In the mid-1970's I was umpiring a high school baseball game between Staunton and Gillespie. I recall a play that day which strikes a chord today. With base runners on board a ground ball hit the base-umpire and a delayed 'call' needed to be made. As I came from behind the plate to confer with the base-umpire, I remember my partner shouting to the two coaches running from their respective dugouts onto the field to begin pleading a case. He said to the mentors, "You guys go back to your benches, because me and my partner are going to talk an get it right."
These days, you and I have been inundated with political messages, opinions, spins and debate arguments and nothing would suggest that these political wannabe leaders have any desire to 'come together and GET IT RIGHT.' 'Right' in the eyes of political parties parallels the perspectives of two high school baseball coaches each of whom were looking for a self-serving outcome, which benefits them and theirs. Let's acknowledge the reality that our desires are driven by greed, power, fantasies and gratification.
Sadly, regardless who is elected President, we are conditioned to anticipate that the opposing party will spend time, energy and resources in opposition of all Presidntial efforts.
Apparently, 'for the good of the order' is an American myth.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Irony?
We Americans often embrace with condescending joy the criticism of other countries. We point fingers at countries that demean women and countries that perceive women as second-class. Perhaps we should self-examine regarding this issue.
In this 2016, United States Presidential election one candidate, a woman, is at the precipice of 'breaking the glass ceiling' thus becoming America's first female President. But WHOA NELLIE! The penises are about to 'wiggle' into the outcome.
Never in the history of our nation has the presidential campaigning discourse been so pathetically vulgar and laced with such low-life rhetoric as has this 2016 election. In the early going, Marco Rubio made a reference about the size of Donald Trump's hands and said, "You know what they say about a man with small hands...you can't trust them." Trump felt he needed to respond therefore he commented that his hands were not 'that' small and he does not 'have trouble in that department.' He said, "Believe me." Thank goodness no one asked for proof.
A recently released audio-tape of Trump saying he grabs womens' breasts and vagina's and kisses them at his will because he is a famous star, which gives him permission. On the heels of these comments a parade of women have come forward publicly to verify they were victims of Trump's sexual assault-groping. Trump then decided to counter these attacks by invoking Bill Clinton's past 'wee wee' activities.
As the election nears the final days, the FBI, which previously decided there was not evidence of wrongdoing with her private email server to bring charges against female candidate, Hillary Clinton, the FBI Director now releases a letter saying that it is going to examine 'new' pertinent emails.
Lo' and behold, if you follow the new email 'subject matter, we should not be surprised to learn that the new emails are connected to yet another man's penis? Well, they are! And believe it or not the man's name is WEINER.
November 9, 2016 American Newspaper headlines just might read: "Weiners' Dick-Tate Winner." Ps. As soon as this election is over, we Americans can begin our 'seasonal' watchdog duty of identifying those awful liberals who are saying 'Happy Holidays' instead of Merry Christmas...they want to take Christ out of Christmas! We can also remind all protesters: 'America, Love It Or Leave It.'
In this 2016, United States Presidential election one candidate, a woman, is at the precipice of 'breaking the glass ceiling' thus becoming America's first female President. But WHOA NELLIE! The penises are about to 'wiggle' into the outcome.
Never in the history of our nation has the presidential campaigning discourse been so pathetically vulgar and laced with such low-life rhetoric as has this 2016 election. In the early going, Marco Rubio made a reference about the size of Donald Trump's hands and said, "You know what they say about a man with small hands...you can't trust them." Trump felt he needed to respond therefore he commented that his hands were not 'that' small and he does not 'have trouble in that department.' He said, "Believe me." Thank goodness no one asked for proof.
A recently released audio-tape of Trump saying he grabs womens' breasts and vagina's and kisses them at his will because he is a famous star, which gives him permission. On the heels of these comments a parade of women have come forward publicly to verify they were victims of Trump's sexual assault-groping. Trump then decided to counter these attacks by invoking Bill Clinton's past 'wee wee' activities.
As the election nears the final days, the FBI, which previously decided there was not evidence of wrongdoing with her private email server to bring charges against female candidate, Hillary Clinton, the FBI Director now releases a letter saying that it is going to examine 'new' pertinent emails.
Lo' and behold, if you follow the new email 'subject matter, we should not be surprised to learn that the new emails are connected to yet another man's penis? Well, they are! And believe it or not the man's name is WEINER.
November 9, 2016 American Newspaper headlines just might read: "Weiners' Dick-Tate Winner." Ps. As soon as this election is over, we Americans can begin our 'seasonal' watchdog duty of identifying those awful liberals who are saying 'Happy Holidays' instead of Merry Christmas...they want to take Christ out of Christmas! We can also remind all protesters: 'America, Love It Or Leave It.'
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Be Prepared
Look, I am not imagining this crazy stuff; it's open public display. Megyn Kelly has reported death threats from Trump supporters as has GOP delegates, Jews, Muslims and an Arizona Newspaper. Just yesterday, I watched these words come from the lips of a Trump supporter being interviewed on television: "This is a revolution (referring to Trump's presidential candidacy) and we can change things at the ballot box or the bullet box." I'm not exactly certain what that means but it doesn't sound like rational talk.
Trump himself has said that he will accept the election results if he wins but will 'look at things if he is defeated.' That's not rational talk either but then again it's his normal.
With this new insane climate backdrop to an American election, which looks more and more like China or Russia many Americans are considering 'safe-places' to seek on Wednesday, November 9, the day after the election should Trump lose. Why not? Many Trump supporters are suggesting violence. A friend of my son, Chuck said he is considering hiding out at Barnes & Noble or the local Public Library. Make your own deduction here.
I am told others are approaching this dilemma ruling out places not to go. Don't go to an elementary school. Stay away from public eateries and shopping malls. Don't be near an abortion center or planned parenthood facilities. And given the fact that Trump has the evangelical vote the Church Sanctuary may not be a sanctuary.
I've got my game plan. Two weeks ago, I purchased one of those red baseball caps, which reads: "Make America Great Again." You see, no matter who wins, this old boy is wearing that cap November 9 and until the dust settles.
Trump himself has said that he will accept the election results if he wins but will 'look at things if he is defeated.' That's not rational talk either but then again it's his normal.
With this new insane climate backdrop to an American election, which looks more and more like China or Russia many Americans are considering 'safe-places' to seek on Wednesday, November 9, the day after the election should Trump lose. Why not? Many Trump supporters are suggesting violence. A friend of my son, Chuck said he is considering hiding out at Barnes & Noble or the local Public Library. Make your own deduction here.
I am told others are approaching this dilemma ruling out places not to go. Don't go to an elementary school. Stay away from public eateries and shopping malls. Don't be near an abortion center or planned parenthood facilities. And given the fact that Trump has the evangelical vote the Church Sanctuary may not be a sanctuary.
I've got my game plan. Two weeks ago, I purchased one of those red baseball caps, which reads: "Make America Great Again." You see, no matter who wins, this old boy is wearing that cap November 9 and until the dust settles.
Friday, October 28, 2016
Love My Mornings
Many years ago, I had a mentor suggest to me that I should wake up each morning and immediately do something unpleasant to myself and the rest of the day would likely be better. Well, since I could not bring myself to gulp a goldfish or stick my finger in a light socket, I gave up on that idea.
I do understand the philosophy behind getting bad things out of the way as quickly as you can so they do not linger and mentally bring you down. I guess that was in the back of my mind this past Tuesday morning when I asked my wife to go with me to the Macon County Offices and cast our 2016 voting ballot. That's correct, we voted for all our least offensive political candidates. When I got home I took a shower...felt good.
Actually, my mornings start the same. At approximately 5:30AM, Toy Poodle Yodie awakens and leaves his foot of the bed sleeping spot to stretch and make his way to my head where he does that pooch head-to-head-scent-swap with the old man. We then make our way downstairs and outside for the morning relief. Once finished with business and perimeter yard walk-sniffing, we head for the house for a dental stick treat.
(Note: I've been known to relieve myself outside but I've never sniffed the fence line...just thought I should clarify.)
The pup heads back up stairs to sleep another hour with his 'mother' while I post a blog, check blood sugar numbers, read the newspapers and surf the television channels to hear all the Donald Trump surrogates explain what Trump 'really' meant saying the things he said the day before and twittered during the night.
About 8:00AM, I take breakfast upstairs to the master bedroom where my wife and I watch a bit of The Today Show and discuss the days plans. At some point the relaxing time is interrupted by Yodie who jumps from the bed and begins growling and raking his back leg...signaling he wants be fed.
I go back downstairs where I prepare the dog's food, which is usually baked chicken or fish along with sweet potatoes or green beans mixed with his dry dog food. (Please, no snide comments about the dog's menu). After eating, the pup heads back to bed and In get dressed. Before too long, the pup finds me either in my office or family room. He once again growls and rakes. When I ask, "Whata you want?" He heads off towards the formal living room. Our living room is used twice a year by guests: Thanksgiving & Christmas. However, it is used twice daily by Yodie and me as we floor-wrestle in a tug-a-war game over a rubber duck.
Late morning, I have a third cup of coffee and head to the back yard bench to soak up sunshine...you got it...it's a two cushion bench and both cushions are used. Get a pup and I guarantee it will help you survive the human crap & chaos.
I do understand the philosophy behind getting bad things out of the way as quickly as you can so they do not linger and mentally bring you down. I guess that was in the back of my mind this past Tuesday morning when I asked my wife to go with me to the Macon County Offices and cast our 2016 voting ballot. That's correct, we voted for all our least offensive political candidates. When I got home I took a shower...felt good.
Actually, my mornings start the same. At approximately 5:30AM, Toy Poodle Yodie awakens and leaves his foot of the bed sleeping spot to stretch and make his way to my head where he does that pooch head-to-head-scent-swap with the old man. We then make our way downstairs and outside for the morning relief. Once finished with business and perimeter yard walk-sniffing, we head for the house for a dental stick treat.
(Note: I've been known to relieve myself outside but I've never sniffed the fence line...just thought I should clarify.)
The pup heads back up stairs to sleep another hour with his 'mother' while I post a blog, check blood sugar numbers, read the newspapers and surf the television channels to hear all the Donald Trump surrogates explain what Trump 'really' meant saying the things he said the day before and twittered during the night.
About 8:00AM, I take breakfast upstairs to the master bedroom where my wife and I watch a bit of The Today Show and discuss the days plans. At some point the relaxing time is interrupted by Yodie who jumps from the bed and begins growling and raking his back leg...signaling he wants be fed.
I go back downstairs where I prepare the dog's food, which is usually baked chicken or fish along with sweet potatoes or green beans mixed with his dry dog food. (Please, no snide comments about the dog's menu). After eating, the pup heads back to bed and In get dressed. Before too long, the pup finds me either in my office or family room. He once again growls and rakes. When I ask, "Whata you want?" He heads off towards the formal living room. Our living room is used twice a year by guests: Thanksgiving & Christmas. However, it is used twice daily by Yodie and me as we floor-wrestle in a tug-a-war game over a rubber duck.
Late morning, I have a third cup of coffee and head to the back yard bench to soak up sunshine...you got it...it's a two cushion bench and both cushions are used. Get a pup and I guarantee it will help you survive the human crap & chaos.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
It Starts At Home
The satisfactions I have experienced in life has little to do with material possessions or accomplishments but seemingly everything to do with relationships. When I lay awake at night awaiting sleep or find that 'alone moment' of retrospect, my thoughts often return to core thinking, which began to crystallize as a child...yours does also. If ever there is unsettled issues or relationship problems all else I seek has limitations.
The unlocking of my life's journey towards satisfaction began with open discourse with my mother, that person who gave life. I did not always agree with her thoughts and philosophies but those differences were secondary to our primary parent-child relationship bond. Thoughts of my father always conjure up perceptions of a role model-hero, yet his expectations of me were healthy. He did not want my kudos and likewise did not excuse my short-comings and missteps. I have frequently told young people to focus on the 'messages' from parents and not the voice volume or the possible judgmental tone. Too often youngsters feel a need to defend.
I thank God for the early revelation to respect elders and 'honor my mother and father.' I am happy that I was able to measure the differences with parents as part of life's unique journey and NOT a war, which must have a winner and loser. The inner joy and piece with parents always kept my potential for satisfaction unlocked and in high gear.
The unlocking of my life's journey towards satisfaction began with open discourse with my mother, that person who gave life. I did not always agree with her thoughts and philosophies but those differences were secondary to our primary parent-child relationship bond. Thoughts of my father always conjure up perceptions of a role model-hero, yet his expectations of me were healthy. He did not want my kudos and likewise did not excuse my short-comings and missteps. I have frequently told young people to focus on the 'messages' from parents and not the voice volume or the possible judgmental tone. Too often youngsters feel a need to defend.
I thank God for the early revelation to respect elders and 'honor my mother and father.' I am happy that I was able to measure the differences with parents as part of life's unique journey and NOT a war, which must have a winner and loser. The inner joy and piece with parents always kept my potential for satisfaction unlocked and in high gear.
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Win Every Battle
I was in the Walmart checkout line the other day and directly behind me was a mother with two young children. I suppose the boy was four years old and his little sister was likely two or three. The lad was pitching a hissy-fit because he wanted a candy bar, which his mother would not purchase and the little girl was screaming and hitting her mother's leg for unknown reasons. About that time a teen girl approached the lady and said, "Mom, I'm going with some friends to McDonald's." The mother pleaded that she needed help with the groceries but the teen daughter ignored her mother and left with two friends. I had the urge to grab the keys from the teenage daughter and tell her she'd be meeting friends after a two weeks grounding then I would have told her to take her sister to the auto. After that, I would have swatted that five year old boy on his butt.
Driving home, I could not help but think about Tom Brokaw's book, 'The Greatest Generation.' That was his book profiling my parents' generation. The generation that won World War II and re-built an industrial America. Along the way those people raised children that understood 'no' because mom and dad 'said so.' Those parents did not spare the rod nor did they fail to explain stated expected behavior-responsibilities of their kids and the kids knew consequences.
What has happened to the parenting model in 21st Century America? Could it be that along the generational parenting journey while mommies and daddies were attempting to 'give' their children a 'better' life than that which they experienced, today's parents fail to make the distinction between 'better' and 'easier.' I hear a lot of parents say when it comes to parenting, "I pick my battles." My philosophy was 'I win all battles thus I win the war.'
Actually, I note many parents are very good friends with their kids and their kids' friends. I never wanted to be friends with my kids until we had some things in common: like a mortgage payment, monthly bills and children. That plan worked out good...today, I am friends with my children.
My wife and I raised one narcissistic tyrant>>>James Wilkerson Yoder...Toy Poodle 'Yodie.'
Driving home, I could not help but think about Tom Brokaw's book, 'The Greatest Generation.' That was his book profiling my parents' generation. The generation that won World War II and re-built an industrial America. Along the way those people raised children that understood 'no' because mom and dad 'said so.' Those parents did not spare the rod nor did they fail to explain stated expected behavior-responsibilities of their kids and the kids knew consequences.
What has happened to the parenting model in 21st Century America? Could it be that along the generational parenting journey while mommies and daddies were attempting to 'give' their children a 'better' life than that which they experienced, today's parents fail to make the distinction between 'better' and 'easier.' I hear a lot of parents say when it comes to parenting, "I pick my battles." My philosophy was 'I win all battles thus I win the war.'
Actually, I note many parents are very good friends with their kids and their kids' friends. I never wanted to be friends with my kids until we had some things in common: like a mortgage payment, monthly bills and children. That plan worked out good...today, I am friends with my children.
My wife and I raised one narcissistic tyrant>>>James Wilkerson Yoder...Toy Poodle 'Yodie.'
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Tongue 'n Cheek
The late actor/comedian, George Burns had a hit song years ago entitled, "I Wish I Was Eighteen Again." I do too! I hear many people say that those teen years were a difficult time and would not want any re-do. Not the case here. I'd do it over in a heartbeat. I'd want one stipulation...I wish to be 18 in 2016 because I think life is easier now with greater conveniences.
Here's my theory: Kids today don't need to ask to use the 'family' car...they have their own car. I would not need to stop and find a pay phone when out and about...I'd have a cell phone. Should I not be able to get a date, I could go online and check out E-harmony. I would not need to buy all those 45-records...I could download my music from the Internet. Doing school term papers would be a breeze...just go to an online service and Walla!
I'm telling you that starting over at 18 (today) offers endless advantages. Just tuning into television these days, I can quickly find that right lawyer for the right lawsuit. I can see the physcian Assistant and avoid the Doctor. I can discover a plethora of drugs I should be asking the 'assistant' to prescribe based on advertised success. Speaking of drugs, I could avail myself to some 'male chest-beating drugs' should I wish. Why back in 1950, had I heard the phrase 'erectile dysfunction,' I'd would've thought the directions were missing from the 'Gilbert Erector Set.'
Yes sir! Those 1950's were bland and boring. We had one auto and everybody had to be home at supper time to 'eat together.' We had to deal with reunions, visiting grandparents and playing backyard family games. Know wonder I grew up to be such a nerd.
Well, I thank God each day for these 77- years and just try to forget those pitiful youthful days.
Here's my theory: Kids today don't need to ask to use the 'family' car...they have their own car. I would not need to stop and find a pay phone when out and about...I'd have a cell phone. Should I not be able to get a date, I could go online and check out E-harmony. I would not need to buy all those 45-records...I could download my music from the Internet. Doing school term papers would be a breeze...just go to an online service and Walla!
I'm telling you that starting over at 18 (today) offers endless advantages. Just tuning into television these days, I can quickly find that right lawyer for the right lawsuit. I can see the physcian Assistant and avoid the Doctor. I can discover a plethora of drugs I should be asking the 'assistant' to prescribe based on advertised success. Speaking of drugs, I could avail myself to some 'male chest-beating drugs' should I wish. Why back in 1950, had I heard the phrase 'erectile dysfunction,' I'd would've thought the directions were missing from the 'Gilbert Erector Set.'
Yes sir! Those 1950's were bland and boring. We had one auto and everybody had to be home at supper time to 'eat together.' We had to deal with reunions, visiting grandparents and playing backyard family games. Know wonder I grew up to be such a nerd.
Well, I thank God each day for these 77- years and just try to forget those pitiful youthful days.
Monday, October 24, 2016
Say Goodnight Gracie.
Recently, I read one of those research/survey studies, which examined what 'causes or leads' to good relationships in marriages. The conclusions suggested many elements that could be advanced as marital happiness-ingredients. The study offered a sliding scale of probable happiness and lasting marriages as it relates to the birth order of couples. You know...such things as oldest married to oldest tend to lead to greater success than only child married to only child. Wow, you can see the endless possibilities with this approach.
I particularly found interest in the belief that humor is a big positive in happy unions. I began thinking about the endless moments of pure joy brought to our marriage by my wife's antics. It is difficult to identify the funniest moment but I'll toss out one that would certainly be in the top ten.
We were returning to Decatur after visiting with friends in Assumption, Illinois when my wife asked me to pull into a Dollar General Store so she might buy some greeting cards. This usually means a dozen cards and one shopping cart full of other items. I pulled into a parking spot near the front door and told her I was going to a nearby gasoline/convenient store to purchase fuel.
In perhaps 15 minutes, I returned from the gas fill up to the Dollar General Store where I pulled into the second parking spot since the one near the door was occupied. I waited in the auto listening to music as my wife took her time shopping. Soon I looked up to see her coming through the front door pushing an overflowing cart of goods. I watched my wife as she pulled her cart along side the auto next to ours. She opened the back door of that car and began tossing bags into this auto. I began laughing when I saw the look on the man's face sitting behind the steering wheel...it was the most bewildered expression I've ever seen as this gentleman watched this strange woman throwing her 'stuff' into his car. I started honking my horn rapidly and waving at my wife. Soon she looked in my direction and realized her mistake. She grabbed her bags and started tossing them into our car. As my wife slid into the front seat of our auto she said, "That was your fault, you moved the car." That comment from the lady who once made the observation, "It really gets dark at night in the Ozarks."
I particularly found interest in the belief that humor is a big positive in happy unions. I began thinking about the endless moments of pure joy brought to our marriage by my wife's antics. It is difficult to identify the funniest moment but I'll toss out one that would certainly be in the top ten.
We were returning to Decatur after visiting with friends in Assumption, Illinois when my wife asked me to pull into a Dollar General Store so she might buy some greeting cards. This usually means a dozen cards and one shopping cart full of other items. I pulled into a parking spot near the front door and told her I was going to a nearby gasoline/convenient store to purchase fuel.
In perhaps 15 minutes, I returned from the gas fill up to the Dollar General Store where I pulled into the second parking spot since the one near the door was occupied. I waited in the auto listening to music as my wife took her time shopping. Soon I looked up to see her coming through the front door pushing an overflowing cart of goods. I watched my wife as she pulled her cart along side the auto next to ours. She opened the back door of that car and began tossing bags into this auto. I began laughing when I saw the look on the man's face sitting behind the steering wheel...it was the most bewildered expression I've ever seen as this gentleman watched this strange woman throwing her 'stuff' into his car. I started honking my horn rapidly and waving at my wife. Soon she looked in my direction and realized her mistake. She grabbed her bags and started tossing them into our car. As my wife slid into the front seat of our auto she said, "That was your fault, you moved the car." That comment from the lady who once made the observation, "It really gets dark at night in the Ozarks."
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Changing Times
Certainly 'change' is very much a part of life's continued journey. Just in my brief ride, I've noticed significant changes...some I judge as 'good;' some 'not-so-good.'
Personally, I'm really pleased that these days, I don't have to wear wool slacks while sitting in a non-air-condition Methodist sanctuary on a hot-humid Sunday morning. Also, each time my power bill arrives these days, I ease my pain recalling yesteryear and that dirty basement coal-bin and removing those stoker-clinkers and carrying buckets full to spread in the back alley. Last week while washing the auto, I thought how nice it is not needing to install those 1956 fender 'curb-finders' that kept me from scuffing up my whitewall tires...but I do miss the whitewall tires.
I like our modern refrigerator but I still have a slip of tongue occasionally calling it an 'icebox.' These days, I cannot purchase cherry phosphate sodas at my neighborhood drug store but I notice that the condoms are no longer hidden discreetly out of view under the counter, nope there is an attractive prominent condom display right next to the greeting cards rack.
The movie industry has re-introduced the 1950's 3-D movie craze but that 3-D movie ticket does not sell for .50 per person but instead $7.50 per person with an additional $2.00 for the 3-D glasses. And boy oh boy, those movies! I don't get a movie extras of an on-going Serial Series like 'Zoro: The Cape Crudader' and no more Roadrunner Cartoon. Today, I must sit through endless local advertisements and preview trailers before the feature movie.
Another thing about movies, I recall my 1956 Friday date night cost was about $5.00. For five dollars, I purchased two movie tickets (Fox Theater St.Louis) a couple of post-movie sandwiches/drinks. The last time I attended the movies the 'senior tickets' were $6.50 each and a candy bar was $3.00, which was cheaper than the $6.00 box of popcorn. It won't be long before the movie experience goes the way of my 'white buck shoes.'
Personally, I'm really pleased that these days, I don't have to wear wool slacks while sitting in a non-air-condition Methodist sanctuary on a hot-humid Sunday morning. Also, each time my power bill arrives these days, I ease my pain recalling yesteryear and that dirty basement coal-bin and removing those stoker-clinkers and carrying buckets full to spread in the back alley. Last week while washing the auto, I thought how nice it is not needing to install those 1956 fender 'curb-finders' that kept me from scuffing up my whitewall tires...but I do miss the whitewall tires.
I like our modern refrigerator but I still have a slip of tongue occasionally calling it an 'icebox.' These days, I cannot purchase cherry phosphate sodas at my neighborhood drug store but I notice that the condoms are no longer hidden discreetly out of view under the counter, nope there is an attractive prominent condom display right next to the greeting cards rack.
The movie industry has re-introduced the 1950's 3-D movie craze but that 3-D movie ticket does not sell for .50 per person but instead $7.50 per person with an additional $2.00 for the 3-D glasses. And boy oh boy, those movies! I don't get a movie extras of an on-going Serial Series like 'Zoro: The Cape Crudader' and no more Roadrunner Cartoon. Today, I must sit through endless local advertisements and preview trailers before the feature movie.
Another thing about movies, I recall my 1956 Friday date night cost was about $5.00. For five dollars, I purchased two movie tickets (Fox Theater St.Louis) a couple of post-movie sandwiches/drinks. The last time I attended the movies the 'senior tickets' were $6.50 each and a candy bar was $3.00, which was cheaper than the $6.00 box of popcorn. It won't be long before the movie experience goes the way of my 'white buck shoes.'
Friday, October 21, 2016
Chasing 'Cool'
I accept my feeble mental capacity when it comes to today's modern electronic gadgetry. About the time I overcome fears of engagement with some new mind-twisting devise the darn thing is outdated and I then face another frustration not to mention the frustration I cause the 'Geek Squad' at Best Buy.
Once I was the 'cool' teen in 1952, listening to the latest Pop Hits on my LP albums and the newest 45 vinyl, which were spinning on my turn table. It wasn't good enough. Some genius had to invent the 8-track (in auto) player. Just about the time I had a good compliment of 8-track 'hits' here comes the cassette tape player and I started all over with music purchases in an effort to be 'cool.'
I have stopped with the CD collection thing! At seventy-seven, I am 'cool' enough. I purchased two electronic contraptions that permits me to record (burn) all my vinyl stuff (45's & LP's) and cassettes onto CD's. Not only do I have all my music in one format, I am constantly recording my music collection on CD's for grandkids and friends. In fact, I just recently had a 22 year grandson ask me to record all of Sam Cooke's greatest hits...there appears to be hope for that generation.
I believe this afternoon, I will record a composite CD of Smiley Lewis, John Lee Hooker and 'Muddy' Waters vibes. When finished with that, I going to 'burn' another CD of Chuck Berry's Greatest Hits...okay, Nadine?... Now, there's some 'cool' stuff.
Next time, I'll reach back to the early fifties and do a composite of Doris Day, Patti Paige and Kay Starr. Oh, Oh, I promised a friend to get him some Andrew Sisters and Mills Brothers' stuff...'cool' just keeps following me.
Once I was the 'cool' teen in 1952, listening to the latest Pop Hits on my LP albums and the newest 45 vinyl, which were spinning on my turn table. It wasn't good enough. Some genius had to invent the 8-track (in auto) player. Just about the time I had a good compliment of 8-track 'hits' here comes the cassette tape player and I started all over with music purchases in an effort to be 'cool.'
I have stopped with the CD collection thing! At seventy-seven, I am 'cool' enough. I purchased two electronic contraptions that permits me to record (burn) all my vinyl stuff (45's & LP's) and cassettes onto CD's. Not only do I have all my music in one format, I am constantly recording my music collection on CD's for grandkids and friends. In fact, I just recently had a 22 year grandson ask me to record all of Sam Cooke's greatest hits...there appears to be hope for that generation.
I believe this afternoon, I will record a composite CD of Smiley Lewis, John Lee Hooker and 'Muddy' Waters vibes. When finished with that, I going to 'burn' another CD of Chuck Berry's Greatest Hits...okay, Nadine?... Now, there's some 'cool' stuff.
Next time, I'll reach back to the early fifties and do a composite of Doris Day, Patti Paige and Kay Starr. Oh, Oh, I promised a friend to get him some Andrew Sisters and Mills Brothers' stuff...'cool' just keeps following me.
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Too Many Buttons
There is one upside to these revolving door medical-doctors' appointments and that IS it takes us away from that depressing television news with the ongoing sick Presidential campaign rhetoric. I do get another couple of breaks from the frustrating television programming when taking time out to read two newspapers and peruse the Internet.
Ah, it's a wonderful life...sounds like a good movie title. Just the other evening, we were experiencing a cold front moving through Central Illinois and I engaged our portable-floor model family room heater to 'take the chill off.' After turning the heater on, I handed the heater remote to my wife who was comfortably positioned on the couch with Toy Poodle,Yodie snuggled next to her. I noted that my wife had within arms length not only the heater remote but the television remote, a remote devise to the heating pad under her butt and the remote house phone along with her cell phone. Quite a family setting change from the late 1940's when my folks sat around one large console radio blaring the sounds of machine gun fire as the announcer said, "Gangbusters!" If that radio picked up static I was the remote turning the knob slightly to get better reception. Today, we need not move from our nearby snacks to address such issues, we have REMOTES.
I found it amusing watching my wife grab one of her five different remote devices, point it at one of the electronics and then see her expression when the remote does not match the device. One time that evening, she thought she was turning up television volume but was pointing the portable house phone at the TV. Later, she caused the floor heater to kick into 'high' as she thought she was adjusting her heating pad temperature. Poodle Yodie went to his kitchen water bowl for a drink while I stepped out the back door for fresh air. Upon re-entering the family room, my wife said, "I'm afraid I need a new heating pad. This one isn't working."
I should probably call our kids and grandkids and tell them if Nana is slow to pick up when they telephone wait a moment and try again. But then again, I think they've noticed.
Ah, it's a wonderful life...sounds like a good movie title. Just the other evening, we were experiencing a cold front moving through Central Illinois and I engaged our portable-floor model family room heater to 'take the chill off.' After turning the heater on, I handed the heater remote to my wife who was comfortably positioned on the couch with Toy Poodle,Yodie snuggled next to her. I noted that my wife had within arms length not only the heater remote but the television remote, a remote devise to the heating pad under her butt and the remote house phone along with her cell phone. Quite a family setting change from the late 1940's when my folks sat around one large console radio blaring the sounds of machine gun fire as the announcer said, "Gangbusters!" If that radio picked up static I was the remote turning the knob slightly to get better reception. Today, we need not move from our nearby snacks to address such issues, we have REMOTES.
I found it amusing watching my wife grab one of her five different remote devices, point it at one of the electronics and then see her expression when the remote does not match the device. One time that evening, she thought she was turning up television volume but was pointing the portable house phone at the TV. Later, she caused the floor heater to kick into 'high' as she thought she was adjusting her heating pad temperature. Poodle Yodie went to his kitchen water bowl for a drink while I stepped out the back door for fresh air. Upon re-entering the family room, my wife said, "I'm afraid I need a new heating pad. This one isn't working."
I should probably call our kids and grandkids and tell them if Nana is slow to pick up when they telephone wait a moment and try again. But then again, I think they've noticed.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Own It; It Belongs to You
If any young person still in those 'formative years' is watching the 2016, Presidential campaign rhetoric (and I hope there is few) please peal away the weak posturing.
Example: A few nights ago, Melania Trump was interviewed by CNN's Anderson Cooper regarding her thoughts on the sexual aggression/behavior comments by her husband, GOP Presidential candidate, Donald Trump. She defended her husband stating that she believed the nine women claiming that they were sexually assaulted by Trump are lying. She went on to say that women openly invite her husband's advances by giving him their telephone numbers. Finally, she excuses Donald's vulgar language, captured on the Access Hollywood tape by characterizing the vulgarity, which demeans women as "boy talk." Mrs. Trump then accuses Access Hollywood host, Billy Bush for 'egging' her husband on with leading questions and comments.
Melania Trump's defense of her husband has similarities to those previously used by Hillary in defense of Bill. I have sympathy for both womens' circumstances and appreciate their emotional needs to defend and support. I would encourage our young people to peal away this nonsense of 'blaming' others for your love one's weaknesses. Look, it takes two for 'the game' unless the game is solitary-cards.
In the 1970's comedian, Flip Wilson entertained us dressed as 'Geraldine.' You remember Geraldine...
"The devil made me do it."
I made it very clear to my children. I will never stand in line to receive your hoorah and accolades and I will not feel motivated to explain-away your poor choices.
Example: A few nights ago, Melania Trump was interviewed by CNN's Anderson Cooper regarding her thoughts on the sexual aggression/behavior comments by her husband, GOP Presidential candidate, Donald Trump. She defended her husband stating that she believed the nine women claiming that they were sexually assaulted by Trump are lying. She went on to say that women openly invite her husband's advances by giving him their telephone numbers. Finally, she excuses Donald's vulgar language, captured on the Access Hollywood tape by characterizing the vulgarity, which demeans women as "boy talk." Mrs. Trump then accuses Access Hollywood host, Billy Bush for 'egging' her husband on with leading questions and comments.
Melania Trump's defense of her husband has similarities to those previously used by Hillary in defense of Bill. I have sympathy for both womens' circumstances and appreciate their emotional needs to defend and support. I would encourage our young people to peal away this nonsense of 'blaming' others for your love one's weaknesses. Look, it takes two for 'the game' unless the game is solitary-cards.
In the 1970's comedian, Flip Wilson entertained us dressed as 'Geraldine.' You remember Geraldine...
"The devil made me do it."
I made it very clear to my children. I will never stand in line to receive your hoorah and accolades and I will not feel motivated to explain-away your poor choices.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Innocence on the wane.
Recently, I had one of those pop-up surveys appear online. It wished to know what I thought about public breast-feeding. Is that debate heating up once again? Every now and then one of those women's' rights groups get in a tizzy about nonsense stuff.
Regarding the public breast feeding issue, today's modern Millies' argue that breast-feeding is a natural life sustaining and bonding activity. Look, if I'm buzzing down Interstate -72 headed East and suddenly I have the natural biological 'life sustaing' need to relieve myself and pull off the highway near the Mechanicsburg exit, unzip my trousers and wee wee, I'm risking indecent exposure arrest.
I recall sitting in a doctor's office (1951) with my mother. I was 12-years old and aware of the 'he & she' plumbing differences and how and why things where between the sexes. I'm sure that I was experiencing natural curiosities. I'll be Dadgummit if some nice looking lady holding a baby whipped out a boob and began breast-feeding the infant right there in the overcrowded waiting room. At that moment, I had no thoughts of infant nutritional needs or mother-child bonding. I thought, holy cow that's bigger than any boob I've seen in the National Geographic Magazines at Lansdowne Junior High and that one is 'real.' I said that I was twelve! I glanced out of the corner of my eye and noticed that my Mother Lucille saw what I saw. She said nothing but her nostrils flared speaking volumes. When we were called into the Doctor's examining room, my mother ripped into to that guy and read him the riot act. Next time I visited that office, I noticed a sign in the waiting room, which directed young mothers to a secluded breast feeding area.
The breast-feeding debate survey numbers indicated a 50/50 vote split. My mother's generation is gone. I'll bet today's 12-year old boys would not know that there is a National Geographic magazine. In fact, teen boys today see so much 'skin' on television and in the movies those young boys no longer have burlesque joints in which to sneak a peak.
Regarding the public breast feeding issue, today's modern Millies' argue that breast-feeding is a natural life sustaining and bonding activity. Look, if I'm buzzing down Interstate -72 headed East and suddenly I have the natural biological 'life sustaing' need to relieve myself and pull off the highway near the Mechanicsburg exit, unzip my trousers and wee wee, I'm risking indecent exposure arrest.
I recall sitting in a doctor's office (1951) with my mother. I was 12-years old and aware of the 'he & she' plumbing differences and how and why things where between the sexes. I'm sure that I was experiencing natural curiosities. I'll be Dadgummit if some nice looking lady holding a baby whipped out a boob and began breast-feeding the infant right there in the overcrowded waiting room. At that moment, I had no thoughts of infant nutritional needs or mother-child bonding. I thought, holy cow that's bigger than any boob I've seen in the National Geographic Magazines at Lansdowne Junior High and that one is 'real.' I said that I was twelve! I glanced out of the corner of my eye and noticed that my Mother Lucille saw what I saw. She said nothing but her nostrils flared speaking volumes. When we were called into the Doctor's examining room, my mother ripped into to that guy and read him the riot act. Next time I visited that office, I noticed a sign in the waiting room, which directed young mothers to a secluded breast feeding area.
The breast-feeding debate survey numbers indicated a 50/50 vote split. My mother's generation is gone. I'll bet today's 12-year old boys would not know that there is a National Geographic magazine. In fact, teen boys today see so much 'skin' on television and in the movies those young boys no longer have burlesque joints in which to sneak a peak.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Frustrating
When I was younger and in that daily work-place grind, I always had 'lists,' which I referred to constantly. I had lists for today, lists for tomorrow, lists for the month and even a notation of things for which I should begin to make lists. I don't do list any longer; no need. I do have appointments but I keep those in a monthly planner book and on a 2'x2' Dry Erase Board, which my wife and I pass by forty times a day. If I was text savvy and responsible, I'd get one of those 'Blackberry' devices and keep all that stuff in the 'Blackberry.' I misplace my phone too often to risk that approach.
Actually, I note that most of our Dry Erase board dates simply 'list' a doctor's name, time and part of body to be examined. If it was not for doctor appointments my wife and I would have no social life. Other frequently filled Dry Erase calendar dates are birthday notations of family and friends.
I noticed at the beginning of October when I filled in the Dry Erase board calendar that there is a date, October 22 that states "Party 4pm to 7pm." I have no recall about this "Party." I don't know who is giving it, where it is to take place or any other details. My wife cannot find any invitation. We are in a dither! My wife is going through her personal telephone book and calling folks, as the Party date approaches. She is just hoping somebody will say, "Hey, are you coming to the party?" She's on the letter 'L' as I write. I'm thinking about taking an ad out in the local newspaper that reads, "Would the person who invited The Roustios to their October 22nd party please call us?" I imagine I should request that ad to run on the obituary page to enhance the likelihood of our friends seeing it.
Actually, I note that most of our Dry Erase board dates simply 'list' a doctor's name, time and part of body to be examined. If it was not for doctor appointments my wife and I would have no social life. Other frequently filled Dry Erase calendar dates are birthday notations of family and friends.
I noticed at the beginning of October when I filled in the Dry Erase board calendar that there is a date, October 22 that states "Party 4pm to 7pm." I have no recall about this "Party." I don't know who is giving it, where it is to take place or any other details. My wife cannot find any invitation. We are in a dither! My wife is going through her personal telephone book and calling folks, as the Party date approaches. She is just hoping somebody will say, "Hey, are you coming to the party?" She's on the letter 'L' as I write. I'm thinking about taking an ad out in the local newspaper that reads, "Would the person who invited The Roustios to their October 22nd party please call us?" I imagine I should request that ad to run on the obituary page to enhance the likelihood of our friends seeing it.
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Non-negotiable
I recall once as a young boy, I questioned my father's directive; I asked him, "Why?" He answered with a one line rhyme: "Hey, boy, yours is not to reason why, Yours is but to do or die." I got the message. The message: Dad makes the final decision, not me!
I suppose 'family order' was my parents first choice. I guess my parents were also preparing me for the working world. The day would come when I would need to accept the 'rules' of an organization, which would be financially compensating me for rendered skills and abilities. Rules like the work day time, breaks, vacations, dress codes, etc. I would be 'told' the rules and expected to abide by the rules once I signed on to be a member of that organization. This philosophy is not rocket science.
I scratch my head in bewilderment with these recent refusals by athletes to stand at attention during a National Anthem. The protester is 'making a statement,' I'm told. Recently, this protest method has gained national attention as a San Francisco NFL player refuses to stand but instead kneels during the Star Spangled Banner. This is his 'way' of bringing attention to what he calls mistreatment of minorities. Just yesterday morning, I read in the Decatur, Illinois newspaper that our own Millikin University football coach has decided to keep his team in the dressing room until 'after' the playing of the anthem to avoid the controversy.
I say bull-butter. I say, "Fire those players." Get rid of them. Most if not all (school) athletes are receiving perks/advantages/rewards due to their organization membership. A membership that has group rules and expectations, which supersedes individual wishes, therefore once you sign on you relinquish some perceived insidious 'rights.'
My basketball teams even practiced our national anthem comportment. As a team member my players understood that they represented a school and community before 'self.' After all 'theirs was not to reason why, theirs was but to do or die!
I suppose 'family order' was my parents first choice. I guess my parents were also preparing me for the working world. The day would come when I would need to accept the 'rules' of an organization, which would be financially compensating me for rendered skills and abilities. Rules like the work day time, breaks, vacations, dress codes, etc. I would be 'told' the rules and expected to abide by the rules once I signed on to be a member of that organization. This philosophy is not rocket science.
I scratch my head in bewilderment with these recent refusals by athletes to stand at attention during a National Anthem. The protester is 'making a statement,' I'm told. Recently, this protest method has gained national attention as a San Francisco NFL player refuses to stand but instead kneels during the Star Spangled Banner. This is his 'way' of bringing attention to what he calls mistreatment of minorities. Just yesterday morning, I read in the Decatur, Illinois newspaper that our own Millikin University football coach has decided to keep his team in the dressing room until 'after' the playing of the anthem to avoid the controversy.
I say bull-butter. I say, "Fire those players." Get rid of them. Most if not all (school) athletes are receiving perks/advantages/rewards due to their organization membership. A membership that has group rules and expectations, which supersedes individual wishes, therefore once you sign on you relinquish some perceived insidious 'rights.'
My basketball teams even practiced our national anthem comportment. As a team member my players understood that they represented a school and community before 'self.' After all 'theirs was not to reason why, theirs was but to do or die!
Saturday, October 15, 2016
To Be Continued
I like fall weather up until the time the leaves really begin giving way. Actually, the temperatures are perfect at this time of year as the humidity and mosquitoes are less problematic. The fall season always brings about my same contemplations for me; my annual thinking delimma: Should I get another puppy or build a backyard fence. Hey, you have your quirks and I have mine!
I wonder if my seven year old Toy Poodle, Yodie would benefit from a younger companion. Youth around us appears to do good things emotionally and physically...it's tempting. I then think of the downside of adding a young pup to the household. I like the idea of 'leaving' money and material things to my kids but I ain't all that keen on leaving a pup behind. I always wanted me and my dog to end like gravy-bread...both gone at the same time. I'll think about it this winter.
Then there's the consideration of a backyard fence wish. I like the thought of a fence giving a backdrop to my wife's beautiful flower gardens. On the downside, I will not be able to see the school children having fun playing at the school next door And I worry that a fence may interfere with some of those wonderful gentle breezes coming across my swing-time moments. But then again, I could unabashedly 'scratch' myself if there was a fence. I'll think about 'doing' that next spring........ Building the fence.
I wonder if my seven year old Toy Poodle, Yodie would benefit from a younger companion. Youth around us appears to do good things emotionally and physically...it's tempting. I then think of the downside of adding a young pup to the household. I like the idea of 'leaving' money and material things to my kids but I ain't all that keen on leaving a pup behind. I always wanted me and my dog to end like gravy-bread...both gone at the same time. I'll think about it this winter.
Then there's the consideration of a backyard fence wish. I like the thought of a fence giving a backdrop to my wife's beautiful flower gardens. On the downside, I will not be able to see the school children having fun playing at the school next door And I worry that a fence may interfere with some of those wonderful gentle breezes coming across my swing-time moments. But then again, I could unabashedly 'scratch' myself if there was a fence. I'll think about 'doing' that next spring........ Building the fence.
Friday, October 14, 2016
Mistakes, I've Made A Few
My former East St. Louis high school basketball coach, the late Louis 'Pick' Dehner was an All-America basketball player from the University of Illinois. 'Pick' was the 'Coaching King' of one-liners. I recall the night he won his 500th career coaching victory when a sports writer asked, "Pick, what's your won-loss record now?" Dehner quickly responded, "500!" The writer retorted, "Yes, but what's YOUR record?" Pick said, "Just 500, I let my adversaries keep track of the losses."
Well, any coach that ever made out a line up had adversaries. I never paid much attention to those adversaries. Most of them never played or coached. Sure, I made some coaching mistakes in a thirty-nine year career and I am going to share with you my biggest coaching mistake.
In my second to last coaching year (1999-2000), I was head coach at Stephen Decatur high school. After a hotly contested home victory, I met with my players in the dressing room for some post game evaluations and comments and then entertained a few media questions. I then slipped out the back door of the gym and headed home to share the moment with my wife. When I got home, I discovered my wife not there. Soon the front door bell rang. I wondered who could be calling at 10:00 on a Friday night. To my surprise and chagrin there stood my very angry wife. I had forgotten her at the gym. Two of the game referees gave her a ride home. Big Mistake by Coach!
The following weekend, our team was playing in Rock Island. Just prior to tip-off, two game Ref's approached my bench and one spoke, "Coach Roustio, if we have to give your wife a ride back to Decatur after the game, we will have to charge mileage." Ah, what a fraternity!
Well, any coach that ever made out a line up had adversaries. I never paid much attention to those adversaries. Most of them never played or coached. Sure, I made some coaching mistakes in a thirty-nine year career and I am going to share with you my biggest coaching mistake.
In my second to last coaching year (1999-2000), I was head coach at Stephen Decatur high school. After a hotly contested home victory, I met with my players in the dressing room for some post game evaluations and comments and then entertained a few media questions. I then slipped out the back door of the gym and headed home to share the moment with my wife. When I got home, I discovered my wife not there. Soon the front door bell rang. I wondered who could be calling at 10:00 on a Friday night. To my surprise and chagrin there stood my very angry wife. I had forgotten her at the gym. Two of the game referees gave her a ride home. Big Mistake by Coach!
The following weekend, our team was playing in Rock Island. Just prior to tip-off, two game Ref's approached my bench and one spoke, "Coach Roustio, if we have to give your wife a ride back to Decatur after the game, we will have to charge mileage." Ah, what a fraternity!
Thursday, October 13, 2016
Beware Burglar
The logical reason my wife and I seldom argue is driven by our awareness that we are both extremely bull-headed when our opinions are challenged. This circumstance recently came into play as the subject of purchasing a hand gun was discussed.
My wife and I are both concerned about the plethora of guns on American streets, however we think it might be time to have a firearm in our home for protection. Look, just recently, I read that financially challenged folks are stealing manhole covers and cemetery vases to re-sell for the scrap iron value. I told my wife that it's just a matter of time before the manhole covers are all gone and the dead have nothing more to render at which time these thieves are going to break into our home a steal my wife's teapot collection and my validating trophies.
My wife doesn't like the home-hand gun purchase idea. She pointed out how people are accidently shot with their own guns. However, she relented to my wishes with stipulations: She agreed to the hand gun buy if I agreed to embrace the same home hand gun safety approach used by my brother-in law.
Here's the plan: I buy the hand gun and place the unloaded pistol under my pillow. I store the bullets in the basement. Should an intruder break into our home, my wife will stall him by asking the thief questions while I go to the basement for bullets.
I only agreed to this because I think it will work. I am betting that after listening to the 'rapid-fire' like questions capable of my wife, the intruder will leave of his own accord.
My wife and I are both concerned about the plethora of guns on American streets, however we think it might be time to have a firearm in our home for protection. Look, just recently, I read that financially challenged folks are stealing manhole covers and cemetery vases to re-sell for the scrap iron value. I told my wife that it's just a matter of time before the manhole covers are all gone and the dead have nothing more to render at which time these thieves are going to break into our home a steal my wife's teapot collection and my validating trophies.
My wife doesn't like the home-hand gun purchase idea. She pointed out how people are accidently shot with their own guns. However, she relented to my wishes with stipulations: She agreed to the hand gun buy if I agreed to embrace the same home hand gun safety approach used by my brother-in law.
Here's the plan: I buy the hand gun and place the unloaded pistol under my pillow. I store the bullets in the basement. Should an intruder break into our home, my wife will stall him by asking the thief questions while I go to the basement for bullets.
I only agreed to this because I think it will work. I am betting that after listening to the 'rapid-fire' like questions capable of my wife, the intruder will leave of his own accord.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Remembering a Good Woman
Consistency in these turbulent times is a wonderful thing that eases the daily stress level and the need for anti-depressant drugs. As a lifetime athletic coach, I appreciated performance consistency. We all enjoy those around us upon whom we can 'count.' That thought established, I can state that my paternal Grandmother, Rosedelle Laudermilk-Roustio was the most consistent performer I ever knew. She epitomized consistency.
Rosedelle was a large strongly built woman without an ounce of body fat. She was physically strong and capable. My mother told the story upon meeting her future mother-in law for the first time Rosedelle rolled out from under auto where she was 'changing oil.' Years later, I took my future wife to meet Grandma Roustio and when we drove up to her house in lower Washington Park (East St. Louis), she was walking towards a partially complete building carrying 8 inch concrete blocks in each hand. Rosedelle was 'the' brick layer on this project. My father always said that Grandma had likely wallpapered most homes in the Park.
I would avoid being critical of her husband, Grandpa Frank but suffice to say, he could be a tyrant. He was a man with expectations and many of those expectations fell upon Grandma Rosedelle...perhaps it was the cultural times. Aside from doing homestead manual labor, Frank expected Rosedelle to have meals, drive him to and from his factory work place and should the auto break down get out and push it while Frank steered the vehicle.
Grandma Rosedelle was a quiet individual, soft spoken with few offered opinions. I do recall one issue that she adamantly spoke upon...buying USA made products. Folks, I'm talking about the 1940 decade. It would seem in retrospect, Rosedelle was on to something! She was a shy, good woman who accepted life's menu and made the best of the circumstances. As my father would say, "She willingly played the hand she was dealt."
...that part about 'consistency'...Rosedelle gave me stretch-socks for Christmas 12-consecutive years.
Rosedelle was a large strongly built woman without an ounce of body fat. She was physically strong and capable. My mother told the story upon meeting her future mother-in law for the first time Rosedelle rolled out from under auto where she was 'changing oil.' Years later, I took my future wife to meet Grandma Roustio and when we drove up to her house in lower Washington Park (East St. Louis), she was walking towards a partially complete building carrying 8 inch concrete blocks in each hand. Rosedelle was 'the' brick layer on this project. My father always said that Grandma had likely wallpapered most homes in the Park.
I would avoid being critical of her husband, Grandpa Frank but suffice to say, he could be a tyrant. He was a man with expectations and many of those expectations fell upon Grandma Rosedelle...perhaps it was the cultural times. Aside from doing homestead manual labor, Frank expected Rosedelle to have meals, drive him to and from his factory work place and should the auto break down get out and push it while Frank steered the vehicle.
Grandma Rosedelle was a quiet individual, soft spoken with few offered opinions. I do recall one issue that she adamantly spoke upon...buying USA made products. Folks, I'm talking about the 1940 decade. It would seem in retrospect, Rosedelle was on to something! She was a shy, good woman who accepted life's menu and made the best of the circumstances. As my father would say, "She willingly played the hand she was dealt."
...that part about 'consistency'...Rosedelle gave me stretch-socks for Christmas 12-consecutive years.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
The Melting Pot Still Cooks
This morning, I wish to share a sport story coming out of Monon, Indiana where my former assistant basketball coach, Ken Hickman reports. This community of nearly 1,800 residents has a Hispanic population of forty-percent. The story offers a modern day '"Hoosiers" moment or perhaps a Granite City, Illinois "Men of Granite" story, which documents poor Eastern European immigrant kids of Armenian, Macedonian, Slavic and Hungarian descent that knocked aside odds to win the Illinois State basketball Title. It is a heart-warming account about 'those kids from the other side of town,' which would make a wonderful break-through contribution to their school and community. Let me explain.
Monon Township of White County is located in Indiana's Northwest quadrant. It's attraction for the large Mexican population is employment at a huge egg production farm and two semi-tractor construction industries. One could imagine that the 30% North White high school Hispanic students would likely feel disconnected from the school's mainstream. They 'look' different, many speak a different language and they offer limited contributions to the school's extra-curricular profile.
All that changed this fall of 2016... Boy did it change! The past few years there has been growing cries from Monon's Hispanic neighborhood to begin a boys' soccer program. This school year those pleas received more traction from the administration and board of education. The program's inaugural year would find the team facing a significant handicap...no home field therefore no home soccer matches. The young enthusiastic newcomers to the Indiana High School Athletic Association were undaunted.
Surely, not much success is expected from any prep sport program in its inaugural season...wrong in the case of the Monon boys' soccer team. The squad took an impressive 12-2 record into Indiana's first round sectional playoffs and advanced to the championship game. Last week a student fan bus and a plethora of private autos made its way to the sectional finals and witnessed the unimaginable. This upstart soccer club fought through two over times and several penalty kicks to capture the sectional championship and take a 14-2 record into the next playoff level. As that tie-breaking penalty kick settled into the goal net the Monon students poured onto the field to celebrate this unexpected victory for their alma mater. A title captured for them by 'those students from the other side of town.' In these times of ugly political rhetoric and devisive language, I celebrate with North White High what is good about America. We are a Great America when We build opportunities instead of walls. This is a shinning example of a true American story. May God continue to bless our nation with this spirit.
Monon Township of White County is located in Indiana's Northwest quadrant. It's attraction for the large Mexican population is employment at a huge egg production farm and two semi-tractor construction industries. One could imagine that the 30% North White high school Hispanic students would likely feel disconnected from the school's mainstream. They 'look' different, many speak a different language and they offer limited contributions to the school's extra-curricular profile.
All that changed this fall of 2016... Boy did it change! The past few years there has been growing cries from Monon's Hispanic neighborhood to begin a boys' soccer program. This school year those pleas received more traction from the administration and board of education. The program's inaugural year would find the team facing a significant handicap...no home field therefore no home soccer matches. The young enthusiastic newcomers to the Indiana High School Athletic Association were undaunted.
Surely, not much success is expected from any prep sport program in its inaugural season...wrong in the case of the Monon boys' soccer team. The squad took an impressive 12-2 record into Indiana's first round sectional playoffs and advanced to the championship game. Last week a student fan bus and a plethora of private autos made its way to the sectional finals and witnessed the unimaginable. This upstart soccer club fought through two over times and several penalty kicks to capture the sectional championship and take a 14-2 record into the next playoff level. As that tie-breaking penalty kick settled into the goal net the Monon students poured onto the field to celebrate this unexpected victory for their alma mater. A title captured for them by 'those students from the other side of town.' In these times of ugly political rhetoric and devisive language, I celebrate with North White High what is good about America. We are a Great America when We build opportunities instead of walls. This is a shinning example of a true American story. May God continue to bless our nation with this spirit.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Sad Yet True
Many Americans champion the teachings of Jesus Christ as they exhort others to "Love one another." They encourage the 'Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.' Historically, these messages were routinely disseminated and nurtured in the home, school and Church environment. Unfortunately, the near fifty-percent American divorce rate has lessened the home message as has the decline in Sunday morning church attendance. (Note: I find it so amusing when I hear the masses call for "prayer in school" then note that only 14% of the American Christian population actually go to Church to pray on Sunday mornings.) The school appears to be the last institution standing and its potential (positive) impact is compromised by ridiculous laws and impotent administrators fearful of school board members with less than honorable agendas.
What does get repeated is the negative reporting of bad behavior. Stop and recall the news source you regularly embrace. How often are those stories encouraging, uplifting and given to hope or positive engagement? The answer is not often. The reason? No public appetite for good news like there is for the salacious dirt.
Our nation will elect the world's most powerful leader next month. Our determining measurements of these two individuals of choice is a nearly two year barrage of aggressive, negative, hurtful and often untrue rhetoric attacks from both candidates.
My father admonished me to take care of those things in my control, don't bellyache blaming others and have compassion for others as you may need the same. I absorbed that philosophy. Hundreds of my former basketball players would tell you, if asked, that they were never permitted to argue with officials, criticize teammates or say derogatory things about opponents. The dressing room sign summed it up: "Respect All Fear None."
God help our children growing up in these ugly, negative and UN-Christlike times.
What does get repeated is the negative reporting of bad behavior. Stop and recall the news source you regularly embrace. How often are those stories encouraging, uplifting and given to hope or positive engagement? The answer is not often. The reason? No public appetite for good news like there is for the salacious dirt.
Our nation will elect the world's most powerful leader next month. Our determining measurements of these two individuals of choice is a nearly two year barrage of aggressive, negative, hurtful and often untrue rhetoric attacks from both candidates.
My father admonished me to take care of those things in my control, don't bellyache blaming others and have compassion for others as you may need the same. I absorbed that philosophy. Hundreds of my former basketball players would tell you, if asked, that they were never permitted to argue with officials, criticize teammates or say derogatory things about opponents. The dressing room sign summed it up: "Respect All Fear None."
God help our children growing up in these ugly, negative and UN-Christlike times.
Saturday, October 8, 2016
eenie meenie miney mo
My wife recently challenged me regarding blog comments I've made about my evangelical-brothers & sisters. That's correct, I am an evangelical characterized with some of the 'same' judgmental propensities. If you are a scripture person, you know that Matthew 7:1, which admonishes us NOT to judge others, is pretty much ignored by most Christians who seem to feel responsible to sit-in-judgment of their fellow man until Jesus returns for the final judgment. (Note: I cannot find scripture to support that notion but we folks, Christians or not are hell bent to judge).
Just yesterday, a Donald Trump vulgarity-laced tape demeaning women became public and immediately Trump invoked the name Bill Clinton in a manner to parse degrees of 'sin.' Trump himself, suggested that Bill Clinton's comments about women, on golf courses are worse than his. There is our invitation to 'judge' and after all, we must determine a United States President next month.
I have recently been in private conversation with several friends on this topic>>degree of sin. Why not? I must determine if Trump's sins are greater than Bill's sins or perhaps Hillary's is worst of all.
Evidently, I have held the incorrect view about sin. I was of the opinion that all sin is equal, in so far as it (sin) separates us from God. It appears that I need to determine if idolatry is a greater sin than lying; if adultery is a lesser sin than stealing and is using the Lord's name in vain a greater sin than murder. Oh, and on the subject of murder, is the manner in which we 'kill' rated in sinful degrees?
Boy, I'd really like to have an answer to that degree of sinful murder...perhaps I could then put to rest that dilemma about abortion and capital punishment.
While I'm attempting to investigate these factors, I hope it is also revealed if players betting on baseball games is more sinful than players using performance enhancing drugs. This would solidify my vote for the Hall of Fame should it come down between Barry Bonds and Pete Rose.
Just yesterday, a Donald Trump vulgarity-laced tape demeaning women became public and immediately Trump invoked the name Bill Clinton in a manner to parse degrees of 'sin.' Trump himself, suggested that Bill Clinton's comments about women, on golf courses are worse than his. There is our invitation to 'judge' and after all, we must determine a United States President next month.
I have recently been in private conversation with several friends on this topic>>degree of sin. Why not? I must determine if Trump's sins are greater than Bill's sins or perhaps Hillary's is worst of all.
Evidently, I have held the incorrect view about sin. I was of the opinion that all sin is equal, in so far as it (sin) separates us from God. It appears that I need to determine if idolatry is a greater sin than lying; if adultery is a lesser sin than stealing and is using the Lord's name in vain a greater sin than murder. Oh, and on the subject of murder, is the manner in which we 'kill' rated in sinful degrees?
Boy, I'd really like to have an answer to that degree of sinful murder...perhaps I could then put to rest that dilemma about abortion and capital punishment.
While I'm attempting to investigate these factors, I hope it is also revealed if players betting on baseball games is more sinful than players using performance enhancing drugs. This would solidify my vote for the Hall of Fame should it come down between Barry Bonds and Pete Rose.
Friday, October 7, 2016
The Not So Green-Green Grass of Home
Greetings from my backyard swing. I must head out this morning for auto-maintenance service and then fill up with fuel. I notice gasoline prices bouncing about these days; if it gets too high the subject will no doubt be introduced in a Presidential debate.
My backyard grass looks great this year. Back-in-the-day, Roustio backyards had a tough time growing grass. There was too many people trampling around the yard. We had a basketball court. We played croquet. Once in awhile we strung a badminton net and I recall an area for 'washer-tossing' and horseshoes. Of course, our brick Bar-BQ pit where we never barbecued but burned trash offered interesting sights and critter dwelling.
I especially enjoyed watching my father's neighborhood buddies play backyard-croquet. The game always started out with friendly chatter and happy spirits but about the second time dad placed his foot atop 'his' ball, next to Sherill Coleman's ball and drove that croquet ball down the ditch adjacent to Kingshighway the friendly bantering turned rather terse and headed South! Ain't nothin' funnier than grown men pouting.
Families don't seem to play those backyard games these days. Of course, we don't get to know our neighbor's unless their tree branches start hanging over our property or the dog barks too early in the morning. I get along with all my neighbor's and that's good. I recall years ago when my neighbor was always upset with my German Shepard's early morning barking. I wouldn't let the dog outside until after 8:00AM, but I did often cut my grass at 6:30AM. on Saturday mornings.
Gotta run...have a good day!
My backyard grass looks great this year. Back-in-the-day, Roustio backyards had a tough time growing grass. There was too many people trampling around the yard. We had a basketball court. We played croquet. Once in awhile we strung a badminton net and I recall an area for 'washer-tossing' and horseshoes. Of course, our brick Bar-BQ pit where we never barbecued but burned trash offered interesting sights and critter dwelling.
I especially enjoyed watching my father's neighborhood buddies play backyard-croquet. The game always started out with friendly chatter and happy spirits but about the second time dad placed his foot atop 'his' ball, next to Sherill Coleman's ball and drove that croquet ball down the ditch adjacent to Kingshighway the friendly bantering turned rather terse and headed South! Ain't nothin' funnier than grown men pouting.
Families don't seem to play those backyard games these days. Of course, we don't get to know our neighbor's unless their tree branches start hanging over our property or the dog barks too early in the morning. I get along with all my neighbor's and that's good. I recall years ago when my neighbor was always upset with my German Shepard's early morning barking. I wouldn't let the dog outside until after 8:00AM, but I did often cut my grass at 6:30AM. on Saturday mornings.
Gotta run...have a good day!
Thursday, October 6, 2016
Protect Inspite of 'those' You Serve
Earlier this week, my wife and I attended the 188th St. Louis County Police Academy's graduation. We were there with family and love ones to support the journey and celebrate the graduation of our grandson, Caleb Howell along with 15 other recruits. It would an understatement to say the ceremony was crisp, classy and well planned.
Two words resonate as I reflect on watching this police officer graduation ceremony:
'calling & respect.'
I believe only a fool would deny the obvious...those who would train for six months to ultimately place them self in harms way to protect their fellow citizens must be answering a passionate 'calling.' Most professions attract with potential monetary rewards yet those who pursue careers in ministry, teaching and first responders are motivated by a much different inner-voice.
Once upon a time the American public held in highest regards its educators, clergy, law enforcement and government leaders...not so much any longer. Perhaps some of the fault lies at the feet of those professionals as public awareness came to light with reported bad behavior. In my life time a President resigned from office in disgrace. Teachers have conducted inappropriate activities with students. Many clergy were found to be pedophiles. Government officials were caught in scandals. Sports heroes were found to be cheaters using performance enhancing drugs and some law officers demonstrate lack of good judgment.
Make no mistake, we are experiencing a generation of people who have little respect for authority. Children DO NOT show respect towards parents and fear no consequences from parents. These same young people go to school where they challenge in disrespectful ways the teachers and administrators. In the streets of America our citizens casually dismiss healthy behavior and flaunt disrespectful attitudes towards property and persons.
As the sixteen graduating cadets sat listening to a United States Congresswoman speak along with several law enforcement hierarchy, they heard a repeated message: "Officers: Thank you for the service and dedication you now begin to offer society. God bless you and return home each day safely." A sobering message.
Two words resonate as I reflect on watching this police officer graduation ceremony:
'calling & respect.'
I believe only a fool would deny the obvious...those who would train for six months to ultimately place them self in harms way to protect their fellow citizens must be answering a passionate 'calling.' Most professions attract with potential monetary rewards yet those who pursue careers in ministry, teaching and first responders are motivated by a much different inner-voice.
Once upon a time the American public held in highest regards its educators, clergy, law enforcement and government leaders...not so much any longer. Perhaps some of the fault lies at the feet of those professionals as public awareness came to light with reported bad behavior. In my life time a President resigned from office in disgrace. Teachers have conducted inappropriate activities with students. Many clergy were found to be pedophiles. Government officials were caught in scandals. Sports heroes were found to be cheaters using performance enhancing drugs and some law officers demonstrate lack of good judgment.
Make no mistake, we are experiencing a generation of people who have little respect for authority. Children DO NOT show respect towards parents and fear no consequences from parents. These same young people go to school where they challenge in disrespectful ways the teachers and administrators. In the streets of America our citizens casually dismiss healthy behavior and flaunt disrespectful attitudes towards property and persons.
As the sixteen graduating cadets sat listening to a United States Congresswoman speak along with several law enforcement hierarchy, they heard a repeated message: "Officers: Thank you for the service and dedication you now begin to offer society. God bless you and return home each day safely." A sobering message.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
"He Ain't Nothin' but..."
I recall the first time I heard the phrase used. It was the summer of 1957. I was working at New England Lead Burning Company in St. Louis, Missouri. My Dad was a top salesman for the industrial corrosion protection company and pulled the strings to get me on the payroll as a laborer, truck driver and general 'gofer.'
I used to enjoy lunchtime banter between older workers. They were mostly hard working 'good guys' with entrenched opinions, beliefs and attitudes...they didn't cotton much to 'facts,' which failed to line up and support their positions. Anybody who knew the Roustio boys knew one thing...they busted their ass in work situations because Dad expected it and you surely did not want to leave the impression that 'his boys' were lazy. The workers respected me and I did then what I do today...stir the pot...why?...because the pot needs stirring...people need to be challenged about their beliefs and attitudes, which impact human relationships. Anyway...
The lunch-time conversation was about a current politician. I heard one fella say, "That sumbitch, he ain't nothin' but a four-flusher." I knew what he meant. A 'four-flusher' is a bluffer, a cheat, a worthless dishonest person.
Now, in a manner of speaking, may I put a contemporary face to the phrase 'four-flusher?'
A bluffer..."I'm going to build a wall along the border and Mexico is going to pay for it."
"We need to round up all illegal immigrants and deport them."
"We need to have police surveillance in Mosque neighborhoods."
A cheat....Failed to pay federal taxes for years, stiffed creditors with four bankruptcies and refused to
pay other contractors for completed work.
Worthless
&
Dishonest..Makes demeaning comments about women, the disabled and opponents' family. When called out he denies his comments or suggests that his comments were misinterpreted. A person who makes 'false' claims...claims to be richer than actual, claims Obama was not a U. S. Citizen. Claims that he knows more about terrorists than the military. Donald J. Trump IS a Four-Flusher!
I used to enjoy lunchtime banter between older workers. They were mostly hard working 'good guys' with entrenched opinions, beliefs and attitudes...they didn't cotton much to 'facts,' which failed to line up and support their positions. Anybody who knew the Roustio boys knew one thing...they busted their ass in work situations because Dad expected it and you surely did not want to leave the impression that 'his boys' were lazy. The workers respected me and I did then what I do today...stir the pot...why?...because the pot needs stirring...people need to be challenged about their beliefs and attitudes, which impact human relationships. Anyway...
The lunch-time conversation was about a current politician. I heard one fella say, "That sumbitch, he ain't nothin' but a four-flusher." I knew what he meant. A 'four-flusher' is a bluffer, a cheat, a worthless dishonest person.
Now, in a manner of speaking, may I put a contemporary face to the phrase 'four-flusher?'
A bluffer..."I'm going to build a wall along the border and Mexico is going to pay for it."
"We need to round up all illegal immigrants and deport them."
"We need to have police surveillance in Mosque neighborhoods."
A cheat....Failed to pay federal taxes for years, stiffed creditors with four bankruptcies and refused to
pay other contractors for completed work.
Worthless
&
Dishonest..Makes demeaning comments about women, the disabled and opponents' family. When called out he denies his comments or suggests that his comments were misinterpreted. A person who makes 'false' claims...claims to be richer than actual, claims Obama was not a U. S. Citizen. Claims that he knows more about terrorists than the military. Donald J. Trump IS a Four-Flusher!
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Yeah Team...I'll drink to that!
May I offer one hypocritical societal microcosm. The American legal alcohol consumption age is 21. The American college-universities have strong documentation that alcohol consumption, in general, is a problem and falsification of student-age ID's is compounded on America's campuses. Annually, It is reported that reckless behavior generated by excessive alcohol consumption has increased the incident of property damage, alcohol poisoning and rape.
For years, our nation's colleges have attempted to educate and police college students regarding alcohol; well, not so much anymore! With all due respect to our Judea-Christian founding fathers and the glorious NCAA governing branch..."Money talks, bull s*#t walks." More and more college athletic venues offer beer and wine sales. How about good old SMU? Yep, I remember when Methodist were discouraged dancing, women should keep ankles covered and remember the Sabbath day to keep it Holy...don't go to the movies on Sunday! Southern Methodist University students can now drink beer at 'Mustangs' football games. (Note: I am permitted to 'pick' at Methodist, since I've been one all my life? And I shall continue if they continue to cherry-pick values.)
And...how 'bout the NCAA? Those phony-folks make universities discard their Indian mascots because those symbols are seen as demeaning to Native Americans. I wonder if Native Americans would be sold alcohol at SMU football games, after all you know how stupid those 'Redskins' get when sh*t-faced...almost as stupid as our college students
For years, our nation's colleges have attempted to educate and police college students regarding alcohol; well, not so much anymore! With all due respect to our Judea-Christian founding fathers and the glorious NCAA governing branch..."Money talks, bull s*#t walks." More and more college athletic venues offer beer and wine sales. How about good old SMU? Yep, I remember when Methodist were discouraged dancing, women should keep ankles covered and remember the Sabbath day to keep it Holy...don't go to the movies on Sunday! Southern Methodist University students can now drink beer at 'Mustangs' football games. (Note: I am permitted to 'pick' at Methodist, since I've been one all my life? And I shall continue if they continue to cherry-pick values.)
And...how 'bout the NCAA? Those phony-folks make universities discard their Indian mascots because those symbols are seen as demeaning to Native Americans. I wonder if Native Americans would be sold alcohol at SMU football games, after all you know how stupid those 'Redskins' get when sh*t-faced...almost as stupid as our college students
Monday, October 3, 2016
Happy Birthday 'Fox'
If my father was living, he would celebrate this day his 98th birthday. He's been gone 22-years. As a young boy, I always enjoyed competing with my Dad. I recall when I was eight years old, we would often race down an alley to a telephone pole. A few years ago, I wrote these words remembering...
Catching Up With Dad
I raced down the alley to a telephone pole,
I gave it my all seeking that coveted goal.
My opponent, my father, my hero no doubt,
Would this be the time I win and then shout?
The races, shooting baskets and backyard games,
I competed against my model and desired the same.
Just once to win against the giant of a man,
To prove to my Dad, I will and I can.
One time so close another oh so near,
Was the edge his years or perhaps my fear?
Then one day it happened, victory over Dad,
Oh, the sweetness somehow mixed with the sad.
Many years have gone by and I race no more,
My father is gone, no need to keep score.
I stroll through the park noting others at play,
I watch the young father and son on this day.
They huddle, they chat then point to a sign,
'Ready Set,' then it is off to that line.
The lad tries so hard but not up to the task,
Yet time changes all, soon Dad places last.
These changing roles all part of a plan,
The secret you know, is to race while you can.
Catching Up With Dad
I raced down the alley to a telephone pole,
I gave it my all seeking that coveted goal.
My opponent, my father, my hero no doubt,
Would this be the time I win and then shout?
The races, shooting baskets and backyard games,
I competed against my model and desired the same.
Just once to win against the giant of a man,
To prove to my Dad, I will and I can.
One time so close another oh so near,
Was the edge his years or perhaps my fear?
Then one day it happened, victory over Dad,
Oh, the sweetness somehow mixed with the sad.
Many years have gone by and I race no more,
My father is gone, no need to keep score.
I stroll through the park noting others at play,
I watch the young father and son on this day.
They huddle, they chat then point to a sign,
'Ready Set,' then it is off to that line.
The lad tries so hard but not up to the task,
Yet time changes all, soon Dad places last.
These changing roles all part of a plan,
The secret you know, is to race while you can.
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Help The Child Grow
In 1959, I was a sophomore at Illinois State University. I recall that fall reading George Orwell's book, "1984." I remember having a difficult time imaging the year 1984; here it is 2016 and I have certainly arrived at a point where I no longer mark time by 'years' but instead, I now define my life in increments of weekly pill-box re-fillings.
Orwell's book suggested some strange coming 'looks' back in that year but I dare say back then George could not imagine 2016. One thing that I find strange in 2016 is the idiotic parenting philosophies. Take for example the over protection of our youths' psyche. Not long ago, I read a report explaining some educators' concern regarding 'harsh' grading marks. I don't make this crap up. Evidently, the 'F' letter grade is hurtful to a child. Apparently, we should not tell a school age child who fails to meet standards that the grade reflects their efforts. Nope, we are to send that grade to 'purgatory' and figure out some way to cleanse it and bring it back to little Junior or Missy with a drum roll 'B' or better mark.
How and when do you tell a child that they are failing a school subject? How and when do you explain to a kid that their skills are not strong enough to 'make the team?' Are we not deterring the youngster's growth when we sugar coat realities? If grandpa dies suddenly are we protecting the child's emotions by withholding that real life event? I suppose there is some hair-brain child psychologist out there that would rather a family wait until a visit to grandma's house and play a game similar to 'Where's Waldo?'
Orwell's book suggested some strange coming 'looks' back in that year but I dare say back then George could not imagine 2016. One thing that I find strange in 2016 is the idiotic parenting philosophies. Take for example the over protection of our youths' psyche. Not long ago, I read a report explaining some educators' concern regarding 'harsh' grading marks. I don't make this crap up. Evidently, the 'F' letter grade is hurtful to a child. Apparently, we should not tell a school age child who fails to meet standards that the grade reflects their efforts. Nope, we are to send that grade to 'purgatory' and figure out some way to cleanse it and bring it back to little Junior or Missy with a drum roll 'B' or better mark.
How and when do you tell a child that they are failing a school subject? How and when do you explain to a kid that their skills are not strong enough to 'make the team?' Are we not deterring the youngster's growth when we sugar coat realities? If grandpa dies suddenly are we protecting the child's emotions by withholding that real life event? I suppose there is some hair-brain child psychologist out there that would rather a family wait until a visit to grandma's house and play a game similar to 'Where's Waldo?'
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Open Letter to Hillary
Dear Hillary Clinton:
Don't look over your shoulder, Hillary Clinton but the 'MORAL' posse is coming after you. You recall back when hubby, Bill chased and caught those women for his 'pleasures' and then lied to you about it? Sure you do! And like a fool, you elected to believe your husband and like a loving foolish wife, you attacked those women in defense of your lying spouse. Well, time to pay for you making wrong choices...never mind the wrong choices made by Billy and the 'Babes.'
In order to identify these public peace preservers it should come as no surprise to you that the Sheriff leading the posse-gang is your Republican opponent, Donald J. Trump. His main sidekicks are Rudolph Guiliani and Newton Gingrich.
Once you are captured and called out for your misgivings, you will likely have the urge to attack your attackers by pointing out that these three Law and Justice gents had numerous sexual affairs themselves while married. Then you will want to point out the fact that these three horny boys had nine wives between them.
Please say nothing, Hillary. I think there remains a slight chance that most Americans will see through this incredible charade; not certain, I said, I 'think.'
Don't look over your shoulder, Hillary Clinton but the 'MORAL' posse is coming after you. You recall back when hubby, Bill chased and caught those women for his 'pleasures' and then lied to you about it? Sure you do! And like a fool, you elected to believe your husband and like a loving foolish wife, you attacked those women in defense of your lying spouse. Well, time to pay for you making wrong choices...never mind the wrong choices made by Billy and the 'Babes.'
In order to identify these public peace preservers it should come as no surprise to you that the Sheriff leading the posse-gang is your Republican opponent, Donald J. Trump. His main sidekicks are Rudolph Guiliani and Newton Gingrich.
Once you are captured and called out for your misgivings, you will likely have the urge to attack your attackers by pointing out that these three Law and Justice gents had numerous sexual affairs themselves while married. Then you will want to point out the fact that these three horny boys had nine wives between them.
Please say nothing, Hillary. I think there remains a slight chance that most Americans will see through this incredible charade; not certain, I said, I 'think.'
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