The Stripping Away of Another Right
I try to avoid political rhetoric. This is about the stripping away of a basic right of lawyer/client privilege afforded to even the most common American.
The INVASION of President Donald Trump’s personal lawyer’s office goes against the basic right of the lawyer/client privilege that is afforded to all American citizens. This breach of justice has stripped this right from the man who is facing a world of foreign and domestic problems and threats to all Americans. He has so far exhibited extreme leadership qualities, by backing down North Korea instead of kowtowing to Kim. He’s caused China to reposition itself on trade sanctions. He’s added millions to the employment roles and has caused many to be removed from welfare. His decision to protect our southern border has inched closer to completion with the deployment of National Guard to supplement our overworked Border Guards. This act coupled with increased penalties for drug dealers may be the deterrent to stop the scourge of opiod addiction in America.
He’s being called a racist, rapist, and many other derogatory names. It is mudslinging from the Left at its very best. He wasn’t given such epithets until he whipped Hillary in the Presidential election. (I almost said whipped the pants off Hillary, but that is a scene I wouldn’t want to see.)
His accomplishments are being down-played by the media that proudly predicted and hailed Hillary as winning over Donald Trump. They are still licking their wounds and trying to salvage some of their credibility. The same maligning of character is true of the entertainment lackeys from Hollywood. The worst of the bunch are the cronies from The View. What a bunch of harpies they are. If hate speech was truly enforced, they would all be wearing orange in some jail already and that foul program would be banned from the air waves.
Please give President Trump credit. Don’t let these Socialistic individuals dampen your spirit Mr. President. There are still millions of supporters out here in America. Please to continue to keep us from the grasp of the Communist leanings of these ill intentioned people.
I rewrote and am sharing tonight in place of tomorrow's FB posting.

A Decent Docent

The whirlwind week and my nightmare from overbooking is finally at an end. It was a challenge, but this old man managed to get through it all with minimal damage. After a few minor adjustments I was able to get everything to work out. The changes came to a head on Saturday.

The Seedline project is an organization that prints the Scripture of John and Romans or the entire Bible I different languages to be sent and distributed by missionaries or teams that are sent to those countries to share the Word of God. The Gospel our church helped to assemble was written in Korean and the literature was distributed at the Winter Olympics in South Korea. One hundred thousand copies were shipped over and were distributed to those attending. Some may actually find their way north of the DMZ, but North Korean athletes were too heavily watched for the teams to share.

The John and Romans we assembled Saturday will be going to a missionary in the Bahamas. Our church assembled 8,900 copies in four hours. I was only able to stay for 2 hours before I had to hurry away for my duty as a docent at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society. I was the only person available to open the museum. After tossing out a dead mouse, I began to straighten and rearrange the displays, sort through cupboards, and make a general nuisance of myself. There may be some complaints, but that is what happens when they let me alone in the building unsupervised. I’d heard the museum use the word docent. I had to look up the meaning later. A docent is a teacher or lecturer and I was trying to fill some large shoes.

Finished with my 4 hour tour of duty, I hustled to my daughter’s house. After my daughter Amanda Yoder’s surprise birthday on Friday evening, I was to host the delayed Easter meal of create-your-own tacos, but a slow running commode caused me to shift the meal to her home again. All of my children and grandchildren were able to enjoy the meal and time together. Amanda got to use her birthday camera to record the event.

That left only Sunday and the usual church services and Sunday school. The day passed slowly, sort of a decompression after the long and busy week.

Just Like the Airlines

Just like the airlines, I’ve overbooked. Since Sunday, I’ve been busy and won’t have a break until next week. Sunday past, I drove to Uniontown to my son’s house for Easter to attend his church and stay for the afternoon meal. I had a great time visiting, but had to hustle back home for evening services at my own church.

Monday, I attended the opening home game of the Pittsburgh Pirates at PNC Park in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The temperature was a bit chilly, but I was able to attend wearing my infamous Col. Sanders outfit, get on television, and be stopped by other fans for photos without freezing to death.

Tuesday, I became taxi driver for a friend and fellow writer. She needed a ride to Aestique clinic in Greensburg for treatments. It was necessary for someone to drive her and to stay there while she was having the procedure and to drive her home.

Wednesday, I attended the famous monthly meal for the Grande Dames of Frick hospital where the retired nurses gathered to break bread with an “eat and greet.” As soon as I’d eaten, I hustled away to the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society to learn “ins and outs” of the museum. Later that evening, I drove to church for Wednesday evening prayer services.

Thursday, I needed groceries and had an appointment to have my knee evaluated. The x-rays revealed little change from the ones taken 2 years ago, but because of increasing pain, the doctor injected my knee. An injection 2 years ago caused the pain to diminish. Hurrying back to Mount Pleasant to the library, for be leader for the writers meeting.

Friday, there’s a meal I must attend with friends.

Saturday, my morning starts by helping to assemble portions of the Gospel, stapling them in booklets, then cutting them to size for a ministry called Seedline. They’re usually printed in a foreign language and prepared for missionaries to use. The last 8,000 plus copies were printed in Korean.

Here’s where the fun begins. I confused my days and also promised to be docent for Chestnut Ridge. I’ll have to cut Seedline short for the other. That’s what happens when I get my schedule overbooked, even with a pocket planner. Later I can relax and have a post-Easter meal with my family.

Sunday I have morning and evening church services with Sunday school wedged in. Monday will be a stay-at-home-day, doing laundry, dusting and vacuuming. Oh joy.

Not Nearly as Cold

A diehard friend of mine persuaded me to go to the home opener game of the Pittsburgh Pirates again this year. I was worried because last year, 2017, it was really cold. As usual, when I go to PNC Park, I try to stand out with some type of unusual garb. Last year, because it was so windy and frigid, I piled on the layers and even bought hand warmer packets to avoid frostbitten fingers. I wore several layers of socks, pants, and besides my fluff parka I had a red hooded sweatshirt and wore a Santa hat.

I don’t know if I made it on television with the almost Santa garb, but I didn’t develop frostbite. Our seats were out of the wind, but when we went to the restroom or concession stands, the whipping, frigid wind chilled us and it took quite awhile after we returned to our seats to feel relatively warm again.

Opening day 2018 was greeted with some worry and concern. The meteorologists warned of 4 to 6 inches of snow until 10:00 am and 10 was the time my friend wanted to leave. “It’s supposed to be 40 degrees by the time the game starts,” she shared.

It may have made it to 40 degrees, but the fitful breeze was blowing in off the Allegheny River made the temperature seem much colder. The breeze in the levels by the restrooms chilled as well. I think the concrete keeps the chill and shares it during the game. The restrooms were warm, but I haven’t stood in lines that long with so many men since I was in the Navy over 40 years ago.

I donned my familiar Col. Harlan Sanders attire wearing several layers to keep warm. My travel companion made large signs for most of the Pirate players. She was holding up the sign when Colin Moran hit the grand slam home run and I was on television when the cameraman shot photos of my friend’s sign.

Each time I left my seat and on my exiting the park, I was hailed as “Colonel.” In the seats directly behind us were several gentlemen from West Virginia. They caught on and asked where their chicken was. Coincidentally, just before they asked, I found a KFC receipt in my jacket pocket. I held it up for them to read and said, “It hasn’t arrived yet.” They laughed and we chatted off and on throughout the game. I told them that two of my Tommy Two Shoes Mysteries happened in West Virginia. Pirates won against Twins 5 to 4.

Pirate’s Home Opener

This morning as I cleared the snow from my walk and driveway for the umpteenth time, I heard two robins somewhere in the bushes at the side of my property. I’m sure it was the female robin saying, “See, I told you it was too early to return to Pennsylvania. But no-o-o-o, you had to be here for the opening home game for the Pittsburgh Pirates. The same thing last year, you didn’t listen then and I almost got frostbite. Just once I wish you’d listen to me. I could still be on the beaches in Florida working on my suntan.”

Just a bit of a tease, but I am weary of the snow. We were blessed to have great weather for Easter. I spent the morning at my son’s church, Brownsville Baptist and met fellow worshippers there. Our pastor emeritus, Skip Kessler covered that church while they were searching for a new pastor. I knew many of the names, but I was glad to connect faces and names. Their Pastor, Tom Dallas with his wife Sophia and his four sons, I’d met before. They attended one evening of Mt. Zion’s revival services. It was great to meet him and his brood again.

Pastor Tom gave a stirring sermon on one of the women the Bible mentions, Mary Magdalene. She was the woman Jesus cast out 7 devils and freed her from their grasp. She became a faithful follower of Jesus and was one of the first people to visit the empty tomb. The message was on Mary’s initial feeling of disbelief.

While I am on the subject, the Bible and Christianity give women a special place in its texts. Not always subservient as some would lead you to believe, but special, no matter their past: Rahab, Ruth, Mary, Martha, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of Jesus and Lydia. Many women are discussed, some good and some bad. The Bible also shares the virtues of a good mother and wife.

After church, I had lunch with my son Andrew, his wife Renee, and the grandchildren, Celine, and Moriah. We had a great time talking and eating. Too quickly the time passed and I wanted to get home for the evening services. Our Pastor had a message on Mary Magdalene too, but his approach was centered on Mary’s weeping.

Reconnecting

Yesterday, I received a wave and a shout on Facebook messenger. I didn’t recognize the name and am leery of accepting people without knowing a little bit about them. There are too many robots and scammers who try to lure a Facebook user into accepting them. I’m not sure if it allows them to hack your account or not, but I try not to take chances.

When she messaged me, she gave me enough information to understand that we were related. She said she was the granddaughter of Cora. There are two of my relatives named Cora. I assumed wrongly that she was a grandchild or great grandchild of my great uncle Theodore Rugg, because I have had more contact with that side of the family at the Rugg reunion.

In reality, she was the granddaughter of my aunt Cora. Cora Hyatt was my mother Sybil’s sister. This young lady was the daughter of my cousin Peggy. I didn’t know that until I checked her profile a little more closely and saw she was from Sheridan, Illinois, where my aunt Cora lived. So I shared that fact and I was finally able to get my head screwed on straight.

As we messaged back and forth, she shared that she’d purchased my books and planned to read them. She was also starting to do research on the family tree. I sent her a few of the stories listing family members and about my grandparent’s farm. She mentioned her sister. I was able to connect with her as well. So, I’ve now extended the family tree to include these two young ladies.

The last time I’d seen them was when they were teenagers. I am hoping to hear more from them and if they read my BlogSpot, they may glean a bit more for their research. My BlogSpot is http://thomasbeck.blogspot.com. They should be able to read back through my posts and ferret out more information.

I finished the afternoon by calling my orthopedic physician for an appointment. My right knee and shoulder had been causing pain, but the knee is pulling ahead and has started to pop when I straighten it. It’s time to have it checked out. That appointment has filled my next week’s dance card. I hate weeks like that, busy and in constant motion.

 

Favors

A few weeks ago, I saw that the neighbor had some items at the side of her barn. One was a fairly intact riding lawn mower and the frame and motor of a second one. There was also a bicycle frame, an old hot water tank, and a few other metal pieces. My son Andrew with his family recently moved back to Pennsylvania from Amarillo, Texas. It was nice having them so close.

I helped unload their belongings into their new house. The place has 6.7 acres with about 1/2 of it in grass that will need mowed. Andrew has a knack with engines, so I approached the neighbor and asked what she planned to do with the mowers. She said that she was going to take them in for scrap. I offered $10.00 for the lot. Andrew has been known to save metal for scrap too.

When I told him what I purchased, he brought out a towing trailer and we had a struggle to get some items loaded. The fairly intact mower was easy to roll and we loaded it quickly. The frame was another story. Because of its location, it was heavy to move. Among the items was a 15 feet long chain. With the use of a come-along and chain, we were able to winch it onto the trailer. Soon, everything was strapped down and he hauled the load home.

About a week ago, the neighbor knocked on my front door and asked that we return the chain. She didn’t know it wasn’t part of the scrap, but when her father returned from a trip and asked for it, she pleaded that we return it. I promised that I would and did. Later, I found that he’d paid $250.00 for it. No wonder he wanted it back.

When I returned it, no one was home, so I draped it across the gate into their home, knowing that they would easily see it. Today, I was cleaning my pantry and found several boxes of cereal that had become outdated. They were flavors I didn’t eat and were leftovers from a time my kids were here.

The neighbor has chickens. They ramble through her yard, cackling and scratching for food. I’ve seen her scatter feed for them on occasion and thought, “Why toss the cereal into the garbage? Chickens aren’t picky eaters.” I walked them over to see if she wanted the cereal for the hens. She was glad to accept and gave me a carton of eggs as a thank you, saying the hens were laying more than she could use. It was just a favor given to an old man who chose not to be grumpy.