Old Sew and Sew

 Old Sew and Sew

I was watching a television program where two veterinarians were doing an operation sewing up the incision and when they were finished, one vet asked the other whether she remembered the first time she did surgery. Her answer was, “Yes, and I felt so nervous and shaky.”

I tried to think of the first time I ever had to suture a laceration shut as a Corpsman in the United States Navy, but I couldn’t. I had no recollection of the wound that needed to be closed. I do know that suturing was one aspect that I really enjoyed doing and one thing that I was unable to do as a nurse. Each laceration was a challenge. Each wound required me to think of the best way to repair it and sew it closed.

Was it a deep wound that required several layers of suturing? Was there any skin or muscle missing? What was the age of the person? Did the wound need extensive cleaning? Were there any skin tabs that needed to be trimmed to make a smooth closure? What kind of suture material did I need? Would I need help?

In the emergency department at the Naval Training Center in Orlando, Florida there was always a physician on duty who often checked the wound before the repair and after to insure that proper procedures were followed and the wound was closed correctly. The only time the physician was required to do the repair was when it was on the face or hand of a woman for cosmetic reasons.

Often physicians would use a “papoose board” to restrain youngsters while they sutured them. It was a flat board with adjustable straps to keep the child from moving during the procedure. Many times I was able to talk tp and explain what was going to happen and I didn’t have to fasten the kid down. I enjoyed that.

One case I can remember that was too severe for me and I was not comfortable to handle was a long deep cut. A man tried to jump over a hurricane fence and the sharp twisted top made a deep gash in his forearm. I didn’t want to attempt it. I could see the man’s bone. I asked the emergency room doctor to have a look at it. He smugly said, “Finally found one you couldn’t handle?”

When I lifted the bandage, he said, “Put a moist dressing on it and call the surgeon on call.” I felt vindicated.

Noses

 Noses

I was watching one of the wilderness television programs from the Arctic and the captioning for the different characters would display across the television screen the locations of their homes, Kiwalik, Eagle, Huslia, Brushkana, Nenana, etc. But it also gave reference of their homes to the Arctic Circle, So many miles above or below the Circle. It caused me to think of the year that I was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland as a corpsman in the Naval Hospital there.

Keflavik is located 63.9998 degrees north and 22.5583 degrees west between the North Atlantic Ocean and the Norwegian Sea. The currant of the Gulf Stream wends its way north becoming the North Atlantic Current. Because of this anomaly Iceland is much warmer than its location or name would suggest. Winter’s average temperature is 32 degrees Fahrenheit and summer’s average 55 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit in southern Iceland.

I know someone is asking by now where the “Nose” title comes into the story. No, the people of Iceland are not Eskimo and don’t rub noses, but travelers who cross the Arctic Circle above the northeernmost part of the island can earn the title of “blue nose” in the Navy. I’m not sure if the same holds true to the other branches of the military.

I was blessed enough to have been friends with a doctor who wanted to gain hours to earn his commercial pilot’s license. Several other corpsmen and I wanted to see more of Iceland and the doctor was willing to fly us for free if we paid for the plane’s rental costs. It was a small plane and if I remember correctly, it carried 4 people, 3 passengers and the pilot. We puddle jumped to many places on the island, flying over huge waterfalls and glaciers. To the south we flew to the volcanic island of Surtsey. The doctor even enticed us to fly with him to Akueryi at the northern tip of Iceland. The trip up was great and so we could win the “Blue Nose” certificate, he flew over the island of Grimsey. He decided not to attempt a landing because of the huge number of birds. One hit from a bird in a light plane and we’d all have been swimming in the frigid waters of the Greenland Sea.

Our return to Keflavik was a bit scary. Clouds rolled in thick and low enough to limit our visual flight. The doctor was learning the controls each time he flew. Several times we flew low enough to follow a road below us. He knew we were heading south and knew the road would eventually lead us to habitation. We made it back safely, but politely refused to fly to Scotland when he suggested that.

Any Boddy Wanna Play

 

Any Boddy Wanna Play

Friday evening I had a very pleasant time. I was able to attend my granddaughter Hannah Yoder’s high school play. It was a presentation of a plot written on the basic guidelines of the Clue Game. The concept of the game was to figure out which character committed a murder, where it occurred, and what was the weapon that was used. The weapons for a character to choose from were a revolver, a wrench, a lead pipe, a rope, a candlestick, and a dagger. The room choices in the Boddy Mansion included the hall, the lounge, the dining room, the kitchen, the ballroom, the conservatory, the billiard room, the library, and the study. Finally there was the cast of characters, Mrs. Peacock, Colonel Mustard, Miss Scarlet, Mrs White, Mr. Green, the butler, Yvette, and Mr. Boddy himself. There waas another host of other minor players to expand the actors to fill the stage with other caretaking jobs.

The stage props were limited to six labeled doors and the wide double doors to the mansion’s entrance. By shuffling the different doors and with a minimum of other items, the stage was set for the players to weave the mystery of who-done-it and where, when, and what weapon was used.

My granddaughter Hannah played the part of a plump German cook who was the first to die. She fell onto the stage with a dagger protruding from her back. Initially introduced, she stepped into the play banging a loud gong and announcing that “Dinner vas being serffed.” She made her rounds ladling soup ito the characters gathered around the dining table. The audience was fed more information about each actor as they ate. Hannah appeared in several other scenes, limp but staying dead as the various actors tried to disguise her “lifeless” form.

The mystery deepened as a rain storm roared in the background. It washed out the bridge to the mansion trapping these “innocent’ people inside the Boddy mansion with a murderer. The interplay of characters, while sorting out the guilty party, was filled with comedic lines. The dialogue and actions slowly revealed the reasons as to why these people were chosen to be brought to the mansion. The web that was being spun to hide their guilt was the binding theme of the plot to circle tighter and tighter until their individual sins were revealed.

Shopping Etiquette

                Shopping Etiquette                                                

My mom, Sybil Miner Beck was a fun-loving but firm mother in many ways.  I was reminded of a Facebook incident that was posted about shoppers. A video of a boy who looked about five or six years old continued to ram a mini-shopping cart into the person in front of the boy and his mom. The man was assaulted several times. He tried to push the cart and the child away with gentle shoves and redirections, but the child returned and continued to use his cart battering ram. Meanwhile the mother was seemingly unconcerned and repeatedly allowed the kid to push the cart into the man.

Finally the man had reached his limit. He reached into the child’s cart and removed a small carton of milk, then opened and dumped the contents onto the boy’s upturned face. The smile disappeared and so did the child. The mother apparently insulted by the male shopper’s lack of decorum grabbed her child’s hand and left the area.

My mother would never have permitted it to go that far. The incident that I was reminded of was shopping at a local grocery store. My brother Ken was pushing the cart. It was something that he liked to do when mom allowed it. I think he got bored because it was a larger store and Mom had a long list. He began to drive the cart from side to side in the aisle instead of driving in a straight line.

Soon that wasn’t enough and he looked for other ways to amuse himself. He settled on lagging behind, then charging ahead. At the last moment, he would leap into the air and slam his both of his feet onto the buggy’s back two wheels laying long black rubber wheel tracks on the floor. Mom didn’t notice what was happening until she turned to put something into the cart and caught him in the act. When she looked behind, she saw that the entire aisle had a trail of black streaks where Ken and the cart had been.

She took control of the cart and warned Ken, “If you ever do that again young man, I will march you up to the manager and you will clean the floors for him. Someone has to clean the floors at night and you are making his job harder.”

That put a stop to Ken the grocery cart drag racer. Although when Ken grew older, he did drag race in a souped up 1972 Dodge Demon. It was black with two white racing stripes from the air scooped hood across the top and back down the trunk. I teased him saying it looked like a skunk to me.

Loco Motives

 Loco Motives

My earliest recollection of riding a train was in Kiddie Land, a part of the Amusement park called Idlewild, near Ligonier, Pennsylvania. Several child sized passenger cars followed an electric version of a red and silver diesel engine that ran on a circular track. Kids were placed single file in the open air passenger cars for the short trip. It was one of the many kid enticing rides of Kiddie Land.

My next memory was of a trip, an actual excursion on board a real train. The engine was a huge black B & O locomotive. I was in the first grade of elementary school and it was our field trip. We were bused to Connellsville, Pennsylvania to begin our journey. I can remember how massive the cars seemed. The porter was there to help us board. Eager faces of my classmates soon were pressed against windows and the hiss of the engine became louder with the whistle announcing that we were off. Views of the water and rocks of the Youghiogheny River, trees, and hills sped past us until we reached our destination in Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania. There was no tour of the waterfalls. There were far too many kids for the teacher to keep track of. We were hustled into a waiting school bus and shuttled back to school.

The next trip on a train was in Elkins West Virginia. A travel companion and I decided to escape for a mini-vacation. We stayed in a motel over night to limit the stress on our aging bodies. The tour was a six hour trip to Spruce, West Virginia. Spruce is a ghost town. The buildings of this old lumber town were razed long ago, but placards explained the businesses and locations. It was a pleasant train ride that had several interesting stops along the way to Spruce.

With the latest train ride I was able to eliminate an item from my bucket list. I was able to enjoy another train ride, but the difference was it was riding first class with meals and snacks served in the dining car. The Potomac Eagle left the town of Romney, West Virginia. The route followed the South Branch of the Potomac River. The tour director shared a wealth of information of historic homes and sites along the trail. The engineer stopped to allow passengers to ride in a gondola car to view a stretch of the river where bald eagles nest. I wasn’t disappointed and we saw several. 

The meals, snacks, and service were great. It was a truly memorable way to cross off another item from my bucket list.

Autumn Hunting Season

 Autumn Hunting Season

The Hunter's Moon is the full moon that follows the Harvest Moon, traditionally it occurs in the month of October. Its name comes from its historical use to provide extra light for hunters to track and kill game for the coming winter. This moon is also known for rising soon after sunset for several nights in a row, giving the impression of more consistent moonlight, and can sometimes be called the "sanguine moon" or "blood moon" (though this is different from a blood moon caused by a lunar eclipse). The name is rooted in the need for extra light to hunt animals that had "fatted up" during the summer so that their meat could be preserved for the winter. Native American tribes and other cultures used the full moon cycle as a calendar for important events like planting and harvesting. Another name for the Hunter's Moon is the "drying rice moon." 

It’s been a tradition for men (and sometimes women) to have the first day off for the deer hunting season as a legitimate, excused day off from school to go hunting with others in their family in an attempt to secure food for the winter larders. The tradition was the “coming-of-age” for many young boys and if the youngster was able to kill a deer, it was his initiation into manhood.

Pennsylvania deer hunting requires a general hunting license and the possibility of an antlerless deer license with specific seasons for each and regulations that include wearing of fluorescent orange. The 2025-26 season dates vary by weapon and location, and hunters should be aware of the requirements for hunting in state parks and state forests. Key requirements for all hunters are a valid license, fluorescent orange gear during specific seasons, and adherence to the one-antlered-deer-per-year limit.

Deerhaus

12 ounce ground deer liver 16 ounce deer meat 12 ounce bacon 2 ¼ quart water

2 tablespoon coarse black pepper 1 1/3 tablespoon salt 3 cups cornmeal

Mix deer liver, deer meat, bacon, and water. Cook until well done. Add the black pepper and salt. Brain the meat off. Slowly stir the cornmeal into the broth. When done cooking, add meat back in and cook until very thick. Stir while cooking. Pour into bread pans. Good warm or cold. Best browned in skillet on both sides.

Deer Jerky

½ cup soy sauce ½ Worcestershire sauce 1 tsp accent 2 tsp seasoned salt

1/3 tsp garlic powder 2/3 tsp black pepper liquid smoke few drops

Stir mixture well. Slice deer meat very thin and marinate in mixture overnight. Use dehydrator or oven to dry meat. (Above recipes are available in CRHS cook book)

Seasons Pass

Seasons Pass 

The Chair

The old man sits in a chair by the door

waiting for someone who's been there before.

His skin is as thin as rice paper page,

drooping face speckled with spots of his age.

Drowsy head bobbing with white hair askew,

as light leaves the sky and lawn fills with dew

No headlights appear and shaking his head

Weary he rises and shuffles to bed

The old man sits by the door in a chair

no children or friends come visit him there.

Stirring as thoughts of them surface and rise.

With muscles twitching he opens his eyes,

through rheumy lenses and limited view

he sees youth passing, amazed how time flew.

The door remains closed, sealed tightly with rust.

The chair's now empty, filled only with dust.

The Sink Window

The old woman stands and leans on the sink,

she stares through windows to look and to think

Her steps now falter on knees filled with pain.

Wistfully her eyes stare down the long lane.

Wrinkles map her face. Age spots back her hands

wearying quickly from daily demands

No family’s seen, she turns and shakes her head,

closing the curtains she hobbles to bed.

The old woman wakes and on the sink leans,

her body is bent, face lined with ravines.

She stares at her hands, once supple and sure,

resting on the sink, misshapen and sore. 

Puckered lips sag into a toothless frown.

Her youth’s flown away and her clock’s wound down.

The curtains are closed as stray breezes sigh,

The windows are dark. The sink is now dry.

Dungaree Do No Longer

 Dungaree Do No Longer

With Veteran’s Day so recently passed, my thoughts have been channeled along a military path. For me that opens an entire rabbit warren and not just down a single rabbit hole. I first recalled those in my family who served in the military: several of my uncles, my brother-in-laws, my father-in-law, and my dad E. Carl Beck as well as myself. Even though not actually military I thought of my mother-in-law Retha Johnson Morrison who worked in Washington D.C. as a secretary for the FBI during WWII.

My thoughts wandered into all parts of the world where they have served Canada, Europe, Asia, the United States, and Iceland. Once my mind completed the world tour I began to think about the uniforms that the military has worn: the dress blues, the dress whites, the fatigues, the khaki browns, and the olive drabs in plain colored cloth and in camouflage patterns. The designs were created to blend in with the area that the soldier or sailor was deployed. I guess that is no surprise that the military should be less of a target in hostile territories. They would be less noticeable.

In my intellectual wanderings I found out a fact that had escaped me until now…The United States Navy’s dungarees were retired. Because I am no longer active duty nor do I have any recent interactions or knowledge of any active duty Navy personnel, I just found out that the Navy no longer uses the work clothing called dungarees. The pale washed out looking button down shirt and the bell-bottom denim pants have been retired since 1999, which is just over 25 years. I’d been oblivious to that fact. Wow, time certainly flies and I found that I’m really behind in what’s happening, at least the small details.

Because the dungarees were the naval work uniforms, I would have not been aware of their retirement, because I wouldn’t have been in areas where the dungarees would have been worn. The Navy stopped issuing the dungarees in favor of fatigues. I guess it does make sense. If the military can purchase items in larger quantities, the price per unit should drop although it does sadden me to think a little more of me have become antiquated and my memories have been retired. They are kept alive on the pages of history books where they collect dust and cobwebs..

Light in the Darkness

 Light in the Darkness

The world around us is becoming more confused and dangerous. In many cities a person takes his life into his own hands if he ventures out on the street, drives on a roadway, rides a subway, or goes shopping. Even when a person stays at home he isn’t safe from invasion and assault. The world is becoming increasingly corrupt. It’s becoming a place where good is branded as evil and evil is accepted as something good to embrace. The morals upon which our country was founded are being shifted and fading. Laws that once protected citizens and their rights are consistently being weakened or totally disregarded. Lawyers and judges are twisting our laws that the rules that once guarded the innocent citizen now offer more protection for the criminal than to the victim. The truths of the Bible upon which our justice system was based and our Constitution was established are openly being disregarded as wickedness is audaciously being accepted and entrenched.

One thing remains constant; a light shines brighter as darkness grows stronger. Some men hide in the darkness hoping their sins won’t be found out, that their evil deeds won’t be exposed, and they will escape punishment for their criminal acts. They will be judged; if not here on earth, then at the Great White Throne of Judgment. Although man tries to legislate morality, the sinful human nature will do everything it can to avoid the wages of their criminal deeds. They will use every trick and every subtle means to escape the responsibility of their acts. Civilization seems to be crumbling all around us. Anarchy and self aggrandizement seems to be flourishing.

The Bible says that the evil will only get worse, but do not be discouraged or lose hope. For those who believe on Christ, hope shines brightly. Our joy and our peace cannot be dimmed by a world in which Satan seems to gain more power. Our hope is in God the Father through His Son Jesus Christ and He is the constant that guides us as we walk in the darkness. Our victory over Satan has been prophesied and sure. So no matter how dark and cruel this world becomes believers have the answer and the surety of the God’s redemptive promise. We understand that darkness is the absence of light. Jesus is the light of the world and as long as we allow that lamp to shine through us, we can be the reason for others to have hope. Keep your wick trimmed, your reservoir of oil filled, do not hide that light under a basket. Share God’s love and His gift of salvation with a dark world.

Marines: Semper Fi, Corpsmen Always Sly

 At the Veteran's Day program at the Mt. Carmel Christian School yesterday, I met a young man who was clad in Marine dress blues. He was still serving. I told him that I had been a corpsman in the U. S. Navy. He said that corpsmen were his favorite people. I told him I had several interesting stories in my blog. I thought I'd share this one to entice him to read and share my blog with others.

Marines: Semper Fi, Corpsmen Always Sly

I recall several incidents where Marines and Navy Corpsmen met; not all of them were mutually supportive of each other. Although many Naval Corpsmen were cross trained to accompany Marines in the field, they didn’t always see eye to eye. One of my friends was a prime example. His name isn’t necessary at the moment, but at one time he had a definite Hippie type personality, caught in Uncle Sam’s military machine. He preferred the feel of sandals on his feet, puka shell bead necklace around his neck, and when he talked about a joint in his hand, he wasn’t talking about a knuckle bone.

Who says that the U.S. government doesn’t have a sense of humor? The fickle finger pointed at him, sending him to Field Medical School and then assigned him to a Marine company. This occurred during the Vietnam War when the feeling between Hippies and the Marines weren’t at their best. I wrote my friend a letter and accidentally included his middle name Felix. He wrote back saying it wasn’t hard enough being with these gung-ho meatheads and now they had his middle name to harass him. Sorry man.

Another tale of crosscurrents between Marines and Corpsmen happened while I was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland. The Marines guarded the base while the corpsmen handled the hospital and ambulance needs. There were times when they would mix at the enlisted men’s clubs to eat, drink, and gamble. One challenge that often occurred was a drinking game. A tab would be opened at the bar with the loser responsible for the bill. Beers would appear and disappear until one or the other of the contestants would allow his beers to reappear. They would take turns fetching the drinks from the bar. When the corpsman had his fill, he would pour ipecac syrup into the Marine’s beer. Ipecac is an emetic agent that induces vomiting. By then, the Marine’s taste buds were dulled and he didn’t notice the flavor change. Corpsmen rarely had to pay the tab. As a teetotaler, I was only a casual observer.

One good story shared with me happened while I was in Orlando, Florida. I was caring for a corpsman who’d been injured in Vietnam. He stepped on a land mine and had chunks from his buttocks and one calf missing. He said the Marines asked a Seabee bulldozer operator to clear a path across a field. The Seabee refused and the corpsman was the one who’d found the buried mine. Only by throwing himself forward was he able to escape death. He said that the Seabee later had fallen to friendly fire. Nobody messes with the Marines’ corpsmen.

Veterans, the Foundation of Our Liberty and Freedom

 Veterans, the Foundation of Our Liberty and Freedom

Today I will attend the Veteran’s Day celebration at Mt. Carmel Christian School. The younger children from the elementary classes usually share memorized patriotic recitations and songs. The older students, clad in uniforms from the different branches of the military will share excerpts of letters from military men and women who sent back the thoughts and feelings of their trials and tribulations from the battles in which they were embroiled. Letters to wives, children, and parents give a small picture of what they’ve endured and experienced to keep all Americans and their loved ones safe and secure.

The ceremony always begins with a prayer and a parade of military flags: the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the Coast Guard, and the Marines. Each banner will be solemnly and proudly carried down the central aisle to a place of honor at the side of the dais by students wearing donated uniforms of veterans that reflect the branch of service that the flag they bear.

The entire process of the celebration is solemn and dignified. It is centered and dedicated to the men and women who have sacrificed their time, their lives, and their limbs to protect all Americans.

I already know that there will be times that I will find a lump in my throat and will be unable to complete some stanzas of the several patriotic songs. A roll call of each veteran present will be made having each veteran stand to be recognized as their name, number of years they served, and the branch of the service is announced. Elsewhere, the respect for our American veterans is being taken lightly with so little regard for their sacrifice.

After the ceremony has concluded, a meal will be served for everyone who attends. It’s a full meal with delicious pies and cupcakes for dessert. It is a blessing that the students, teachers, and staff of Mt. Carmel Christian School are continuing this tradition to honor our veterans.

Somehow in the past my mind was drawn by thoughts of the veterans from WW II for Veteran’s Day. It could be that my dad and father-in-law fought in WWII, but as I reviewed the past Veteran Day celebrations, I understood there were veterans from many other wars; the French and Indian Wars, the Revolutionary War, to the Alamo, WW I, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, the Civil War, and men of this caliber who are still serving in wars even today May God bless our Veterans and thank you to the Mt. Carmel students and staff.

Remarkable

 Remarkable

It has been fascinating to watch the skies at sunrise, sunset, and the hours in between. I have been drawn upward by the sun, clouds, moon and stars. I can be enticed even on the days when the sun refuses to shine and the vast panorama of clouds seethe and churn darkly. Occasionally the clouds are charged with twists of lightning and stirred by the deep rumbles of thunder. Sometimes the ground shakes beneath my feet as the lightning flashes are close causing the earth to quiver responding to the roar of thunder..

Sometimes the clouds are only a misty veil. It stirs, just thick enough to play a game of hide-n-seek with distant mountain tops. Sometimes the clouds sag low wrapping the trees and bushes with a damp blanket of fog yo cover the ground with a thick blanket of cotton. When the cloud is rolled away, the grass is covered with dew tat sparkles as the sun or moon rises.

The moon appears as a celestial orb, full faced and bright or as thin slices. The night shaves away slivers of light to make sickles of light. The moon becomes the smile of the Cheshire cat or fishhooks that snag stars from the dark night sky. Slowly the stars fade as the night ends and the sun begins to rise. This is where another remarkable fantasy begins. The sun’s rays pierce the darkness and dance on the passing clouds. Pale yellow light cuddles with the surface of the clouds. The light intensifies, turning the rosy glow into colors of glorious orange-gold or into a blazing hot red hue. Then the sun itself rises. It shows its brilliant face above the horizon and the clouds reclaim their virginity, white and pure.

The clouds scurry across the sky pushed by prevailing breeze. The sky’s color may vary from a pale milky blue to a deep azure blue. The wind swirl the clouds like creamer in a cup of coffee. The sun continues its journey overhead. Its path marked by shadows that the light paints on the earth beneath. Hour by hour shadows lengthen as it nears the end of the day and the time for the sun to put on its pajamas and go to sleep. The sun leaves goodbye kisses on the clouds to create fantastic scenes of light and as it settles in for the night. The sunset colors rival the morning’s sunrise, but in reverse. As the light lessens and the sun finally slips below the horizon, I sometimes think that we are looking at the underside of heaven, what will our actual view of heaven be like. It’s too grand for me to imagine. Remarkable.

Thankful for Thanksgiving

 Thankful for Thanksgiving

During the French and Indian War, the area known today as the “Point” was a critical military stronghold due to its strategic location at the Forks of the Ohio River. By 1758, the French controlled Fort Duquesne after thwarting several attacks by the British.

Despite their victories, the French knew British forces would eventually return with a larger army, so they decided to strategically destroy Fort Duquesne by setting fire to it and fleeing before British Gen. John Forbes arrived to capture the site in November 1758.

Following the capture of Fort Duquesne, Forbes declared the following Sunday -Nov. 26, 1758 -“a day of public thanksgiving.”

Rev. Charles Beatty conducted the first Thanksgiving service in Pittsburgh. Nearly 5,000 soldiers, including Gen. George Washington, attended the sermon. Far from a turkey-filled feast, Beatty’s sermon served as the highlight of Pittsburgh’s first Thanksgiving due to the More than 40 years later, during his first year as president of the United States, Washington designated Nov. 26, 1789, as a day of thanksgiving and prayer.

It wasn’t until Oct. 3, 1863 — three months after the Battle of Gettysburg claimed 50,000 lives during the Civil War — that President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed Thanksgiving Day a national holiday.

We are quickly approaching the holiday of Thanksgiving season. Many American citizens have almost forgotten it and eliminated it from their calendars. If it wasn’t for many companies giving the employees a paid day off, it would be less remembered than it is. The commercialism of Halloween and Christmas has almost pushed aside this time for us to be grateful. Less money can be garnered from this holiday than the others, so stores promote it less.

We live in a country where we should be thankful for each freedom that we have. No matter how little we feel we have, we are so much better off than much of the world. Countries where they aren’t free, the people are near starvation, and they would consider having food at mealtimes a luxury. Shoes and clothing makes them rich, even having clean water at their fingertips and not having to carry it for miles after scooping it from dirty rivers and streams. We are blessed that we were born in the United States of America. Our hearts desire should be thankful a joyful expression for each blessing that we have.