Are We Thabkful

 Are We Thankful
As the holiday of Thanksgiving grows closer, do we actually take the time to be really thankful for what we have? Most of us have so much to be thankful for and yet are the least thankful people in the world. Being born in the United States alone is one of the greatest blessings that can be imagined. The goodness of that fact is often lost in the everyday worries and chores that we have taken on with family and jobs. The fact that we have employment is something to be thankful for; too many people around the world do not have that option.
When we wnter and walk down the aisles of our local grocery stores we are surrounded by the blessings fill the shelves in a vast cornicopia. We have a wide variety of items from which to choose. Look at just one item bread. How many brands and how many flavors do we see? Are we thankful for our daily bread? We don’t have to eat our bread dry and plain. In one aisle away there are jars of jams, jellies, honey, peanut butters, and nearby there is butter, cheeses, lunch meats, and condiments, and in the condiments there are different brans of mustard, ketchup, or mayonnaise.
In the dairy case, how many sizes and types of milk can we find? They are making “milk” out of nuts and grains; crazy. And we haven’t gotten to the frozen sections of the store. There is everything in those ice caverns from entrees for dinner and breakfast to a huge selection of desserts and ice cream. There are snacks galore behind those wide glass doors.
When we stroll through the fresh fruit and vegetable displays, many people in other countries would not believe the selections of fresh products that are available to Americans. To some it would be like entering Disneyland where there eyes would be wide with disbelief and wonder. I havent shared the meat counters, the deli, or the candy and confection aisles. What about the crackers, cookies, and chip aisle with their shelves brimming with all sorts of tasty goodies?
We must not forget the paper product aisle. The selection of toilet paper staggers the mind, then there are napkins, paper or Styrofoam plates, plastic eating untesils so we can use them and toss them away. There is no need to wash and reuse.
Reach beyond being thankful and be grateful for all that we have.

Sunrise Sunset

Sunrise Sunset
Sunrise, Sunset. Sunrise, Sunset... Swiftly go the days. These are lines from the movie and play “Fiddler on the Roof.” To the east and to the west of my house, recently there has been many remarkable and astonishing sunrises and sunsets. The sky has been vividly painted with dramatic patterns and colors. The very clouds seem to have been set on fire and allowed to smolder, the coals seem alive with an intense burning appearance. If this represents the underside of heaven, I can’t imagine what the streets of heaven and heavenly mansions will be like.
I recentlyy read an article talking about the different gem stones that are mentioned in the Bible which God used to build those heavenly mansions. When scientists exposed those gems to pure light, they shine in beautiful rainbows while the diamonds and rubies not mentioned in the Word of God take on a black appearance. The Bible says that there will be no sun or moons. There will be no need them because of the radiance of God.
Gold will pave the heavenly streets. The things people covet while living here on earth will be so common that gold will be treated as if it is tar and gravel chips. The one thing we can be sure of is that there will be no potholes on those heavenly avenuesand there will be no need of PennDot to repair them.
There is one thing that I don’t understand and that is how the gold can be transparent. There is no darkness in heaven. How can light pass through the gold, because there can be no shadows. I guess that is one question among the many that I have to be answered. I’ll have to wait until I get there to see.
Most people are fearful of dying. I’m not anxious to step into the great beyond, but I can look forward to the time when time, tears, pain, sadness, hate, envy, hunger, thirst, jealousy, and the other evils of this world have disappeared, never to be seen, tasted, or felt ever again. We will be clothed in righteousness and have gained a perfect body. No diseases will be able to attack us. There will be no cancer and illnesses will no longer be a part of our vocabulary.
We shall have an eternity to live with God in those heavenlty mansions. The passage of time will be nonexistant. We won’t feel the wearing of years through the ages. There will no longer be the fear of death or the sting of the grave. Jesus has paid our entrance fee into heaven with His own blood.

Will My VOice Be Heard

 Will My Voice Be Heard?

Looking back to three years ago and recalling a trip to California, Yes OUR voices were heard. Thank you for listening and speaking out with your votes this year.
    When my friend and I visited her aunt near Sacramento, California, we wore our Trump hats and shirts. My friend’s aunt wore the Trump hat and shirt we’d brought her as a thank you gift for allowing us to stay at her home and as her birthday gift. I was pleasantly surprised about two things. One was that there was so much support for President Donald Trump. Almost everywhere we went from Lake Tahoe, to San Francisco, to Big Trees Park with giant sequoias, we were greeted pleasantly and enthusiastically. There were a few rude confrontational people who fussed about our garb. One was at Lake Tahoe where a man became agitated and tried to shame me. He became almost livid when I said I wouldn’t vote for a man with dementia.
    Another was in downtown San Francisco. A man was about to close the passenger door of the car with a cup of coffee on the roof. I mentioned it. When he climbed out to retrieve it, he turned to face and probably thank me, then recognized what I was wearing. Without a word, he climbed back into the car and sped off after the radio began to blast music, “F___ Trump.”
    I saw many friendly faces. One was a Navy Seal who said, “I’ll watch your back “as we strolled in the crowds.” It helped that it was earlier in the day. Many of those who “protest” and riot were probably still in bed where they couldn’t hide in the darkness.
    In San Francisco, we gave a man a Gospel tract. He said he’d tried several other religions before becoming a Christian. His job required him to drive through cities along the West Coast. He also said southern Oregon boasted a forest of Trump campaign yard signs.
    This past Monday, I was to gather my friend at car dealership. Her truck needed service. As I waited, I spoke with a gentleman who traveled along the East Coast for his job. He said as he drove up a ramp into New York City, he saw a building with a row of flagpoles on top. American flags alternated with Trump flags in downtown New York. He shared that he was quite surprised at the sight.
    Are we being lied to by the media and their pollsters? After their embarrassing misjudgment supporting Hillary Clinton, there is only one way to stop their power of misrepresentation of facts and that is to prove their ideals and attempts to direct Americans to swallow their lies as truth and that is to VOTE for Trump and have him win by an undeniable landslide.

Grave Tidings

 Grave Tidings

As expressive as the grave
and as stoic as a tomb,
eye sockets deep as a cave
cadaverous, gaunt and spare
seeking someone I assume
as he silently stands there.

Once in his youth he had smiled.
Once in his life he had joy,
but then he had been a child.
Life then he could understand
when he was only a boy
his world was held in his hand.

His clothing, dark and threadbare
his hat is tattered and worn.
A face mapped with lines of care,
he kneels at the black head stone
it is the right time to mourn.
Now he’s totally alone.

Alone, a terrible word.
Barren, abandoned, bereft
drawn to the place she’s stored.
Now that the life’s time is spent.
Tears for the ones who are left
when life has folded its tent.

Learning English

 Learning English
I am always surprised to see the number of people who live in other countries and visit my blog. It’s amazing to think that I started writing and posting so my children will have insight into my life and to the stories of my ancesters should they want to know about them. I know that I am saddened at the number of times I didn’t listen to my parents sharing stories of their family. I was just a stupid child and by not etching those memories into my mind are now lost forever. I very much regret the lost opportunities that I squandered because I was too busy and distracted by other fleeting things.
It was easy for me to learn the American English language. It was my parents' and grandparents’ native tongue. I’ve heard it from my infancy to the present date. I was taught it in school; how to spell it, how to write it, and how to speak it. English was necessary for me to go to college and in my career as a nurse. As I aged and slang words became part of the English language, I was there to add it. I’m not up to date on the computer slang or the newest generation’s jargon, but for the most part I can understand what is going on around me.
My punctuation is sometimes incorrect, but most often my spelling and my grammar is correct. I’ve told some of my readers who are from other areas and countries of the world, “if they want to learn American English, then become a reader of my blog. I don’t charge money to tutor those wishing to learn English and it will help them learn syntax, grammer, and word usage.
My writing and thoughts are spread over many subjects from things that happened in the past to things that are happening now. I began writing this blog to pass on memories of my grandparents, parents, and me on to my children. I wanted those memories to be available for my progeny, friends, and readers.
I want to thank those who read what I write. It is mutually beneficial. I make no money from these posts, but I covet readers. Those who read get entertained, they might delve into my warped mind, and those where English is not their mother tongue will get practice using everyday American English.
You are welcome to share this blog with others who might find it beneficial to learn English. The more readers I have, the happier I am. So make an old man ecstatic. Thank you for sharing my posts.

Slip SLidin' Away

 Slip Slidin’ Away
Sliding boards were fixtures in the playgrounds of my youth. Schools and parks had sliding boards, see saws, swings, “monkey bars,” and the “roundabouts’ or merry-go-rounds. These weren’t the rubber covered, plastic playground items like the playrrounds today. These were monsterous, man-made objects with metal-pipe bones, rusty-chain sinews, sawdust blood, and concrete pads for feet. There were no safety rails for climbing up to the top of the eight foor tall or taller metal sliding boards. The exposed metal sun baked in the midday sun waiting to roast any bare flesh that dared to use it.
If someone would jump off the seesaw, the other end would plummet hitting the ground so hard teeth would clatter shut. The “monkey-bar,” jungle gym rose from the playground like a skeleton of a naked high-rise apartment building. Often the rungs were wet with dew or rain allowing fingers to lose their grip and kids drop onto the hard earth below or riccochet off another iron pipe. Fingers would often be pinched in the rusty chains of the swing, tempting fate with the possibility of incurring the disease of lock-jaw or tetanus. And I havent mentioned the merry-go-round yet. There was nothing merry about that spinning disc of death. That spinning saucer was a risk everytime a kid climbed aboard when there was another “friend” there. That friewnd would do their best to spin the thing as fast as possible hoping that someone would fly off to their death or become dizzy and vomit. Aw yes, the wonderful playgrounds of my childhood. They were definitely not OSHA approved.
My first slidingboard memory was one on the playground in Sheridan, Illinois at the park of my Uncle Fred and Aunt Cora Miner Hyatt’s home. That metal monster seemed to be at least ten feet tall, but it did have metal handrails to assist the climber to the top. The flat metal slide would clutch at bare legs and arms, giving brush-burns to any unwary child.
There were other slides that I lubricated with sheets of waxed paper. The waxed paper minimized the drag and sped up the descent. The last slide I rode was the double humped metal camel at Mammoth Park, Pennsylvania. This beast was about one hundred feet long with a man-made bump near the middle. The steep descent would cause the rider to often lift into the air as he or she hurtled down the metal chute. The rider would shoot off the end of the slide into a muddy landing that could injure legs, arms, or butts. This amusement wasn’t for the fainthearted, but for youthful daredevils.

Prayers to Repair the Tears in the Fabric of the United States

 Prayers to Repair the Tears in the Fabric of the United States
There has been a lot of mud slinging and outright lies being hurled about one particular Presidential candidate and I am praying that cooler heads will prevail and the flames of discontent and disappointment will not be fanned by malcontents in Hollywood and in the media. Much of the derisiveness has been caused by the Left leaning populous. The assault on others that express their concern for the United States have been threatened and assaulted, in restaurants, in the streets, and there have been attempts to silence their freedom of speech the constant cry of “that offends me” has filled our eears, our work places and everyday life.
I pray this constant of assaults on the garenteed freedoms clearly defined in the Constitution of the United States will be silenced. I pray the wounds and sores caused by the constant friction between the Libeals and Conservatives can be heals. I pray that the tears in the fabric of unity can be repaired and that the ability to coexist can be instituted.
This election campaign has been ugly with the word s Nazi, dictator, and the name of Hitler have been often carelessly used. The saddest thing is the horrors that were once attrached to those terms has been cheapened and has lost the actual facts of history. The abject brutality of those terms is being lost in the battle of words. The potency of the real Holocaust is being diluted and forgotten.
It is hard to overlook the freguent use of those terms when the people who were once admired for their reporting of facts are now being told to recite and share the ideations of their owners in television, radio, and other media. In Russia the state controlled newspaper Pravda is mostly propoganda. Pravda means Truth and the Russian people often ask is it Truth or is it the truth?
Please join me in prayer that the rift caused by this election can be repaired and heal our great nation. Let the rancor that has been instigated by the misinformation be resolved and that the love of families and friends might be restored.