Glory
Well, after yesterday's Facebook post, I've gotten some private messages. All were respectful, and most were surprisingly agreeable. But later I had a conversation with my cousin that had my mind spinning all night, and it continued all through my walk this morning to the point that I cut it short to come back and write this. My cousin is a retired Army General. He has been in heavy combat and still deals with the loss of the soldiers under his command during those years. He hadn't read my post (to my knowledge), but he was saying a lot of the same things. We are like two sides of the same coin most of the time and his anger was palpable. "I am mad as hell that dead veterans get a single...
Last Line of Defense
"To think I wasn't even allowed to watch Three's Company." That's the first thing that came to mind when I saw a video, last week, of some school children (the same ages as two of my grandchildren) in the Netherlands. They sat on a stage, and watched, as several people, in various stages of gender transitioning, disrobed. Completely. The "host" then asked questions of the children, as to what they thought about it. It disturbed me so much, I couldn't sleep that night. But it's not the first disturbing thing I've seen with regard to children and the topic of gender. Just like you, I've seen video after video, and article after article, documenting children in attendance at drag shows, and...
Blue Ribbon
I saw this group of words on a Facebook post and felt compelled to write a short story using all of them. Following is the result. 😉 It happened every year. Old Bess McGillicuddy, known for her extraordinary pumpernickel bread, had to resort to covert tactics to gather the closely-held list of ingredients for her secret concoction, as she readied the perfect loaf for her annual entry in the county fair. Why covert? Because that old codger, Ned Jenkins, fancied himself a baker, too. Ever since his wife, Periwinkle, had died, years ago, God rest her soul, he’d taken to shenanigans in the kitchen - tomfoolery of the highest order, to Bess’s mind. When she’d won the blue ribbon for her bread,...
Rights
I love animals. There's something about their complete dependence on and devotion to us that just does me in. I mean, I can't even watch one of those Sarah McLachlan commercials. I have to turn the channel, as that level of horror against something so innocent and vulnerable is unconscionable to me. And the ones who are just left to die? Honestly, only 63 cents a day to support them?? Where do I send my check, Sarah? I'm glad there are some protections for them. Did you know that 46 out of 50 states have enacted laws against extreme forms of animal cruelty that carry a felony penalty? Rights for these sweet animals has come enough to the forefront that, now, even minor forms of cruelty are...
Merry Christmas 2018
Along with millions around the world, I suspect, I watched as the flag-draped casket of former President George H.W. Bush was ceremoniously, and reverently, carried into the National Cathedral. As each of the eulogists spoke, I listened, eyes glistening, as they recounted the ways he had touched them, encouraged them, and left positive, indelible fingerprints on a global scale. I know this is a strange way to begin a Christmas letter, but it got me thinking about the fingerprints left on my own life, and those I’m touching with my own. Memories come easily at this time of year, don’t they? Like a Christmas stage continually set, my mind can immediately return to visit the beloved...