Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

I’m no good at holding my ‘forever peace.’ Not now and, never have been. But, in honesty, I think there needs to be a whole lot more people willing to speak out when they see things going on, that perhaps shouldn’t be happening.

Recently, I was exposed to a situation that certainly needed to be addressed. And then, the thought occurred to me, ‘this happens all the time and few speak up.’

A good friend was admitted to the hospital and while there suffered a heart attack, kidney failure, and pneumonia. Anyone of these things could, and has, killed lots of people. In addition to these malady’s he also experienced sepsis. Was the sepsis a result of the illness he already had, or was it present because of the illness he had acquired since his admission to the hospital? That may never be known.

My rant today, however has to do with another malady that occurs all to frequently when taking care of loved ones. This malady has a cure and should never occur, but it does, that’s where the ‘speak now, or forever hold your peace, comes in to play.

Most doctors and nurses are very dedicated humans. You will notice I used the term, ‘humans.’ Not Gods, or Generals, but humans. Therefore, they are approachable, and should be ready to give reasons as to why they are doing certain things as they treat our loved ones. They shouldn’t feel as though they are being attacked just because you question their reasoning.

However, unfortunately, not all doctors and nurses are that way. Some think because they tell you a certain thing and give you their opinion you should never question their decision.

Look, I even ask God, ‘why,’ so I’m certainly going to ask a fellow human being ‘why?’

This certain doctor pooh poohed concerns the family had about different treatments and finally said, “Because I am the doctor and I said so.”

Oh, really? Well, apparently you were absent the day medical school taught bedside manners. Apparently, you were never told that the family knows this patient better than you ever will, and apparently the doctor’s degree you obtained in the Cayman Islands needs a lot of work.

Out of spite, for it was for no other reason, he ordered a sedative given that knocked the patient out for four days. The family felt it was because he was determined to show the family he was in charge. Shame on you lowly human. Shame on you.

This patient was also on dialysis, every other day. So, since the body couldn’t dump the sedative until he had dialysis, his recovery from the sedative took much, much longer.

Don’t be afraid to ask anybody, any question, at any time. Especially, if the loved one can’t speak for themselves. Don’t be held captive by the fear that if you speak up your loved one will suffer the consequences. That’s what they hope and think you will do. Take your phone in with you and make pictures and make recordings.

Let them know that’s what your doing. You’d be surprised how quickly all that can change when they know you have proof they have acted out of line.

If per chance, you hear the excuse, “I’ll get there in a minute, I’ve work twelve hours already.”

Really, then find another job, or do this job as you should. No excuses, no complaints, do your job or quit.

There are reasons that institutions and medical personnel, have to be licensed. They aren’t Gods, they aren’t Generals, they first and foremost are human, just like you and me. If they violate the rules, they get canned, pure and simple. Their license can be revoked.

So, the next time you feel like your loved one is not being treated as they should by those in charge of their wellbeing, ‘speak up.’ Don’t be afraid of the consequences, if they mistreat they will have to endure the penalty of their actions.

Any doctor or nurse worth their salt, well understands the concerns the family has for their loved one. If not, then they need to get out of the medical field. Don’t ever be afraid to say what you feel, if you see and hear things you know are not as they should be.

There is only one God and He’s in heaven.

That recalls the old adage, “I’d like to buy them for what they are worth and sell ‘um for what they think their worth.”

Or, “If the shoe fits, wear it.”


Apron Lessons

Apron Lessons

I was reading not long ago, and suddenly this picture appeared on my screen of an aging grandmother in her apron, and all sorts of memories came flooding into my mind.

I remember well the apron my own Grandmother wore, and how it protected her dress underneath from the spills that occurred in her kitchen. But, most of all I remember how that old apron would wipe away my childish tears.

If I close my eyes tight and think back to many, many years ago, I can almost smell the aromas of her kitchen filled with all kinds of good food. Through eyes of memory I can see that apron clearly, soiled by spoils of the kitchen, and wrapped snuggly around my short grandmother’s body.

Of course, the wood stove heat would absolutely burn you up in the summer time. But, my grandmother’s ingenuity caused her to rise early, in the cool of the day, and do the cooking for that day’s meals. And always, without fail, she’d have on her old apron that remained faithful until it was worn threadbare by my grandmother.

The apron served as potholder when she’d take homemade biscuits out of the oven. She had to be extra careful, doubling it twice to be sure the padding was enough between her small hands and the hot pan. But, that same apron, wiped up the spills from the flour she used to cover the chicken she’d caught and dressed out that very morning, as she prepared it for the frying pan.

My grandmother never worked in the field. She had two strapping boys and a husband that did that, but, she worked in the home. She one and only daughter she would laughingly tell to, ‘go play with your doll,’ to get her from underfoot.

My grandmother, however, like most grandmothers, never told me that. Instead, she would invite me to come into her inner sanctum of kitchen adventures and try to teach me, as I watched her cook. She would lovingly tie an apron around my small body and I felt like I was really helping her as we worked side by side.

My apron carried the handprint of a little girl, determined to follow her grandmother’s instructions to the letter. Sometime those instructions were unspoken symbols as I watched her wipe her hands on her ever-present apron.

My grandmother’s aprons that she lovingly shared with me, made me feel so grown up and so important. They gave me a sense of well being and an attitude of accomplishment.

My mother wore aprons too. Not nearly as much as my grandmother, but enough that I knew my mother’s apron was as important as my grandmother’s.

Mother’s kitchen was equally as busy as my grandmother’s and almost as hot in the summer. However, Mother cooked on a kerosene cook stove and the heat didn’t linger as long when turned off. The lessons I learned in that kitchen were just as valuable as the ones I learned in my grandmother’s kitchen, but Mother’s kitchen and aprons taught me more about life and how a young lady was supposed to act.

Mother wiped away a lot of my tears with her apron just as my grandmother did.

Their aprons were a symbol of home. A symbol of good food, good times and a lot of love.

Aprons aren’t used much anymore. I wonder why?

It could be the aprons went the way of the family meal at night, we called supper. That was when everyone sit down together and laughed and talked about the days events. That often was the center stage for proverbs from our parents.

Or, maybe the apron went the way of discipline of children. By that I mean, manners, and if a child didn’t do as he should he knew he’d suffer the consequences. By discipline and saying ‘no,’ the children learned their parents loved them enough to tell them when they were wrong. The parents had time for them, when it wasn’t ‘easier’ to let them go to a friend’s house anytime they wanted, so the parents wouldn’t have to listen to the children whine.

Modern technology has allowed the apron to be replaced with the washing machine. Now, when the dress under the apron gets dirty it’s easy to just throw it in the laundry.

The kitchens are now air conditioned so no need to have the apron to wipe sweaty palms and brows. Now you just turn down the a/c.

Not many kitchens bake homemade biscuits anymore so the need for the apron to lift a hot pan isn’t necessary.

What about the apron wiping away the tears? Not much need for that now either. Society has dictated we need to let the babies cry. It toughens them up they say. But, instead, the children grow weaker when they realize that grandmother and mother are much to busy with their own lives to take the time to wipe away childish tears.

I miss the aprons. I miss the simplicity of homes. I’m sad the lessons the aprons taught are no longer available for the children of today. I feel somehow our children have been cheated. Oh, they have all the modern-day technology. They can run computers well by the tender age of five, but oh, how much they have missed.

Most will never know the comfort a mother’s or grandmother’s apron can bring. Our children of today may not even know what an apron is. If they do know, they may not understand the lesson the aprons of yesterday taught so very well, and for that, I’m truly sorry.

Wheat or Tares?

Jesus often spoke in parables. He made things simple to understand. When asked about the wheat and the tares He said, ‘Leave them together. The angels will separate on judgement day.’ Here’s my feeble attempt to translate this parable.

Don’t go about pulling up your neighbors tares for in so doing you may pull up some very good wheat along with the weeds’.

Simply put, ‘Mind your own business.’

Geez, that is so hard to do sometime. I just want to get in there and pull up all the things I think are weeds. However, in doing that, I may pull up some very good wheat which would supply my need for bread someday.

I think sometimes we are tempted to ‘remove the speck from our brother’s eye, when we have a log in our own.’ That’s what we do when we are guided by our own thoughts and decisions instead of consulting the Lord and asking what he wants us to do.

I had a very good friend who was a very good Christian and I laugh when I think of her saying to me, “I get so tired of having to take the high road.”

Meaning, one grows weary of having to be the ‘bigger,’ person. To take the high road and ignore mankind’s fits of pettiness. Yet, the Lord commands we do that. He tells us to follow Him and ignore the charlatans.

This same friend also said, “One more time around the mountain.

My interpretation of that simply means, we, like Moses, don’t always get the instructions clear, so God sends us around the mountain one more time in hopes that the journey will bring a clearer understanding of His will for us.

The example of Jesus’s parable about the wheat and the tares was brought home to me in my own garden.

I planted some lavender seeds. I’ve never planted lavender before, have no idea what it looks like when it starts to come up and therefore, when I look at my garden it looks like a lot of weeds are growing there.

I go out one beautiful morning and it looks to me like I’ve got a good crop of tares. I start to pull them up and suddenly it occurs to me, ‘how do you know these are weeds and not the lavender? You’ve never grown lavender before, you don’t know what it looks like when it starts coming up. What if all these, ‘weeds,’ are really lavender?’

Well, that certainly stopped me short. I didn’t pull another thing out of that garden. I’ll wait and see what grows.

It may be that I’ll harvest more weeds than I will lavender, but, after all, that’s the only way I’ll learn to tell the difference between the tares and the wheat.

What’s the lesson to learn from all of this?

Be sure you know the difference before you start pulling up your neighbor’s tares. It might turn out you’ve pulled up the good wheat and left the weeds.

In simple layman’s terms, be sure you don’t throw the baby out with the bath water.

Johnnie B.

The sun glistened off the petals of the red zinnias and one lone dewdrop cast shadows of color as I walked by. The old and well known flowers or plants called ‘flags’ by some were holding their own this hot summer day.

A lady by the name of Johnnie, had painstakingly planted these spots of beauty with loving hands and a prayer in her heart they would survive. All the flower seeds and flags had been given her by friends who wanted to share their gardens of beauty, with her.

I was carrying a pail of water and my job at the moment was to wet the pads of an old evaporative cooler, sticking out the bottom of the window. I had to hand wet it because there was no running water available. My parents idea of running water, was, ‘Jimmy, run to the well and get some water and wet down the fan.’

My mother was recovering from a surgery she had and the house was hot. I didn’t mind doing my assigned job because it helped Mom feel better.

As that thought raced across my mind these seventy some odd years later, it brought with it other things this lady called Johnnie had done in my life. Some of the things were victorious and brave and other things were just downright funny.

She was quite a lady. Actually, she was more like ‘Wonder Woman.’

When I was in high school and a typical teenager, Mom would make me beautiful dresses out of feed sacks the chicken feed came in. She was a wonderful seamstress and no one would know the beautiful dresses I wore had once lived the life of a lowly chicken feed sack.

The same ingenious brain, thought up the idea of nailing cardboard on the inside of the front porch, which she had previously made canvas curtains for on the outside. She said, “We will paint it the color you get to pick out, and this will be your room.”

I loved that I had my own room. The house only had three rooms total and for me to have my own bedroom was really a work of art and an act of courageous, ‘out of the box thinking,’ on my mother’s part.

She did that a lot in my growing up years.

She saw that I had the same as the other girls even if she had no money to give me. She did it so well I never realized we were as poor as the proverbial church mice.

Mom made what little spending money she had from raising chickens and turkeys and selling their eggs. She also milked an old cow and had butter to sell. On Saturday we went to town and she sold her wares. That’s where the money came from for the paint to paint my newly acquired bedroom.

One of my weekly chores was to sweep and mop the front porch. This was prior to it becoming my bedroom. The downfall was I would no more than get it mopped and here the big footed turkeys would come and march themselves all over the clean porch. These were free range birds long before we knew what to call them. I hated them and swore I would never marry a farmer, regardless of how much I might love him. I had no desire in carrying on, what I thought in my teenage mind, was a disgusting practice.

You can imagine the gloom the day Mom came in the house and announced her prized rooster was lying dead in the cow lot. I personally rejoiced because every time I went to the barn that rooster would ‘flog,’ me and his spurs would bring blood to my legs. So one day I prepared for him and when he made his predictable run at me I whacked him over the head with a two by four I’d purposely carried with me. His murder was indeed premeditated, but Mom never knew what killed her prized rooster until years later as an adult, I confessed my deed. Mom’s response about the rooster was the same response she always gave, “I don’t believe it.”

There are so many tales I could share, so many memories both sad and funny about this courageous woman I called, ‘mother.’

As I shared previously, her name was ‘Johnnie,’ so she thought it fitting she name me, her one and only daughter, Jimmy. I think the real reason was because this very smart woman realized it was indeed a man’s world and in order to make it you had to be able to match wits with the best of them. I can’t commence to tell you how many times in the business world, my name got me in the door simply because they thought I was a man. Once I was in the door they were too embarrassed to ask me to leave.

I never felt I was being taken advantage of because I was a woman. I just felt like it was business as usual and we’d see who won the battle. Some days I was the dog and some days I was the tree, but most days I was just ‘blessed,’ by having such a smart woman that raised me to be independent and self-assured.

Momma has been gone a long time, but I learned so much from her by the simple act of ‘osmosis.’ Just being around her and observing what I later came to realize as an adult, her innate ability to face life’s challenges head on, without fear or intimidation.

I feel as though this ability in women has somehow become endangered. Now, so many want to blame others for their hardships, when in reality it’s simply a matter of taking charge of their own life and willing to accept defeat or victory on their own terms.

I hope I’ve been successful in passing on that ability to my daughter and my granddaughters and my great granddaughters. If so, then I’ve pleased the woman who gave me that inbred ability to pick myself up and carry on.

Thanks, ‘Johnnie B.’

I pray I’ve learned the lessons you taught so well.

Words to express the appreciation and love I have for you escape this wordsmith, so I’ll simply say……….“I love and miss you Momma.”

Thunder Jacket

I have an 80-pound rescued Standard Poodle, black as night, smart as the dickens and totally a coward when it comes to storms.

So, I in my infinite wisdom, I decided one day as he lay under my feet beneath the computer table; in the midst of a Texas Thunderstorm, complete with lightning flashing and thunder crashing, to order this frightened giant a Thunder coat, Calming Coat, or whatever in tarnation you want to call it.

Now, you’ve got to understand, I’m not the brightest light on the street when it comes to following some very important details. One of which is how to put a previously unknown contraption on, once I’ve purchased it. Especially if the dog is not coperative and insists on running off with his 80 lbs. of strength tugging against my attempts at swaddling him.

Yes, you read that correctly, they call it swaddling. Now, I can swaddle a baby, I mean that’s not hard. You lay the kid on top of a blanket and wrap arms and all up tightly in the blanket until the kid can’t move. This is supposed to make the child feel safe. Humm, I might have issue with that as well, but that’s another story for another day. Today, we are attempting to swaddle a very large dog.

I swear to you, I read directions. I read directions so many times as I tried to catch my circling, illusive dog until I, in frustration, turned to YouTube. That’s what you do when you’ve used up all the treats and done everything the written directions suggest for getting your canine friend to LOVE HIS NEW CALMING COAT. Oh, yeah, we just know that’s going to happen. He was anything but calm as he sat glaring at me from across the room.

Finally, I finished watching the American Kennel instructor on how to put on a Calming Coat. Or, as he put it, ‘how to swaddle your dog.’

Now, I must point out, he personally did not put the coat on the dog. Oh, no, he had an assistant to do that. So, I may not be the only one who lacks in being able to get the canine to cooperate in the actual feat of putting on the coat. I mean, you have to wonder, right? Besides, his model didn’t weight over 10 lbs., tops.

Now, we were to the point of following the instructions and putting the coat on. Winston, (that’s my dog’s name) cooperated with me to a certain point. He stood still while I attempted to put this extra-large coat on this extra-large dog.

The first clue I had that I was doing it wrong was when his curly long ears became entrapped in the extremely short strap that was supposed to go across his very large chest. So, now we are back to square one.

Again, I lay the CALMING COAT, on the floor and read directions, how hard could this be? Just wrap the dog up in the piece of material and be done with it.

Now, I get tickled, because at this point it’s disturbing I can’t seem to follow directions. There’s one thing Winston hates, he hates for me to laugh at him. I don’t know, maybe it’s a male thing, but the harder I laughed the more disgruntled he became. Finally, the only way I could get him to stand still was to put the bag of treats where he could help himself to them.

I started wrapping and finally I succeed. He is swaddled. I asked him, “Winston, do you feel safe and calm?”

His only answer to me was to sit down in the middle of the floor, in an upright position and glare at me.

I don’t know, maybe I swaddled him too tight.

He may decide he prefers the thunderstorms to the Thunder Jacket. As his name sake, Sir Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.”

How’s Your Vision

The optimist looks at the glass and says, “It’s half full.

The pessimist looks at the glass and says, “It’s half empty.

The child of God looks at the glass and says, “My cup runneth over.

What do you say when you look at the glass? The above words were anonymously written by someone that apparently got the true meaning of life.

Trials and tribulations come to all in this life. It’s not about what happens to you, but rather how you handle, what happens to you.

Do you feel like God’s picking on you? Do you think that you have been taken advantage of? Used, neglected, thrown away?

Do you feel sorry for yourself and constantly compare your life to your friends or neighbors and decide they have it far better than you do? Do you indulge yourself in a pity party? Do you have PPLOM Syndrome?

What in the world is PLOM Syndrome you ask? Well, it’s “POOR LITTLE OLD ME” all in caps.

Now, before we go any further, let me state for the record, I am not a “Polly Anna.” I mean I can get down and wallow in a problem. I scream and yell and carry on. But, the Lord has been known to say to me; “Sit down, shut up and I will handle this.”

For that I am soooo forever, grateful. I’m grateful I have a relationship with my Heavenly Father that allows me to hear him when he tells me to sit down and shut up. (although this does occur more frequent than I would prefer.) The reason is all my fault, because too often, I look at the glass and say; “Who drank my water?

Let’s face it. More times than not, our cup runs over more than it’s empty. Usually, it’s at least, half full.

Now, I know sometimes the water in the glass, may be a little cloudy. Not quite as crystal clear as we would like it to be, but at least it’s half full. Think about it. To a man dying of thirst in the desert, a glass half full of cloudy water would be welcomed. Right?

That’s all I’m trying to get you to think about. Think about how blessed we are. Think about the times we’ve grumbled about what’s going on in our life, only to find out that our neighbor, whom we may have envied his new car, has a wife dying of cancer. Or the woman who appears to have everything, buried her child last week. Stop and think. When we stop and think we will always give God the Glory.

God’s ways are often mysterious. Ways that we can’t comprehend as a mortal. It has been said, “God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.”

Often, I have heard, “Oh, those people are so blessed to have you in their life.” Only to find out later, it wasn’t, ‘those people’ who were blessed, but me. I was the one blessed by those people.

So, as we continue this journey we call life, I hope you never look at a half- filled glass again and see it as half empty. I hope you look at it, and see it ‘overflowing.’

Are the Good Times Really Over

I listened closely to Merle Haggard’s song and I have to ask, as did he, are the good times really over for good?

So, I thought I’d take the song line by line and answer it according to my opinion. I realize my opinion amounts to nothing, but perhaps there are some who might enjoy a different take on a few things. So, here goes.

I wish a buck was still silver. That was back when we had Ft. Knox and our country was based on the fact our dollar was backed by gold.

It was back when our country was strong. Indeed, our country was strong and united.

Back before Elvis, before Vietnam war came along. How sad that our country failed to recognize the Vietnam soldiers when they came home.

Before the Beatles and Yesterday We really did exist before the Beatles.

When a man could still work and still would. Oh, my, yes, when people worked for a living and expected no welfare handouts.

Is the best of the free life behind us now? This question needs no further explanation.

And are the good times really over for good?

And are we rolling downhill like a snowball headed for hell

With no kind of chance for the flag and the liberty bell? I’d have to say, pretty much. When American citizens refuse to stand for the National Anthem and pay respect to our flag.

Wish a Ford and a Chevy would last ten years like they should. Our cars use to last a long time. During World War II no cars were manufactured as all metal etc. went to the war effort, and the old cars just kept running.

Is the best of the free life behind us now, and are the good times really over for good? I so pray not. America has always pulled itself together when it needed to. I pray that’s still true.

I wish coke was still cola. Oh, I do too.

And a joint just a bad place to be. Yep.

It was back before Nixon lied to us all on T.V. What he did pales in comparison to the things that go on today.

Before microwave ovens when a girl could still cook, and still would. What’s with that? When did women decide they didn’t have to cook anymore?

Is the best of the free life behind us now? Are the good times really over for good? I hope not.

Are we rolling downhill like a snowball headed for hell?

With no kinda chance for the flag or the liberty bell? Same answer as above, it sure looks that way.

Wish a Ford and a Chevy would still last ten years like they should. Oh, me too.

Is the best of the free life behind us now, and are the good times really over for good? I guess that’s up to us don’t you think?

STOP rolling downhill like a snowball headed for hell. Yes


Let’s make a Ford and a Chevy that would still last ten years like they should. Yes indeed.

‘Cause the best of the free life is still yet to come. This needs to be our prayer.

AND THE GOOD TIMES AIN’T OVER FOR GOOD. We got to have faith and pray our Nation comes together as one and reaches out in honor of this great land we call home.


The Art of Whatever

I’m sure that most of you are not like me. That’s a good thing, because I really do have a problem keeping my mouth shut. At the most inopportune times, words so often just roll out of my mouth and I’m as shocked as everyone around me when that happens.

Now, I want to share the ‘Art of Whatever,’ with you. You will forever love me, and thank me, when you master this fine art.

OK, let’s give an example.

You are seated in a restaurant, enjoying a fine meal and the beautiful surroundings. Suddenly, through the door, walks the biggest gossip in town. Now, you know this, so you immediately prepare to choose your words wisely. That is no small matter.

She walks over to your table and invites herself to sit down. Being the gracious host that you are, you say, “sure,” through clenched teeth, convinced that you can endure almost anything if it comes in short spurts. This woman is no exception.

Smiling, you ask how she’s been. She replies, “You are not going to believe who I saw together last night.”

Not wanting to get caught up in her desire to gossip you say, “I’m sure I have no idea.”

Then, she begins the tirade of, ‘she said,’ ‘he said,’ as you sit quietly and listen as your coffee grows cold and your appetite fades.

She ends the last story with, “Can you believe that?”

Now, here is where the ‘Art of Whatever,’ comes in to play.

You smile the biggest smile and say, “Whatever.”

Pay close attention. You have listened with an attentive ear to her gossip. You have not been a part of it, other than listening. Plus, you’ve learned some things about your neighbors and friends and you, yourself, personally have managed to not open your mouth and say anything slanderous, except, ‘whatever.’

You’ve maligned no one, you’ve shocked no one, you have smiled and been polite and the only gossip she can tell about you is that you’re a good, good listener.

I don’t know about you, but once I was introduced to this wonderful word, my world became better. I learned I could have a conversation with people I absolutely couldn’t stand and be soooo kind by just saying, ‘whatever.’

It doesn’t matter if you never utter it out loud. It works the same if you silently say it repeatedly in your mind, IF, the situation you are caught up in becomes unbearable.

The world of ‘whatever,’ is a glorious place to be. In that world the sun always shines, and the breeze is light and refreshing. Plus, it keeps you out of so much trouble.

Now, in all honesty, I must tell you, reaching the land of ‘whatever,’ is hard. The road is winding and filled with potholes. You must bite your tongue and sometimes, feel you are a tongue contortionist trying to over power the desire to speak your mind.

In the end, when you’ve won your battle against opening your mouth and getting in trouble, you just look at the person giving you anxiety and say, “Whatever.”

Then, and only then, will you have mastered “The Art of Whatever.” But, it is so worth the effort. And, you learn a lot by listening.

However, you need to be on guard. Someone may look at you with glazed eyes and utter, ‘whatever.’ It’s then you will know, you may have slipped a little.

What is the True Crisis in America?

This question came to mind as I heard all the pros and cons on gun control and all the tales of affairs with women and the general conflict and blame game played today. I am not a psychiatrist, or councilor, or anyone with credentials, but I read an article that set my mind to think on the topic Warren Farrell, Ph.D. spoke about in his book, “The Boy Crises.”

There is indeed a “boy crisis,” in America today. Millions of young men are growing up without a male figure to pattern after.

Millions of homes in America today are headed by women. This in no way puts women down, or demeans them, or takes away from what they do. Many homes are run, paid for and dependent on a one-woman operation. In most cases, she succeeds. She’s mother, father, bread winner, councilor, friend, judge, jury, cook and cleaner. She does all of this with no help from the one she once shared her bed with and had their children.

The dead-beat dad that was nothing more than a sperm donator in many of these American homes, is no where to be found. Many do not even pay child support much less lend a hand in the rearing of their sons, or their daughters. But, the daughter story is for another day. Today we are talking about the sons.

Author, Warren Farrell points out in his book, many boys have never been tried and tested by a male figure. We are talking about a grown, well adjusted, male figure. Many boys have never had a male figure to rough house with, to play games with, to laugh with, to cry with, to show compassion with, or to receive the same from.

Many of the male figures they do see today are not of leadership quality. So, some of ‘the boys of today,’ learn they can bully others and by making them cry or be embarrassed, they receive a sense of empowerment. Often those very boys they bully are suffering so much, they somehow decide life is not worth living, thus they commit suicide, or pick a way to relieve that feeling of malcontent by shooting and killing their fellow students or friends.

The above paragraph pertains to not having a male figure to pattern themselves after. The feeling of having no male friend that cares for them. Now, Mom’s doing the best she can, but there are somethings Mom can’t fix. A lot of times when a young man realizes his need for a male pattern to follow he may feel guilty for feeling that way because he knows his mom is doing all she can. So, he then suffers from mental anguish toward himself for not being able to help his mother more. Then the vicious cycle starts all over again and leads to despair.

As I said in the beginning, I certainly am no authority on this subject matter. But, I have raised sons. I do know their need for male leadership. I do know Mom can’t do it all by herself.

I think sometimes, perhaps that’s why God portrays himself as mankind’s father. He is our provider, our leader, our pattern. We, as his children are to follow Him. He gives the fathers the goal to strive for. Husbands, love your wives as yourself, etc.

That about concludes my sermonette of the day. I had never thought about there being a “A Boy Crisis, ” before. Perhaps you haven’t either. Now, I will be more aware, and thankful for men that step in, and take on, the role of a father when they don’t have to. I’m thankful for Grandfathers that step in and take on the role of a male pattern for their grandsons to follow. I’m thankful for uncles and cousins and friends, who are willing to help young boys become young men who accept responsibility.

I pray, I have open eyes to see a need when it arises and if I can help in some way, have the courage to do so.

Thank your organizations like “Big Brother,” that dedicate time and energy encouraging young boys. Thank your FFA clubs across America, Boy Scots, and church youth groups and many other affiliations for young boys. Let us all help them when we can and encourage every young man you meet to be all he can be in this great nation we know as America.

In turn, let us stop evil when we see it. Let us be all that we can be, in helping our fellow man.

He is Risen, Indeed

Now, as then, the tomb is empty.

No body to be found.

Though crucified and beaten

They didn’t lay Him in the ground.

Instead a friend with money

Said, “Use the tomb I own.”

Lay my Savior in it

For my sins I do atone.”

His bloody body they quickly cleaned,

attending to their task,

For Friday’s sundown was approaching,

Coming way too fast

Roman soldiers rolled the stone in place,

Sealing off the tomb.

Jesus’s weary follower’s set their paths

Toward a lonely simple room.

They wept and cried and wondered

How this came to ever be,

That the One they loved so dearly,

Was hung upon a tree.

They remembered His words of wisdom

“Saying in three days I will arise.”

But, they didn’t catch His meaning

Their doubts are no surprise.

Sunday morning came so quietly,

the Women left the lonely room.

Their shock upon arrival was to see

The empty tomb.

Angels smiled and softly asked them

“Why seek the living among the dead?”

Your Savior’s tomb is empty,

He’s risen, like he said.”

Then they remember He had told them,

“In three days I will arise.”

They ran to tell the others

They knew they’d be surprised.

Today we are blessed to know

this story to be true,

Because His tomb’s still empty,

And He waits for me and you.

The Art of Forgiveness

Have you ever set about to learn the true art of forgiveness? Forgiveness comes hard for me. Yep, I admit it. I tend to long remember things. Things I’d be so better off just to forget.

I can and do forgive, but the forgetting part? I have trouble with that. So, have I really forgiven if I still remember?

I’m not even going to attempt to answer that question, but I will give you some good excerpts from those who are much smarter than me and have, perhaps, a better insight into the art of forgiveness. I truly believe it is an art.

Ok, let start this trail and see where it leads. Webster says, “Forgiveness is the act of forgiving someone or something. The attitude of someone who is willing to forgive other people.

Well, that’s all well and good, but leaves a lot toward the interpretation. I want a better answer.

I think I like what Wikipedia says better. It says,Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding and offense, (and I add, whether real or imagined) and lets go of negative emotions such as vengefulness with an increased ability to wish the offender well, (boy that leaves me struggling) Forgiveness is different from condoning, excusing, forgetting, pardoning and reconciliation.

I must add, in my humble opinion, I have forgiven people in the past I should have slapped the sh—out of. Oh, wait did I actually say that? Well It looks like I did, so I must get back to the task at hand and that is learning ‘The Art of Forgiveness.’

My parents set good examples, (well sort of) about the ‘Art of Forgiveness.’ My daddy would fight a circle saw. Anywhere, anytime, at the drop of a hat. He asked no quarter and he gave none, but if someone asked him for forgiveness he would shake their hand and go on about his business as though nothing had ever happened. That was a good thing, right?

On the other hand, my mother had a wonderful attitude. She always looked at the glass being half full, not half empty. She loved to laugh and loved most folks, but——– if she ever got it in for you she’d never, ever, from now through eternity, forgive you. (Well at least not for a very long, long, long time.) Then even after she might have forgiven she’d watch you with a very, very, close eye. She was very slow to anger, but once it came, oh, goodness, it was potent.

So, now I have revealed my genetics background. You know what they say about genetics, you might rearrange but you can’t change, what you’re born with.

You can cover up, pretend, act out, but never change genetics. I learned that in the Cattle Artificial Insemination class. I always got exactly what I expected when I knew the genetics of the bull and the cow. On occasion the markings might look different, but the heart of the animal was always those of the line of genealogy that preceded it. I guess the sum of that total would be we might have a fight, but I’ll forgive you in 20-30 years

Also, I was a deputy Sheriff at one point in my life, and that doesn’t give you just a real good outlook when you’re dealing with a bunch of crooks on a daily basis. I learned very quickly not to believe everything your told.

I guess then, I have to conclude that I may learn, ‘The art of Forgiveness,’ and attempt to follow it, but I will always keep my eyes wide open.

After all, you all know the saying, “Keep you friends close and your enemies, closer.”

What Does Soulbound Mean?

What Does it Mean to be Soulbound

Is ‘soulbound,’ anything like ‘spellbound’? Webster says ‘spellbound’ is; “giving one’s full attention to something or someone”. So, in that case ‘soulbound,’ could be a cousin to spellbound.

When you have a bonding of one’s soul to another, you have met that person on a level of innermost being that cannot be broken, you are bound to them. It’s as though there is an invisible rope that ties two souls together.

To understand ‘soulbound,’ better, we must break it down further. Some definitions of soul say that it is; “an unseen force that lives in every human being. It gives us direction and gives substance to our life”. It further states that “a soul lives on for eternity”. Some say they consider the soul to be their conscience.

The definition of ‘bound,’ is; “destined to happen or tied or secured physically or emotionally.”

‘Soulmate,’ means we are on the same level as another person and we hold them in high esteem. When one finds their ‘soulmate,’ they have found another human that holds the same values, likes and dislikes and a love that is only shared by the two. Often, we hear the term, ‘I have found my ‘soulmate.’ Immediately we recognize that to mean, ‘I have found someone that understands me completely.’

To find a ‘soulmate’ is to experience ‘soulbound,’ in next to its highest form.

To experience being ‘soulbound,’ we have to find another soul that meets our soul on a level that communication can exist without words. To feel their pain, we feel their joy, we care about their wellbeing as much as we do our own. We can do all that without speaking a word.
In this life, being ‘soulbound,’ to someone is often not understood.

Have you ever met someone that you loved immediately? You didn’t know why you just knew the two of you clicked?

In my humble opinion, that’s when you understand the phrase, “I’ll always have you close to me, for I have met your heart.” I pinned those words in describing the love that exists between two people. When you meet your ‘soulmate’ and become ‘soulbound,’ to them, your heart knows it and responds with an everlasting love.

‘Soulbound,’ is finding a love that never fades or grows dim, but shines bright, leading the way as two people travel life’s road together.

Does such a love as this exist?

I believe it does. If you haven’t found it yet keep looking.

It’s worth the wait.

It’s worth the journey.

It’s worth the effort.

I believe God gave all of us a soul and wants us to know and accept His son so that we will always be ‘soulbound,’ to a love that is never ending with Jesus Christ.

In saying that I also believe He wants everyone of us to have the experience of loving someone on this earthly plain as we live our life to its end. After all, He created Adam and Eve and wanted them to love each other and the earth He created. He wanted them to love Him, to be ‘soulbound,’ to Him and to each other.

They sort of upset His plan, as we often upset our chances of having it all. Still it’s nice to think about being in a relationship that binds our soul in such a loving way that we never want to let it go. We want the joy of having a ‘soulmate,’ forever.

Have you ever loved someone so much that even after they have died your soul is bound to them? I don’t mean that in a gruesome way, but in a beautiful way. You can still hear their laughter, you can still hear their voice. You remember with love their arms around you. You often see them in your children and once again get to experience that person in a physical form.

‘Soulbound,’ is to be tied forever to something that is so sweet you never want to escape. I believe that only the creator of the Universe can give us that. He loves us that much.

If you haven’t experienced it yet, keep looking. It’s out there. And when it comes, it will be freely given.

Prayerfully, it will be well received.



I Wish I’d Said That

There are many quotes that I love. One of my favorites is the following:

Time is free, but it’s priceless.

You can’t own it but, you can use it.

You can’t keep it, but you can spend it.

Once you have lost it, you can never get it back.

Harvey Mackay

This, to me, is one of the most profound things I’ve ever read. How I wish I’d said that. In these four brief lines, a model of how we should treasure every moment of every day of our lives, is spelled out for us. How often we forget, how precious and delicate is this simple thing we call time.

To the harried young mother with never enough time in the day to get it all done, she forgets, that this time with her babies is the most precious time she will ever have.

To the young father, trying to work his way up the proverbial ladder, he forgets that this time is well spent both in his learning how to be a father and how to balance his work with his family. Both of which demand his time and energy. However, all too soon this time will pass and he will be an old man looking back over his life and wondering what happened.

To a child, time is endless. It crawls from Christmas to Christmas, birthday to birthday, season to season. As time passes however, it gains speed and those people who are your parents, grow wiser each year that you live. And someday, you will look back and wonder how they tolerated your know-it-all attitude and managed to teach you a few things along the way.

To the preacher, as he looks out at his congregation, he wonders what some of them would do if they knew the things he knew about other members of the group. Would they be compassionate? Would they be angered? Would they remember to apply the golden rule? He goes on with his sermon and hopes at least a few things sink in that he tells them week to week, day to day. Then, he bows his head and prays for wisdom and understanding.

To the teacher, as she/he looks at the class and so wishes they could make the student understand just how important every day they have the chance to learn, really is. How education can literally change their lives, how she/he wishes they had the ability to teach the students just that one lesson.

To the old people, living day to day as they deal with aches and pains they never knew or understood when they were young. They all realize that there are a lot more days behind them than before them. They are aware that time is growing short for the brief span of that elusive time they are given. They wonder if they have spent their time well? Did they do all they could do to make this human race a better example of how life should be lived? Or did they squander the time given frivolously? How they wish they could make the young see and know, ‘once you have lost it, you can never get it back.’

You can ask any doctor standing over an operating table how quickly time can go. We all are one heartbeat away from eternity. We forget that and go on living our lives as though there will always be enough time left to do what we want. We live as there will always be a tomorrow.

We are told over and over to wear the expensive perfume today, use the good linens and dishes today, smile more, love more, be kind more, today. Tell those around you that they are doing a good job, tell them you appreciate them, tell them, “I love you”. Tell them they make your life so much better.

Listen to the bird’s song. Listen to the wind’s whispers. Listen to the small child’s questions, even if you’ve answered them a hundred times before.

Look at the new moon as it rises. Feel the sun’s warm rays on your skin. Listen to the thunder, see the lightning, hear the rain drops.

Know the joy of seeing a newborn calf, the smell of freshly mowed grass, feeling the kiss of a loved one on your cheek. Know the joy of just being alive.

Feel the now. Feel, today.

In writing this, I know that one of my fingers is pointing at you, the reader. But there are four other fingers pointing back at me. I must ask myself, as I ask you, do you remember to live everyday as though it were your last? Because, someday it will be.

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Good Morning Lord

Good morning Lord:

It’s me again, thanking you for another day of life. I saw my grandson off to school today, Lord. It’s his first day and I just want to ask you for a few special things. I know you’ve never been a grandfather, but take my word for it, it’s wonderful. Thank you, for granting me that. But, you see Lord, this little fella doesn’t know anything but love since he’s been in this world and I just sort of would like it stay that way, if you don’t mind. At least until he’s a little older.

I don’t want him to be afraid cause his family’s not around and I don’t want him to have his innocence taken away just yet by some bully in school. So, if you could Lord, just watch over him and see that doesn’t happen. Let his teacher be patient ‘cause she doesn’t know how we always say a prayer before we eat or how we get tickled for no reason. If she’ll be patient, he’ll learn the rules.

Lord, he’s mine and I love him and I thank you for giving him to me. I promise I’ll try and live the kind of life in front of him that you want me to. And if sometimes I slip and let language come out that shouldn’t be, please just forgive me for that and I’ll do better.

I ask you to watch over his safety and bring him home to his family every night a healthy, happy, little boy. Let him know he’s loved and always will be; whether it’s his first day of school or the last day of college. Stay in his life always Lord whether I’m around always asking that from you or not, ‘cause I’m making that clear right now, today, I want you to always be in his life.

Again, thank you Lord, for allowing me this honor and privilege that every Pawpaw doesn’t get to have. He kissed me goodbye with the assurance he’d see me later and Lord, I’m holding you to that.

I’ll sign off now and get on to work, but Lord, please, watch over my little man, today and every day for the rest of his life.

Thank you Lord,

A Grandfather signing off.

Through Corridors of Time

Come with me if you will and let us take a step back in time. Perhaps times were simpler then, or perhaps we didn’t expect quite so much. Perhaps, our education was more in books and not so much in self. Perhaps we were more easily entertained, not becoming bored and looking for something more, or perhaps we became entrapped in a time capsule that propelled us forward into a future we had never dreamed of.

My Mom, was a prime example of living in the now. I am sure some of the chores she endured, she hated, but she didn’t complain. One such chore was dragging me, protesting to the top of my lungs, down to the spring where abundant water was handy. There, my dad had so graciously brought the big black kettle pot they rendered lard in. If you don’t know what that means we will get into that story perhaps on another day. But, the story at hand is about the kettle’s chore for this day.

Wash day. No electric washer because we had no electricity. And we had no well water fit to wash clothes in because of the iron ore it contained. The well water would have stained everything with a rust color, so Mother opted for the spring natural water and the rain water it caught. And there we spent the day, washing clothes on a rub board after they were boiled in the big black kettle, for what seemed to me like hours. My job was to keep wood under the pot and the fire going; a terrible task if it was summer time.

For entertainment, we would often go visit our friends at night. We had no TV to watch then, so these visits were looked forward to with great anticipation. Upon our arrival our gracious hosts would make candy and offer other treats to us.

The kids, me, and my spoiled little brother, would crawl up in the middle of a big feather bed and go to sleep. Our visit ended promptly at ten o’clock and we would make our way to the car that had a round and a half of play in the steering wheel, which made it extremely hard to learn to drive, but that’s a story for another day as well. We made sure our friends had an invitation to come visit us as soon as they could.

Every evening at 6:30 I sat glued to the radio. The Lone Ranger was my favorite and for thirty minutes, I rode along with him and his side kick, Tonto.

The radio was battery operated and had a wire connected to an outside metal post in the ground. This post served as a grounding rod and it had to be watered on occasion to make the radio have more clarity. I was the waterer. This battery packed wonder was our outside connection to the world. Later in the evening we would sit around and listen to Mr. District Attorney or Fibber McGee and Molly or Amos and Andy. But of utmost importance for the day, how the US was doing in the fight against our enemies in World War II. Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo, were household names.

Mother took this time to mend clothes or to crochet when she had thread to do so. Buying that thread was dependent on how many eggs she sold or how much butter she was able to have me, head butter maker, churn up.

On Saturday mornings, this same radio took me to the land of “Let’s Pretend,” where fairy tales and other stories, entertained for a while. If my memory serves, that came on the radio Saturday mornings at 10a.m. That was followed by a day of house cleaning, hair shampooing and that night a visit to the grocery store, a trip to the movies for me, and mother and dad visited with the friends they’d meet up with who had come to town for the same reasons.

That was long, long ago and far away, but on occasion when Saturday morning rolls around, my memory returns me to “Let’s Pretend,” and for a moment I hear, “Hi-Ho- Silver Away,” as the William Tell Overture plays in the background.

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Mirror, Mirror

Now we look into a mirror darkly, not nearly as bright and vivid as it once was long ago in our youth. Yet, it does reflect back many, many happy memories. The laugh lines, around our mouth, tell of all the times we laughed until our sides hurt at each other, at our family, mostly at our self.

The lines around the eyes tell of days we spent squinting out the bright sunlight in the warm meadow, full of green grass and dandelion flowers that when blooms left, we could make a wish and with a light whiff, send them scurrying into the crystal blue sky.

The furrows on the brow have to be from the millions of times, we looked for our love to return home to us, or stood with hand over top of eyes staring into the woods, whistling like a Loon for the children to come out from their secret hideout and return home.

Those lines above the lips perhaps, reflect the sweetest wrinkles of all. Those are from all the puckering up to give kisses to those we loved, and love so dearly. Those are some of the sweetest memories of all.

All the wrinkles, all the grooves of time’s road map on our face, are well loved and appreciated for they prove we lived and moved and had our place in the world.

So now when we look into a mirror, we can say, ‘mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the most blessed one of all?’ And the mirror echos back through the corridors of time,

“You are, you are the most blessed one of all.”

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If You Lie Down with Dogs


The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller – Chapter 31

“Sheriff, read my lips. I do not want any part of the K-9 unit.” Bessie was speaking.

“I know that, but I also know that you have to do this. Deputy Reed is going to be out of the office for a month with hip surgery. I need you to take over his patrol. Bessie, I wouldn’t be asking you, or rather telling you, if I didn’t need this to happen.” The sheriff said.

“Damn it, Sheriff, why do you always call on me for the shit details?” Bessie was mad. She didn’t want anything to do with the K-9 unit. She had never owned a dog, she didn’t want to fool with a dog and she certainly did not consider a dog to be her best friend.

“Bessie, I promise if you will do this I will see you get an extra week of vacation. I swear you will.” The Sheriff was desperate.

Bessie looked at him with a doubtful smirk on her face and said,

“You swear? Put it in writing. Right here on this notepad write the following: I, swear, Deputy Bessie Buemiller will get an extra week of vacation if she agrees to take over the K-9 unit while Deputy Reed is out sick. Write it down and sign it.” Bessie ordered.

Smiling the Sheriff did as Bessie instructed. Then he handed her the keys to Deputy Reed’s patrol car and said, “Come on I want you to meet your new partner.”

The Sheriff and Bessie walked out to the K-9 Units patrol car and the sheriff called on his radio, “Deputy Reed, bring Max out here to meet his new partner for the next month.”

Bessie was expecting a big German Shepard Dog, but to her surprise Officer Reed brought out a big black Standard Poodle. “Well, I’ll be switched.” Bessie said. “I had no idea we had a prissy dog in our K-9 Unit.”

“Don’t let his looks fool you, Deputy. This dog can be vivacious. They were bred as water retrievers. They are smart and make great guards.”

“Oh, ask me if I’m impressed.” Bessie said scowling. But, she walked over to Max and rubbed his head as she said, “Well, hello Max. Looks like you and I are stuck with each other. You’re probably no more impressed with me than I am with you.”

Max just looked at Bessie and wagged his tail. Bessie said, “If you’re going to use this poodle why don’t you have him groomed? He looks like a wooly bear with all that hair.”

“I don’t have him groomed ‘cause I don’t want the entire Sheriff’s Department to laugh at me and Max. If I had him groomed they all would make fun of us.” Deputy Reed explained.

“Well, I think he’d probably like have a little poof here and there.” Bessie laughed.

She took the dog from Deputy Reed and ask him what the dog ate, if he was house broke etc. etc. The deputy assured Bessie the dog was well trained, he said, “He understands his commands, which I will make you a list of and he will obey you and do as he’s told once he realizes you are now his master.”

“Oh, really? Well show me something.” Bessie said.

Deputy Reed turned to Max and said, “Max, on guard.”

The dog immediately went into a stance of complete stillness. He stood staring at the deputy, waiting for further orders.

“Now,” the deputy said, “if I was to tell him attack he would take the next person he saw down. I mean, down to the ground and stand over them until I told him, ‘ease off.’ He’s a wonderful partner, Deputy Buemiller. You and Max are going to become best friends.”

Bessie had her doubts about that, but she took the dog home with her along with the K-9 Unit patrol car and a list of commands she had to memorize. She made the dog a bed, put the water and feed bowl where he could find them easily, and then set about to learn more about dogs used in law enforcement.

The next day Bessie and Max set out on their patrol. The dog rode in the back and Bessie caught herself talking to him as though he was another officer. She laughed at herself, but she noticed every time she stopped the car Max waited for her to tell him what she wanted him to do. Maybe this was not going to be such a tough assignment after all. She kind of liked the dog.

The next day they were patrolling the streets when a call came in that a drunk driver was out on Interstate weaving in and out of traffic. Bessie 10-4 the call and headed to the Interstate. She had no more than pulled on the highway when she saw the car ahead of her weaving in an out of the traffic. This had to be the one she was after.

Bessie floored the patrol car and Max perked his ears up when she turned on the siren. When the car finally pulled over to the shoulder, Bessie pulled up right behind him, ran the tags through records and wanted and exited the car. She told Max to stay. The dog immediately set back on his haunches and watched.

When Bessie walked up to the car she could tell the driver was very drunk. She said, “Sir, could I see your driver’s license and proof of insurance?”

He fumbled around muttering under his breath and finally handed them to her.

Bessie read his name, Albert Finny and his address was in Hawkshaw County. She said, “Mr. Finny, would you get out of the car please.”

He did as she asked and stood by the door. “Sir, do you have any weapons on you or in the car?”

He answered he did not and then she said, “I stopped you sir, because you are weaving in and out of the traffic. I believe you are drunk and I’m going to ask you to do some things for me.”

He nodded his head an almost fell down. Bessie called for Max. The dog jumped out of the car window and came to her side. Bessie said to the dog.


Max immediately was on duty. He stood by the man looking him in the eye, daring him to move. Bessie said, “Sir, I’m going to ask you to do a breathalyzer test for me. You stay right here until I get the equipment out of my patrol car.”

The man agreed and as Bessie walked back to the car the man decided he would open the door and set back down in the car. That wasn’t happening on Max’s watch. Immediately, the dog started growling and Bessie turned just in time to say, “Max, stay.” She chuckled because she knew had she not stopped him he would have knocked the man down and then stood over him until Bessie could get there.

She got the breathalyzer and told the man, “Sir, just breathe into this.”

The man complied and he blew a .19 which meant he was extremely drunk.

Bessie told him, “Sir, I’ve got to take you in for DWI. Please walk back to my patrol car.”

When he started to move, Max blocked him, Bessie said, “Easy.”

The dog backed off and let the man go back to the patrol car. Bessie opened the door and let him get seated and then she walked around to the other door and told Max to “Guard,” again.

Bessie knew she wouldn’t have to worry about the man trying anything, because Max was in the back seat with him. Bessie was starting to like her new partner.

When they got back to the jail, Bessie turned the man over to the jail guards and went inside to write out her report. Max was right on her heels. When they got inside the office the dog looked around and while Bessie was writing out the report he lay with his head on his paws not moving.


“Are you sure, Deputy?” The dog groomer was talking to Bessie.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m paying for this out of my pocket, so don’t worry about what the county is going to say.” Bessie said.

“I know Deputy, but this is a male dog. You want him groomed with puffs around his legs and a top knight that’s fluffy and then you want him to have ribbons in his hair, right?”

“Blue ribbons, he’s a male, so yes, blue ribbons and bathe him in that good smelling shampoo.”

“Very well, deputy. He should be ready by about four this afternoon.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you then. Should you get through earlier, give me a call. Here’s my card.”

“Yes, Ma’am I surely will.” The groomer answered.

Bessie went on about her patrol hoping she wouldn’t need her partner until after he was groomed. She had said nothing to the Sheriff or anyone about having Max groomed. Since they weren’t paying for it Bessie didn’t really think she needed to ask.

Fortunately, the afternoon was relatively quiet and when Bessie’s cell phone rang it was the Dog Groomer.

“Max is ready, Deputy Buemiller.”

“Thanks,” Bessie said as she turned the patrol car around and headed for the dog groomer’s.

When they brought Max out you could tell he was so proud of the way he looked. He pranced up to Bessie as if to say, ‘look at me.’

Bessie bragged and bragged on Max and told him how pretty he looked. He wagged his well-groomed tail, now with a pom pom at the end, and all but smiled at Bessie. She swore sometimes she just knew that he smiled at her. She was falling in love with this dog. Something she thought she’d never do.

The next afternoon, Bessie and Max were patrolling the south side of Hawkshaw County when a call came in that a bank robbery had occurred and they had the suspect cornered and they were engaged in a gun battle. They requested that Bessie get there with the dog.

Bessie whipped the patrol car around, flipped on the lights and sirens and headed for the location. When she pulled up she could see that the robber was inside the car and would fire his pistol every now and again randomly at the officers. She assessed the situation and walked up to the Sheriff.

“Do you want me to have Max get him?” She asked.

“Do you think he can take him down?”

“Without a doubt.” Bessie replied.

“Then, do it.” The Sheriff said.

Bessie walked back to the car and told Max, “I need you to take this man down, Max. Take him down.”

She opened the back door and a black streak was all that could be seen as the dog covered the ground between the patrol car and the suspect with a speed of lightning. He cleared the car door, went through the window and had the robber screaming for help within seconds.

When Bessie and the others walked up to the car, she had to tell Max to ‘hold,’ as his teeth were just above the suspect’s throat. Max was growling a low gurgling growl that meant, ‘I’m going to tear your throat out.’

The robber was visibly shaking and begging them to call the dog off.

Bessie walked up to the car and said, ‘easy, Max.’ The dog backed off until another officer got the cuffs on the man and then Max started wagging his tail.

“Good dog, Max. Good dog,” Bessie said.

After the suspect was in a patrol car and on his way to jail the other officers in the group started laughing out loud. Bessie turned to see what they were laughing at. The only thing she saw was Max standing beside her. Bessie looked at them and said, “What?”

The Sheriff had joined the others in laughing, he said, “Bessie, when did you have that dog groomed?”

“Yesterday. Why?”

“Because he looks like a sissy with those blue ribbons in his hair and his pom pom tail. He looks like everything but a vicious dog.”

“Well, Sheriff, you know what they say about looks. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. And imagine what that robber is gonna have to tell his friends,

“Yeah, a big black dog with blue ribbons in his hair and smelling like French perfume, jumped through the car window and had me by the throat before I knew what was happening.”

“Don’t you just know he’s aching to tell that tale.” Bessie laughed.

They all rolled with laughter and Max just stood there, smiling.

If you enjoyed this glimpse of Bessie and Max, read more of their adventures in The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Volume 1


Dark Side of Tomorrow: Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard

Chapter Four

Ivan and Walt drove back to headquarters without much conversation. Each Inspector was going over in his mind, what they had witnessed and what the forensic experts had told them.  

Finally Ivan broke the silence by saying, “Marsha Hart is one of the best forensic experts around. If she can’t decipher the clues as to the killer, I doubt we will be able to.”

Walt just nodded his agreement.

When they entered Scotland Yard, Ivan found a note on his desk. It read, “Grace Simmons wants you to call her.”

Picking up his phone he dialed the number.


“Grace, this is Inspector Bennett, you wanted me to call?”

“Yes, Inspector, I was talking to a friend of mine today who lives on a farm about five miles out of town. He told me he had made a startling discovery.” Grace said.

“And what is this startling discovery?” Ivan enquired.

“I’d rather you ask him that question, Inspector.” Grace continued.

“Fine, give me his name and number.”

“It’s Simon Éclair. He lives off the county road of Madison, east of town, first house on the right.” Grace finished.

“Thank you Ms. Simmons, rest assured I will follow up on your tip.” Ivan said and hung up the phone.

“That was Grace Simmons, giving you a tip? I do not believe this.” Walt said, smiling.

“Yes, she says a friend of hers, who owns a farm, found something very disturbing.” Ivan answered.

“And she wouldn’t share what it was?” Walt asked.

“Nope, said she wanted me to drive out there and talk to him myself. So, come on, we are going to take a short drive in the country.” Ivan said as he walked out the door.


The countryside was beautiful as the two Inspectors made the drive to Grace Simmons, friend’s farm. The green trees and abundance of grass told London’s countryside had received adequate rain and the crops should be good this season. Ivan was thinking as he turned in the drive to the farm.

When Ivan stopped the car, an elderly man dressed in blue overalls came out of the farm house to meet them. Ivan and Walt got out of the car and extended their hands for a handshake as they introduced themselves.

“I’m Inspector Ivan Bennett and this is my partner, Inspector Walt Graham.”

“Glad to meet you, Inspectors, my name is Simon Éclair. I’m a friend to Grace Simmons.” The elderly man declared.

“She tells me you have made an unusual discovery, here on your farm?” Ivan asked.

“Only, if you consider finding a human skull unusual.” The farmer smiled.  

“A human skull, oh my, that certainly is unusual.” Ivan replied. “Where did you find it?”

“In the pig pen.” He answered.

Shocked, Walt blurted out, “In the pig pen, sir?”

“Yes, indeed. Come with me and I’ll show you the exact spot.” Simon said as he turned and started toward the barn.

The two Inspectors followed Simon Éclair with much anticipation. What in the world was a human skull doing in Mr. Éclair’s pig pen?

When they reached the barn, they walked around to the side and climbed up on the fence that housed the pigs inside. 

Pointing to the far corner, Mr. Éclair said, “Over there is where I found the skull.”

Following the farmers pointing finger, both Ivan and Walt gazed at the corner of the pig pen covered in pig mud. It smelled exactly like what it was. 

Ivan asked, “Did you find anymore bones, Mr. Éclair?”

“No, sir, nothing but the skull. Come on in the barn and I’ll show it to you.”

They climbed down off the fence and followed Simon into the barn. He opened one of the tack room doors and walked over to a shelf where he picked up a skull, still covered in pig mud. He handed it to the Inspectors.

Ivan accepted the skull and looked at it intently. Then he handed it over to Walt who reluctantly took it.

Staring down at the muddy skull Walt asked, “Do you think it’s one of those girls?

“Well, it’s certainly not one of the girls that we have found. They are all in the morgue. This must be one we didn’t know about.” Ivan said.

They thanked Mr. Éclair and assured him they would let him know the outcome of the evidence he had found. The two Inspectors left the farm with the skull wrapped up in a tow sack Mr. Éclair had furnished.

“What are you thinking, Ivan? I see your wheels turning.” Walt asked.

“I’m thinking the first thing I’m going to do is find out if Mr. Éclair has declared any of his family or friends missing.”

“Surely you don’t think that old man had anything to do with this?” Walt stammered.

“Walt, I examine everything. Whatever is left, is evidence.” Ivan said.

“True Sherlock Holmes reasoning.” Walt smiled.

Ivan didn’t answer as he headed straight to the morgue and his friend, Marsha Hart.

This has been a look inside Dark Side of Tomorrow: Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard. To read the rest of the mystery, get your copy now on Kindle for Amazon


Bessie Attends a Funeral

Bessie’s good friend, Viola Godspeed, passed away.  Bessie was very upset over Viola’s death.  They had been friends for a long, long time.  How long, Bessie wouldn’t say and she was very disappointed the funeral home had given Viola’s date of birth. That would mean folks could figure out pretty quick how old Bessie was. Well, those that knew Bessie and Viola, knew that they had started school together.

The biggest comfort in that, was not many were old enough to even know, much less remember it.  But, a lot of folks had nosey grandmothers and great grandmothers with memories like an elephant. Bessie theorized that if she wore enough make up people would not even bother to compare Viola and her.

She walked into the funeral home. It was the night of visitation for Viola. Sort of like a wake. The room was extremely crowded. Bessie made her way up to the front where the casket rested, surrounded by beautiful flowers.

Bessie thought, I wonder who sent all these flowers. My word, I never saw so many. I had no idea Viola had this many friends. Wonder what she was into that I didn’t know about. Look at that beautiful spray of red roses. I wonder who sent that.

Quietly and discreetly, so as not to draw attention, Bessie made her way to the spray of red roses and turned her head sideways so she could read the card. It said, ‘With love. James Spiller.’

What? James Spiller. How in tarnation did Viola manage to get close enough to James Spiller to have him send such a beautiful memorial as these lovely red roses? I bet she was running with him and never told me for fear I would take him away from her.

Viola, you sneaky devil. Bessie thought.

Bessie returned to the casket and stared down at Viola’s face. Oh, Viola, my dear friend, I’m going to miss you.  I wish they had put a little more rouge on your pale cheeks.  Geez, Viola, your hair doesn’t look quite right either…to flat on top for your little pointed head. Oh, my, look at those wrinkles, just need a little smoothing out.  I wonder if they would allow me to just ‘touch you up a bit?’

Bessie looked around the room for the undertaker, not seeing him anywhere she just carefully pulled Violas hair up a little, just a smidge to cover the wrinkles on her forehead.  Then she patted Viola’s hand and whispered under her breath where only Viola could hear, “Oh, Viola, you poor thing. You just look so dead.”

As she walked away from the casket, she spied James Spiller talking to the pastor of her church.  That was a perfect excuse to talk to James.  She walked up and extended her hand as she said, “So good of you, James, to come out to Viola’s wake, I wasn’t aware that the two of you were so close.”

James nervously cleared his throat and Bessie’s pastor looked extremely uncomfortable as Bessie continued to stare at them. Finally, the pastor said, “If you will excuse us, Bessie, we need to talk to the undertaker.”

Oh, I just bet you do.  Bessie thought but she didn’t say that, instead she returned to the head of Viola’s casket where she stood as the many visitors passed by.

As music played softly in the back ground, Bessie stood like a sentinel at the casket. When Vera Carp walked passed Bessie thought, Oh, look Viola, your old nemesis has come out to see you.  She’s most likely glad you’re gone.  Now she can win the Christmas Pageant’s, ‘most beautiful yard.’  It was hilarious how you beat her out year after year.

Oh, here comes Hortense Huff.  I can’t believe she would even show her face in public.  Everyone in town knows she ran off with that newspaper reporter.  Do what Viola?  Oh, yes, that’s right, he wasn’t a reporter, he just delivered newspapers.  Well, she certainly made the headlines when he dumped her in Biloxi and she had to have money wired to her to get home.

Oh, and there’s Gladis’ Johnson. Poor Gladis.  Her fiancé, Horace Greely, ran off with the town secretary and left Gladis waiting in the church where they were supposed to get married.  Now that’s sorry, Viola.  Oh, I know you didn’t care of Gladis but no one deserves that. Do what?  Oh, Viola, she’s not the wicked witch of the west.

Look, there’s Spencer Knight.  He’s such a handsome man.  I always wanted to date him but Yvonne Miller kept getting in the way.  The slut, I have never understood what Spencer saw in her.

Here comes Hortense Powers. Oh, Viola, you remember Hortense.  In grade school she took your boyfriend, Clarence away from you.  Oh yes, she did, Viola, no need to deny it, she flat stole him away from you.  Do what? No, you didn’t Viola, you cried for days, I remember.

The night wore on and Bessie continued to watch over her friend Viola and to share her opinion about all those that came to pay their respect to her dearly departed friend.

Bessie’s continued to act as sentinel through the next day’s funeral service. She stood at the foot of the casket as they waited at the cemetery for the pastor’s final departing words for Viola.

When the pastor finished his prayers, the procession of mourners, went down the line shaking hands with Viola’s family members. When they all were through, the crowd started to leave so the undertaker could finish his job.

Bessie kept standing, staring at the foot of Viola’s casket.  Finally, the undertaker said, “Ms. Buemiller, I understand the love for your good friend Viola Godspeed, but I’ve got to finish my job now.  Can I call someone to come and help you to your car?”

“No, you cannot.  But, what you can do is explain how you managed to bury Viola in a casket made in China.” Bessie said as she moved the flowers over so the tag on the end of the casket could be read.

“She had a prepaid funeral plan, Ms. Buemiller.”

“I know that, but no way would she have selected, ‘Made in China,’ to be on her casket. A final farewell to a red blooded American?  No way Jose, Viola didn’t know that, and I’m telling everyone I know to check out where their prepaid funeral casket is made.  And I’m telling you right now, you do that to me, and I promise I will come back and personally, kick your ‘Made in China,’ undertaking ass.” 

To enjoy more of Bessie’s adventures, download The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Volume I, now available for Kindle on Amazon


Fruit Inspector

I just want to stand back and say, ‘what in the world is going on?’ I am so sick of drunken, dope infested, PLOM (Poor Little Old Me)  ridden individuals, I could throw up.  They take advantage of our government handouts which should be stopped.  When we bring them back from the brink of death by using Narcan, which runs about $1500.00 a shot, or whatever other very expensive drug it takes to save them, and then they turn around and do it again and sometimes again and again and again.

There are cities in our United States that have safe places dopers can go and if they OD there, they can use this drug Narcan to bring them back.   I’m for letting them die, when people whose children have to have Epi-pens to survive can’t afford them due to the cost, yet we are going to give these dopers a place to safely get high and then bring them back if they OD, how can this be right?

This opioid epidemic has been ongoing for hundreds of years.  History tells us that the Opium addicts were with us in the Opium dens long ago. This is not new. Now I realize I’m gonna get a lot of hate mail over that remark but I really don’t care.  God has given us life and free will and a beautiful world to enjoy, to live in, to be happy in and some are so bored with first of all themselves and second of all life,  they try to take it daily to avoid living life sober, so they chose drugs or anything that alters the mind.  Toughen up buttercup; you’re no better or worse than the rest of us.

Some say well, alcohol is the door way to drugs. Oh really?  Then is sex the door way to becoming a whore?  Same difference.  You are who you chose to be, whether good, bad or indifferent.  I’m not talking about those folks with cancer or other life taking illnesses.  They have to fight to get drugs to help them with the pain because these dope ridden losers have ruined that for them.  I’m talking about the normal human who is so bored with life they decide they will experiment with the life altering effects of drugs, alcohol, dope etc. Addictions are habits, habits that are hard to break.  How do you avoid getting a habit?  You don’t ever start them to begin with.  Then you have nothing to change, nothing to overcome.

If your situation in life is so miserable that you have to take drugs to endure it, then change your situation.  Get rid of what’s causing you to have to escape the reality of life. I am clean and sober only by the grace of God almighty.  That’s what’s lacking in the addicts life.  God all mighty.  Satan the liar will tell you that you’re justified in your PLOM thinking, but Lucifer, old Luci is nothing but a liar.  Why would you listen to someone you know lies with every breath?

Why anyone in their right mind starts doing something that effects their small innocent children who they brought into this world, why would they?  Because, they think more of themselves than they do the children.  Some say, no, they aren’t themselves when they are on drugs.  Oh, really, well apparently at some point they weren’t on drugs, so why did they start? If you choose to take drugs for goodness sake go get yourself sterilized so you don’t bring innocents into this world to have to live with YOUR ADDICTIONS AND YOUR SINS.

Here’s the truth about most of the drug addictions…truth is telling someone something they don’t want to hear so I’m going to say this. All you have to do is follow the money.  If drugs, alcohol etc. are sicknesses then the insurance companies will pay for them and big pharma can make money off them.  But, if those things are sins, self-induced, freely taken, doing what I want to do, then the insurance won’t pay and big pharma loses money. Humm that’s pretty clear isn’t it?

As it true with most things in life, just follow the money.

Now you’re going to say, ‘you’ve no right to judge me.’  You’re right I don’t, but I do have the right to be a fruit inspector and the fruits drug addicts and alcoholics bare,  are rotten.

People who have been hooked on drugs because of an illness or injury they received,  or God help us,  a wounded veteran, whether mental or physical,  are the ones who need help. Those that have had to go to pain doctors who gave them medicine, then the pain doctors kicked them out of treatment because now they were addicts, those people need our help. The doctors need to be forced to continue their treatment after they are addicted to the meds, that they, the pain doctors,  gave to them that got them hooked. This needs to be looked into as well as many other things that aren’t just right.

But, this does not apply to those self-willed drug takers or alcoholics. They chose to become what they are.

Again I say, follow the money and see where it takes you.

The Amen Days

What are the “Amen Days”?  Well, for me, they’re those days that everything I write or read, I want to say “Amen” to.   Amen means, “So be it.” When we say, “Amen”, we mean we are in agreement with the quote or the prayer or the circumstance, we are involved in at the moment.  So, I love the “Amen Days”.


On those days, my heart is in agreement with the text I’m reading or the words I hear repeated.  Either way, it’s an “Amen Day”.

Unfortunately, we have too few “Amen Days”.  If we let it, the world will creep right in on top of us.  It will crawl underneath our covers and before we know it, we’re engulfed with the world’s fears and woes and all the junk that goes along with it.


Frankly, I’m sick of that.


I want a whole bunch of “Amen Days”.  Days filled with laughter and love and peace.  Days that I can love on my precious family and tell them, “I love you”.  Days I can sing God’s praises with a happy heart.  Days that are free from worldly plights and plans.  Days when the sun shines and the birds sing and I can walk with my dog and feel God’s presence all around me.


I long for those days.  I pray for those “Amen Days”.


Unfortunately, if I’m not careful, the ‘dreads’ become more powerful than the ‘Amens’.  I know the Lord tells me to turn my fears and worries over to Him and I truly can do that most of the time.  But, I have to admit I must always stay on guard.  For Satan lurks, ever ready to creep in and take over my thoughts.  That’s how he wins, you know, he seeks to control our mind.


Join me in praying for many more “Amen Days”.  Join me in thanking the Lord for the blessings of the “Amen Days” that He’s already allowed us to enjoy.


There needs to be a new phase coined.  It needs to be, “May you have a blessed ‘Amen Day’.


God bless you and may you have a blessed, “Amen Day”.

The Beginning of 2018, A New Year

Think of these things.

My anchor holds because

God has always had a people.

The beautiful words below were pinned by Gloria Gather.  I find them most appropriate at this point in time. So many now, are trying to overthrow our Christian belief and faith, by telling us there is no ‘Savior.’ They say our ‘Jesus’ was merely a prophet, not the son of God.

In return to their slander of our Lord, I say:

“God has always had a people. Many a foolish conqueror has made the mistake of thinking that because he had driven the church of Jesus Christ out of sight, that he had killed its voice and snuffed out its light. God has always had a people. The powerful current of a rushing river is not diminished because it is forced to flow underground. The purest water is the stream that bursts crystal clear into the sunlight after it has fought its way through solid rock.

God has always had a people. There have been charlatans who, like the Simon the Magician in the books of Acts, sought to barter on the open market that power which cannot be bought or sold, but God has always had a people: Men who could not be bought, women who were beyond purchase. God has always had a people.

There have been times of affluence and prosperity, when the church’s message has been nearly diluted into oblivion by those who sought to make it socially attractive, neatly organized, and financially profitable. It has been gold-plated, draped in purple, and encrusted with jewels. It has been misrepresented, ridiculed, lauded, and scorned.

These followers of Jesus Christ has been, according to the whim of the times, elevated as sacred leaders and martyred as heretics. Yet, through it all, there matches on that powerful army of the meek, God’s chosen people, who cannot be bought, flattered, murdered or stilled. On through the ages they march, the church – God’s Church Triumphant – is alive and well.”

This quoted work was written by Gloria Gather and spoken in the song, “The Church Triumphant.”

Merry Christmas 2017

“God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,

Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day.”

Lyrics to a well know carol tell the only story that’s necessary for this, or any Christmas, or, any day of the year for us to remember; Jesus is the reason for the season. Without Him, there is no Merry and no reason for our seasons of life. Thank you Lord, for being ever watchful and mindful over us, your spoiled children.

Forgive us when we forget that you provide and watch out for us.  Forgive when we complain that, ‘life’s not fair.’  Help us remember ‘fairness’ went out in the third grade and now we are responsible for the choices ‘we’ make.

Thank you for family and friends that fill our days and nights with love and happiness and help us remember, ‘we are not entitled,’ but we are expected to work for what we want.

Forgive us Lord as we grieve over the loves in this life that we have lost.  Help us remember to thank You that we had them for a ‘little while,’ and that ‘little while’ was so wonderful that it will forever be engrained in our hearts. Thank you for all the wonderful ‘wonderful little whiles.’

Help us to remember to hug the ones we love with a hug that will last them, and us a lifetime. Help us remember there are no guarantees for tomorrow.  All we have is today.  That’s why it’s called the ‘present.’  May our ‘present’ be filled with family, friends, happiness, and grateful hearts.

Help us remember, though this world is not perfect, it is Your world. Thank you for allowing us, in this brief span of time we call our life, the opportunity to enjoy the wonders of the world that you created.  

Help us to have the ‘faith’ of a child and know that when You live in our hearts, things will always work out according to Your will. As one of my loved ones I spoke about earlier use to say, “It will be ok, even if it’s not.”

Merry Christmas Jesus! Thank you for loving us.

The Crazy’s are Everywhere

Crazy is defined in the dictionary as, “mentally deranged, especially as manifested in a wild or aggressive way.”

Patsy Cline defined it musically as: “Crazy for lying, Crazy for crying, and Crazy for loving you.”

The following is my input, output or just a plain opinion about what “crazy,” is in today’s world.

It’s people in authoritative positions being accused of sexual abuse by women who have waited twenty or more years to come forward. There are two parts to that “craziness.”  The first part is who in their right mind would commit an act they know if found out, and they’re always found out, would cost them their job?  Not to mention, their respect, their family, their friends, their money, etc.

Well, one past president does come to mind, but in all fairness when you search history you find they’re has been more than one president caught up in that “craziness.”

Then the second part, what female would allow such a thing to happen?  I mean come on women. You are in control unless it’s gang rape and the police usually are called on that and if not, you have a voice so FOR GOODNESS SAKE SPEAK UP! WHY WAIT TWENTY YEARS? Of course, that does cut down on the pay off when you agree to settle for money to keep quiet. If you cared so much why help those you accuse, continue in the abuse of others, as you keep your mouth shut for money. What does that make you? I believe that would be called “co-conspirator.”

This women’s lib stuff drives me “crazy.”  I mean back in the day I sort of liked those wolf whistles. That meant I looked good that day.  I’m sort of like the old Navajo ‘code talker,’ that said he wasn’t offended when they told him to yell, “Geronimo,” when he jumped out of an airplane.

I can’t imagine any woman so weak and simple she can’t stand up for herself.  Please, do you really think the men who you so willingly cut down, are going to stand up for you? You’re as morally responsible as they are. Duh.

I really stand in wonder at the women who say, “it’s my body, I can do what I want with it.”

If that’s true, why do you want tax dollars to pay for your abortions? You’re so liberated take care of your own birth control.

Then there’s that very special ‘crazy’ that thinks it’s okay to take a knee, in an American stadium, paid for by American tax dollars while you are making millions of dollars annually from American citizens who pay out their hard-earned dollars to watch a game that you play.  And you want to do that while our National Anthem is being played? You want to disgrace our flag and the men and women who have fought and died to honor that flag, and somehow you think this is YOUR RIGHT? Because you want to protest cops handling of blacks? Where in the world is YOUR MIND?

It’s simple.  You break the law, you’re going to jail no matter what color you are, stud. You pull a gun on an officer of the law he’s going to shoot your ass. Call it the law of nature.  Call it whatever you want to call it, but it’s justifiable, Hoss, so get over it.  You are no better than the rest of us.

Now, I’m going to address the REALLY BIG ONE. The latest ‘CRAZY’ trend in MALE, FEMALE, TRANSGENDER SEXES. Please tell me I’m dreaming this one.  They aren’t going to find someone stupid enough to put ‘gender to be decided at a later date,’ on birth certificates? I mean this kind of thinking puts whomever is making such a decision right up there with ‘crazy of the century.’  They need to be hauled away to the nearest insane asylum, (do those still exist?) If not, they should, because it’s apparent that some of our citizens, indeed have a big mental problem.

Who speaks up for the children that are going to be abused by such thinking?  Any parent that would do such a thing to their child is INSANE. They shouldn’t be allowed to even come near a child.  Rates right up there with Pedophilia.

Who thinks Transgenders who have been certified to have proven mental problems, should be allowed in our military? What kind of thinking is this? We fuss about gun control, yet we are willing to hand guns over to people who can’t decide if they are male or female.

Like it or not, God only created two sexes. Male and Female.  This is a proven biological fact. Only XX and XY chromosomes, no XYZ.  No transgender, no to be decided later, just male and female. Not complicated, not hard to understand, just simple fact. Like it or not, He’s still in charge and rest assured, He will take care of the problem.

There are so many “Crazy’s” going on in today’s world. You see them nightly on what we use to call, ‘The Nightly News.’ Now it’s more like, ‘who put the ‘Draino’ in today’s drain pipe for the swamp? Come out you rascal whoever you are.

As the saying goes, “I’m gonna have to quit saying, surely no one is that ‘crazy’. I do believe that they are taking it as a personal challenge.”

An Honest, Heart to Heart Conversation with God

General George Patton’s Prayer about the Battle of the Bulge.

December 19, 1944.

Sir, this is Patton speaking. The last fourteen days have been straight from hell.  Rain, snow, more rain more snow—and I’m beginning to wonder what’s going on at your headquarters. Whose side are you on anyway?

For three years, my chaplains have been explaining that this is a religious war. This, they tell me, is the Crusade all over again, except that we are riding tanks instead of chargers.  They insist we are here to annihilate this German Army and the godless Hitler so that religious freedom can return to Europe. Up till now I’ve gone along with them too.  You have given us Your unreserved cooperation.  Clear skies and a calm sea in Africa made the landings highly successful and helped us to eliminate Rommel. Sicily was comparatively easy and You supplied excellent weather for our armored dash across France, the greatest military victory that You have thus far allowed me.

You have led German units into traps that made their elimination fairly simple.  But now, You’ve changed horses in midstream. You seem to have given Rundstedt every break in the book and frankly he’s been beating hell out of us.  My army is neither trained nor equipped for winter warfare. And as You know this weather is more suitable for Eskimos than for southern cavalrymen.

But, now sir, I can’t help but feel that I have offended You in some way.  That suddenly You have lost all sympathy with our cause.  That You are throwing in with von Rundstedt and his paperhanging god.  You know without me telling You, our situation is desperate.  Sure, I can tell my staff  that everything is going according to plan, but there’s no use telling You that the 101est Airborne is holding out against tremendous odds in Bastogne, and that this continual storm is making it impossible to supply them even from the air.

I’ve sent Hugh Gaffey, one of my ablest generals, with his 4th Armored Division, north toward that all important road center to relieve the encircled garrison and he’s finding Your weather much more difficult than he is the Krauts.  I don’t like to complain unreasonably, but my soldiers from the Meuse to Echtemach are suffering the tortures of the damned.  Today I visited several hospitals, all full of frostbite cases and the wounded are dying in the fields because they cannot be brought back for medical care.

But, this isn’t the worst of the situation.  Lack of visibility, continued rains have completely grounded my air force.  My technique of battle calls for close-in fighter support and if my planes can’t fly, how can I use them as aerial artillery? Not only is this a deplorable situation, but worse yet, my reconnaissance planes haven’t been in the air for fourteen days, and I haven’t the faintest idea of what’s going on behind German lines.

Damn it Sir, I can’t fight a shadow.  Without Your cooperation from a weather standpoint I am deprived of an accurate disposition of the German armies and how in hell can I be intelligent in my attack?  All this probably sounds unreasonable to You, but I have lost all patience with Your chaplains who insist that this is a typical Ardennes winter, and that I must have faith.

Faith and patience be damned!  You have just got to make up Your mind whose side You’re on.  You must come to my assistance, so that I may dispatch the entire German Army as a birthday present to Your Prince of Peace.

Sir, I have never been an unreasonable man; I am not going to ask You for the impossible.  I do not even insist on a miracle, for all I request is four days of clear weather.

Give me four clear days so that my planes can fly, so that my fighter-bombers cab bomb and strafe so that my reconnaissance may pick out targets for my magnificent artillery.  Give me four days of sunshine to dry this blasted mud, so that my tanks may roll, so that ammunition and rations may be taken to the hungry, ill-equipped infantry.  I need these four days to send von Rundstedt and his godless army to their Valhalla.  I am sick of the unnecessary butchery of American youth, and in exchange for four days of fighting weather, I will deliver You enough Krauts to keep your bookkeepers months behind in their work.  


The weather cleared that day.

When was the last time you had an honest,  heart to heart conversation with God?

Am I Pitching or Catching?

Today’s world events and our life in general, have me so confused that I have to ask myself the question ‘am I pitching or catching?’

I look on Facebook or make the dire mistake of catching the end of the evening news and hear, ‘such and such and so and so are locked in battle against the injection of cattle with hormones. This unhealthy situation must be stopped immediately.’

Then on the next segment I hear, ‘partial birth abortions are legal and should be allowed, as far along as 36 weeks.’  Then we can harvest their organs and sell them to the highest bidder.’ Then that statement is followed by ‘deadly guns the cause of mass shootings in the US.’

Now come on people, we can’t have it both ways. Why is it terrible to inject cows with hormones for what it will do to the general populace, but it’s ok, to inject children with hormones in order to change the sex they were born with? This makes absolutely no sense. Hormones are bad for cows, an animal, but, ok for humans?

Then the fact that over 88,000 die anually from alcohol abuse is not mentioned either.  That far out numbers deaths by guns so where are those that want alcohol banned?  Nope don’t see them anywhere.

I believe my favorite dilemma involves the following:  ‘Transgender should NOT be excluded from our military.’  Oh, really, so it’s ok with you that we lawfully give guns to people who can’t decide whether they want to be a man or woman, but, we need to outlaw guns because they are the cause of mass shootings?’ Really?  Where’s your logic in that?  Certainly doesn’t fall under the heading of ‘common sense,’ now does it?

Oh, and while we are on the subject of transgender I really think the reasoning behind the saying, ‘taxpayers should pay for transgender sex change which is why the military should allow them in the service so they can get health benefits.’

I’m sorry, I don’t agree with this kind of thinking. If you want to be transgender then YOU should be willing to pay for the change.  I sure as heck don’t want to pay for it, just like I don’t want to pay for abortions.   Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Somehow I think that people out rank animals. So, the concern we have for animals should come AFTER our concern for the human race.  Hey maybe I’m wrong.  If I am and you can prove to me I’m wrong, I’ll get right.

Now, I’m really gonna step off into it.  I also think that organ donations need to come under close scrutiny.  I think it’s wonderful if someone willing wants to donate their organs AFTER THEY HAVE BEEN EDUCATED ON WHAT GOES ON IN ORDER FOR THAT TO HAPPEN.  Then if they still want to do that and their family is aware of what has to happen to the donor in order for this to take place, and everyone is EDUCADTED ON THE SUBJECT.   Yeah then go for it.

When did it become ok for multi-millionaires to not respect our flag and our anthem, in a stadium paid for by our tax dollars?  When did it become ok to protest for what you want on our time and dollar and it not cost them anything?  I’m like former President Harry Truman on this one.  I wish the draft still existed because I’d draft every one of the kneeling NFL players into the MILITARY.   It’s obvious they need a little training in respect.  I bet the military can do a good job of that.

I’d like to also voice an opinion.  This one is about teachers.  School and College teachers.  There is no other profession that has the impact on young lives as do these professions.  We should be ever mindful of who is teaching our young people.  I believe with all my heart that teachers should be vetted.  We shouldn’t allow anyone to teach our children until they are proven to be of sound mind. Why you ask?  

They have our innocents in their care, when they are most receptive to mind changing affairs. They can sway young minds yeah or nay often by the way they, the teacher, feel about certain things. I want that teacher’s mind to be one in good standing before imparting that on my loved ones.

I am of the opinion; the same care you would choose when approaching the care of a psychiatrist should be given when hiring a teacher.

In closing I’d like to ask another question. When did the right of being found guilty or innocent go away?  When was the right of a fair trial replaced by a trail of public opinion?  That’s what’s happening in the majority of the sexual abuse allegations that are so freely being used these days.

Sexual abuse is never ok. But, waiting years to report it and the accused not having the right to counter file and be represented fairly in a court of law is unfair.  

If indeed the person saying they were sexual abused, years ago comes forward then they should be held accountable just like the person they are accusing.  If it’s found the accuser is lying then he or she should be found guilty and have to serve three times the amount of time the accused would have had to serve if they had been found guilty at the time of the offense. Speak up when it happens or forever hold your peace, because after that it becomes he said, she said, and the only person to suffer is the one accused and their family.  Not right, shouldn’t happen.

I don’t know when the news media decided God was dead and they needed to take His place.

Now I’m back to my original question.  

“Am I pitching or catching in this game called life?”

How about you?  Do you know what position you are playing?

When Did We Lose Our Innocence?

Looking back over the last forty years I have to ask the question, when did we lose our innocence?  When did it become okay for prime time TV programs to have episodes of sexual behavior and suggestive dress attire?

When did it become okay for kids to lock their doors to their rooms, keep their cell phones private and watch whatever they please on Snap Chat? Or worse still, post pictures on Snap Chat that forty years ago would have caused the County Judge to fine the parents for allowing such behavior.

When did we become so desensitized to the issues of the world that we look upon today’s happenings with a calloused heart and poor excuses for the children’s behavior?  I’m not talking little children here; I’m talking big college age kids.

When did we start making excuses for their having to have safe rooms and puppy dogs to feel safe?  Worse still, when did we accept the fact many of the professors teaching them, thought this was appropriate behavior.

When did it become okay to post billboard of sexual nature on the highway so that all children passing by can look at a half-naked woman and think that’s ok? When did Victoria Secrets with their almost naked women become the norm instead of the not acceptable? When?  How did I miss it?  When did parents stop caring for their children’s mental as well as physical well-being and let them be exposed to things that should remain for older adult eyes only?

When did we accept the fact that it was within people’s rights to disrespect our flag, our anthem and our nation?  When did it become okay for the police to be called pigs and have to defend themselves against the populace they protect? What happened to the rights of the innocent?

What happened to the rights of our young people to expect adults to look out for them? To set examples for them, to teach them for goodness sake, right from wrong?  Have we become so desensitized that we don’t even notice when our babies, our young, our innocents, are exposed to such rude happenings that we as adults are embarrassed by?

Yeah, you may say, that I am just an old fogey that still believes in America and apple pie.

My answer to you is ‘yes, indeed I am, and proud of it.’

Now, what’s your excuse?

Is There More Evil Today?

Is our world really going to hell in a handbasket? Do we have more evil in today’s time than in times past? Are the young people today really so calloused they think of no one but themselves? Is the world so evil that Christ will have to come to end it?

All these are perfectly reasonable questions to ask in today’s time and events.  However, my answers may not be the answers you think or want to hear. So hear me out and then you make your own assessment.

First question; is our world really going to hell in a handbasket?

Answer:  That’s the way it seems sometimes, but let me give you a little history, a little look back at our past.

During the civil war, I am quite sure there were many people who had to ask themselves that very question. The South wanted to be free from the North telling them what they wanted them to do and how they wanted them to live.  The South hated this, so they wanted their independence.  A lot of folks think the civil war was just about slavery, but slavery was only a part of it.  There were many more political qualities the South objected to, so they decided they would rather fight and die than to be told what to do by the North.

This, the most deadly war that our Nation has ever been a part of, tore homes apart.  Brother fought against brother, sometime father against son.  Emotions ran high and each side felt their side was the right one. So in my opinion, this was indeed far worse than today’s time.  However, if we don’t get control of today’s situation we may be forced to repeat it, and that would indeed be sad.  That’s why it’s so important to remember our history so that we don’t make the same mistakes again.

In World War II America did not become involved in that war until about 1940 when we helped Britain and France by supplying them with tanks and other war needed supplies without actually declaring war on Germany.   Then, Germany made the mistake of sinking one of our ships and America still waited before declaring war on them.  That rocked on until December of 1941, when the Japanese pulled a sneak attack on the US Fleet anchored in Pearl Harbor, when that happened America declared war on Japan and Germany.  Now we were in World War II big time.

America joined hands against the common enemy and did everything it could to win the war. Americans were happy to have rationing, to grow victory gardens, to do whatever was necessary to save our country and supply their American’s sons and daughters who were fighting actively in the war.  We wanted them to have all America could supply to win the war. Good old American know how and stick-to-it-ness met the supply and demand, and Old Glory waved with pride.

We saw that happen again on 9-11-2001. America joined hands and color and race was forgotten as we battled against the terrorist that killed so many of our brethren.  We were outraged and ready to defend our land.

I believe that still holds true today.

Do we have more evil in today’s times than in times of the past?

I don’t know what do you think?  Long ago there were opium dens where people would go to smoke opium and do all sorts of drugs and even Coca Cola had cocaine in it as did many other drinks, perhaps there were a few other things that today,  we frown upon.  Laudanum could be bought at the local dry good/ drug store and all of that was perfectly legal.

Then there’s the old standby drug, alcohol.  It’s been around forever, wine, beer etc.  Nothing new there. Well, then, are things worse today than they were back when the drugs and drug houses were legal?

Prostitution is the oldest profession there is, it’s been around since time began.  So do those things still exist today? Of course they do. They are sort of like the cockroach; you can’t kill ‘um.

“The boys are a fearful multitude of untutored savages with dogs at their heels and other evidence of dissolute habits. Girls drive coal carts, ride astride on horses, drink, swear, fight, smoke, and drink whiskey and care for nobody but themselves.  The morals of children are tenfold worse than they formerly were.”

Does this sound vaguely familiar?  Well it was ranted in 1843 by Anthony Ashley Cooper, the 7th Earl of Shaftesbury, England.

In Lot’s time in the bible, angels came to visit him.  As they dined the townsfolk beat on the door and told Lot to send out his visitors.  They wanted to have sex with them.   It mattered not if they were male or female to the people of the city.  They all had reprobate minds and indulged in every kind of evil. God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.   But, because Lot was a righteous man, he and his family were saved, Except for Lot’s wife who couldn’t follow instructions of ‘don’t look back at the cities.’  She did and so she was turned to a pillar of salt. This story is as old as time itself.

The last question; Is the world so evil that Christ will have to come to save it?

We all know that is how the story will end.  Christ will return someday, we don’t know where, or when.  Man thru the ages has tried to figure that out, but the Lord tells us that Jesus,  nor the angels in heaven know when that time will be, so no man on this earth knows the time of Christ’s return.

I grant you, we are living in perilous times, and we often wonder, is this as bad as it’s ever been or the worst it can be?  

Perhaps we can take heart in knowing that it’s happened before.  There have been other times when mankind has seen just how poor of an excuse for a human being that he could be. We’ve lied, mistreated, disrespected, killed, and tortured, our fellow man before.  

I have to say, I’m so glad we serve a God of second chances. I’m so glad He’s in charge of all of this and when He thinks, ‘that’s enough,’ that will be just fine with me.

Until then?

Well,  I guess we are going to have to stand for what we know is right without fear or intimidation, while we whisper ever so softly, under our breath,  ‘come quickly Lord Jesus.’

Perhaps it’s in the Pauses

It’s Halloween, and just in case you’re wondering, in 62 days, thereabouts, it will be New Year’s, 2018.  Where has this year gone? A few months ago it was New Year’s 2017. I know it was.  How could this year be nearing its end?

That brings to mind a thought that makes me a little uncomfortable.  What have I done with this year? What did I accomplish or what did I enjoy?  What did I do with the time that has been allotted to me?  Did I enjoy it, or did I squander it away?

When we were children time crawled by.  It was forever between Christmas and birthdays. Looking back now through adult eyes, it seems like mega seconds between Christmas, and birthdays.  Now, the birthdays seem to come way too quickly and with the birthdays come aging, getting older, more aches and pains. But, with the aging comes wisdom, I hope.

As I look back over the year it’s as though Father Time had a jet pack on as the days and nights whisked by.  Some of the time I was merely a spectator, watching life from the sidelines as it rapidly moved ahead. Sometimes, I was a participant, caught up in the busyness of everyday affairs as my life swiftly moved forward, toward the finish line.

Perhaps, it would be wise for me to pause for a while and think on the things I have accomplished this year.  I took the time to listen to a small child explain the wonders of a stunning ladybug that had crawled out of a flower and landed on his sweet hand as his beautiful blue eyes looked at it in wonder.

I watched as an elderly person sat down on a park bench with guarded movement so as not to suddenly plop down and lose their balance. Then when seated, they looked at the wondrous beauty of the world around them with thanksgiving.

I looked into the eyes of my dog and I saw what loyalty and love looks like.  I heard a bird singing to the top of its voice, a melody so beautiful that a symphony orchestra could not compete.

I saw young lovers holding hands as they walked through the park, whispering words of adoration as they look forward to their future with eagerness.

I saw old lovers holding hands as they slowly walked together.  Wrinkled faces, bent bodies, but still so much in love that it made me want to cry.  

I pray I showed hospitality to strangers because the bible tells us sometimes, when we do that, we entertain angels unaware. These things were some of my accomplishments.

Perhaps, that is what time is about.  Not so much the movements of the fast pace we live, but in the pauses.  The times we realize we just need to stop for a moment and appreciate the things that make this life important.

It’s time to enjoy the smell of rain, the beauty of the flowers and to have the eagerness of a child’s bewilderment as we see something for the first time.  Perhaps it’s the face of a new child, a new grandchild or the blessedness of being allowed to see our great grandchildren.  To remember, not everyone is allowed that privilege.

It’s time to pause and appreciate this life God gives us by acknowledging the blessings He sends us daily, sometimes hourly.  We need to pause, to mediate, to say, ‘Thank you Lord.’

Perhaps, it’s in the pauses we learn to appreciate time; perhaps in the pauses we slow down and learn how to live. 

How to Handle Sexual Harassment

wp-image--497650345I may get hate mail over this one, but that’s okay.

I, for one, am sick and tired of hearing, “Well, he grabbed me and groped me and acted very irresponsible, etc. etc. etc.” 

My question to all women who have had this problem or who will have this problem or who think they have this problem, “What did you do about it?”  

Not fifteen years later coming forward and saying ‘well, yes, he did that to me.’  Or ‘I was just too traumatized to say anything,’ or ‘I was afraid no one would believe me.’

Oh, really?  Well, I’ve been a female a long, long time.  Grew up with a boy’s name, worked in the market place for many years, and even as a young woman had to handle old men’s groping hands.  Now, let me tell you how a Texas girl handles these situations.

First of all you scream, “What are you doing? Keep your hands to yourself old man or you’re not going to be able to walk for a few days.”  

Followed by a swift knee kick to the parts he holds near and dear and then you tell everyone you meet what a nasty old man he is, regardless of whose grandfather it is.

That’s for the old men who don’t have enough sense to know they couldn’t handle it if they captured it. Then you ask them, “Hey, does your granddaughter know you go around groping her friends?”  “No, well guess what, the whole town’s going to know it because I’m reporting your sorry self.  Don’t ever attempt to touch me or any of my friends again.”

Now, if you’ve survived the high school sexual abusers and held your own, then you come face to face with the whole wide world of harassment from the work place.  You handle it the same way you did in high school.  You yell and scream and tell everyone you meet what’s going on.  

I’ve found on my life’s journey, nothing was worth, or ever will be worth, me having to keep quiet about these sick people. Report them immediately. Have the courage to say, ‘not today Lucy, not today.’

That’s what they count on.  

They count on you being too scared or embarrassed to report them.  Not year’s later, but right now, right when it happens. They count on you wanting to obtain an acting career, a job promotion, a leg up on the ladder of success. Some even tolerate it just to be popular. That kind of reaction makes you as sick as they are. Yep that’s what I said.  If you let anyone get by treating you with such disrespect and not reporting it, you’re as sick as they are.

Now, before you hang me out with the laundry, think on this.  If you have been forewarned about these things that can, and probably will happen to you, then you can be prepared to fight back.

Satan loves the darkness.  He likes to hide in the shadows and make you afraid.  He counts on it. But, he cannot stand in the light.  Once the light shines on him, he’s like a mythical vampire; he melts and runs away, the coward.  Those that serve him count on our fears to hold us captive.

Teach your daughters and sons how to fight back.  Yes, the same thing works for boys as it does for girls.  Teach them it’s okay to tell you any and all things without fear of reprobation for telling the truth. Teach them first and foremost how to handle themselves and what to do should a priest, an old man or woman or anyone that tries to touch them inappropriately, or speak nasty offensive words, even those that they think love them, might do.

Once they are armed, it makes the fight so much easier.

In closing I have to say, I never met a man or woman, I couldn’t get rid of if I wanted to badly enough. It just takes courage and the ability to stand up for what you know is right.

Lastly, the one rule I always follow and have my entire life is very, very simple;

“Follow the money.”  It will always take you to where the truth lies.  If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it most likely is a duck, regardless of what you want to believe.

Shine a light on it.  

Speak up, tell someone, anyone.  

Don’t let predators of any kind survive in our country.  

You Cannot Legislate Morality

Gun laws passed, new laws made, gun control legislated. None of these things will work because you cannot legislate morality. 

Unfortunately, evil will find a way.

Cain killed Abel with a rock.

Morality has to be taught and learned. The saying, “when the student is ready the teacher will appear,” is so true. God teaches about morality. He tells humankind exactly what they should or shouldn’t do. Alas, humankind ignores God and all things they do not want to adhere to. In its place comes, what some call reasoning.

What it really is, is an excuse. Excuses for bad behavior in children and adults, excuses for greed, excuses for hard hearts, excuses for lust, excuses for killing, excuses for lies, excuses for stealing, excuses for laziness, excuses for selfishness, excuses for anything we don’t want to do. For every good deed there is an excuse not to do it.

So, don’t blame our leaders and expect them to fix this mess we have. Yes, part of it they have brought on, but the other part we brought on. “Not me”, you say, “I have nothing to do with this mess that’s happening in our world.”

Really? When was the last time you prayed for our leaders? When was the last time you took the time to help someone; someone that you knew could never repay you. When was the last time you said, “Search my heart, oh God and show me where I’m wrong and I will get right.”

The respect we should have for our elders, our leaders, our law enforcement, our next door neighbor, the mentally ill, what’s happened to that respect? What’s happened to our morality? When and where did we lose it? When did we stop caring for anyone except our self?

Perhaps, when we put God back in the classroom, back in the courtroom, back in the lives of everyday normal living, perhaps then and only then will our questions about what’s happening in our world, be answered.

Mental Illness vs Evil

In a world where 20% of the population, will be diagnosed with mental illiness, before their 14th birthday, we are still shocked when it manifests itself.  Yet evilness, which also manifests itself, often goes by with just, ‘oh, you know how they are,’ excuse.

The latest incident in Las Vegas, Nevada were a man in his sixties fired on helpless American citizens as they enjoyed a night of country music, was both horrific and very, very sad. I think in his instance, he either had an undiagnosed medical condition or he is the face of sheer evil.  An autopsy should tell us which.

Prior to this appalling event, many countries around the world have suffered the same.  Paris, England, Germany, and many other well-known places have experienced the same amount of horrendous terror.  Some committed by terrorist and some not.  

Unfortunately, far too many, have been committed by every day citizens of the human race.  Yet, they all contain one element of sameness.  Mental illness and/or evilness is involved. No man, woman or child would walk into a place and start shooting just for the thrill of killing unless they have a mental problem or are so filled with hate they commit such crimes.

This goes back thru the ages.  In ancient history there was Atilla the Hun. In more modern history, Adolph Hitler. Some are no as well known; Luis Goravito, believed to have killed over 300, but because of Columbian law was only given 30 years and with good behavior can get out earlier. Ted Bundy, said to be the ‘very definition of evil,’ admitted to killing 36, but experts believe he may have killed as many as 100. Ahmad Suradji of Indonesian admitted killing 42 girls, killed by firing squad in 2008.  Andri Chikatilo of Russia killed over 53 and said of himself, “I know I have to be destroyed.  I was a mistake of Nature.”  And the list goes on, so many that time and space does not permit naming.

So, as proven by the above, we know that mental illness and evilness are not a new thing.  Down thru the ages many, many have joined the ranks of insane ‘killers,” most likely more evil than insane.

What man or woman with good sense would strap a bomb to them self and think they would kill themselves and others and gain a place in Heaven?  That thinking is insanity at its highest, yet we read about it all too often. Yet is it indeed insanity or is it pure evil, played out by the devil himself?

The question then becomes, what can we do to help with the epidemic of mental illness and/or evilness? Most importantly, what is its cause?

Perhaps some think the stigma of having or knowing someone with a mental illness is too embarrassing to address. Some may think that’s someone else’s problem, other’s nothing I can do etc.  

But, the other side is how much is pure evil? Evil can be punished. That, we can do something about if we have the courage to enforce.

In history we find that the insane were often locked away in a place where they were not only mistreated but were used as guinea pigs to further the study of medicine.  Some were helped, but many were not. The problem persists and still with no collective answer.

The question remains, ‘how much is insanity and how much is pure evilness?’

Some will say ‘if we had no guns this could not happen.’  The truth is the guns don’t kill people, people kill people. It can just as easily be knives, or rocks or alcohol or drugs, so what is the solution?

I don’t know. I wish I did.  I know we have to support the causes that try and treat mental illness. And, we must always fight evil wherever we find it.   We must recognize there is a problem and try our best to at least solve a part of it. Again, however, evilness can and should be punished.

In my humble opinion too much time is given these killers. That brings about copycat killers. It’s hard to even imagine that someone would think killing hundreds of people was somehow to be admired, but that to many, is a drawing card. The attention, the fifteen minutes of fame they receive becomes a face of mental illness and evilness.  So what do we do?

We once again, must follow the money.  We have to make it where help is given when need is seen. We have to educate, educate, that mental illness is not a stigma, but is a disease that can be helped, though perhaps not cured.  

We must recognize and educate when we know it’s evilness.  So filled with hate they just spew it on everyone they come in contact with.

We have to take all threats of harm against our leaders as forms of mental illness and/or evilness.  Arrest those that do such things, and if indeed they are found to have mental illness, find treatment for them.

But, if it’s just evilness then confine them; find them, prosecute them and finally put them away if it can’t be controlled.  We can no longer take these threats as just ‘blowing of steam.’

Just as we unite against tyranny and abuse we must unite in the effort to find help for the mentally ill. The first step in doing that is to recognize mental illness when it appears and try and treat it, not deny that it exists.

By the same token, we have to recognize evil when we see it and take steps to stop that.  I am of the opinion; the two go hand in hand.  If you are stupid enough to spew your hated over all mankind, then you do indeed have a mental problem.  Unfortunately your problem can’t be treated, and usually the best solution for evilness is a very strong fine, so high that it hurts. Along with spending time put away in a jail cell.

Taking away the gun is not the answer. Recognizing mental illness and finding treatment is.  

Evilness has to pay right along with the rest of the criminals. Of course most of these pansy asses, once they realize this is going to cost them big bucks would like to plead insanity in order to escape punishment.  In their cases, the cost needs to double.

To Ms. Hayley Goftman-Gold, apparently a woman of education, as up until yesterday, she worked in CBS’s legal department, shame on you.  Shame on you for saying you,’ have no sympathy for those attending a Country Concert because most of them are usually Republicans and deserve to be punished.’  

I say to you, “No, idiot, they are your fellow Americans just out trying to have a good time when evil popped up its ugly head and destroyed so many of their lives. Now, I hope you get to have a little punishment for your words. Perhaps, then, though not guaranteed, you will think before you speak and more importantly, examine your heart.”

You are the prime example of a degree guarantees nothing, but the ability to learn.

In your case madam,  I am going to say you are both evil and insane and needed to be fired, and should fined and the world would be a better place if you were put away for a very long time.

Alert! Alert!

I urge my fellow Americans to write your US representatives, your state representatives and your local representatives and request immediate action to start withdrawal the 501 C for the NFL, which allows them to be recognized as a charitible organization.

Request that they immediately start proceedings to stop all Federal, State and local funding to the NFL, the football teams and their owners. Request that they cease any and all tax breaks or tax exceptions.
All I can see are those men and women soldiers overseas, just waiting to see some football from home only to be greeted by kneeling players protesting; dishonoring the American Flag.

Now, let us take the power we posses and use it against the NFL and all those that take a knee and disrepect our flag and our anthem. That disrespect every man and woman serving this great Nation and all those that came before and paid the ultimate price.

We the People…

Dear NFL:

We will not support millionaire ingrates, who hate America and disrespect our Armed Forces and our Veterans.

Who wins a football game has zero impact on our lives.

Who fights for and defends our nation, has every impact on our lives.

We stand with the real Hero’s, not a bunch of rich, entitled, arrogant, ungrateful, anti-America degenerates.


We the People of the United States of America

I do not know who wrote the above letter of explanations to the NFL, but I do know it deserves to be repeated and repeated and repeated.  

It touches the soul of the common American, who loves their country and enjoys American sports.

Of late, the athletes who choose to voice their dislike for the way their ancestors were treated, for it is evident they certainly are not treated unfairly, by disrespecting our National Anthem and the United States of America’s flag, I have this to say to you,

Unless you, or someone you love, has been handed this flag folded, taken directly from the top of a fallen soldier’s casket, do not, even go to sleep and dream, that you have the right to disrespect our flag.

Your freedom of speech ends where my freedom of speech begins and you, do not represent me or my fellow Compatriots.

You are a paid employee, just like the rest of us. If we do something to disrespect our boss or our place of employment, you better believe, we will be fired.  What makes you any better than the common working man?  Nothing, absolutely nothing!

The only difference is when we take home our paychecks we often wonder if there’s going to be enough to go around.  Whereas with you, you are grossly overpaid for a talent the Good Lord gave to you.  You by your actions, don’t appreciate that talent either, but rather think you deserve it.

I am now putting the players that chose to take a knee during the playing of the National Anthem, instead of standing with your hand over your heart in celebration of this great country in which we are all privileged to live, right along with the actors and actresses who so blatantly disrespect not only themselves, but our nation.  They forget they are just paid employees of us, the common American citizen who lay out our money to watch, ‘let’s pretend,’ for a period of about two hours.  Yours, and their mouthing is disgusting.

I stand with the President in withdrawing the invitation to the White House for those athletes who actually think they are better than the average American. That’s our White House, that’s our government, not yours alone. So, if you can’t honor our house by treating it respectfully, you’re not welcome there.  

In fact, why don’t you go play ball in another country.  We will make it just fine without you here.  There are enough good, red blooded Americans, who are willing and able to take your place any time and any place.

As a footnote, the players that choose to kneel during the national anthem, should keep in mind that the very stadiums you disrespect the American Flag in, are largely funded and subsidized by the average American taxpayer.

From 1997 – 2015, twenty NFL stadiums were opened. Those twenty NFL stadiums, cost the American taxpayer, approximately $4.7 BILLION dollars.

Additionally, NFL teams, enjoy: tax breaks, reduced utilities, reduced costs of police services, municipal bonds to build their stadiums and often times, direct cash payments from local municipalities and states.

AT&T Stadium, where the Dallas Cowboys play, appraises for roughly $1,000,000,000. In case all those zeroes made your eyes cross a little, that’s One. Billion. Dollars. And yet, because of incentives offered, Jerry Jones doesn’t pay a dime in property taxes on it.

Did you know that the NFL is a 501c? That’s the same classification offered to charitable organizations and churches. Were you aware that, despite profits in the billions, the NFL didn’t pay a single cent in Federal Income Tax, until the 2015 fiscal year?

Just a few interesting facts to keep in mind the next time you see an NFL player kneel in a stadium that your tax dollars helped pay for and help to maintain, year after year after year after year. If the NFL, it’s commissioner and it’s players want to continue to make political statements, they should do it on their own dime.

And in a personal post script, Jerry Jones, you had a golden opportunity to be a hero to the every day, hard working average American. Instead, you chose to side with the ingrates and the elite and once more, let us down. As a life long fan of the Dallas Cowboys, it’s truly disappointing to say goodbye to what I always felt like was my team…to say goodbye to what was once known as America’s team.

News articles sourced in the writing of this blog:




Sneak Peek of The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Part III


Bessie Attends a Wake:

The pastor finished his prayers and the procession of mourners, went down the line, shaking hands with Viola’s family members. When they all were through, the crowd started to leave so the undertaker could finish his job.

Bessie kept standing, staring at the foot of Viola’s casket.  Finally the undertaker said, “Ms. Buemiller, I understand the love you had for your good friend Viola Godspeed, but I’ve got to finish my job now.  Can I call someone to come and help you to your car?”


“No, you cannot.  But, what you can do is explain how you managed to bury Viola in a casket made in China.” Bessie said as she moved the flowers over so the tag on the end of the casket could be read.


“She had a prepaid funeral plan, Ms. Buemiller.”


“I know that, but no way would she have selected, ‘made in China,’ to be on her casket. A final farewell to a red blooded American?  No way Jose! Viola didn’t know that, and I’m telling everyone I know to check out where their prepaid funeral casket is made.  And I’m telling you right now, you do that to me, I promise I will come back and personally, kick your ‘made in China,’ undertaking ass.”



“Are you sure, Deputy?”  The dog groomer was talking to Bessie.

“Yes, I’m sure.  I’m paying for this out of my pocket, so don’t worry about what the county is going to say.”  Bessie said.

“I know Deputy, but this is a male dog.  You want him groomed with puffs around his legs and a top knot that’s fluffy and then you want him to have ribbons in his hair? Have I got that right?”

“Blue ribbons. He’s a male, so yes, blue ribbons and bathe him in that good smelling shampoo.”

“Very well, deputy.  He should be ready by about four this afternoon.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you then.  Should you get through earlier, give me a call.  Here’s my card.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I surely will.”  The groomer answered.

Bessie went on about her patrol hoping she wouldn’t need her partner until after he was groomed.  She had said nothing to the Sheriff or anyone about having Max groomed.  Since they weren’t paying for it, Bessie didn’t really think she needed to ask.  

Fortunately, the afternoon was relatively quiet and when Bessie’s cell phone rang, it was the Dog Groomer.

“Max is ready, Deputy Buemiller.”

“Thanks,” Bessie said as she turned the patrol car around and headed for the dog groomer’s.

When they brought Max out you could tell he was so proud of the way he looked.  He pranced up to Bessie as if to say, ‘look at me.’

Bessie bragged and bragged on Max and told him how pretty he looked.  He wagged his well groomed tail,  now with a pom pom at the end and all but smiled at Bessie.  She swore sometimes she just knew that he smiled at her. She was falling in love with this dog, something she thought she’d never do.

The next afternoon, Bessie and Max were patrolling the south side of Hawkshaw County when a call came in that a bank robbery had occurred and they had the suspect cornered and they were engaged in a gun battle.  They requested that Bessie get there with the dog.   

Bessie whipped the patrol car around, flipped on the lights and sirens and headed for the location.  When she pulled up she could see that the robber was inside the car and would fire his pistol every now and again randomly at the officers. She assessed the situation and walked up to the Sheriff.

“Do you want me to have Max get him?”  She asked.

“Do you think he can take him down?”

“Without a doubt.”  Bessie replied.

“Then do it.”  The Sheriff said.

Bessie walked back to the car and told Max, “I need you to take this man down, Max.  Take him down.”

She opened the back door and a black streak was all that could be seen as the dog covered the ground between the patrol car and the suspect with a speed of lightning.  He cleared the car door, went through the window and had the robber screaming for help within seconds.

When Bessie and the others walked up to the car, she had to tell Max to ‘hold,’ as his teeth were just above the suspect’s throat.  Max was growling a low gurgling growl that meant, ‘ I’m going to tear your throat out.’

The robber was visibly shaking and begging them to call the dog off.

Bessie walked up to the car and said, ‘easy, Max.’   The dog backed off until another officer got the cuffs on the man and then Max started wagging his tail.  

“Good dog, Max.  Good dog,” Bessie said.

After the suspect was in a patrol car and on his way to jail the other officers in the group started laughing out loud.  Bessie turned to see what they were laughing at.  The only thing she saw was Max standing beside her.  With her hands on her hips, Bessie huffed out a, “What?”

The Sheriff had joined the others in laughing, he said, “Bessie, when did you have that dog groomed?”

“Yesterday.  Why?”

“Because he looks like a sissy with those blue ribbons in his hair and his pom pom tail.  He looks like everything but a vicious dog.”

“Well, Sheriff, you know what they say about looks.  It’s what’s on the inside that counts.  And imagine what that robber is gonna have to tell his friends, ‘Yeah a big black dog with blue ribbons in his hair and smelling like French perfume, jumped through the car window and had me by the throat before I knew what was happening.’ Don’t you just know he’s aching to tell that tale.”  Bessie laughed.

They all rolled with laughter and Max just stood there, smiling.



A Sneak Peak of The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller Part II

They’d been driving about an hour when the prisoner said, “The cemeteries here in Louisiana are all above ground. I hear it’s because the water table is so close to the surface they can’t bury them underground.”


Bessie just said, “Uhuhhhhh.”


The prisoner continued to talk, “I also hear there’s a Voodoo witch that roams the countryside. They call her the Ghost of Marie Laveau. We’ll pass right by her crypt.”


“Yeah?”  Bessie answered. “This one up here on the right?”


“Yes, that’s it. You can see her crypt from the street.” Alfred Hennessey said.


Bessie slowed down as they went by and she said to Alfred “Wave goodbye Alfred, there ain’t no Voodoo Queens in Texas.  They’re all here in the swamps of Louisiana.”


“We cross over a swamp too on our way out.”  Alfred said. He was thinking if he could maybe put a little spook into this female deputy he might make an escape. Little did he know he was dealing with Bessie Buemiller and even Marie Laveau would hesitate to tangle with her.


The headlights cut through the road ahead, and revealed the overhanging trees covered in moss. The road did look swampy and scary, Bessie thought.  About that time, Bessie heard a loud pop and she had to struggle to hold the wheel tight.  She had a blowout.  She guided the car to the shoulder and got out to take a look.


Sure enough, the back right rear tire had blown.  Bessie raised the trunk lid and started getting the jack and the spare tire out.  From the back seat she heard, “I’ll help you if you want me to. I don’t mind changing a flat tire.”


Bessie walked around to the back door, unlocked it and said, “Max guard.”


The dog jumped to the ground and watched as Alfred exited the car and went to the back to put the jack under the car. Bessie backed up just enough to be out of Alfred’s reach, should he decide he was going to try and take her down. She unsnapped the strap over the gun hammer and put her hand down to her side.


Alfred worked raising the car on the jack and whistled while he worked. Finally, the job was done and as he got the last nut on the wheel and snapped the hub cap back in place, he said, “Ma’am I really need to go to the bathroom.”


“Well, go, Alfred. There, on the side of the road. There’s not another car in sight.”


Alfred walked to the side of the road, did his business and then in a wink took off running into the swamp. Bessie let him get through the fence and then she said, “Take him down Max.”

A Sneak Peak of The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller

With tongue in cheek, we dedicate this book to all lawmen with much appreciation for the work you do. We hope you get a good laugh from Deputy, Bessie Buemiller.



Before you begin reading The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller, you must meet Bessie.


Bessie is a deputy Sheriff for Hawkshaw County, Texas.  She’s never been married and has had only a handful of male suitors in her life. However, that doesn’t stop Bessie from liking men. As she says, “Hate men? Lordy no! I don’t hate men. They just somehow are intimidated by me.  I don’t know why.  Just because I could whip every deputy in this county if I wanted to, doesn’t mean I’m not sweet and loveable.”


Bessie was right about one thing, there wasn’t a man in the county who knew Bessie that didn’t know she was one tough broad, or at least that was the rumor.


Bessie likes to gussie up in her bedazzled hat and dresses when she goes out for the night. She always has her Glock with her, but usually it’s strapped to her leg or holstered away safely in her new leotards.


When told by the sheriff, that while on duty, she had to be in an official Hawkshaw County Sheriff Department’s uniform, Bessie was very, very disappointed.  As she told the sheriff, “Every old barn looks better with a little paint on it.” So, she bedazzled her uniform any time she got the chance, often telling the sheriff that some glitter spilled out and she accidently sat down in it.  If the sheriff didn’t believe Bessie, he was gentleman enough not to tell her.


This is just a snippet about Bessie’s life. She’s a very good woman, which she often laments over, questioning if that is really such a ‘good’ thing.  She feels she misses a lot of good times by having such a glowing reputation.  But, all in all, Bessie lives a very exciting life; a life she’d love to share with a man. Alas, she is reconciled to the fact that, that will never happen. So, she goes about living her life as only Bessie Buemiller can.


Thanks for dropping in and we hope you enjoy your journey as you ride along with Deputy Sheriff, Bessie Buemiller, as she and those around her, endure her many ‘Trials and Tribulations’.


The Trials and Tribulations of Bessie Buemiller will be available as an E-Book on Kindle foAmazon, Friday, September 22nd.

If would like to read my writings, including the Geovanni Legends series and the Ivan Bennett of Scotland Yard series, please visit http://jrmartinauthor.com/


When we decide to destroy yesterday, today is in danger of never becoming tomorrow.  

That is a very true and profound statement. When you insist that our statues erected to honor someone,  be done away with because it offends you, you might want to rethink your position. After all some of these people whose statues you want torn down you may share heaven with.

What are you going to do?  Tell God you’re offended?

Those that say The Bible says, ‘do not erect idols,’ do not know their history or their Bible. These statues are not erected as idols to be worshiped. I know of no one in the north or the south that have worshiped Robert E. Lee or Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King, or the Buffalo soldiers.  Not now. Not ever.

First of all, these are not idols, but statues in honor of people who have helped America in some way.  Some will say the Confederates were bad because they had slaves, and others will say that the Yankees were bad because they had slaves.  The slaves the Yanks had were Irish, they really were the first known slaves in America and the Confederates didn’t start the war because they wanted slavery but because they didn’t want to be told what kind of government they should have.  Again, check your history.

It makes me sad when calloused souls, just because they don’t like something, want it done away with.  ‘To Hell with any and all that offends me.’

Well, I say to them, I’m offended when you want our history done away with.  I’m offended when you want Christianity dismissed, I’m offended when you want your way and have no reasoning to consider what other people might want.

I’m offended when our young people in college, who by then should know better, want safe rooms and puppies and blankets to sooth their soft gentle nature.  And I’m really offended when their professors agree with them.

I’m offended when women take to the streets and say they represent me, because they do not.  I’m offended when judges go against the sitting President of the United States.   And I am really offended when Congress blames the President when they are the ones that should be acting concerning the DACA. Congressmen and women who blame others for their mistakes should be kicked out of office.

I’m offended when lobbyist churn and churn and pay and pay our elected officials  in order to get a bill passed, or a product passed or a law passed that benefits, insurance companies, or pharmaceutical companies or other things that affect my life and the lives of those I love.

I’m offended when police officers’ lives are put at risk because some idiots don’t like the law of the land.  I’m offended when riots and rioters take over our highways and protest and blame others if they don’t get what they want. I’m offended when welfare recipients think they deserve more than the rest of us who have worked for years and paid into our government.

I’m offended when you blame the present for the past.  History is full of mistakes.  That’s why they say learn from history so as not to repeat it.  But you want it destroyed because you are so fragile it offends you.  Get over it.  It happened.

And I’m really offended when others, who have been blessed financially, pay these people to protest and these people think so little of their fellow citizens they laugh and do it.

I’m offended when people say Social Security is form of welfare when it is not.  It’s something every American has paid into all their working years in order to have just a little boost when they retire.

I am offended when people talk smack about our President.  I don’t care if you voted for him or not, he was elected.  It’s our job to support him and pray for him, those that are so quick to quote the bible need to remember that.  I believe Jesus said, “render unto Ceaser, that which is Ceaser’s.”

I’m also offended when I hear that we have children and old people right here in the United States who have no food, no medicine  not even a clean bed to sleep in.  Oh, and I’m really offended when I hear that some of our veterans are homeless and hungry.  You do remember the veterans right?  You know the guys and gals who at seventeen and eighteen years old laid their life down for you and me. Now and down through history, you remember history, you that say you don’t need any more history lessons.  But,  if you don’t know these truths then I think you do.

These same young people stormed the beaches of Normandy and by the way, Russia was our ally in that war.  In fact Russia lost more men in World War II than the United States or Britain or France, just in case you’ve forgotten that history lesson.

I’m offended because Native Americans have been forgotten and many of their reservations need water wells.  We don’t have to go to Africa to find folks in need of clean water; we have that right here at home.

I’m offended when foreigners come into my country and tell me what God I’m to worship. Foreigners, who have so little courage that they couldn’t defend their own homeland, but think they need to tell me what to believe and what to think and who to pray too.  I’m a Christian and I’m tired of turning the other cheek. Before you say it, let me answer you.  What would Jesus do?  Well I don’t know,  but tearing up a temple and running the money changers out with a whip  and cursing a fig tree is within the realm of possibilities.

I’m really offended when the sitting politicians and the news media, think the American people are so dumb they believe everything they are told. You know the old saying, ‘ if their lips are moving they are lying.’ Believe me, we’ve seen and heard enough to know that’s true.

I’ll sit down and shut up now, but I won’t forget. 

And I pray, that many more Americans will remember and take a stand for what they know is right and just and not be persuaded to cater to the minority just because they scream louder or have so little respect for themselves or their fellow man, that they accept money to act and behave as they do.

I love America and I’m not ashamed to say so. I pray it remains, ‘One Nation under God.’