Back again

Howdy!
I used to have a website that I posted my ramblings on, and I had a few folks that enjoyed reading them. I think I will re-post a number of those, as they will give some insight into what I’m paying attention to. You’re welcome to look at these if you wish. I took a bit of a break from writing while my family was completing a move from Texas to Michigan last winter, which included some custody struggles in the courts, and then the long summer and autumn with traveling and getting the new house situated the way we wanted it–I just didn’t have time to write like I wanted to. Anyway, for those who have written and encouraged me to get busy with my keyboard: Here I am. I look forward to hearing from you.
~Misty~

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It’s in the U.S. and it’s Bigger than a Mega Mosque

I read a document a couple of days ago that upset me a great deal–this was after I had written, emailed to her, and then posted my letter to Ms. Pelosi. It was a document put out by a Muslim man who was apparently in sort of a position of authority among what he refers to as The Group; his name was not mentioned on the document, that I saw; I admit to some skimming. The first portion of the document was in Arabic, which of course means I stared at it and was utterly baffled. The second half of the document was the translated-to-English version. And it is terrifying. This document came out in 1991. It would be all to easy to dismiss this document because it is nearly 20 years old. But think about what has been happening in this country since 1991 (and for many, many years earlier!) when it comes to Militant Muslims in this country. Rather than dismissing the document because of it’s age, I sat there reading the document and asking myself, are they achieving success in their “Civilization Jihad” The answer I got back made me want to get out a drum and fife and start gathering the troops!!An Explanatory Memorandum on the General Strategic Goal for the Group [Muslim Brotherhood] in North America

Here I quote a couple of things from within the document, but I hope you’ll read the whole thing:

4- Understanding the role of the Muslim Brother in North America:The process of settlement is a “Civilization-Jihadist Process” with all the word means. The Ikhwan must understand that their work in America is a kind of grand Jihad in eliminating and destroying the Western civilization from within and “sabotaging” its miserable house by their hands and the hands of the believers so that it is eliminated and God’s religion is made victorious over all other religions. Without this level of understanding, we are not up to this challenge and have not prepared ourselves for Jihad yet. It is a Muslim’s destiny to perform Jihad and work wherever he is and wherever he lands until the final hour comes, and there is no escape from that destiny except for those who chose to slack. But, would the slackers and the Mujahedeen be equal.

5- Understanding that we cannot perform the settlement mission by ourselves or away from people:A mission as significant and as huge as the settlement mission needs agnificent and exhausting efforts. With their capabilities, human, financial and scientific resources, the Ikhwan will not be able to carry out this mission alone or away from people and he who believes that is wrong, and God knows best. As for the role of the Ikhwan, it is the initiative, pioneering, leadership, raising the banner and pushing people in that direction. They are then to work to employ, direct and unify Muslims’ efforts and powers for this process. In order to do that, we must possess a mastery of the art of “coalitions”, the art of “absorption” and the principles of “cooperation”.

An important word in this document is “Ikhwan”. It means “Religious Militia.” Also, Mujadeen. It means “Geurilla Fighter.”

The simplistic, almost childlike joy, and conviction that they will wipe out Western Civilization from North America is chilling to say the very least, and they have no concern whatsoever for whether or not Western peoples are interested in their way of life. As Muslim or Islamics have been since 613, they are blithely convinced that the whole world belongs to Allah (or God) as only they know him, and that they therefore have the right to subjugate everyone. They do not need a physical “nation” to be a “state”, the world is Allah’s and therefore, theirs. Militant Islam already has a nation. They com- pletely ignore the fact that Almighty, All powerful, and all wise, GOD, gave us all a choice– from Eve to Jesus, he gave us ALL free will. Even well before their so-called prophet emerged preaching in 613AD, GOD had sent us truth, and given us all the free will to make our choice. Their prophet taught the opposite in the Qur’an: (Al-Anfal 22-23) “Verily! The worst of (moving) living creatures with Allah are the deaf and the dumb, who understand not (i.e. the disbelievers). Had Allah known of any good in them, He would indeed have made them listen; and even if He had made them listen, they would but have turned away with aversion (to the truth).”

The sort of center that is now to be built two blocks from “Ground Zero” in New York City is escribed in the above document, right down to what services will be available, those that are being reported by the MSM to be in it, and those that the news media isn’t in a hurry to talk about. I can’t encourage you strongly enough to read it. We are no longer just in a battle of political ideology, or religious inclusion or exclusion; our very freewill is threatened. And once again, while Rome burns, both of our major political parties are happy to take money from whatever groups offer it, and so sell the soul of the Legislative, Executive and Judicial branches of our federal government for their own greed, egos, and power. Both of our primary political parties seem to have the notion that if they can buy enough of the Islamic/Muslim vote to keep themselves seated in office, they will be able to in some way control the super-power they are inviting into our borders, as though these will be no more dreadful to keep anesthetized than the average American citizen. The FBI probably could contain this, the question is, will they be allowed to? Clinton was given intelligence and “offered” Osama bin Laden. But he turned a blind eye.

I share here something I mentioned to my dad in an email earlier this week that concerns me a very great deal every time I think about it. It is incredibly distressing the number of individuals whom I have seen, even as far away from the border as we are in Central Texas, who absolutely look like darker skinned Mexicans. They drive vehicles with Mexican flags on them, listen to Latino styled music, wear shirts with Mexican flags and pro Mexico-conquer-America slogans, but when they are speaking amongst themselves, they are speaking Arabic languages rather than Spanish. Please understand, this is not hearsay. I’ve seen and heard this myself. Also of very great importance to know: a large number of the Mexicans that are coming illegally across the border are no longer Roman Catholic or of other non-militant sects, but are Militant Muslims. Please understand, I am not suggesting that all of the illegal immigrant population are Militant Muslims, but there are a significant number who are.

If you read their propaganda websites, ( http://www.aztlan.net is a good example) you will find that many have almost as much hate for Catholicism as Hitler did. But it’s important to be covert… to make sure the stupid Americans don’t know that they are Muslim or Islamic. On their propaganda sites, they encourage the stockpiling of weapons, militant resistance and confrontation, and being as the Quaran says, prepared to fight for Allah. (Al-Anfal 60) “And make ready against them all you can of power, including steeds of war to threaten the enemy of Allah and your enemy, and others besides whom, you may not know but whom Allah does know. And whatever you shall spend in the Cause of Allah shall be repaid unto you, and you shall not be treated unjustly.”> Hey wait! That’s us! We’re their enemy!! Anybody who does not believe in Allah the way they believe in Allah is their enemy, especially moderate Muslims who want to worship Allah in peace, with no desire to overthrow or eliminate others’ way of life. In verses 56-58 of this same chapter, the prophet teaches that any treaty or agreement made with an unbeliever is already automatically void, because whomever the Muslim makes the treaty with, has broken faith with the Muslim already, by not believing in Allah, as

the Muslim believes; you see, the treaty was not broken by the Muslim, but by the evil infidel. (Interestingly enough, that means Muslims can in good conscience make whatever treaties they want with we infidels, knowing they will break them as soon as we’re lulled, if we do not immediately convert to Islam after signing or agreeing.) In the second book, Al-Baqara, the prophet goes on and on describing why and in what ways all Jews and Christian sects are enemies of Allah, and thereforeenemies of the Muslim; and for those who are Muslims, who are not prepared to be militant for “Allah’s” cause, Muhammad describes the Hell which awaits them. This “Make Ready” or “Be Prepared” is the motto on the logo of the terrorist group the Muslim Brotherhood, which has been around since 1928. There is so much more at stake than I ever realized. I am working on picking this apart and really breaking it down into something manageable to understand for myself… to sort of track the groups mentioned in the 1991 document, and see what has become of them. I’ve already learned that as the fellow who wrote the memorandum suggested, a few of them had merged by 1993. There is so much more information than I ever wanted to know.

When corresponding about this topic my sister Teresa, she wrote to me that the Enemy is loving this “fruitless fury” over the building [GZ Mosque] and it’s location. And I have to agree with her, the outrage over this building may be misplaced. It is certainly offensive, but is it possible its more of a dodge? And if they capitulate to the demands of righteously outraged, loyal Americans and go build their cultural center elsewhere, will the general populace be lulled again? There is so much more that is important going on than a discussion of the location of this mega-mosque. Allowing Militant Islam to raise a mosque to their victory in NYC is wrong, but there are issues of much greater import andimpact to consider.

I hope I don’t sound like a conspiracy nut. But I think our problems are much bigger and much more dangerous than I had really realized. I’m just now reading the Qur’an, and knowing some of the history of the “prophet” from college (had to take a world religion course, and chose Islam, go figure), and how his teachings and preachings changed from 610 when he first “received revelation”, to 613 when he started preaching, until his death in 632, I see the development of an intense frustration, as people, including himself, failed to live up to the high bar he had set. When his message didn’t resonate universally, and completely change the world in the ways he wanted it to, he turned mean in a hurry; the message of Allah kept shifting and changing as Muhammad experienced letdowns and frustrations.

The Qur’an was first disseminated by oral tradition: Reciters carried the words of Muhammad Memorized and approved by he or the companions and carried from one locale to another. It is important also, to realize, that after Muhammad’s death, more of the Qur’an was written by his apostles, and their messages frequently conflicted with both Muhammad’s Sunnah, the Qur’an and each other’s messages, as they vied for power and control. The standardized version of the Qur’an did not emerge until 650, when the third caliph, Uthman ibn Affan ordered five of the “companions” (apostles of Muhammad I believe, please correct me if I’m wrong!) to produce one. All other copies of the Qur’an were sent to Medina and destroyed.

But there is one very important thing to learn from Muhammad: in his brief 62 year lifespan, only 22 of which he claimed to be God’s prophet, and established the roots of what is known of Islam (The Straight Path) today, proves what an amazing influence ONE person can have on the world, and in how short a time. Muhammad was a shepherd, a recluse, really a bit of a hermit, and his wife thought he was nuts! He was a no one. But his name and words are still echoing around today. He had a message and he was utterly tireless in proclaiming that message! Held to that bar, where do we as Patriotic Americans measure? Held tot hat bar, where do we as Christians measure?

Muhammad cannot in any way compare with Jesus, as some might argue. Although Jesus’ ministry spanned only three years, the reason His message has endured is because he had an advantage, He’s the Son of God, and the message of God is absolute truth. The “peaceful” message of Islam cannot be truth, because the message itself, the words their prophet spoke, claiming they all came from “god”changed with the prophet’s mood.

It is Absolutely VITAL that we wake up right now. Our complacency is going to cost us everything we hold dear. This is not something that our grand- or great-grandchildren will have to try and fix; if we do not act now, our grand- and great-grandchildren will be living under the bitter yoke of Sharia law. Iam absolutely NOT calling for violence, or any sort of attack on any person for their religion, or their free practice of it. I absolutely believe that every person has the GOD given right to freely choose their own religion, and to practice religion freely, or to completely ignore religion if they choose–so long as that practice or ignoring of religion does not keep others from exercising that same right, and it certainly must not subvert the Constitution of he United States. I absolutely AM saying that we MUST stand up and actively resist this invasion, and usurpation of our Constitution, this land and our very hearts and minds.

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We are ALL Qualified

I’m reading a book published in 1896 right now, called A Catechism of the Constitution. Already in 1896, when our Union of States was barely past it’s century mark, it seems that there was a mindset in the people that there were those who had a “right” to govern. This way of thinking, encouraged by those who valued power and esteem, had taken away the power of the states and moved it to the centralized federal government; an action that was never intended by the founders. (There were factions of course who supported a powerful centralized government in the framing, but they were out voted.) By the time of this publication in 1896, there was also a mindset that plain old, every day citizens were not fit to rule themselves, and there had already been something of an established ruling class in America. (Sound familiar?) The author, (John W. Overall) compared it to the monarchies of Europe, and asserted that we had been meant to live in a Republic, not a monarchy! Even then, the ordinary citizens who ran for office were laughed and poo-poo’ed away as loonies or cute, but not to be taken seriously. The behemoth has only grown, and that mindset has been rooted in our minds until We the People no longer feel that our government belongs to us, and in many ways, I think the career aristocrats ignore voting time, because they know it’s not really going to have much affect on the great, over-reaching power of the beast that is our government.

I personally believe it is time to completely shake career politicians out of our Capitol, and our Congress, and let the average every day citizens manage our central government again. Servant leadership was what the founders had in mind, and they were following the example of their Lord. In the Federalist No. 57, James Madison wrote: “Who are to be the objects of the popular choice? Every citizen whose merits may recommend him to the esteem and confidence of this country. No qualification of wealth, of birth, of reliegious faith, or civil profession is permistted to fetter the judgement or disappoint the inclination of the people.”  You and I and any person are just as qualified as any Nancy Pelosi, Barbara Boxer, Sarah Palin, George Bush (Jr. or Sr.) or Ronald Regan. People need to remember that and learn to believe it again! That lack of knowledge and probably more importantly BELIEF!–is what is holding us back. Yes, the liberal media will smear us and both the liberal and conservative career politicians will scoff at our “quaint” efforts, but Ladies and Gentlemen if we will shore one another up, support those who are willing to truly be servants to take on the beast, I firmly believe we can succeed!

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A Very Meaningful Chace Encounter

This is going to be a very short entry. I had a little accident yesterday evening, and I’m not feeling up to finishing my next work in progress. But I wanted very much to thank someone I ran into yesterday, because through this unplanned meeting, I felt at once indebted, and encouraged to take on the struggles ahead of our nation.

 

It just happened that while at a shop in town with Richard and my oldest son, Louis, Richard was having a chat with a man who had been in the same battalion Richard had been in at the time he left the Army. An older lady with bright blue eyes and a lovely smile listened while they talked, and after that other former soldier walked away, she began speaking to Richard. I finished my business, and came to join them; at first I only listened, but it wasn’t long before I joined in too.

 

Mrs. S. related to us that she has tremendous concern for the condition of the country today. She spoke briefly about being a child during the Great Depression. She told about when she was a young lady finishing high school, pretty much everyone from school was gone, serving in the war (WWII). She told about how her husband served in the European theater, and her brother the Pacific. She told us how her brother had been shot down over Hong Kong harbor, and had very nearly starved to death in a Japanese POW camp. She spoke briefly about how so few came back, but she didn’t dwell on it. I remarked that if Americans don’t wake up and get to work, then we would be dishonoring the sacrifices that every person who has ever served in any war for the defense of freedom in this country and the world. And she said something then that is so true and so important. I hope that it strikes a chord in your heart and in your mind, as it did in mine.

 

“Well its up to people of your generation now. We’re too old, we can’t do it for you anymore. The young people today are going to have to do something, We just can’t do it ourselves anymore.”

 

I wonder folks, if our grandparents and great-grandparents would look at the way the U.S. is now and feel like their sacrifices were in vain? If they could have looked into the future to see what we’ve allowed to be done to the country they defended with their lives and well being, would they still have gone, and given everything they had to give, so that we, their grandchildren, and great-grandchildren could let ourselves be anesthetized and enslaved by our government. Would they have fought then, to watch us giving up more and more of the freedoms they fought for and defended, in exchange for numbness and tax credits and a warm, fuzzy, feel-good sense of social justice?

 

Even with all of that taken into consideration, I believe with my whole heart, that this Greatest Generation would have fought and defended their freedoms and our freedoms, even as fiercely as they did without that futuristic foresight. Because they had the understanding of what they were fighting for, even if we, their far over privileged progeny have forgotten. And I know that they would hope that there would be enough of their progeny left to remember what they fought for, to take the risks, and make the stands necessary to weed out the diseases of complacency and fear and over-pampered indifference. They would pray to their Heavenly Father that there would be enough of our generations to lead and encourage our fellow citizens to truly SEE what is going on around us, to ignite the spark of the Spirit of Liberty that has lived within the American personality since before Ben Franklin said “They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.” Pennsylvania Assembly: Reply to the Governor, Tue, Nov. 11, 1755: http://www.ushistory.org/franklin/quoteable/quote04.htm

 

Thank you Mrs. S. You were an inspiration to my day. And thank you, and all those who like you served and sacrificed for our freedom. People of today’s generations, we need to get to work; we can’t let them down!

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Racism

I’m kind of a simplistic person.
I believe in one race. The HUMAN race.
I believe the only “African Americans” are the one’s who were born in Africa, and immigrate to America. And once they are citizens of the U.S.A., I don’t believe they are African anymore. They are Americans. People who were born in the U.S. (or it’s treaty domains) are Americans. Some are pale, some are dark brown, and every shade in between, but we are all Americans. Inclusive thinking. (Sometimes it’s good for us.)

After the Civil War and after the Emancipation Proclamation, former slaves rejected the phrase that had been in use in some places since about 1853(1): “African American”. Being “African” was synonymous with being a slave or a savage(2). No better than a pig or a goat on his owner’s land. But being an American? That meant something. It meant freedom, it meant hope, it meant self-determination. Being called black? They were not ashamed of their different skin color. They were proud of who they were. They didn’t need some special identifying moniker. They were proud to be Americans. Think of the 60’s and 70’s. “Black is beautiful” and “Black Power”.

My oldest son is 18, almost 19. Good heavens, where have the years gone?
When my oldest son was just a little guy of two my mother pointed out to me that he didn’t really speak. I scoffed at first, because he communicated with me just fine. I understood when he wanted cereal, or a cup, or needed his diaper changed, or needed to use the potty. (Bear with me, it really is relevant.) He was an angel faced little guy with wispy, curly, white-blond hair, bright, sparkling blue eyes, and the most infectious grin you could imagine. However, my mom kept at me in her gentle way, and I took him to be evaluated by the people at the intermediate school district building in town. I was rather surprised by what I learned from them. My son had not learned to speak as most people understood speaking. On the contrary, he had taught me his language, and I had been a most apt pupil! In effect, I was the only person who could really understand him, although he understood other people speaking English to him perfectly.

The new catch phrase in our house became “use your words.” Over and over and over… “Use your words”. I began teaching him things I had never realized he didn’t know. We were working shapes, and he grasped that concept quickly. Numbers he understood before shapes even. Colors, well he got them mixed up sometimes he was determined that anything pink was called orange, as was anything orange. Pink was just not in his vocabulary. Of course, because of his “speech impairment” he was quickly inducted into the ISD as a special needs child, and that is a discussion for another time. So, he was going to school three hours a day, as well as being drilled in basic words at home. I was impressed with how quickly he progressed, but then one day, as the words came more easily to him and he had grown past getting angry with us for refusing to allow him to use his own code sounds and gestures (use your words, son. No, I won’t give it to you, until you use your words,) he was merrily chatting about what he had done in school and who he had played with. He was telling me about a new friend he had made at school. He told me this new friend was his best friend, and he loved his new friend. I asked him what his friend’s name was. His reply startled me. He said “The poo-poo boy.” I asked him to repeat it. “The boy with the poo-poo color.” I was aghast. (Have you ever been aghast? How about gob-smacked? Dumbfounded? Oh yeah, those are a good description of how I felt.) I thought about that for a moment, measuring what on earth he could mean. Then I asked him, “Do you mean he’s the color brown?” And this charming, innocent 2½ year-old boy replied, “Yeah, the poo-poo color boy”. I corrected him immediately, and told him people with dark brown skin were usually called “black” or “African-American” but never, never “poo-poo colored.” This launched an argument of course (oh my little man could argue! Not much has changed there…), because he knew the color black and black isn’t brown. And as far as he was concerned, Africa was where giraffe’s came from, and I was just being foolish to suggest people lived there.

This was my son’s first exposure to any person of any very dark skin tone. His mis-use of language really stemmed from my failure to teach him English instead of me learning his communication. Mind you, at our church there were students from Taiwan, but at that time there had been no one in my son’s limited and sheltered experience who would ever be described as “black” or African-American. This brought to mind my own first remembered exposure to black people, when I was about six; I thought how exotic and beautiful and foreign they looked! And I was jealous deep down in my grubby little soul, because I was plain and they were special. (Lets face it, very nearly everyone I knew had fair skin and light or blue eyes, and either blond or brown hair) I had seen and known and loved people from Asia, and my parents, who had been missionaries in Vietnam had spoken with such tenderness and love for the people they met there, I felt a love and respect for any person who appeared to be Asian. Many students from Asia came to the university in the town I lived in, and came to the church my father is the evangelist for. But it just happened that up until that time, there had not been any black people there that I had ever seen or known. I grew up in, and my son was born in a very tiny, remote, little town in far Northern Michigan, 600 miles north of Detroit, and I just had not ever seen black people face to face. In truth, my experience was pretty much limited to the church my parents were ministering to, and it wasn’t by design that I had never encountered black people, it’s just that none chose to come to the church, and so I didn’t see them. My son was as sheltered as I was, however, he entered the public school room much earlier than I did, and the population in the area I was raised was primarily made up of the children of Finish, Cornish, Italian, Irish and German immigrants who had gone to that part of Michigan for the copper mining in the 1800’s. I’ve been told at times, when explaining where I come from, that the area I grew up in isn’t even part of the United States. The Michigan Department of Treasury, and the IRS, disagree, I assure you. In any case, there just weren’t that many people with very dark skin tones in the area we lived in.

Now, please forgive me, this is probably going to sound like Pollyanna-thinking of the most naive sort, but when I left the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, to join my second husband overseas in his first military assignment in Germany, I was under the impression that all that “civil-rights stuff” had been brought to a wonderful resolution during the 1960’s; Martin Luther King Jr. had changed the world we lived in, and everything was great! That everyone shared the same view of different skin colors that my parents did, and that they taught to me. I was taught to understand that all people are just people. No one person is better than or really different from any other. I was taught that God loved all people, and that I should love all people too. I assumed that all people loved God and because they loved God, and loved Jesus, they would love all of God’s children too. Once I got over my bout of jealously about the exotic, amazing looks of black people (jealously is a form of covetousness, I had learned by the time I was 8 or so, and I was ashamed and apologized to God for that,) I largely ignored skin tone and just assumed everyone else did too. I met and knew and loved and thought of as part of God’s family, and therefore my family, people of so many various skin tones, and their skin tone just didn’t matter, because they were my brothers and sisters in Christ.

It was in February of 2000 that I received a very rude and painful dose of reality. I was witness to ongoing, hate inspired, unmistakable racism, and it shocked me! This had all ended 30 or 40 years ago! Hadn’t it? There was no more racism in American society! Was there? I learned that there most certainly was. It was while I was working in the AAFES Warehouse in Giessen. It went like this:

(Loud sniffing noise) “Uhg. What is that smell?”
(Loud sniffing noise) “Oh no. You know what that is?”
“Its disgusting. What is it?”
“It’s those white girls, they must’ve walked into the warehouse.”

And then, on St. Patrick’s Day, I wore green. What a mistake!

“Your Great-Grandaddy was Irish? My Great-Grandaddy’s slave owner was Irish. You ought to be ashamed.” I was informed that because of who my grandparents were, I was by descent a racist. I told the woman she was nuts, that I didn’t give two hoots what color skin a person had, that it was their character that mattered. She informed me that saying I didn’t care what color her skin was didn’t mean I wasn’t a racist, just that I didn’t care about the suffering of her people. I asked her who was making her suffer, and she informed me that I, and every white person in the world was oppressing her, and her people. I told her she was nuts, because I don’t run around oppressing people. I told her that until I had met her, I had gone along with the notion that all American people were brothers and sisters, and that everyone loved everyone. She told me I was a liar, and she knew what was really in my mind. To this day, I just don’t understand that woman. I don’t even remember what she looked like anymore, or her name, but her arrogance and her supremely superior attitude drove me nuts. How could she know what I thought or believed? How did she know anything about me? Because I was white? But isn’t assuming you know a person’s character and beliefs, that you know their values because of their skin color, racism?

And then, the woman who had been in the warehouse the longest, an older German woman, retired. The woman who had been there the next longest in her department, a white American woman, got her job. The black women who worked there decided it had nothing to do with seniority, or experience in that department, but decided that one of them should have gotten that job, even though none of them had been there as long, and none of them had worked in that department before. There was a lot of anger from the black women who worked in that warehouse after that. In the warehouse, most of the American women who worked there were black military spouses. There was myself and one other white American woman there, both military spouses. The other workers were either retired or former Army, or German. I frequently heard about how if I had any respect for the suffering of their people I would leave my job, and let it open up for a “sister”. I blew that nonsense off. Why should I quit my job so someone else could have it? I needed that income, just as much as anyone else, and I worked for it, just the same as anyone else would. The women would harass the other white woman too, not the Germans, only we two Americans. We both went separately and together to our managers and complained about the harassment and the racial slurs “Irish cracker girl”, “woo-wee, those white girls sure do stank up a place!” Our managers told us we just needed to let it slide, because they weren’t in a position to deal with “reverse racism.” I thought to myself, that’s pure horse hockey! Reverse racism? Racism is racism, it doesn’t have a direction. Its just ugly, no matter who’s behind it.

I became determined that as a matter of my dignity, my pride, my rights as an American, I wasn’t going to be chased out of my $7.50 an hour job no matter who called me what. It was in late March of 2000 that something happened to change my mind. My work hours were 7AM to 4PM, if I recall right. One afternoon my opposite in this struggle, or at least the mouthpiece for the “other team” was gone for most of the afternoon. I was really very relieved, it was a quiet afternoon. She came back an hour before we all clocked out and while we were working at the packing table that last hour she started talking to me in the most friendly way she had for weeks. She asked me, didn’t I say I had a little girl? I told her yes. Didn’t I say my little girl’s name was Emily? I said yes, and I chattered a little bit about Emily’s antics. She smiled nicely and laughed with me at the appropriate places. Then one of her friends asked her where she had been. She said she had been in the housing area that I lived in. I didn’t think anything of it, not my business. She mentioned that all the kids had been getting out of school when she was leaving the housing area. Then she said to me, “Your little girl, Emily, she has long pigtail braids and a (whatever it was) back pack, and a light purple jacket? She wears glasses?” I looked at her funny and said yes, that’s her. Then she said the words that ended my short career with AAFES. “She was so cute when she was at the cross walk. She’s looks like a handful though; ran out before the crossing-guard said they could go, right in front of my car. I said hi to her and she waved. It sure would be a shame if something happened to her.” That was my last day before a planned two week time off because my parents were coming to visit. But I never went back to work there again. And I went away angry and frustrated and… ANGRY! Why was this kind of thing tolerated!? About a week later, the other white American woman who worked at the warehouse came knocking at my door wanting to know why I had quit. I told her what had happened. She told me she had quit a few days after me, for the same reason. We agreed that $7.50 an hour was not worth even an empty threat of violence against our children, no matter how veiled the threat was. A week or so later, two CID agents were in my living room taking my statement. I have no idea what ever became of the investigation, but I wanted no part of it. I was definitely a lot “sadder but wiser” than I had any desire to be.

Wow, that’s a lot of story telling. I couldn’t get away with that on TV or Radio!

I have a real problem with a behavior I’ve observed in folks the last few years in particular–perhaps because I really started paying attention to things, and seriously forming opinions on them. The behavior? Making jokes, that to a sensitive person, or in a sensitive setting, would be perceived as racist. I realize that many of these folks and I probably disagree about what is and is not a racial slur, or a joke with a racial undertone. I am not suggesting that these folks are racists, just that they have become desensitized by the actions and behaviors of others. Comedians that timidly or aggressively knock on that taboo door marked “racism”. Recording artists and the general public who throw around obvious racial slurs; I am of course referring to the tendency of black or African-American individuals to refer to one another as “the N word”. I have even heard my oldest make remarks and comments that I consider way to close for comfort to that taboo door. I am not suggesting that he is a racist, because I do not believe that at his heart he is. But he talks like so many young people do today, with a great carelessness that I am concerned is going to come back to haunt him in the end.

He, like so many folks, is sick and tired of people acting like they have a right to walk up and down his back, claiming he owes them something because he’s white and they’re not. If a person, any person, treats him decently and with respect, he will treat them decently and with respect. But if a person treats him badly based upon the color of his skin or theirs, they aren’t worth his time, and he refuses to make efforts to appease them. He doesn’t treat them badly, but he won’t go out of his way to win them over. He’s big enough that to date, this has not caused him any major trouble. With the violent tendencies of young people, I worry for his physical safety. And, as his mom, I worry so much that his mind has been so seared by the way he has been treated by a few individuals, that he has given up the “Pollyann-ic” world view I raised him with, and given in to the bitterness that runs rampant around racial issues.

I was incensed and frightened when he came home from school the day after the 2008 election, when all the world knew America had elected her first black president, and told me about his day. White boys and girls were being shoved and tripped and taunted in the hallways by dark pigmented students, and the school staff looked the other way. His own experience had him in the lunch room, being shoved repeatedly as he carried his tray to his table by a trio of boys who said things to him like “That’s right cracker, you our b****now.” “We got the president, whitey.” “Get down cracker, get down and show me who’s your master now.” Our daughters had similar problems. One of them kept getting called “Dirty cracker ho” that day, and for several days after. She was in the 8th grade for crying out loud, a very shy, timid, 13 year old girl. And the staff, largely black and Hispanic, told her to quit being a baby when she cried about it. On the up side, the election of Nov. 2008 convinced all of our children that they needed to be home schooled, if for no other reason than their safety.

My point is, that no matter how harshly my children are treated by people who feel they have a right to mistreat them because they are white, I don’t ever want to see my children, or myself, or my husband, or my children’s friends, or anybody I know and cherish, to ever, ever respond in kind. I’m not suggesting that they take it meekly and allow themselves to be verbally abused, or physically harmed; at the very least, they need to get away from the situation and to safety. But I hope, I pray that they would never, ever respond to racial malice and hatred with malice and hatred of any kind.

And oppression? I don’t buy it! I wouldn’t buy it for two cents! No, not even for one! I will tell you the truth, I have never in my life “oppressed” anyone, unless you take one of my daughter’s part, and believe that my parenting her is really me “oppressing” her. People are people are people are people are…. I will never buy into the notion that I owe any person “reparations” for something that some ancestor may have done in the dim past. Look, my family is not wealthy. My family were farmers and trades men, and homesteaders and janitors, and office workers, and migrant fruit pickers, some of my ancestors were white people who came here in the 16 and 1700’s, a few were even Cherokee. They weren’t wealthy plantation owners, they weren’t slave traders. But even if they had been, even if I came from “old money”, I wouldn’t owe anybody except my parents, my in-laws, my husband and my children, my family a darn thing. Because the truth is that for over three hundred years on this portion of this continent, there have been ways for all people of all races to overcome the oppression of the stupid, short-sighted few, and succeed(3) if success was what they really wanted, even when oppression was blatantly evident and people were held in actual, physical slavery. I am not responsible for the actions of all white people, past, present and future, any more than every black person is responsible for the actions of the black woman who threatened my daughter’s life over a $12K a year job. Let me ask a question of all Americans with dark pigmented skin: should I resent you and fear you because of what that one woman with dark pigmented skin did? Is it fair or right for me to hate you, and despise you and demand you pay me what I missed out on working that job, not only that job, but for the emotional scars her threats left on me, and on my children, and the scars her actions have left on the collective psyche of my family and descendants? You would say, and I would agree, that such a notion is utter nonsense! It isn’t nonsense because I’ve never been black and I don’t understand the hereditary suffering of the black person. It’s nonsense because not every black person did those things, said those things, and made those threats. The only person responsible for that woman’s actions is that woman herself. And you would no more expect for me to hold you responsible for that woman’s actions, than I or any other white person should be held responsible for the filthy, festering blights on humanity that willingly enslaved any human being, your forebears included.

Do you know, black person, Hispanic person, Asian person, Native American person, Indian person, European person, ANY PERSON!!–that I love you? I can’t help but love you, and this is why: Because in my belief system, in the values I was raised on and still hold dear, the values and teachings of Christ, no matter the hate filled actions I have seen and experienced, you, no matter the amount of pigment in your skin, I know you to be my brother or sister because you are human and so am I. Do you know that I love you and respect you because you are a human being? Or do you, like that woman I met 10 years ago, hate me because I’m white? Do you believe that because I’m white that I hate you and hold you in disdain? Why would you assume such a vile and destructive thing? How could you possibly know whether or not I hate you? How could you know what my attitude toward you is? Who has taught you to hate me, and to believe that I hate you? Whoever they are, these nefarious, bitter-minded, hate filled clairvoyants who claim to know my mind, and the mind of every white person before they are ever born, these diviners have lied. Their claims have no more weight and merit than the “Zultare the fortune teller” machine kids drop quarters in at fairs and carnivals the world over. Don’t judge me I beg you, based on the pigment of my skin or the color of my eyes. Come to know me, and then, good or bad, love or hate, interested or indifferent, only once you know me should you form an opinion. Only once I know you, can I form an opinion about you. But until I learn something different about you from experience, I assume that you are a decent and a good person, and I believe that in your soul there is a bright spark of humanity that glows more brightly than a thousand suns. And I love you, not because I’m a terrific person, but because Christ loves you, and I can hold no higher hope, than to live to be like Christ my savior.

This essay has really gone in a different direction than I intended. So I’m going to try and get this back on track.

I am challenging all of you, every person who reads this essay to take a serious hard look at yourself, and try as hard as you can to look deep in your heart and mind, try with all your might to put away all your preconceived or pre-learned notions about racial matters and civil rights, oppressors or oppressed. Try, try so very hard not to think from a white perspective, or a black perspective, or any perspective other than HUMAN. Now ask yourself, am I harboring racism against any of my fellow human beings in my heart and mind? Am I fearing, distrusting, disliking, or feeling superior to any person because of the pigment of their skin or my skin? Without regard to your own skin color, or the ideas you have been taught to believe, trying to forget the history of hatred and divisiveness that has riddled human history from the beginning of time, focus on yourself and ask yourself if you are now, or have ever been guilty of picking on a person, teasing them or calling them names, or doing more serious unkind or wrong things to persons, because of the pigment of their skin? Ask yourself, would you treat a person who shared your skin pigment the same way? If someone treated you in those ways because of your skin pigment, would you believe you were a victim of racism? This is hard thing I am asking of you, but I urge you to try your very hardest to do it.

Do you have children? Or do you remember hearing as a child “Just because Billy did ‘X’ to you doesn’t make it OK for you to do ‘Y’ to Billy!” or “Two wrongs don’t make a right!” Please, please, think about this. Is there any way for there to be peace and reconciliation between people of different skin pigments so long as you or I are still trying to retaliate against Billy for whatever crime “X” was? There are those, I am sure that there are those that would scoff at my simplistic view of this terrifying, and destructive issue of “race relations”. They would declare that something this complex can’t be solved by the simple expedient of “Forgive and forget” or “…do to others what you would have them do to you…” Or “…first take the plank out of your own eye…” I disagree. All the complex legislation and special action groups have done nothing to cure the disease of racism in this county or any other; I assert that much of the legislation and most of such groups have done more to damage the potential for real healing by dragging up the animosity of past years and encouraging us all to stew and fester on that infection and picking that scabrous, pus oozing wound open, again and again, like a stubborn child who just doesn’t care how deeply he scars. I have said before, and I maintain that the strength of this Union of States hangs upon the weakest will of it’s weakest member. That real “change” in this federation starts with you and starts with me, each individual person in their own heart, in their own mind, and in their own day to day practice. Real “change” in the hearts of men and women and children cannot be legislated or organized. It comes from within.

If you want racism to cease, then you and I, and every individual person must stop blaming anyone else, must forgive the sins of the past, must allow others to change within our own minds, and start by not being racist in any way ourselves. Stop distrusting your fellow humans, and start looking for that beautiful, bright, glowing spark, and perhaps even believing that they see the same spark in you.

Christ said “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” He didn’t say, if you love the people who’s skin pigment matches yours. Racism, hatred, these end when each individual person deliberately, every hour, every half hour, every minute chooses, and determines for him or herself to no longer harbor any shred of hatred or racism within themselves. It ends when each individual person makes that choice such a habit that it no longer requires thought. Forgiveness. Please God, give us all the strength to Forgive our fellow humans for our human-ness, and give us all the strength to allow our fellow humans to change in our own eyes. Amen.

Are you up to the challenge folks?

References:

1 http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/african-american

2 Although I do not agree with every sentiment in the article, this was a source of information I used: http://www.africultures.com/anglais/articles_anglais/41cremieux.htm “Hence African fell into disuse. With the end of the slave trade -which remained intense until 1833 despite its abolition in 1807- the absence of massive new arrivals rendered the term obsolete. African became an insult.”

3 Frederick Douglass by Booker T. Washington, pub. 1907, start around pg 153 for this specific sort of information.

Other interesting sources:
http://www.medterms.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=38705
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/24405/african_american_or_black_american.html?singlepage=true&cat=9

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America–One Big Happy Strip Tease!

OK, this one isn’t about American heroes, or patriotism, or our responsibility to get our nation re-grounded on the principles that made it great in the first place. This is something a little different, but it is something that has been nagging at me for quite some time. I’d also like to say, this isn’t “directed” at anyone I know. It’s based on general observations.

Since my husband, Richard and I were married a year ago, I now have 7 children. Four daughters, and three sons. Three of the daughters live with us, and two of our sons live with us. The oldest son is almost 19 and it seems is sort of sometimes seems like he lives with us, and other times it seems like he lives over at a friend’s place. My thoughts today are very much centered on my children, and believe me, yours too.

Before I get into this, let me make myself 100% clear on one vitally important point: I do not in any way, at any time, or in any fashion support the idea that “women are asking for” being raped, being molested, being in any way mistreated by men or women, because of the way they dress, or their work, or because of any excuse that those who would perpetrate such heinous crimes can come up with. There is no possible justification that could excuse one human being from doing such a vile, evil thing to another. I DO NOT subscribe the “she was asking to be raped” notion. Such nonsense sickens me utterly, and I abhor it.

My husband and I were in Austin a few days ago, and it was hot. 100° hot, and that doesn’t count humidity. As we went about our business in Austin, we saw many people of many sorts. I am a people “noticer” some folks are “people watchers,” I’m more of a “noticer”. There is one trend that I’ve noticed that is sadly not limited to Austin, or Dallas, or Temple, or even Killeen, where I live. Not even limited to Texas. Everywhere we go, we see young females, appearing as young even as five or six years old, dressed in skimpy, revealing clothing. I understand the urgings of the hearts of young females to dress “in style”, and keep up with the times, but I think that the fashion world and the current “times” perhaps don’t have our daughters’ best interests, or those of adult women even, at heart.

My husband and I were in a second hand store we like to visit when we’re in Austin and he came to stand beside me, his face all red, and looking both embarrassed and angry. He had been looking at some old tools across the aisle from appliances, when he turned around and there was a young woman wearing a “dress”. He was embarrassed by her appearance, and he came to talk to me about it. Among things he said was, “She goes around like that, and that’s OK, but if I notice her going around like that, then I’m a dirty old man!” I was on a mission however, looking for a pair of vintage-y shoes (a mission I failed at, sadly) and I wasn’t really focusing on him, but I was once again pleased to hear that my husband is a modest man. Well, I was wrong in this instance. He was not being a prude, and it makes perfect sense that his own sense of modesty was affronted by this young woman’s appearance. As we were in the check out line, this young woman was standing behind us, and I got a look at what had upset him so much. For one, the dress fabric was pretty much see through. A printed sheer chiffon. For another, the bodice was cut in a deep plunge, deep enough that the young female’s breasts were exposed to the edge of her aureole,on both sides of the triangle shaped fabric that made up what there was of a bodice. The skirt was brief, it hung only to the very tops of her thighs, and the front of her thong, yes I said thong, (I mentioned that the dress was see through, remember?) was not obscured by the hem of her “dress”. I was embarrassed, and I turned away, mortified that any person would so expose themselves; frankly my modesty was as offended as Richard’s. As my husband and I were walking across the parking lot to the truck he was muttering angrily “…if the child hasn’t got better sense than to go out into public all but naked, then she shouldn’t be allowed out alone!”

This young woman’s mode of dress is just one of many, many examples of the ways that young women and adult women today run around, exposing and I would argue, debasing themselves.

Ladies, I have an earnest and urgent question for you. Where, woman, is your sense of pride and self respect?

I’ve been witnessing a trend in the last ten years or so that seems to indicate that young women (and not so young women) those who are waif thin, and very often even those who are heavier even than I am, are in some sort of competition to see who can leave their home wearing the least possible amount of fabric. One of the most common things I see young women wearing are scraps of fabric they refer to as “shorts” These are skin tight, and have no leg; they cover no more below the pubic bone than do a pair of brief style ladies underwear (granny-panties, as my daughters call them.) In some cases, I have seen the backs cut in curves, up toward the back pockets on these “shorts”, to expose part of the young women’s buttocks. At the same time the hem lines of shorts and skirts have been evaporating upwards, their waist bands have been boiling downwards. Looking at a pair of these denim underwear at a local retail store I noted that the outside seam of the shorts, from the top the waist band to the hem were no longer than my hand, from my wrist to the tip of my longest finger; about 8.5 inches. These were not children’s or infant’s shorts. These were a juniors size 13. One of my daughters wears a size 13. I can tell you with absolute certainty, that I would prefer to send her outside in her drawers before I’d let her wear something that covers less then her underwear. Add to this the tendency for women to wear so-called shirts that expose their bellies from just below their bottom ribs, and expose their cleavage with deep plunge-cut tops from below their breasts and up. What is perhaps even more disturbing is that these same styles, including the startling brevity of material, is miniaturized and sold for young girls right down to sizes for two and three year-olds.

So I must ask you, young women, adult women, especially mothers: What are you thinking? Or, are you thinking about this? Are you just buying what’s out there and put up as stylish without a lot of thought about what you’re doing, or are you dressing yourselves or your children this way purposefully because you like it?

I ask you to think with me about something, and I want you to try and think past all the assertions that I am just a stick in the mud, a prude, the accusations that I might be jealous of your figure, and whatever other things you can come up with to label me with. Stop and think, and try to do so without disliking me for “being down on” your styles. A story was related to me a year or so ago about a woman who struggled and fought to have upper torso nudity made legal for women in her city. (I don’t know if the story is absolutely true, so we’ll say it’s sort of a legend, rather than claiming it to be 100% factual.) Men could legally walk around with their chests bear, so why shouldn’t women be allowed the same comfort in hot weather? She even went so far as to walk around in a shirt made of clear vinyl to prove her point—after all no one could claim she was actually naked at that point. Well, among the things that happened in this instance, the woman’s “attributes” were openly appreciated by men who saw her walking around so exposed. And she sued for sexual harassment. Some might say, “And she was right, those darned men! I hope she won!” Stop right there, and think. I would never suggest that any woman deserves to be ogled and thought of as only a piece of tush, but Stop and think, I am pleading with you.

You know, and I know, that women usually from about the age of 12 until menopause experience a monthly hormonal cycle that allows us to reproduce. You know that during “that time of the month”, women have a tendency to be especially cranky, or whiny or weepy, and also that women frequently demand a great deal of sympathy during that irksome time. Females have often been heard to bemoan that it is so terribly unfair that women have to go through this pesky monthly cycle and men don’t have to! Stop right there, and think.

The majority of all people in America have probably heard that men have a thought about sexual activity approximately once every seven seconds. That is actually an exaggeration. According to research by (Laumann, Gagnon, Michael, Michaels, 1994) 54% of men think about sex everyday or several times a day, 43% a few times per month or a few times per week, and 4% less than once a month. (I’ll be real honest here, I’ve never known a man who didn’t mention or think about sex many times a day; that’s three husbands, numerous friends, and now as they age, my oldest son and his friends also talk about and make all kinds of jokes about sex when they think I can’t hear them.) Why? Why are their minds so overcome with thoughts about sex? Modern feminism would tell you that the reason is because most men are uncivilized, power hungry, misogynistic oppressors, who only view women like pieces of meat for their own cruel, selfish, sexual gratification. I would suggest that the answer is actually quite a bit less sinister, and quite a bit more simple. After doing some reading I learned that men, throughout their lives, are driven by the same sort of thing that governs a female’s reproductive cycle. Hormones. Only they don’t get a break from it. They don’t have the approximately three weeks a month where their hormonal flux ebbs, and they get some marginal relief. For men the flux of their testosterone is a constant, daily cycle that seems to be tied to circadian cycles, or rhythms. All humans have circadian rhythms, but if the reading I did is any indication, men seem to be affected more strongly than women by this daily flux of what is mostly Testosterone in their case.** Stop, and think about that information.

Lets pretend for a moment that you have a little child. You, like many other wise parents, have decided that the Teletubbies, as preliterate non-humans, are a poor example for your children (who you sincerely hope will become scholarly individuals who will end world hunger, inspire global peace, and cure the common cold, and all without installing a television in their bellies) to follow after, so you will not allow that senseless drivel on your TV, in their books or their toys. You are determined that this little child of yours will rise above! Now, you lofty, well intentioned person, I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You’ve made a wise choice. But, there in the corner, twisting the ends of his over-waxed handlebar mustache, is a villain. The most villainous villain in the world. And he is, at every moment exposing your little child the bright colors, happy voices and comforting sing-sing sounds of the dastardly Teletubbies. Your little child, being a child and having a tendency to appreciate such things as a bright colors and comforting sounds, is drawn to this, and before you know it, your little child is thinking about Teletubbies a very great deal in spite of your best efforts to keep his impressionable mind away from those destructive, vocabulary challenged, space critters.

Now, keep our ridiculous example in mind as you Stop! and think about this ladies.

Men, decent, well intentioned men, have no more earnest desire to dwell on nothing but sex, sex, sex, or to think of women as nothing more then the means to the end, the end being their own sexual gratification, than they do to mistreat their own mothers and grandmothers. But is it fair to demand that young males and older males shouldn’t think about sex, and shouldn’t ever look at a woman lustfully when women parade around them in clothes that just barely cover their genitals, their breasts, and their buttocks? In this situation, who is treating women like a piece of meat? Like nothing but a sex object? Like they are just trollops, or tramps? Is it men? Or is it the women who are exposing or just barely covering their sexually appealing parts? Being very blunt here: Women, do you not understand that when you dress like a two dollar whore, that is how you are seen?

I was told by one woman that she insisted her daughters dress in these scanty fashions because they were pretty girls, and they should never be ashamed of their figures, or their bodies, but be proud of how attractive they are. I have no objection to women of any age being pleased with their looks, or proud of who they are. But I do not understand how teaching young females to expose their bodies to the point of indecency encourages them to have a sense of self respect and self worth. And honestly, I hope my daughters understand that their beauty and appeal comes from so much more important things than the exposition of their privates!

Young women, you are beings of inestimable beauty and loveliness, both inside and out. You have so much more of value within you, in your character, in your mind, so much more that is worthwhile about yourselves than just your physical body. You do not need to expose your body as though you were advertising for sale the only goods you have that are worthwhile. Modesty, decency, purity, these are virtues to which good and respectable women have aspired since the beginning of time. Are such virtues or traits beneath you? Or are they too high for you to attain? I don’t believe that about you.

I do believe that every woman in this nation (in the world!) has it within her to be a woman of sterling moral character, impeccable decency, and pure modesty. No matter what modern feminism may suggest, walking around mostly naked does not in any way prove that a woman is a liberated woman. It simply proves that she has bought into the falsehood that being a liberated or strong woman means that all the men around her should deny their natures and physical responses, so that the strong, liberated woman can do whatever she wants. It is terribly selfish, terribly spoiled, and very childish. I would even say that such behavior exemplifies the very worst sort of stereotypical, catty femaleness as portrayed in many soap operas and teen programming. If women and men are to be truly equal, then we should treat one another with equal respect, and that includes being compassionate and respectful of one another’s differences and perhaps even Achilles heels.

If not for your own sake, your own self worth, your own respectability, if nothing else, think about your fathers, your brothers, and your cousins and friends who are male. They are effectively assaulted, day in, day out with images of nearly naked women, and then told that if they respond physiologically to those images as healthy males should (with sexual arousal,) that they are in some way bad, they are indecent, they are wrong, and their very masculinity is an affront to civilized women. It seems to me, as a mother of sons as well as daughters, a very cruel thing to do to young males as they are developing into men. I assert that to insist that a man or a boy behave as though he has been castrated, or to tell him that his very human male sexuality is wrong, is equal to telling a female that her femaleness makes her a lesser being, deserving of fewer rights and privileges in society. I joke with my daughters, but the sentiment is very real, and they know I mean it when I say, “Have mercy on the men, dears. Don’t tease and tempt them.”

If you cannot respect yourselves enough, I ask you, for the sake of my sons, dress modestly, be decent, out of respect for the men around you. It is not kind, it is not charitable, it simply isn’t right to tempt them, to tease them, and then castigate them for responding physically they way God created men to respond.

**If someone wants to correct any of my “biology” from above, I invite you to do so. I don’t claim to be a medical expert by any stretch.

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A Challenge to Patriots

I’ve been seriously thinking about entering the political arena. I don’t know what office I would run for in reality, or where even to begin such a “campaign.” I believe that I am an honest and decent person, even though I know that my life is less than perfect. However, I’m beginning to believe that there aren’t enough honest, decent people who are willing to run for office. I have a sense that if those that have the offices now aren’t willing to take a stand for what is right, then it becomes my responsibility, and the responsibility of ALL decent, honest people to get off our complacent duffs, and get to work, putting things back together. And who can we really trust to do it well, and do it honestly, if not ourselves? And as far as my somewhat morally patch-worked past… I might think I’m a little too plain and boring to run for office. I mean, I’ve never used illegal drugs, I’ve never raped anyone, I’ve never given tacit approval or any approval for murdering people who might “know too much,” I’ve never driven drunk, hired or drowned a prostitute, I’ve never hired young boys or girls so I could molest them. I’ve had an affair, been divorced twice and I’ve had one speeding ticket, and I’ve been investigated by CPS numerous times, but always walked away clean in the end. I’m sure my family and I would be put through the wringer, but… What would I be willing to sacrifice for my country? And would the sacrifice be in vain, or, even if my attempt to gain an office to make a difference was unsuccessful, would my action serve even in a little way to encourage others to take up the gage and get to work? You see, I would be willing to serve in public office, to be a servant of the people, a servant of the Constitution but most important a servant of GOD, but more important to me than actually holding or serving in public office would be to encourage others to stand, to STAND and take up where our founders left off, and prove that we are worthy of the name “Greatest Nation on Earth.”

Why is it that only those with Harvard law degrees, or who have some sort of “claim to fame” should be running for or be in office? Why can’t plain people with plain people’s ideas and ideals serve to govern ourselves? Wasn’t Ben Franklin a plain man? Who was he but a printer’s apprentice? George Washington was man educated at home by his father and older brother, who’s main occupation was as a surveyor! Who were the founders but farmers, and tradesmen, and former military men? They were only heroes and founders because they had an Idea, a Hope, a Dream. They had Belief and Faith. And they were afraid, but they had Courage,. They had a core awareness of the simple fact that all people were born with rights to freedom and liberty that were given to them not by a king, a parliament, a president, or a congress. Our Founding Fathers knew that our rights and the rights of all people come to us as our birthright from our Heavenly Creator, our God who gave us ALL freedom and liberty. And the Idea, the Hope, the Belief, the Dream, the Faith, these were all the foundation of this Union of States that these Founders were compelled by their characters to stand firm upon, even unto death. I believe that those founders would look at us today and weep.

It seems almost as though there is an aristocracy in this nation, a ruling class, that “We the People” feel too intimidated to try to break into, and where those rulers don’t and won’t welcome the ordinary person, and will attempt to disallow We the Plain entrance to. We have become indentured, feudally bound, not by war, or violence, but by individual and collective complacency and a collective sense of being out-classed. And it galls me, frustrates me to witness that we as a nation have, in effect, elected a ruling class and made ourselves subjects to them. How can we believe and accept these foolish things? I believe We the Plain have a moral obligation, a sacred duty to ourselves, our children, our grandchildren, to break the strangle hold this pseudo-ruling class has on our nation, government, future, our very lives, and re-establish Constitutional Rule, State Sovereignty and please God, Common Sense to our government. So long as we sit, passive, complacent and helpless, we serve only to feed and fatten the beast that is our current government, to fatten the tyrants, as they look down their noses and sneer at We the Willing Sheep. This should outrage us! Turn off your American Idol and leave the athletes to bloody each other on the fields–we must wake up! We must remember who our grandfathers and grandmothers were. We must remember Who We ARE! The only people who can put a stop to this theft of our heritage, our present and our future is We the People; the strong, the sons and daughters of the heroes that founded, and built, immigrated to and expanded and defended with their very lives and to their dying breaths, this FREE nation for some 200 years. Something must change. WE Must Change! And it starts with you and it starts with me, and it starts in the heart and the mind of every individual. I must pluck the complacency and laziness from my own eye first, and get to work; I could no more call for others to work, where I will not than I could call for others to die where I would not.

I have hope in these United States, in the Peoples of these United States, so long as I have the ability to think, to believe, to work for the good of others. I have hope so long as I have Christ to lead me, and His holy example of servant-hood to follow. God save us, God guide us. Without Him, we have no hope in this life or the next!

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When I posted this last evening, I stated that George Washington had been educated at home by his father and older brother. This is not entirely incorrect. Young George was educated in many things by his father, Augustine, who sadly died when George was but 11 years old. George’s older brother, Lawrence, did become a large figure in George’s development, and had tremendous influence upon him, although I have not found any information that would suggest that he made any efforts to formally educate the young George Washington. I have read any number of sources, and not many of them pay much attention to where or how George Washington was educated as a boy. I intend to keep reading, as learning about this individual, and as many of the people who created the Union of States we now live in, is of great importance to me. The only reference I have found to young George’s early education as of this morning, I found in a book effectively written by George Washington, compiled from people who knew him personally, and from his own letters and journals. The Writings of George Wshington; being his correspondence, addresses, messages and other papers, official and private, compiled by Jared Sparks, published 1837. In my mind, the most trustworthy sources are those that can be found from as near the lifetime of one’s subject as possible. George Washington died in late 1799. This man undertook to prepare this book beginning in 1827, with the journals and notes of George Washington, which had been stored at Mt. Vernon, and given to his nephew upon his death, and enjoyed speaking with George’s family, peers and contemporaries. I’d daresay this is a very reliable book in regards to the life of George Washington. According to Mr. Sparks, George Washington did attend a local grammar school until he was about 16 years old. George Washington began his career as a surveyor at the time he left school, and pursued this as a private business man for three years, before being appointed a county surveyor at age 19.

It may seem silly to correct such a little thing from an essay that wasn’t even focusing upon George Washington specifically, but mentioned him only passing. But it is to me, extremely important to be accurate in what I say. And, in truth this information about the early education of George Washinton really serves to reinforce my point. His education did not, as most young men of the ruling class of his day, include being shipped back to England to attend Oxford. He, like many young men, left public schools (which were vastly different from anything our children enter today, labled “school”,) and began his career, based upon what he had learned in school, and what he had been able to teach himself. It was because of his trades-skill, his knowledge and intelligence and most importantly his character that he rose so quickly to become a well known military man, and because of his early education and knowledge of the land through his profession as a surveyor, that he was one of the chief military heroes of the Revolutionary War.

George Washington was not born into a ruling family. He truly was just an ordinary man! But he had and stood upon his character. What could you or I do, if for the good of many, were we to band together, and stand upon the best burning embers in our own characters, with the strength of right and God our Father,and Stand Firm for one another, for our children and our Union of States? Look out world!

“For this reason, take up the whole armor of God so that you may be able to take a stand whenever evil comes. And when you have done everything you could, you will be able to stand firm.” Eph 6:13

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