Trapped: The Mike Turner Story (143KB)
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Trapped! The Mike Turner Story
I had this story buried within my site and I wanted to bring it to light. It's my favorite story taken from Backpacker Magazine. I hope you like it as much as I did. Click on the .pdf icon below to view the story...
Monday, December 28, 2009
R.I.P. "Common Sense"
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend by the name of Common Sense who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such value lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm and that life isn't always fair.
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge). His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student; but, could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Finally, Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit in her lap, and was awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two stepbrothers; My Rights and Ima Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still know him pass this on, if not join the majority and do nothing! Unknown Author
Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge). His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student; but, could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Finally, Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit in her lap, and was awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two stepbrothers; My Rights and Ima Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still know him pass this on, if not join the majority and do nothing! Unknown Author
What is a "Billion"?
Can you define billion any better? The next time you hear a politician use the word billion casually, think about whether you want that politician spending your tax money. A billion is a difficult number to comprehend, but one advertising agency did a good job of putting that figure into perspective in one of its releases: A billion seconds ago, it was 1959. A billion minutes ago, Jesus was alive. A billion hours ago, our ancestors were living in the Stone Age. A billion dollars ago was only 8 hours and 20 minutes, at the rate Washington spends it. Unknown Author
Generational Differences
Nobody over thirty should be alive today. Here's why:
To begin with, eighty percent of us had a parent who smoked cigarettes, and nobody actually dropped dead. The government spent billions on health care for smokers; but nobody seems to know anyone who was cared for by the State in that capacity, nor has anyone I have talked to ever tripped over any of the four hundred fifty thousand dead bodies which annually succumb to the evils of tobacco, and none of my friends seemed too terribly affected by secondhand smoke.
But let's look at our childhood days, which were even more Fraught with potential disaster! According to today's intellectual atmosphere, those of us who were kids in the 40's, 50's, 60's, or even maybe the early 70's shouldn't have survived. Our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paint. Asbestos was everywhere, even on the sidings of many homes. It was required by law to prevent fires in buildings. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets, and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets. (Not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.)
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pickup truck on a warm day was always a special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. Horrors! We ate cupcakes, bread and butter, and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this. (or even got sick, that I can recall). We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the street lights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. NO CELL PHONES, or even pagers! Unthinkable! We did not have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X-Boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, video tape movies, surround sound, personal phones, computers, or Internet chat rooms!
But, we had friends! We went outside and found them. We played ball, and sometimes, the ball would really hurt. We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these disasters. No one was to blame but us; they were accidents. Remember accidents? We had fights and punched each other and got black and blue and learned to get over it. We made up games with sticks and tennis balls and ate worms, and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes nor did the worms live inside us forever. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's home and knocked on the door, or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Some students weren't as smart as others, so they failed a grade and were held back to repeat the same grade. Horrors! Tests were not adjusted for any reason. Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Imagine that! If the teacher whipped your butt, you didn't go running to tell your parents; because you would get it again from them! Shades of child abuse!" Unknown Author
To begin with, eighty percent of us had a parent who smoked cigarettes, and nobody actually dropped dead. The government spent billions on health care for smokers; but nobody seems to know anyone who was cared for by the State in that capacity, nor has anyone I have talked to ever tripped over any of the four hundred fifty thousand dead bodies which annually succumb to the evils of tobacco, and none of my friends seemed too terribly affected by secondhand smoke.
But let's look at our childhood days, which were even more Fraught with potential disaster! According to today's intellectual atmosphere, those of us who were kids in the 40's, 50's, 60's, or even maybe the early 70's shouldn't have survived. Our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paint. Asbestos was everywhere, even on the sidings of many homes. It was required by law to prevent fires in buildings. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets, and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets. (Not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.)
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pickup truck on a warm day was always a special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. Horrors! We ate cupcakes, bread and butter, and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this. (or even got sick, that I can recall). We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the street lights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. NO CELL PHONES, or even pagers! Unthinkable! We did not have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X-Boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, video tape movies, surround sound, personal phones, computers, or Internet chat rooms!
But, we had friends! We went outside and found them. We played ball, and sometimes, the ball would really hurt. We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these disasters. No one was to blame but us; they were accidents. Remember accidents? We had fights and punched each other and got black and blue and learned to get over it. We made up games with sticks and tennis balls and ate worms, and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes nor did the worms live inside us forever. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's home and knocked on the door, or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Some students weren't as smart as others, so they failed a grade and were held back to repeat the same grade. Horrors! Tests were not adjusted for any reason. Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Imagine that! If the teacher whipped your butt, you didn't go running to tell your parents; because you would get it again from them! Shades of child abuse!" Unknown Author
Everyone's Important
What sets the world in motion is the interplay of differences, their attractions and repulsions. Life is plurality, death is uniformity, by suppressing differences and peculiarities, by eliminating different civilizations and cultures, progress weakens life and favors death, impoverishes and mutilates us. Every view of the world that becomes extinct, every culture that disappears, diminishes a possibility of life. Octavia Paz
Modern Society
Subject: Two Choices
What would you do? You make the choice; don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. "I believe, that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child. " Then he told the following story: "Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning. "
Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay s team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible 'cause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay."
Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.
"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "The boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."
Shay didn't make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his Father so happy and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
May your day, be a Shay Day, sunny today tomorrow & always!
What would you do? You make the choice; don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question to all of you is: would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. "I believe, that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child. " Then he told the following story: "Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning. "
Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay s team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible 'cause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay."
Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.
"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "The boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."
Shay didn't make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his Father so happy and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
May your day, be a Shay Day, sunny today tomorrow & always!
Luke AFB Complaint and Reply
Lieutenant Colonel Scott Pleus at Luke AFB deserves a big pat on the back. Apparently, an individual who lives somewhere near Luke AFB wrote the local paper complaining about a group of F-16s that disturbed his/her day at the mall. When that individual read the response from a Luke AFB officer, it must have stung quite a bit. I've gathered the original complaint, the LtCol's response, and the complainant's apology. I think it's very important to not forget about our men and women in harm's way.
The complaint: Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 a.m., a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns' early-bird special? Any response would be appreciated.
The response: Regarding "A wake-up call from Luke's jets" (Letters, Thursday): on June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship flyby of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt. Jeremy Fresques. Capt. Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day. At 9 a.m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend.
Based on the letter writer's recount of the flyby, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the President of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured. A four-ship flyby is a display of respect the Air Force pays to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects. The letter writer asks, "Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives. Signed Lt. Col. Scott Pleus; 63rd Fighter Squadron; Luke Air Force Base, AZ
Mr. MacRae's Apology to Lieutenant Colonel Scott Pleus (9 July): Regarding "Flyby honoring fallen comrade," I read with increasing embarrassment and humility the response to my unfortunate letter to The Republic concerning an Air Force flyby ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, June 23). I had no idea of the significance of the flyby, and would never have insulted such a fine and respectful display had I known. I have received many calls from the fine airmen who are serving or have served at Luke, and I have attempted to explain my side and apologized for any discomfort my letter has caused. This was simply an uninformed citizen complaining about noise. I have been made aware in both written and verbal communications of the four-ship flyby, and my heart goes out to each and every lost serviceman and woman in this war in which we are engaged. I have been called un-American by an unknown caller and I feel that I must address that. I served in the U.S. Navy and am a Vietnam veteran. I love my country and respect the jobs that the service organizations are doing. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.
The complaint: Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 a.m., a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns' early-bird special? Any response would be appreciated.
The response: Regarding "A wake-up call from Luke's jets" (Letters, Thursday): on June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship flyby of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt. Jeremy Fresques. Capt. Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day. At 9 a.m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend.
Based on the letter writer's recount of the flyby, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the President of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured. A four-ship flyby is a display of respect the Air Force pays to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects. The letter writer asks, "Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives. Signed Lt. Col. Scott Pleus; 63rd Fighter Squadron; Luke Air Force Base, AZ
Mr. MacRae's Apology to Lieutenant Colonel Scott Pleus (9 July): Regarding "Flyby honoring fallen comrade," I read with increasing embarrassment and humility the response to my unfortunate letter to The Republic concerning an Air Force flyby ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, June 23). I had no idea of the significance of the flyby, and would never have insulted such a fine and respectful display had I known. I have received many calls from the fine airmen who are serving or have served at Luke, and I have attempted to explain my side and apologized for any discomfort my letter has caused. This was simply an uninformed citizen complaining about noise. I have been made aware in both written and verbal communications of the four-ship flyby, and my heart goes out to each and every lost serviceman and woman in this war in which we are engaged. I have been called un-American by an unknown caller and I feel that I must address that. I served in the U.S. Navy and am a Vietnam veteran. I love my country and respect the jobs that the service organizations are doing. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.
John McCain's Remarks about the Pledge of Allegience
In light of the recent appeals court ruling in California, with respect to the Pledge of Allegiance, the following recollection from Senator John McCain is very appropriate:
As you may know, I spent five and one half years as a prisoner of war during the Vietnam War. In the early years of our imprisonment, the NVA kept us in solitary confinement or two or three to a cell. In 1971 the NVA moved us from these conditions of isolation into large rooms with as many as 30 to 40 men to a room. This was, as you can imagine, a wonderful change and was a direct result of the efforts of millions of Americans on behalf of a few hundred POWs 10,000 miles from home. One of the men who moved into my room was a young man named Mike Christian.
Mike came from a small town near Selma, Alabama He didn't wear a pair of shoes until he was 13 years old. At 17, he enlisted in the US Navy. He later earned a commission by going to Officer Training School Then he became a Naval Flight Officer and was shot down and captured in 1967. Mike had a keen and deep appreciation of the opportunities this country and our military provide for people who want to work and want to succeed.
As part of the change in treatment, the Vietnamese allowed some prisoners to receive packages from home. In some of these packages were handkerchiefs, scarves and other items of clothing. Mike got himself a bamboo needle. Over a period of a couple of months, he created an American flag and sewed on the inside of his shirt. Every afternoon, before we had a bowl of soup, we would hang Mike's shirt on the wall of the cell and say the Pledge of Allegiance.
I know the Pledge of Allegiance may not seem the most important part of our day now, but I can assure you that in that stark cell it was indeed the most important and meaningful event. One day the Vietnamese searched our cell, as they did periodically, and discovered Mike's shirt with the flag sewn inside, and removed it. That evening they returned, opened the door of the cell, and for the benefit of all of us, beat Mike Christian severely for the next couple of hours Then, they opened the door of the cell and threw him in; we cleaned him up as well as we could. The cell in which we lived had a concrete slab in the middle on which we slept Four naked light bulbs hung in each corner of the room.
As I said, we tried to clean up Mike as well as we could. After the excitement died down, I looked in the corner of the room, and sitting there beneath that dim light bulb with a piece of red cloth, another shirt and his bamboo needle, was my friend, Mike Christian. He was sitting there with his eyes almost shut from the beating he had received, making another American flag. He was not making the flag because it made Mike Christian feel better. He was making that flag because he knew how important it was to us to be able to Pledge our allegiance to our flag and country.
So the next time you say the Pledge of Allegiance, you must never forget the sacrifice and courage that thousands of Americans have made to build our nation and promote freedom around the world.
You must remember our duty, our honor, and our country.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." Senator John McCain
As you may know, I spent five and one half years as a prisoner of war during the Vietnam War. In the early years of our imprisonment, the NVA kept us in solitary confinement or two or three to a cell. In 1971 the NVA moved us from these conditions of isolation into large rooms with as many as 30 to 40 men to a room. This was, as you can imagine, a wonderful change and was a direct result of the efforts of millions of Americans on behalf of a few hundred POWs 10,000 miles from home. One of the men who moved into my room was a young man named Mike Christian.
Mike came from a small town near Selma, Alabama He didn't wear a pair of shoes until he was 13 years old. At 17, he enlisted in the US Navy. He later earned a commission by going to Officer Training School Then he became a Naval Flight Officer and was shot down and captured in 1967. Mike had a keen and deep appreciation of the opportunities this country and our military provide for people who want to work and want to succeed.
As part of the change in treatment, the Vietnamese allowed some prisoners to receive packages from home. In some of these packages were handkerchiefs, scarves and other items of clothing. Mike got himself a bamboo needle. Over a period of a couple of months, he created an American flag and sewed on the inside of his shirt. Every afternoon, before we had a bowl of soup, we would hang Mike's shirt on the wall of the cell and say the Pledge of Allegiance.
I know the Pledge of Allegiance may not seem the most important part of our day now, but I can assure you that in that stark cell it was indeed the most important and meaningful event. One day the Vietnamese searched our cell, as they did periodically, and discovered Mike's shirt with the flag sewn inside, and removed it. That evening they returned, opened the door of the cell, and for the benefit of all of us, beat Mike Christian severely for the next couple of hours Then, they opened the door of the cell and threw him in; we cleaned him up as well as we could. The cell in which we lived had a concrete slab in the middle on which we slept Four naked light bulbs hung in each corner of the room.
As I said, we tried to clean up Mike as well as we could. After the excitement died down, I looked in the corner of the room, and sitting there beneath that dim light bulb with a piece of red cloth, another shirt and his bamboo needle, was my friend, Mike Christian. He was sitting there with his eyes almost shut from the beating he had received, making another American flag. He was not making the flag because it made Mike Christian feel better. He was making that flag because he knew how important it was to us to be able to Pledge our allegiance to our flag and country.
So the next time you say the Pledge of Allegiance, you must never forget the sacrifice and courage that thousands of Americans have made to build our nation and promote freedom around the world.
You must remember our duty, our honor, and our country.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." Senator John McCain
What is "Love"?
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds: "What does love mean?" The answer they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love. Rebecca (age 8)
When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth. Billy (age 4)
Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other. Karl (age 5)
Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you without making them give you any of theirs. Chrissy (age 6)
Love is what makes you smile when you're tired. Terri (age 4)
Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK. Danny (age 7)
Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss! Emily (age 8)
Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen. Bobby (age 7)
If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate. Nikka (age 6)
Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday. Noelle (age 7)
Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well. Tommy (age 6)
During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore. All the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. Cindy (age 8)
My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night. Clare (age 6)
Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken. Elaine (age 5)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford. Chris (age 7)
Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day. Mary Ann (age 4)
I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones. Lauren (age 4)
When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you. Karen (age 6)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross. Mark (age 6)
You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget. Jessica (age 8)
And the final one -- author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge a contest to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said: Nothing, I just helped him cry.
When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love. Rebecca (age 8)
When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth. Billy (age 4)
Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other. Karl (age 5)
Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you without making them give you any of theirs. Chrissy (age 6)
Love is what makes you smile when you're tired. Terri (age 4)
Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK. Danny (age 7)
Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss! Emily (age 8)
Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen. Bobby (age 7)
If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate. Nikka (age 6)
Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday. Noelle (age 7)
Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well. Tommy (age 6)
During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore. All the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. Cindy (age 8)
My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night. Clare (age 6)
Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken. Elaine (age 5)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford. Chris (age 7)
Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day. Mary Ann (age 4)
I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones. Lauren (age 4)
When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you. Karen (age 6)
Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross. Mark (age 6)
You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget. Jessica (age 8)
And the final one -- author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge a contest to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said: Nothing, I just helped him cry.
The Bible's Love
Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never glad about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. I Corinthians 13:4-7, Christian
Last Time I See You Fall Asleep
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep, I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep. If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door, I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more. If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise, I would video tape each action and word, so I could play them back day after day. If I knew it would be the last time, I could spare an extra minute to stop and say I love you, instead of assuming you would KNOW I do. If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day, well I'm sure you'll have so many more, so I can let just this one slip away. For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an oversight, and we always get a second chance to make everything just right. There will always be another day to say I love you, and certainly there's another chance to say our Anything I can do? But just in case I might be wrong, and today is all I get, I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike, and today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight. So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today? For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day, that you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish. So hold your loved ones close today, and whisper in their ear, tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear take time to say I'm sorry, please forgive me, thank you, or it's okay. And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today. Unknown author
Love Me or Leave Me
Love me or leave me, tell me no lies. Ask me no questions, send me no spies. You know Love's a thief, steal your heart in the night. Slip through your fingers, best hold on tight. Motorhead (a rock/metal band)
Google Search Results: "Weapons of Mass Destruction"
A couple years ago, if you typed "weapons of mass destruction" into Google's search engine and clicked on the I feel lucky button, this fake 404 page would appear. I thought it was a real 404 page until I read it...very clever I think and I'm glad I saved it.
Weapons of Mass Destruction (44KB)
Chemistry Exam Bonus Question
The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term exam. The answer by one student was so profound that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well. Here is the "Bonus Question" on the exam:
Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa (a girlfriend of mine during my Freshman year) that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven; thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."
THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A."
Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa (a girlfriend of mine during my Freshman year) that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven; thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."
THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A."
Andy Roomerisms
I love Andy Rooney's writing and his segments on TV, here's some Andy Rooneyisms:
Rooney on Monica: can you believe it? Monica turned 28 this week. It seems like only yesterday that she was crawling round the White House on her hands and knees.
Rooney on vegetarians: vegetarian - that"s an old Indian word meaning "lousy hunter."
Rooney on prisoners: did you know that it costs $40,000 a year to house each prisoner? Jeez, for forty thousand bucks a piece I"ll take a few prisoners into my house. I live in Los Angeles. I already have bars on the windows. I don"t think we should give free room and board to criminals. I think they should have to run twelve hours a day on a treadmill and generate electricity. And, if they don"t want to run, they can rest in the chair that"s hooked up to the generator.
Rooney on fabric softeners: my wife uses fabric softener. I never knew what that stuff was for. Then I noticed women coming up to me, sniffing, then saying under their breath, "Married!" and walking away. Fabric softeners are how our wives mark their territory. We can take off the ring. But, it"s hard to get that April Fresh scent out of your clothes.
Rooney on morning differences: men and women are different in the morning. We men wake up aroused in the morning. We can"t help it. We just wake up and we want you. And the women are thinking, "How can he want me the way I look in the morning?" It"s because we can"t see you. We have no blood anywhere near our optic nerve.
Rooney on "cripes:" my wife"s from the Midwest. Very nice people there. Very wholesome. They use words like ""Cripes," ""For Cripes sake." Who would that be; Jesus Cripes? The son of "Gosh" of the church of "Holy Moly"?" I"m not making fun of it. You think I wanna burn in "Heck?"
Rooney on Grandma: my grandmother has a bumper sticker on her car that says, "Sexy Senior Citizen." You don"t want to think of your grand-mother that way, do you? Out entering wet shawl contests. Makes you wonder where she got that dollar she gave you for your birthday.
RIP - November 4, 2011
Rooney on Monica: can you believe it? Monica turned 28 this week. It seems like only yesterday that she was crawling round the White House on her hands and knees.
Rooney on vegetarians: vegetarian - that"s an old Indian word meaning "lousy hunter."
Rooney on prisoners: did you know that it costs $40,000 a year to house each prisoner? Jeez, for forty thousand bucks a piece I"ll take a few prisoners into my house. I live in Los Angeles. I already have bars on the windows. I don"t think we should give free room and board to criminals. I think they should have to run twelve hours a day on a treadmill and generate electricity. And, if they don"t want to run, they can rest in the chair that"s hooked up to the generator.
Rooney on fabric softeners: my wife uses fabric softener. I never knew what that stuff was for. Then I noticed women coming up to me, sniffing, then saying under their breath, "Married!" and walking away. Fabric softeners are how our wives mark their territory. We can take off the ring. But, it"s hard to get that April Fresh scent out of your clothes.
Rooney on morning differences: men and women are different in the morning. We men wake up aroused in the morning. We can"t help it. We just wake up and we want you. And the women are thinking, "How can he want me the way I look in the morning?" It"s because we can"t see you. We have no blood anywhere near our optic nerve.
Rooney on "cripes:" my wife"s from the Midwest. Very nice people there. Very wholesome. They use words like ""Cripes," ""For Cripes sake." Who would that be; Jesus Cripes? The son of "Gosh" of the church of "Holy Moly"?" I"m not making fun of it. You think I wanna burn in "Heck?"
Rooney on Grandma: my grandmother has a bumper sticker on her car that says, "Sexy Senior Citizen." You don"t want to think of your grand-mother that way, do you? Out entering wet shawl contests. Makes you wonder where she got that dollar she gave you for your birthday.
RIP - November 4, 2011
Should Children Witness Childbirth?
Due to a power outage, only one paramedic responded to the call. The house was very, very dark, so the paramedic asked Kathleen, a 3-year-old girl, to hold the light high over her mommy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby. Very diligently Kathleen did as she was asked. Her mother Heidi pushed and pushed, and after a little while Connor was born.
The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry. The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-year-old what she thought about what she had just witnessed. Kathleen quickly responded, "He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place. Smack his ass again.
The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry. The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-year-old what she thought about what she had just witnessed. Kathleen quickly responded, "He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place. Smack his ass again.
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together. Unknown Author
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together. Unknown Author
Dogs in Heaven
My best friend closed his eyes last night, as his head was in my hand. The Doctors said he was in pain, and it was hard for him to stand.
The thoughts that scurried through my head, as I cradled him in my arms. Were of his younger, puppy years, and Oh...his many charms.
Today, there was no gentle nudge with an intense "I love you gaze", only a heart that"s filled with tears remembering our joy filled days.
But an Angel just appeared to me, aAnd he said, "You should cry no more, GOD also loves our canine friends, He"s installed a doggy-door! Jan Cooper (1995)
The thoughts that scurried through my head, as I cradled him in my arms. Were of his younger, puppy years, and Oh...his many charms.
Today, there was no gentle nudge with an intense "I love you gaze", only a heart that"s filled with tears remembering our joy filled days.
But an Angel just appeared to me, aAnd he said, "You should cry no more, GOD also loves our canine friends, He"s installed a doggy-door! Jan Cooper (1995)
Shoes in Church
I showered and shaved and adjusted my tie I got there and sat in a pew just in time. Bowing my head in prayer as I closed my eyes. I saw the shoe of the man next to me touching mine. With plenty of room on either side I thought why must our soles touch?" It bothered me, his shoe touching mine but it didn't bother him much.
A prayer began: "Our Father" I thought, this man with the shoes has no pride. They're dusty, worn, and scratched even worse there are holes on the side. Thank You for blessings, the prayer went on and the shoe man said a quiet Amen I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts were on his shoes again. Aren't we supposed to look our best when walking through that door?
Well, this certainly isn't it, I thought glancing toward the floor. Then the prayer was ended and the songs of praise began the shoe man was certainly loud sounding proud as he sang. His voice lifted the rafters his hands were raised high the Lord could surely hear the shoe man's voice from the sky. It was time for the offering and what I threw in was steep I watched as the shoe man reached into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out, what the shoe man put in then I heard a soft "clink" as when silver hits tin. The sermon really bored me to tears, and that's no lie it was the same for the shoe man for tears fell from his eyes. At the end of the service as is the custom here we must greet new visitors and show them all good cheer. But I felt moved somehow and wanted to meet the shoe man so after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark and his hair was truly a mess but I thanked him for coming, for being our guest. He said, "My names' Charlie I'm glad to meet you my friend." There were tears in his eyes but he had a large, wide grin. "Let me explain," he said wiping tears from his eyes "I’ve been coming here for months and you're the first to say hi."
"I know that my appearance is not like all the rest but I really do try to always look my best. I always clean and polish my shoes before my very long walk but by the time I get here they're dirty and dusty, like chalk. My heart filled with pain and I swallowed to hide my tears as he continued to apologize for daring to sit so near. He said, "When I get here I know I must look a sight but I thought if I could touch you then maybe our souls might unite."
I was silent for a moment knowing that whatever was said would pale in comparison, I spoke from my heart not my head. "Oh, you've touched me," I said "and taught me in part, that the best of any man is what is found in his heart." The rest, I thought, this shoe man will never know like just how thankful I really am that his dirty old shoe touched my soul. Be blessed.
A prayer began: "Our Father" I thought, this man with the shoes has no pride. They're dusty, worn, and scratched even worse there are holes on the side. Thank You for blessings, the prayer went on and the shoe man said a quiet Amen I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts were on his shoes again. Aren't we supposed to look our best when walking through that door?
Well, this certainly isn't it, I thought glancing toward the floor. Then the prayer was ended and the songs of praise began the shoe man was certainly loud sounding proud as he sang. His voice lifted the rafters his hands were raised high the Lord could surely hear the shoe man's voice from the sky. It was time for the offering and what I threw in was steep I watched as the shoe man reached into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out, what the shoe man put in then I heard a soft "clink" as when silver hits tin. The sermon really bored me to tears, and that's no lie it was the same for the shoe man for tears fell from his eyes. At the end of the service as is the custom here we must greet new visitors and show them all good cheer. But I felt moved somehow and wanted to meet the shoe man so after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark and his hair was truly a mess but I thanked him for coming, for being our guest. He said, "My names' Charlie I'm glad to meet you my friend." There were tears in his eyes but he had a large, wide grin. "Let me explain," he said wiping tears from his eyes "I’ve been coming here for months and you're the first to say hi."
"I know that my appearance is not like all the rest but I really do try to always look my best. I always clean and polish my shoes before my very long walk but by the time I get here they're dirty and dusty, like chalk. My heart filled with pain and I swallowed to hide my tears as he continued to apologize for daring to sit so near. He said, "When I get here I know I must look a sight but I thought if I could touch you then maybe our souls might unite."
I was silent for a moment knowing that whatever was said would pale in comparison, I spoke from my heart not my head. "Oh, you've touched me," I said "and taught me in part, that the best of any man is what is found in his heart." The rest, I thought, this shoe man will never know like just how thankful I really am that his dirty old shoe touched my soul. Be blessed.
Quick Story About Communism
A coworker sent this to me and I think it’s pretty clever:
Could not be any simpler than that.
An economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never failed a single student before, but had once failed an entire class.That class had insisted that Obama's socialism worked and that no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.The professor then said, "OK, we will have an experiment in this class on Obama's plan".All grades would be averaged and everyone would receive the same grade so no one would fail and no one would receive an A.After the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone got a B. The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy. As the second test rolled around, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too so they studied little. The second test average was a D! No one was happy.When the 3rd test rolled around, the average was an F.The scores never increased as bickering, blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one would study for the benefit of anyone else. All failed, to their great surprise, and the professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great but when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed.
Could not be any simpler than that.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Tragedy of the Commons
This is a reprint of Gerrit Hardin's Tragedy of the Commons which is a classic environmental report on how we all share certain environmental conditions. Click on the .pdf icon below to view the story...
Tragedy of the Commons (86KB)
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