3..”Im surry bud I dot a bat told, doon try to leebe your number tause im too sick to tall ou back.” Well that one didn’t work last month on Gulf Power and probably wont work this month on maw bell. Hmmm.. there it is… the perfect excuse…number 39..”Shhhhh…I’m in a bank hold up..I can’t talk right now…what?? Me?? NO PLEASE NOT ME…click.” Yeah that one was good for three weeks, the Visa people were scared to call back for two months.
Now there is another function I would like to see added to the cell phones. Shock and talk, yeah that’s right I want a little electrode on the ear piece of that phone that senses when you are in a car. The little timer goes on when you first start using it. You have two minutes to say what you need to and than… ZAPPP. I guarantee you it will be more fun riding down the rode watching a moron deep in conversation with his or her smoochums and suddently they rip the phone from their ear and turn it off. Think of the entertainment value alone. Of course then someone needs to sell a remote transmitter that’s good for about 50 yards that will activate that electrode. Can you imagine the fun you would have at the movies or in backed up traffic?
Of course no cell phone wish list would be complete without the dropped call cash exchange. Now with this little software package every time your call is dropped your cell phone carrier has to drop a buck in your account. With my carrier (wont give the name but sounds like P dobble) I figure I could have free cell service and make an extra ten grand a year.
Here is a thought, ever wonder why cell phones opponents warn of brain cancer because the cell phones are so close to your brain and yet its ok to have that radiation strapped to your side where it is so close to your future family endeavors…just saying. I think I will make a cell phone holster for my ankle. Have a great day.
World Apology Tour
In light of the Barack Obama World Apology Tour, I would like to apologize for a few of my fellow countrymen electing an unqualified socialist as president of the greatest country in the world. I would like to apologize for saying nothing when Acorn high jacked over 400,000 votes and nothing was done about it. I would like to Apologize for doing nothing when the President of the United States to chose to not acknowledge or participate in the National Day of prayer and yet held a dinner for Ramadan. I would like to apologize for allowing a government to believe the people work for them when in fact they are servants of the people. I would like to apologize for allowing panty waste liberals to take control of our learning institutes and corrupting the minds of our future leaders. I would like to apologize for allowing houses of worship becoming bless me clubs with rubber backbones. I would like to apologize for not drawing a line in the sand and saying enough is enough SOONER.
I WILL NOT apologize for America being THE WORLD SUPER POWER. I WILL NOT apologize for ever nuclear missile that sit in silo’s on board WAR ships and under the wings of the deadliest aircraft in the world. I WILL NOT apologize for the United States of America have the most advanced weaponry and training on the face of the earth. I WILL NOT apologize for our founding Fathers putting into place a Constitution that protects and maintains a republic under the protection of God Almighty, I WILL NOT apologize for being a capitalist. I WILL NOT apologize for America having a strong and powerful military. I WILL NOT apologize for boycotting EVERY celebrity that tramples MY GOD AND MY COUNTRY if it means emptying Hollywood. I WILL NOT apologize for CELEBRATING every military hero who comes home both living and dead. I WILL NOT apologize for believing life begins at conception. I WILL NOT apologize for owning several BIBLE’s and not one single Koran. I WILL NOT apologize for owning many guns and an abundance of ammunition. I WILL NOT apologize for the United States….EVER. Last and most importantly, I WILL NOT apologize for being partially responsible for unseating as many corrupt professional politicians and a president in the coming elections. In the words of Edmond Burke~”"All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The Ant and the Grasshopper..two versions
Well todays blog is a little different. I am going to post a joke. You guys will hurt yourself on this one. Have a great day.
THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPERTwo Different Versions...Two Different MoralsOLD
VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.
MORAL OF THE STORY:Be responsible for yourself
MODERN VERSION:The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.
CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybody cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green.'Acorn stages a demonstration in front of the ant 's house where the news stations film the group singing, 'We shall overcome.' Rev. Jeremiah Wright then has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the GovernmentGreenCzar.
The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the ants food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around him because he doesn't maintain it.The ant has disappeared in the snow.The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once peaceful neighborhood.
MORAL OF THE STORY:Be careful how you vote in 2010.
The Ant and the Grasshopper...
THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPERTwo Different Versions...Two Different MoralsOLD
VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.
MORAL OF THE STORY:Be responsible for yourself
MODERN VERSION:The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.
CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybody cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green.'Acorn stages a demonstration in front of the ant 's house where the news stations film the group singing, 'We shall overcome.' Rev. Jeremiah Wright then has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the GovernmentGreenCzar.
The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the ants food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around him because he doesn't maintain it.The ant has disappeared in the snow.The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once peaceful neighborhood.
MORAL OF THE STORY:Be careful how you vote in 2010.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Do it Yourself and Know it's Done Right...WRONG !!
Ok we have all done it. We get the estimate from the plumber or contractor or mechanic and right away we think… hey, I can do this myself and save a ton of money. Yup we have all done it and we have all been wrong. Let’s take my Sonoma Pick-up truck compressor for instance. At the beginning of the summer, I took it to an AC shop and got an estimate on repairs. The nice surgeon..err…technician said no problem he could fix it, it only needed a compressor. "How much will that cost me?" I ask. Only $675 he tells me. $675? I’m thinking when I was a baby I was delivered at the hospital in 1958 for less than that and I came with a new blankie and a cap. Well thank you sir but no thank you sir. I can do this myself and save a fortune.
Well first things first, I need a compressor. Hey the truck is old and I can find a good used compressor at a salvage yard much cheaper. Yeah that’s the ticket, a used compressor. I start my journey and who could have guessed that particular compressor was a rare one (meaning they only had one or two and were going to milk some sucker..ME). I drove yard to yard, east to west, north to south and no luck. I finally found a small yard at the edge of the universe that just happened to have a nice shiny almost new compressor. No problem, I eagerly shelled out $150 bucks and was off. Lets see, what else do I need, oh yeah Freon gauges. Ok off to my trusty Harbor Freight store, shell out another $50 bucks and now I have gauges. Next I need a new dryer knowing that the old one will be shot after all the times I recharged the system, another $100 bucks. What else, oh yeah Freon, I make run to the local AutoZone and pick up 4 cans of Freon, yeah that should do it, oh and maybe an oil charge. Ok another $70 bucks and I haven’t even popped the hood yet. I take my trophies like a monkey with a fresh stalk of bananas and drag them back to my cave. I pop the hood and there she sits… with a nasty looking belt around the clutch. Hmmm… how does that come off, I know pry it..and I pried it…and I pried it and snap it came off, another $25 for a new belt. I take out my socket set and remove the old compressor, wow, who would have guessed cracking that line would let out so much oil. Oh well probably didn’t need it anyway. I take the old compressor off and install the new one. Great I am ready to charge it with Freon but first I have to vacuum the line down, I hook up my pump (another $135 bucks) and vacuum it down to two pounds negative.
Great I am ready for the new Freon and some cold air. I hook up the gauges and put on a can of Freon and wal lah.. I lose a whole can of Freon out of the valve because I didn’t notice the spare parts package that held the o ring seal for the gauges. I put in the seals (attached to that stupid pouch with the directions inside) and now I’m ready and a charging we will go. I put one can, two cans, three cans of Freon in and still no high pressure however I am about to ring the needle around to the back side with low side pressure. Ok, something is wrong, I know I will take it to an AC shop and have them check it out, they will politely tell me what is wrong and I can return to my cave and correct the error of my ways.
My AC technician is a genius, within 4 hours of waiting there for him to attend my sick AC he has a diagnosis. “Mr. Richardson, you have a bad compressor but we can fix it”. Ok, now I have to tell Mr. wonderful I will think about it and get back to him and make my way back to my man cave, oh and he gigged me for $75 bucks for the diagnosis. I make a call and the salvage yard has another. I don’t have a way to recover my Freon or oil charge so… another $70 bucks down the drain. I drive wearily down to the junk yard (no longer care to call it salvage) and pick up another not as pretty compressor. I go through my same routine and once again the exact same results. Now I am getting pretty non Christian feeling if you know what I mean. I give a friend a call (because I ran out of 50/50s) and he tells me to take it to a friend of his for a looksy. I do just that and this old salt comes out, takes a look, feels the lines and says “You change the in line filter sport?” Excuse me? There is an in line filter? Yep sure enough right there next to the dryer is a very expensive in line filter that stopped the whole system up and caused me to have warm tropical air, how much was this very important device you ask? Try $1.98. Ok, change the filter, recharged the system, checked all the lines and ta daaa… ICE COLD AIR. Ad the $30 worth of gas for the world tour and I now have $705.98 in my repair using a used compressor instead of paying a shop $675 for a brand new compressor and installation. Yeah I saved some money here (The Three Stooges could have made a mint on this gig). You know this is one of those cases where you have to say, it’s not the destination that satisfies, it’s the journey to the arrival…yeah right.. I don’t believe that either. Have a great day.
Well first things first, I need a compressor. Hey the truck is old and I can find a good used compressor at a salvage yard much cheaper. Yeah that’s the ticket, a used compressor. I start my journey and who could have guessed that particular compressor was a rare one (meaning they only had one or two and were going to milk some sucker..ME). I drove yard to yard, east to west, north to south and no luck. I finally found a small yard at the edge of the universe that just happened to have a nice shiny almost new compressor. No problem, I eagerly shelled out $150 bucks and was off. Lets see, what else do I need, oh yeah Freon gauges. Ok off to my trusty Harbor Freight store, shell out another $50 bucks and now I have gauges. Next I need a new dryer knowing that the old one will be shot after all the times I recharged the system, another $100 bucks. What else, oh yeah Freon, I make run to the local AutoZone and pick up 4 cans of Freon, yeah that should do it, oh and maybe an oil charge. Ok another $70 bucks and I haven’t even popped the hood yet. I take my trophies like a monkey with a fresh stalk of bananas and drag them back to my cave. I pop the hood and there she sits… with a nasty looking belt around the clutch. Hmmm… how does that come off, I know pry it..and I pried it…and I pried it and snap it came off, another $25 for a new belt. I take out my socket set and remove the old compressor, wow, who would have guessed cracking that line would let out so much oil. Oh well probably didn’t need it anyway. I take the old compressor off and install the new one. Great I am ready to charge it with Freon but first I have to vacuum the line down, I hook up my pump (another $135 bucks) and vacuum it down to two pounds negative.
Great I am ready for the new Freon and some cold air. I hook up the gauges and put on a can of Freon and wal lah.. I lose a whole can of Freon out of the valve because I didn’t notice the spare parts package that held the o ring seal for the gauges. I put in the seals (attached to that stupid pouch with the directions inside) and now I’m ready and a charging we will go. I put one can, two cans, three cans of Freon in and still no high pressure however I am about to ring the needle around to the back side with low side pressure. Ok, something is wrong, I know I will take it to an AC shop and have them check it out, they will politely tell me what is wrong and I can return to my cave and correct the error of my ways.
My AC technician is a genius, within 4 hours of waiting there for him to attend my sick AC he has a diagnosis. “Mr. Richardson, you have a bad compressor but we can fix it”. Ok, now I have to tell Mr. wonderful I will think about it and get back to him and make my way back to my man cave, oh and he gigged me for $75 bucks for the diagnosis. I make a call and the salvage yard has another. I don’t have a way to recover my Freon or oil charge so… another $70 bucks down the drain. I drive wearily down to the junk yard (no longer care to call it salvage) and pick up another not as pretty compressor. I go through my same routine and once again the exact same results. Now I am getting pretty non Christian feeling if you know what I mean. I give a friend a call (because I ran out of 50/50s) and he tells me to take it to a friend of his for a looksy. I do just that and this old salt comes out, takes a look, feels the lines and says “You change the in line filter sport?” Excuse me? There is an in line filter? Yep sure enough right there next to the dryer is a very expensive in line filter that stopped the whole system up and caused me to have warm tropical air, how much was this very important device you ask? Try $1.98. Ok, change the filter, recharged the system, checked all the lines and ta daaa… ICE COLD AIR. Ad the $30 worth of gas for the world tour and I now have $705.98 in my repair using a used compressor instead of paying a shop $675 for a brand new compressor and installation. Yeah I saved some money here (The Three Stooges could have made a mint on this gig). You know this is one of those cases where you have to say, it’s not the destination that satisfies, it’s the journey to the arrival…yeah right.. I don’t believe that either. Have a great day.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
They Got My Dander Up !!
THEY GOT MY DANDER UP !!
Ok guys. Obama is right; this stuff has gone far enough. Not only has our school system been dumbed down, so has our political intelligence. Is there some kind of correlation with Politicians entering political office broke and exiting wealthy? Why do the Democrats have a problem with rich people and a problem with the Republicans giving tax cuts to the wealthy when they are members of that club nearly without exception? Who in God’s beautiful green earth gave the ACLU so much power when there supporters are such a small base? No prayer in School? What, is it going to confict with the drug deals, witchcraft and homosexuality already present there?
Why is it we can be arrested because we forgot to declare a couple hundred bucks and people like Pelosi,Wrangle and Frankin can accidently forget about thousands in rental properties and land deals and get not so much as a slap on the hand? Acorn, what a joke, these people are nothing more than a socialistic mafia. They do what they want when they want to whomever they want and no one investigates. Do you think they are not powerful? They put their own man in the presidency didn’t they? Do you remember all of the Acorn voter fraud during the elections where it was proven thousands of people voted many times? Did you ever once hear of a prosecution or for that matter an investigation? Not once and the major left wing radicals continue to run Washington like the Soprano’s.
George Washington was correct when he said “Government is not reason; it is not eloquent; it is force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.” And we are about to let this fearful master get away from us. We have to somehow instill in this politicians that they are not royalty on a thrown making decisions for the poor serfs below them. We are THEIR MASTERS; we hold the keys to the vault they draw their pay from. I am ready to throw every blessed one of them out Republican and Democrat alike and start over. Who in the world gave them permission to have their own health care? Who told them they could give themselves a raise in the wee hours of the morning? Did you? I know no one called me.
Oh yeah we are fighting over this part of a bill and that part of a bill but in reality both sides could have fixed this problem years ago if it wasn’t for the power trips they are running for their parties. Personally I don’t think Obama is working for the Democrats or any other party. I think he is a pure socialist who has gotten his marching orders from someone in the shadows that remains to be seen as of yet. How can a no one like Obama rise to such power in so little time? He is a millionaire and yet he worked in social work of community organizing. Have you seen anyone else become rich in community organizing?
Ok, I leave my rant with the words of John Adams “Before God, I believe the hour has come. My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. And I leave off as I began, that live or die, survive of perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living sentiment, and my by the blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment, Independence now, and Independence for ever!” We simply can not lose our independence to what seems to be more and more apparent a rogue government. We have to band together and let them know who is the boss. Its time to clean out the dungeons of Washington and restore the democracy our forefathers fought to the death to preserve. Ahh… there… I feel better. Gotta run I have a casserole in the oven…LOL Peace and God will to all men. TLR
Ok guys. Obama is right; this stuff has gone far enough. Not only has our school system been dumbed down, so has our political intelligence. Is there some kind of correlation with Politicians entering political office broke and exiting wealthy? Why do the Democrats have a problem with rich people and a problem with the Republicans giving tax cuts to the wealthy when they are members of that club nearly without exception? Who in God’s beautiful green earth gave the ACLU so much power when there supporters are such a small base? No prayer in School? What, is it going to confict with the drug deals, witchcraft and homosexuality already present there?
Why is it we can be arrested because we forgot to declare a couple hundred bucks and people like Pelosi,Wrangle and Frankin can accidently forget about thousands in rental properties and land deals and get not so much as a slap on the hand? Acorn, what a joke, these people are nothing more than a socialistic mafia. They do what they want when they want to whomever they want and no one investigates. Do you think they are not powerful? They put their own man in the presidency didn’t they? Do you remember all of the Acorn voter fraud during the elections where it was proven thousands of people voted many times? Did you ever once hear of a prosecution or for that matter an investigation? Not once and the major left wing radicals continue to run Washington like the Soprano’s.
George Washington was correct when he said “Government is not reason; it is not eloquent; it is force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.” And we are about to let this fearful master get away from us. We have to somehow instill in this politicians that they are not royalty on a thrown making decisions for the poor serfs below them. We are THEIR MASTERS; we hold the keys to the vault they draw their pay from. I am ready to throw every blessed one of them out Republican and Democrat alike and start over. Who in the world gave them permission to have their own health care? Who told them they could give themselves a raise in the wee hours of the morning? Did you? I know no one called me.
Oh yeah we are fighting over this part of a bill and that part of a bill but in reality both sides could have fixed this problem years ago if it wasn’t for the power trips they are running for their parties. Personally I don’t think Obama is working for the Democrats or any other party. I think he is a pure socialist who has gotten his marching orders from someone in the shadows that remains to be seen as of yet. How can a no one like Obama rise to such power in so little time? He is a millionaire and yet he worked in social work of community organizing. Have you seen anyone else become rich in community organizing?
Ok, I leave my rant with the words of John Adams “Before God, I believe the hour has come. My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. And I leave off as I began, that live or die, survive of perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living sentiment, and my by the blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment, Independence now, and Independence for ever!” We simply can not lose our independence to what seems to be more and more apparent a rogue government. We have to band together and let them know who is the boss. Its time to clean out the dungeons of Washington and restore the democracy our forefathers fought to the death to preserve. Ahh… there… I feel better. Gotta run I have a casserole in the oven…LOL Peace and God will to all men. TLR
She Stands in the Harbor
I wrote this poem in 2002, wow what a difference 7 years makes. Is the last verse still prudent today? You decide.
She Stands in the Harbor
She stands silently in the harbor
And waits with patience still
For so long she watched in amazement
And thought it couldn’t be real.
This lady stands long in years
With grace and dignity,
And watched fathers of grandfathers
Achieve enormous prosperity
She wondered when the scales would turn
When the price would have to be paid.
For all the aborted children murdered
And dens of iniquity made.
And she looked one day to the heavens
And watched the mighty hand move away.
And she shook in fear and trembling
As the skys changed from blue to grey.
A flash of fire and smoke
Blew across the torch now dim.
And two mighty rocks now fallen.
Painted a picture now so grim.
And yet the heavens soon opened
And angels rushed out in great mass.
And the hand once again covered over.
And the heavens no longer were brass.
And the light of heaven beamed
To where those two rocks once stood.
For the sinful individuality of men.
Was again a Godly brotherhood.
Written by Terry Lee Richardson
Copyright © March 14, 2002
She stands silently in the harbor
And waits with patience still
For so long she watched in amazement
And thought it couldn’t be real.
This lady stands long in years
With grace and dignity,
And watched fathers of grandfathers
Achieve enormous prosperity
She wondered when the scales would turn
When the price would have to be paid.
For all the aborted children murdered
And dens of iniquity made.
And she looked one day to the heavens
And watched the mighty hand move away.
And she shook in fear and trembling
As the skys changed from blue to grey.
A flash of fire and smoke
Blew across the torch now dim.
And two mighty rocks now fallen.
Painted a picture now so grim.
And yet the heavens soon opened
And angels rushed out in great mass.
And the hand once again covered over.
And the heavens no longer were brass.
And the light of heaven beamed
To where those two rocks once stood.
For the sinful individuality of men.
Was again a Godly brotherhood.
Written by Terry Lee Richardson
Copyright © March 14, 2002
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Internet Blues
Well folks, I am going this week and seek out a chapter of FBAA (Face Book Addictions Anonymous). Saturday morning I once again arose at 4:30AM and stumbled aimlessly into my office where my faithful HP Pavilion waited patiently for its master’s return. I immediately opened my face book page to see what happened during my absence during the late night insomniac hours. Not much appeared to have gone on so I checked the weather, took a look at my bank account (No need to fear me Donald Trump) and closed my browser and was off. I attended my monthly Christian Motorcyclist Association meeting and took our month ride into the country, through a few bike shops and of course a very tasty meal from a local restaurateur. All was right with the world…until…I arrived home. I pulled into my driveway and the sky was strangely dark with a thunderous cloud over my home. I went inside and immediately peeled off my miles of road grime and grabbed a quick shower. As I exited my bedroom I could see a strange blue glow coming from my office. Something was not right, the hair began to stand on the back of my neck, my hands began to shake, I stepped into the room and could hear the music from The Gladiator playing in the background. I froze in my step as my eyes settled on my modem on the shelf. There was only one light blinking. How could this be, perhaps the other burned out during the night, yes that must be it. I ran to desk pushing on the monitor switched and pulling my keyboard drawer out and hit enter. The Pavilion sprang to life… yes perhaps its just three dead LEDs in the modem. As my screen began to materialize I quickly clicked on my internet explorer…”No Internet Connection found”..NOOOOOOoooo.. it can’t be. I know I will reboot the modem, yes that is it. Reboot modem once, twice, 14 times and still the same results. Ok, maybe it’s my wireless router, yes that could be it I will reboot my router. Still nothing, I pick up my cell phone and place a call to Mediacom. “We sorry we are currently experiencing a problem in your area” great…three day weekend and no one to call, I will just have to be patient. I was patient the rest of the day and all of the night on Saturday and still no internet. I bet you didn’t know pacing the floors is no help in getting your internet back on line. I finally go to bed…. a little after dark. 4:30 once again shows its face on my clock and I arise, get my bearings and head for my office. Surely they would have sent the magic internet Genies to work on it all through the night so that my life might be fulfilled at dawn. I walk through my office door and there on the shelf is my poor lonely modem still flashing one light. I again start as desperately as a heart surgeon trying to start a stopped heart. I grab the phone and called Mediacom again and this time I reach a real live person. This person tells me my worst fears. “Sir, I'm sorry but it will be Tuesday before a tech can come out and check your system. I see by my monitor that our system is functioning up to your equipment.” Great, no internet until Tuesday, I can’t go cold turkey for three days, I just can’t do it. There has to be something else I can do. If I only knew an internet technician I could go and kidnap him and force him to fix my internet but I know of none. Ok, think think think. Hey, I know I will turn off the modem for 30 minutes and see what happens. AHAAAAAAAA my four beautiful lights are once again lit and I am a happy man. I get on line and start to get my fix when BAMM….one light again. Hmmm…so…it’s getting hot, I have an idea. I dig through my closet throwing things left and right like a mad man looking, looking looking..AHAAA.. there it is, a small fan. I clear the shelf of all but my precious modem and router. With the precision of a neurosurgeon I position the two boxes so that the maximum flow of air crosses them and I set up and plug in my fan. Viola I have internet. Now I am good until my dealer…er….technician comes and brings me my stuff…I mean modem. Ahhhhh Face book, AOL, Internet Explorer, Weather Underground, Craig’s list, EBay….oh wow man.. like heavy man, like heaaavy. Have a great day.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
The Day America Cried
Well its getting pretty close to that day Americans can never forget and I found this poem in my archives I wrote right after 9-11. Have a great day.
The Day America Cried
I felt pain in my heart as I watched in dismay.
Two towers exploded in fire and I began to pray.
The people stood in horror as the planes began to fall.
No sense could be made as I watched another fireball.
Moments became hours as the sirens screamed in pain.
The towers began to tremble as the steel began to strain.
Brave firemen and policemen ran to the beacon call.
As the towers began to falter and lost were they all.
I felt pain in my heart as I watched in disbelief
The people on the ground were running for relief.
The world watched and cried with lady Liberty.
The crumbling walls of security now felt the agony.
I heard the sound of silence as another plane came down
It crashed into a fortress of military might on the ground.
The soldiers died and bled but no reason could be heard.
As the fires ripped great buildings I could not say a word.
For many hours I watched and many hours I cried.
So many precious people for no reason died.
No one could stop it, no one could bring them back.
The day America cried from a terrorist attack.
Yet now my heart sees hope and no longer sees despair
For brother now joins brother as we begin to repair.
Our hearts grow closer to our Father up above.
We again lean on HIM and demonstrate HIS love.
I will not forget the day my nation cried.
I will always remember, all the hero’s that had died.
I’ll call upon my God who delivered us from that day.
And say God bless America again Lord I pray.
By Terry L Richardson
Copyright © September 14, 2001
The Day America Cried
I felt pain in my heart as I watched in dismay.
Two towers exploded in fire and I began to pray.
The people stood in horror as the planes began to fall.
No sense could be made as I watched another fireball.
Moments became hours as the sirens screamed in pain.
The towers began to tremble as the steel began to strain.
Brave firemen and policemen ran to the beacon call.
As the towers began to falter and lost were they all.
I felt pain in my heart as I watched in disbelief
The people on the ground were running for relief.
The world watched and cried with lady Liberty.
The crumbling walls of security now felt the agony.
I heard the sound of silence as another plane came down
It crashed into a fortress of military might on the ground.
The soldiers died and bled but no reason could be heard.
As the fires ripped great buildings I could not say a word.
For many hours I watched and many hours I cried.
So many precious people for no reason died.
No one could stop it, no one could bring them back.
The day America cried from a terrorist attack.
Yet now my heart sees hope and no longer sees despair
For brother now joins brother as we begin to repair.
Our hearts grow closer to our Father up above.
We again lean on HIM and demonstrate HIS love.
I will not forget the day my nation cried.
I will always remember, all the hero’s that had died.
I’ll call upon my God who delivered us from that day.
And say God bless America again Lord I pray.
By Terry L Richardson
Copyright © September 14, 2001
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Art of Pew Naps
Ah come on as soon as you saw the title you remembered taking a few of those. Of course you need to first set the stage. Don’t ever go to the front of the church, you might have a preacher with a sense of humor who would enjoy pointing out the slumbering congregant. Never go to the very back of the church. It makes you an easy target for an over zealous usher. Try about the last 4 or 5 isles from the back and always sit on the ends. It makes it nice to lean on that arm and rest your eyes. Now your set, the worship music is over and Pastor Sleepease is heading for the pulpit. Ahhhh…you got those lightly tented sunglasses on and are ready for action. Take out a notebook and your bible and open them both, it throws off suspicion. Even if someone spots you dozing they think, oh poor fellow must have worked late and fell asleep while taking notes. Now the preaching begins. You are listening as best you can but ole slew foot has a bag of sleepy dust and he’s sprinkling it on you. You get one of those holy bobbing amen’s going for starters. You know, when you start to drift off and your head starts to roll back and you suddenly catch yourself and let out a little amen as if in agreement with the pastors message. This works pretty well until he says “Do you want to be condemned to hell for eternity?” You pop forward with a fake amen and suddenly your nap comes to an abrupt halt. It would seem half the church is looking at you. You awake in a bit of a daze trying to put together the events of the last five minutes and it hits you what he said. Time for damage control. You once again shake your head in the affirmative and let go of a hearty “That’s right Pastor you tell it like it is brother”. Nice save, the eyes of condemnation have shifted. You are safe again.. for the moment. Ok, now you HAVE to stay awake because now the eyes of the church are suspiciously watching you. Its time to break out the lifesavers hidden in your top pocket, a nice lively peppermint. You munch on them constantly looking at your watch. This brother has been preaching three hours and the lying watch says only twenty minutes. Think Think Think… ah haa that’s it. Its time for a trip to the facility. Now you can make that trip last fifteen to thirty minutes depending on what you had for breakfast. Down the hall, a nod or two to a couple of deacons as you pass by and there it is, the word Brethren etched neatly upon the door. No need to hurry plenty of time for business and an extended mirror grooming. Well that took 15 minutes but was it enough? As you approach the door to the sanctuary you hear Pastor Sleepease moving along to point number 3 of 10 in his notes. Oh man, I will never make it for another 7 points. Isn’t it funny how God has a sense of humor and helps us out with even the most difficult times? You are now seated, glasses in place, open note book and bible on your lap and the sand man starts a return engagement when suddenly your blood runs cold. Pastor Sleepease calls out your name. “ Brother (fill in your name here), I know you just went through this very situation didn’t you?” Ok, your brain is rebooting, you’re searching those sleepy cells for a recording of the last two minutes. What did he say, how can you answer this without showing you weren’t paying attention? Ok here goes, we will just use that generic response again and see what happens. You look at the pastor, smile nice and big and let lose with a hearty “Amen brother”, now you looking for those eyes surrounding you, was it the right answer? Did he just accuse you cheating on your taxes or removing money from the offering plate? You can hear the jeopardy theme music playing in the back ground. Nothing yet….nothing yet….EUREKA. He passed on to his next point and no one was the wiser. Now you’re on the final stretch, an altar call and closing prayer. You did it, you got in your nap and no one was the wiser for it. You pick up your belongings and head for the door. Pastor Sleepease is shaking hands and accepting compliments. He gets to you and firmly grasps your hand in both of his. You compliment him on a great sermon and he fires one across the bow. “Well thank you brother, which part did you like the best?” You freeze for a moment, think think think..ok lets try the generic again. It’s worked ok so far today.” Oh preacher you were right on target today, I loved it all and have my notes for future reference,” That sounds pretty good. You wait for the return serve, here it comes. “Well that pleases me my friend; I appreciate your conducting a sleep study.” Busted, thank God I didn’t snore. Have a great day.
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